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sunnami · 3 months

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❝watch me, don't touch me, love me, don't hurt me.❞

[title is from ive's accendio. gif not mine.] summary. you are the fop of the wizarding society, known for your shallowness and careless display of wealth, but as hogwarts faces another threat, the marauders and lily, find themselves drawn to you and the secrets hidden under your facade. (harry just wants to know what is going on.)

pairing/s. marauders x reader. (james potter/lily evans/remus lupin/sirius black/reader.)

wc. 24.1k.

tags. enemies to lovers, angst, hurt but the comfort is later, fluff(ish), i try slow burn for the first time (it hurts.), this is highly self-indulgent idgaf, set during goblet of fire but i decide what goes, voldemort isn't the only character who can revive from the dead, BITCH. OH, LMAO I FORGOT, THIS IS FOR THE DILF AND MILF LOVERS SDKJFHSF they're married, but remus and sirius keep their name for legal and plot reasons. adult marauders and adult reader! and i was careful this time to not use any specific pronouns or gendered terms so everyone can enjoy the pain!! every1 is hurting 2nite. proofread kind of, so we die like. . . harry potter?

cws. here we go... canon-typical violence, vivid description of injuries, pain, and blood, emotional abuse, trauma, self-destructive tendencies, minor character death (non-canon), pureblood society practices, voldemort is his own warning, brief mention of war, brief scene with abducted children, panic attacks, depictions of mental illness, suic!dal thoughts, bellatrix lestrange is also her own warning, morally-grey reader.

a/n: this is inspired by my most favorite finnick odair fic EVER! obviously, i won't ever reach that level of greatness, but i've had this idea in my head ever since i read that story. sometimes, i just want to cry at night to feel something, LMFAO. halfway through writing this story, i got insecure, so thank you to this eye-opening comment on reddit that i found that will forever change how i look at reader inserts: “for me, a reader should be faceless, but not soulless.”

to my dearest friends and readers, i hope you enjoy this world that i've written for you ueueue. (the next and final part is fluffier, i promise.) will upload to ao3 soon!

act i. dear god, please save the little man.

“RITA, DARLING, do get your wretched little quill for this one. I heard from a wee birdie that Vittoria Zabini was spotted in Rome, and not just wearing last season’s designer collection, but on her honeymoon, of all things! Can you believe it, dearest? If I remember correctly, this must be husband number five now.”

Like a wingless canary in a gilded cage, you are forced once again to sing for red-lipped witches and their grating laughter, and for wizards with their fat bellies, graying hair, and leering eyes. How kind of Narcissa Malfoy to host these decrepit creatures in her manor garden—and thrust the role of main attraction onto you. There you are, lonesome badger, dressed in the finest tulle for everyone to ogle at. A ballerina in a music box, turning, and turning, and turning.

(When will your cursed lullaby finally end?)

Isadora Bulstrode cackles. “Gold-digging wench must be at it again.”

As predicted, Rita Skeeter greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page in our hands.”

Lavinia Nott brings the teacup to her mouth, her gaze slicing towards you. “Do tell us more. Where ever do you get your information from?”

You hide a coy smile behind the fine porcelain. “Why, Lavinia dearest, if I reveal my secret now, I might have to kill you!” The drove of ladies giggle amongst themselves as Lavinia sips her tea impassively. You play these people like a fiddle, and they’re none the wiser. But even vile women have to play their parts in the cruel world forged by mad men. Yours happens to be the most ill-fated of them all.

“A shame you decided not to pursue the same path as your mother, but that is alright—not every one is fit to work.” The Selwyn matron raises her brow, offering you a tight-lipped smirk.

“Oh, Elinor, my love, I’m surprised you’d even suggest such a horrible thing!” Your grin grows wicked and wider. You know perfectly what the wizarding society thinks of you: the orphaned heir, the shallow socialite who only cares for gallivanting about in pureblooded extravaganzas. A status you’ve so carefully fashioned; utterly beloved and adored by these people, flowers falling at your feet with so much as a whisper from your lips.

Your gaze drifts to a familiar crowd of people to the side. It’s the pack of lions and The-Boy-Who-Lived. There they are, the marauding bunch and their displays of loyalty and whatnot; hideously coordinated outfits, but capturing the world’s attention constantly and effortlessly.

How repulsive.

In spite of that, you are intrigued. They are the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you have been conducting for years.

And so you bid your goodbyes to the witches; they fawn and beg for you to stay for an hour more. You pout your lips and say with faux sympathy, hand flying to your chest. “Oh, don’t worry, my dears! I’ll be back soon enough after greeting some of the other guests. You lovely ladies might tire of me if I stay for too long.”

Melina Traverse brushes you off. “We could never! You know you’re like family to us, pet!”

With a delighted gasp, you say, “Don’t tell Narcissa, but you’ve always been my favorite Slytherin.” The venom flows endlessly from your lips. You owe your life to only a handful of people. Narcissa Malfoy, who raised you when your mother no longer could, is one of them. Finally, you’re able to sneak away from their freshly manicured talons as they tittle-tattle amongst themselves.

Once your back is turned to the rest of them, you roll your eyes until your head begins hurting.

What a bunch of insufferable fools.

Still, the show curtains are wide open and the sun is yet to set. You have another audience that is awaiting your next number.

“Oh, my, my, my! Is it truly the Chosen One in our midst?” You approach the horrid family of Gryffindors—nearly doubling over in laughter at the speed with which their faces fall at the sight of you. How refreshing, you think to yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve seen people who wore their hearts on their sleeves. “Cissa and I didn’t think you’d even respond to our invitation—but this is just brilliant! Lily, darling! How long has it been? That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Sirius grimaces, cheeks turning ashen. “Bloody hell, I’m going to need a drink for this. A strong one, too.”

“You’re at a garden party, Sirius darling,” you remind in jest, flamboyantly motioning to the grazing table. “The elves are serving Darjeeling, jasmine, chamomile, berry blends, spiced orange, silver needle, and my personal favorite, chocolate mint!” There are strings of lights wrapped around the tree branches; floating lanterns and the hydrangeas creeping on the stone walls. You put a hand over your heart, smiling knavishly. “From the Malfoy family, to yours, we sincerely hope you enjoy your brunch.”

Lily deeply inhales as she intertwines her fingers with James’s, a polite smile on her face—an odd pang in your heart at the show of solidarity. (She questions how sincere can a Malfoy really be.) “Y-Yes, well, it’s so good to see you, too. We’re grateful for the invitation, especially since it’s for a rather honorable cause.”

Ah, pure-hearted creatures really do get on your nerves. Lion hearts; words dripping in honey, limitless bravado. You’ve changed your mind, you’re sick of it all. A flash of vindictive glee crosses your face as you abruptly grab her hand, wrenching it away from her husband’s. “We just knew you’d see it that way! You probably see yourself in those Muggle children, eh?”

Lily recoils, as if struck by hot iron, shoulders tensing; slowly, she peels away her hand from yours, long lashes blinking away her shock. “You and Narcissa must be raising a lot of money, then.” She eyes the marble fountain adorned in white roses, the harmonizing gnomes nearby, self-playing harps, and the scrutinizing stares from afar. “I never knew you cared so much about Muggle children.”

“Well, I suppose it must be done for all the pudgy-cheeked brats in the world,” You callously wave away her words with a sigh. Unbeknownst to most, all the charity proceeds come from your own Gringotts account. That is the one real thing left in your miserable life. “As staff at Hogwarts, the children must come first, wouldn’t you agree, Lily flower?”

“Quite,” replies Lily, lips firmly pursed.

James enters the fray, hand snaking around Lily’s waist; jaw taut, seeming to regret ever entering the snake den. “Have you met our son, Harry, already?” He turns to the fourteen-year-old at his left side, gently patting Harry’s back with a crooked smile. “Haz, this is an old classmate of ours.” James gestures to you, and you offer the Potter spawn an amused smile as he blinks owlishly at you. The poor thing has gone frigid from the wintry cold, despite the summer sun overhead and blooming coneflowers; and you wonder if he must have run into Draco and Lucius before coming to the garden.

So this is the child the Dark Lord failed to kill, you muse. You only wish that you could have seen that monster fall to the ground lifelessly, defeated by an infant and his courageous parents. How fitting for men like Lucius Malfoy to follow in his footsteps; the blind leading the blind. Your grin stretches from ear to ear as you take his hand in yours. Clearly, he’s never held a girl’s hand before, as he limply shakes your hand, awkwardly spluttering his greetings. “What an honor it is to finally meet the savior of the wizarding world.”

“Why, you look just like James when he was younger, always strutting around the corridors.” Your eyes drift to the lightning scar on his forehead, a testament to his and Lily’s survival against the killing curse. “And such clear-cut emerald eyes; truly your mother’s son. Tell me, Harry dearest, you must be quite the heartbreaker at Hogwarts.”

His doe-eyes harden, and your brow quirks in curiosity. (So the littlest lion can growl, after all.) “Oh. . . not really.” His hand hangs back at his side, fists coiling. The robins chirp merrily as they fly by, his parents carefully watching the scene unfold; water endlessly splashing in the fountain. Harry’s voice deepens as he continues, “I couldn’t be. My friends and I barely have time for anything else. There always seems to be something going on at the castle, apparently.”

“How interesting—Elsie!” You bark at the quivering house elf as Harry stumbles on his words. “Get Mister Potter and his company a plate of macarons—serve them our finest tea, as well.”

Harry winces as the elf apparates at once. “There’s r-really no need for—”

Your gaze, sharp as a knife, slices to him, as the corners of your painted lips bend contemptuously. “Have you heard the news, dearheart?”

Harry looks to his father before shrugging. “I don’t think so.”

“If Mister Lupin here has so graciously informed you,” you begin tantalizingly, eyes cutting to the rugged werewolf at Lily’s side; his back stiffening at the mention of his name, “Otherwise, keep this between you and me, Harry darling. Hogwarts will be hosting a rather important event this year—and I do love a good party—so you must have noticed the rise in appearances from the Ministry.” You gesture to the top Aurors at the DMLE towering over Harry, Sirius and James. “More than that,” you continue with a sly cant to your voice. “There will be a few new additions to Hogwarts’ staff. Among them, of course—is yours truly!”

“And to do what, exactly?” Sirius blurts out incredulously.

“Be a teacher, of course!” you feign ignorance, bashfully furrowing your brows. “Why else?”

“Brilliant!” Sirius chuckles scornfully. “So, the children will be learning about French designers and frilly dresses then, I presume?

“Is that truly all you think of me?” you ask, gasping melodramatically as you circle the rim of your empty teacup.

“You want to know what I think? Or what everyone thought behind your back at Hogwarts?” Sirius scoffs with a cock of his head. “You’ve always been the belle of the ball, no bloody doubt about that. But I’ve always wondered if there was anything more to your head than just air.”

He runs a hand through his dark curls, lips twisting into a sneer. “But I reckon nothing has changed since then. You’re just the same insufferable, vapid wench as you’ve always been.”

“Sirius. . .” Remus quietly calls. “That’s enough.”

Your expression falters—but your mask cannot afford even a moment of rest. A jarring note in the lullaby plays as the ceramic ballerina stops turning. You let the minutes pass by fleetingly; it seems the self-playing chordophones have changed their tune, as well. You watch as the canary diamonds in your bracelet glint against the sunlight. (You are growing tired of the blinding show lights, unrelenting crowd, and never-ending play. Where is the reprieve, you wonder, for the tormented primadonna and her aching soul?)

The strings are now dipped in blood as your tears polish the stage. Your joints have twisted, bent, and danced. You wonder, how long must it be until you are rid of the starring role?

You muster a coy smile, fluttering your lashes at the heir of the most noble and ancient House. “Such crude language, Mister Black,” you say, albeit your voice has gone mellow; nails drumming against the table surface as the guests mingle with one another. The unbearably dull conversations buzz in your ear. You notice Draco and Astoria Greengrass heading for the glasshouse. You consider stealing her lace parasol and whacking Sirius with it, and the thought fills you with immense joy.

Unfortunately, they are your guests, and you are nothing if not the most polite host. “Perhaps, I am not the only one who hasn’t grown out of their immature habits,” you say, eyeing his shoulder-length hair, spiky ear piercings, and leather jacket. That damned leather jacket of his. It irks you that he and his kind can show insolence freely without bearing any repercussions. (But you’d die before you ever feel envy for a man like Sirius Black.) The sun fades behind the clouds, and your mask slips perfectly into place once more.

“What is it that happened again? Between you and Severus Snape in sixth-year?” You tap your chin pensively, taking cruel satisfaction in the stutter in Sirius’s breath and Remus’s parted lips, ever stupefied. You gaze fiendishly at Remus. “Oh, silly me, I’ve gone off topic. Well, anyhow, I just wanted to say, I believe the students are in rather good hands this year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn’t accidentally let an infected beast roam the halls of Hogwarts.”

Your eyes flash impishly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lupin?”

Lily curls her lip viciously. “Just what exactly—?”

“Elsie has returned, master.” The house elf bows her head just as the antique bistro table is circled with macarons, cucumber sandwiches, miniature cocktail buns, and slices of pound cake. Lily retracts her hand, grinding her jaw as she swallows the words in her throat.

“You may go, Elsie, thank you.” With a guileful smirk, you levitate the teapot towards James and Harry, dutifully filling their cups; steam soon arising from the Chinese porcelain. You nod at the group. “It’s jasmine pearl,” you explain haughtily. “Carefully handcrafted tea from harvested leaves and flowers. Such exquisiteness that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.”

“Do enjoy your tea; Cissa and I made sure to spare no expense for our guests.” The teapot carefully lands back on the table. The sinfonietta ends, and so does your time with this particular audience. What misfortune, that you won’t receive your flowers for today’s performance. You pivot on your heels, flinging them a lukewarm goodbye. “Do excuse me, for I must tend to the new arrivals. I believe I see Missus Parkinson over there by the koi pond. Cissa might have my head if I neglect my responsibilities.”

You turn your head, tossing a wink at Lily. “Today, after all, is for the children.”

Alas, it is not Persephone Parkinson you head towards.

You briefly exchange tepid pleasantries with Lavinia Greengrass before walking past the koi pond to the edges of the garden, far beyond prying eyes and ears. There, like a brooding Dementor drifting through a frozen lake, waits your true target. Sadly, it is only a dour-faced professor, a long time confrère of yours, to be precise. There are only a handful of people to whom you are indebted. Severus Tobias Snape is one of those few.

With a flick of your wand, you covertly cast the silencing charm upon the elusive spot Severus had chosen. There is no need for these edacious vultures to prey on your conversation. They are better off with their tête-à-têtes and syrupy pikelets. You drown out the chamber orchestra’s symphony, the clinking of champagne glasses, the rustling leaves and ringing wind chimes. “Severus darling,” you say liltingly, feet shuffling to his side as you playfully ghost your palm against his nape. He barely spares you a glance as a breeze courses through the rippling lake water. “You’re missing out on the festivities, you know.”

“Have you finally finished tormenting Narcissa’s visitors?” he drawls, at long last acknowledging your presence and sharply raising a brow at your saccharine-sweet smile.

“Why, I’d never dare to do such a thing,” you reply with a theatrical sway of your head. “I simply conversed with the ladies and had a delightful run-in with your old flame, Lily. Do you remember her, my sweet? Ghastly red hair, pale skin, and, oh, those green eyes. It must be infuriating to look like that,” you rattle away to the only entity willing to listen to you in his company: the wind.

“Spare me,” he drones, lips curved impatiently.

You moue. “Ever the bore, you are, Severus. Shall I fetch you a platter of brandy snaps?”

“Shall I sit around while I wait?” Snape’s lips contort into a sour grimace, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “The Dark Lord himself might even find time to rise from his grave.”

“Severus dear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to tell me something.” You eye him slyly, mouth tipping into a smirk as a dragonfly hovers by the waterline, avidly stalked by the dwarf frog on a lily pad. “So,” you pry, “did you have something important to tell me? I promised Mister Goyle I’d have a drink with him.”

The frog splashes into the lake, and the dragonfly flutters away without a care. Severus clandestinely slips a piece of paper into your palm as he swivels around, dark cloak billowing. “Ensure that nothing traces back to you,” he snarls. “Clearly I do know better, Severus.” You toy with the paper between your fingers, a sense of exhilaration running up your spine. “Not to worry,” you say with a clipped smile, a serpentine glare in your eyes, “I always do as I am told.”

(Severus, not for the first time in his life, wonders if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it sorted you into Hufflepuff.)

act ii. tonight, let’s start the masquerade.

THE NIGHT GROWS weary, and so do the alleys of Knockturn; neglected as your hooded figure navigates through the brick road, only the caged owls and flickering stars to notice your presence. You fainly traipse amongst the shadows, a moment of surrender from the spotlight and malignant eyes; a brief interlude in the performance. Past the hanging doll heads in the windows of Borgin & Burkes, you find a lonely shop. Inside the locket of your ring, lies a slip of paper that had been given to you earlier this afternoon. Well, Severus, you think to yourself, idly twisting the ring on your finger, let’s see where you sent me to this time.

And so, the stage actor calls for a costume change. “Alohomora.”

With one last glance at the dimly-lit passage, you enter the boutique. The brass shop bell accompanies your entrance, but no owner appears to greet you—and if there was, well, you have quite a unique way of saying hello. Your fingers feather across the dusty bookshelves, eyes raking through the broken staircase, the faint scent of ginger, rosemary, and mugwort pervades the room; a shattered crystal ball sits in the center of the shop desk, ripped paintings on the wall. A grimace pulls at your lips as you come across a familiar ivory mask. A Death Eater mask—it’s warm to touch; recently worn, perchance. You bury the strong urge to set it on fire.

There’s a shift in the air, a creak in the floorboards—in an instant, you whip your wand out from its leather holster.

“Reveal yourself,” you whisper curtly.

To the naked eye, there is only one intruder in the dingy parlor. To you, however, there is an obscure silhouette of a stranger covered by a glimmering veil. You hold onto your wand resolutely. If it was an enemy, you’d be blown into the walls by now. “This isn’t an ensemble stage, you know,” you chuff impatiently, “I’m not fond of sharing the spotlight with lineless extras.”

The disillusionment charm slowly unveils, and you wait unblinking, until you see a familiar face standing before you. Mid-length curly hair that falls over gray, dagger-like eyes, the irksome scent of tobacco, and a frightening similarity to his elder brother.

There are exactly five people you’d risk your life for, and right now, you’re digging the tip of your wand into their neck.

“Mister Regulus Black,” you greet with a playful edge to your voice, eyes narrowing. “Severus didn’t mention we’d be running into each other tonight.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell Sev I’d be here,” says Regulus, dimples poking out as he swats your wand away from his throat. “I might go mad if I have to stay inside for another bloody week, there’s only so many times I can re-read Good Omens—and by the way, did anyone ever tell you how dramatic you are? Lineless extras, really?”

You hide a fond smile with a roll of your eyes, whirling around to browse the glass cabinets and leather journals on the table, returning to the task at hand. “And so you thought going outside and risking someone seeing you in the open was a good idea? Reggie darling, I often think about the possibility of Walburga dropping you on the head as an infant.”

Regulus shoves his hands inside his trouser pockets as he hovers over your shoulders like a lost, overgrown duckling. “Wasn’t it Cissa’s soirée today? Did you jinx the statues like I told you to?”

“Who do you think I am?” you say haughtily, pausing in your search to half-heartedly glare at him. And after a moment’s pause, you jerk your shoulder and coyly respond with a side-smirk, “Of course I did. The young Mister Flint nearly screamed his head off.” You hum reminiscently, “truthfully, it’s been quite a while since I heard Draco laugh like that these days. For breakfast, I hear about the Granger girl, and then for lunch, I hear about the Weasley children, and for dinner, it’s an hour-long spiel on the famed Harry Potter.”

Regulus chortles in amusement as he hops onto the shop counter, kicking back his chunky boots. “And, then? Did you see my brother?”

“Oh, darling, I did more than that,” you mutter offhandedly, leafing through the paraphernalias and foul-smelling potion flasks.

“How was he? Is he doing well? Merlin, I think it’s been so long since I saw his face.” There’s a lapse of silence between you and Regulus. A lizard scurries across the room, chasing after a line of ants. The younger wizard taints the quietude with a long, frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I just. . .” He slumps his shoulders in resignation. “I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if. . . if I could just. . .”

“I don’t understand why I have to hide from my own family.” With a jagged whisper, he says, “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I can’t believe that I’m really here, I don’t even know if I exist sometimes.”

You grimace as you turn to look at him, hand flinching as if wanting to reach out to him. Instead, you avert your gaze and continue scouring the room. “It’s for—”

“My own good, I know,” Regulus blows a strand of hair away from his forehead. He jumps off the counter with a hardened stare. You glance at his back as he bends to pick at the marks on the floor. At times like this, you remember how small and young Regulus had been when you found him moribund from lake inferis. What a cruel price to pay in exchange for his survival, you think.

For Regulus Black has to remain dead to the wizarding world, stuck in an interminable masquerade, waiting until the hour is up for his performance.

All the world’s a stage, and for the best of the actors and actresses, it seems the production never ends.

“How long do you think it’s going to stay like this? For you, me, Sev? For Cissa?” As he stands on his toes to inspect the top of a dusty cupboard, Regulus veers his head to peek at your expression, frowning when he finds none. (You’ve no answers for him, after all; the entirety of your life was spent wondering that exact same question. All you know is that the show must go on until the audience tires of the starving artist.) “Never mind, let’s just focus on finding whatever you were trying to find here.” He walks past his reflection in the vintage carved mirror. “What are we looking for, anyway?”

You wish to offer solace to a cherished friend, but duties are meant to be fulfilled. For now, to do what is right must come first. Your fingers slither up the side of a bookcase, a wooden ladder resting against the shelves. The mahogany is freshly varnished, the stench of glue is prominent, and deep scratches indent the floor. It’s an empty treasure cove, barely anything displayed on the racks. You grit your teeth as you realize it’s been well-maintained compared to the obsolete state of the room. “Here,” you rasp, abruptly snapping your head to look back at him.

He furrows his brow. “What?”

You beckon him to the corner of the room from where you stand, wooden planks creaking as you push at the bookcase. “Help me with this, Regulus. There could be something behind it.” You clench your jaw as you lean your weight onto the cabinet frame.

“Why don’t we just, I don’t know,” Regulus cocks his head as he waves his wand in the air. “Use magic?” he offers discreetly, as though divulging a century-old secret. “I suggest Bombarda for maximum efficiency.”

You stare at him vacantly. “Regulus dearheart, I hold a stupendous amount of tolerance for you, but there is absolutely no way we are drawing attention to ourselves via explosion spells in the dead of the night.”

He grins boyishly before ushering you away. “Alright, alright, I was only taking the mickey out of you.” Soon after, Regulus deftly mutters a levitation charm, his wand steadfast as the bookcase slowly detaches from the floor. You take a couple of steps backward, lips pursed as you observe Regulus concentrate on his work.

You note to yourself to have a conversation about Regulus’s restlessness with Severus. It could pose a liability and pull the curtains on the entire pasquinade. “Careful,” you keep a tight watch on Regulus’s pinched brows, his hovering wand, and the steadily moving bookshelf.

“Like taking jelly slugs from a first-year,” he says flippantly, beaming at you as his dark curls sweep over his eyes.

You give him an exasperated scowl before side-stepping his quip as you descry a faint outline of a door in the plastered wall. You feel a rumble in the ground, muffled noises behind the shrouded entrance. “Ready your wand, Regulus,” you say grimly, hand reaching for the doorknob, looking back in time to catch his smirk fade into a distant expression, “I believe what awaits won’t be as simple as that.”

A grave tenor disquiets the room, your free hand already grasping for your wand. Regulus stands at your side, nodding as you take a sharp breath. He offers his back to you, in spite of the looming danger. (A sadistic part of you finds comfort in his presence tonight, but neither of you can truly share the burdens of your harrowing façades. Tomorrow, you play the lone star once more; and he, the dead brother and son. But today, you must simply share the stage.)

You twist the knob until a click pierces the heavy silence.

You wait with a bated breath, expecting creatures and spells to come hurling in your direction. The room ahead is enshrouded with darkness. You share a terse nod with Regulus as a ball of light appears at the tip of your wands. Regulus moves to take a step forward, but you block him with your arm. “I’ll go first,” you say breathily, curtly glancing at the Death Eater Mask. “It could be cursed the moment we step inside.” Regulus presses his lips into a white line, clearly unhappy with your decision, but relents nonetheless.

Rough, travertine flooring begins where the woodwork ends; a gust of wind howls into the dark chamber. Wordlessly, you call for your patronus to investigate inside; thin, silvery wisps floating in the air, its light hauntingly beautiful against the unilluminated dungeon. You hear heavy chains dragging across the ground and the harmony of timid footfalls. A drop of water falls onto the cracked stone. Regulus grinds down on his jaw as he readies his wand.

After an eternity of waiting, you snap your wand to set the torches alight.

A pronounced chill runs up your spine; a stutter in your breath. You nearly stagger at the sight unveiled before you. If you had been a weaker wizard, you’d have dropped your wand already. “This. . .” you say hoarsely, eyes wide, blood simmering in your veins.

Children.

Little ones as young as ten-years-old, barely coming up to your stomach, staring up at you with bloodshot eyes. Their skinny arms are covered in grime and wear pathetic rags for clothes. Moss grows in every corner of the room. Emaciated mattresses on metal beds. “Bloody hell,” Regulus growls, chest heaving. “What the fuck?”

“It’s a prison,” you whisper, horrified. There must be more than twelve children standing before you. Bile rises to your throat. You worry about your wand breaking in half, but the overwhelming sense of dread traps you in position.

“Are. . . are you with the bad men?” A brave, young girl with owlish eyes protectively steps forward in front of her companions. “No,” you answer gently, bending down on one knee to meet her eyes. You were neither good, or bad, but there is no magic on earth that would make you harm these children.

Regulus calls your name. “They’re Muggles,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t sense any magic from any of them.” He exhales in frustration. “What the hell are they doing with Muggle children?”

You grind down on your teeth, nearly dizzy with anger. You forgo a response to Regulus in favor of clasping your cloak around the trembling child. Soon after, you blanket the room in a warming charm. “Tend to their wounds,” you say sharply. “I’ll see what I can do about the chains.” And you will do something about those shackles, if it’s the last thing you do. “We’re going to get you out of here, I promise,” you tell the girl, stolid as you pat her head.

Except, the brass bell rings once more and everyone stiffens in alert. The children begin whimpering amongst themselves. Slow, deliberate footsteps reverberate from the shop into the icy-cold room. The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Move out of the way!” you yell, veins straining against your neck, just as you’re blown into the stone walls.

Regulus screams out your name, but you barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears; through blurring vision, you see the children and Regulus unharmed. Relief floods through you as you sluggishly rise from the floor. There’s a large crater in the wall from the impact; luckily, the tethers to the chains were demolished, as well. “Get them to the safehouse,” you order, blood trickling from your lips. You hardly feel your arms and legs; there’s an ache in the back of your head, your spine feels as though it’s been snapped in half. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow. Regulus hesitates to leave, hands laid on the shoulders of the children as he glowers at the newcomer. “Now!” you bellow gutturally.

A muscle ticks in Regulus’s jaw, but as he finally apparates with as many children as he can, you finally stop holding your breath. “It’s okay,” you reassure the wee boys clinging onto each other for comfort, limping to their side. “I’m rather strong, you know. Stronger than any of the bad men.”

In every duel, you allow yourself to be hit only once—driven by your inhuman desire to feel something other than the emptiness of your unbroken charade.

(And for years, you have waited for anyone to say these two specific words: Avada Kedavra.)

“Go,” you instruct gently, brushing away the tendrils of hair from the little boy’s forehead. “Hide and wait until my companion comes for you.”

“And as for the ill-mannered invader,” you crane your head towards the entrance of the chamber, eyes raking over the tall figure’s bloodthirsty stance and flittering cloak. There’s a lack of silver mask, but you know well the stench of foreboding decay and malignity. At the speed of light, you aim your wand, “Confringo!”

You watch with a spiteful grin as the stranger is blasted across the room. The walls and ceilings threaten to crumble, and you can only hope that Severus won’t be too cross with you in the morning. You point your wand at the uninvited guest’s heart. Nothing will trace back to you, that much you are certain of.

After all, no one would suspect a vapid, insufferable boulevardier to be the greatest spy of the wizarding world.

A firebird caws in the distance.

And, scene.

act iii. where’s your soul? where’s your dream? do you think you’re alive?

“APPEARANCES ARE OF utmost importance.” You stand in the front of the Great Hall, sun rays streaming through the large, stained windows, wooden tables pushed to the walls; accoutered in a black velvet capelet with gold trimmings and vintage dragonhide boots. The sleeves of your blouse are lined with handwoven, gothic lace; trousers made of the finest yellow satin. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. (You seize everyone’s attention—whether the two Aurors in the corner like it or not.)

After a descanting introduction, you are given center stage before the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin. With a swing in your step and a wrest in your voice, you continue, “That is why the Headmaster, Dumbledore himself, invited me to personally facilitate this year’s Tri-Wizard Tournament. As hosts of the event, excellence is expected of us. Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed me to take charge of your lessons, particularly in the art of dancing.” Your eyes gleam as you offer the young fourth-years a graceful reverence. “And our first lesson begins straight away.”

The crowd of students transfigure into a sea of curious eyes and flabbergasted whispers. You derisively watch the chaos unfold with an amused grin. Yet, you’re not the least bit worried. You’ve charmed even a flock of Dementors before, the creatures having been drawn to your voice, ostentatious stature, and the dark depths of your soul; like a bee to a field of flowers. A class full of awkward teenagers should be more than easy for you.

“Now, now, children,” you clap your hands as you make your way to the heart of the room, leaving a trail of softening murmurs. “The Yule Ball is a revered tradition, an exhibit of togetherness that has lasted for hundreds years.” You lift your nose up in the air as the girls look at one another, barely able to hide their giddy smiles and discreet glances across the hall. “As such, it is my venerable duty to oversee your etiquette in and out of the ballroom.”

(Sirius rolls his eyes from where he sits besides James.)

“Mister Filch, if you please.” With a flutter of your lashes and a poised smile, you beckon for the school caretaker who flounders to the gramophone. You wink at the young miss Pansy Parkinson who stares up at you in awe. Soon thereafter, you hear the soft melody of Léo Delibes’s Valse. Coppélia, you simper to yourself—a story close to your heart. (You’ve always found a winsome irony in a marionette like you dancing to the enamel-eyed girl’s song.)

“A dance, while enjoyable by one’s lonesome, is best savored with a partner,” you begin vivaciously, eyeing the gentlemen in particular. “Your date for the night must be aware that you’ve chosen them out of your own volition and undue necessity.” Your stare drifts to the coterie of young Gryffindors, tittering mischievously. “Shall we have a demonstration from the House of courage and splendor?”

“No one?” You raise a brow curiously when you’re met with silence and averted gazes. You then utter the scariest phrase a professor could say to their students: “I’ll choose the lucky student myself.”

You survey the pack of lion cubs, drifting through the tuffs of flashing red hair; gangly boys raucously kicking and pushing at each other to volunteer for your teach-in on ballroom dancing. You flash the students a vexatious grin. “Mister Harry Potter?” you call out to the ashen-faced boy with your hand outstretched. “Why don’t we let the Chosen One set an example to his peers?”

Hollers and cheers break out across the hall; not withholding the mirthful giggles of the doves on the other side of the room, wonderstruck by his green eyes and lightning scar. You motion for Harry to join you on the pseudo dance floor. The Weasley twins take delight in clapping and wisecracking into his ears until Harry reluctantly rises to his feet, a blooming shade of red on his neck and cheeks.

“As you approach your partner with the grace of a majestic stag,” you acclaim to the class whilst Harry approaches you with a wry grin and hands shoved inside his robe pockets, “And not a newborn foal.” You place your hand in his, “You may now invite your lady to dance.”

“Or your beau,” you add spiritedly, eyes gleaming as Harry chokes on his saliva.

You pat his back as the music comes to a sweet-sounding crescendo. “Dancing is about connection,” you turn to the students with a stern gaze. “If your posture crumbles, there goes your confidence, as well. At all times, you must maintain eye contact,” you say sharply as you tilt Harry’s chin and correct the arch of his arms. “Remember, it’s not ballroom if there’s no trust. Lean onto one another, and then. . .” You lay your palm onto his shoulder. “The feet should follow the music.”

Unfortunately, Harry runs on two left feet and both persistently evade the music. On the umpteenth time he stumbles on your shoes, he’s appraised by snickers and low whistles from either side of the hall. The Weasley twins in particular seem thrilled by Harry’s flailing arms and bewildered expression. Along with the two Aurors who’ve skipped their aurorly duties to patrol the castle in favor of heckling their ward. “You’re doing it wrong, James!” shouts Sirius through cupped hands, shoulders shaking in laughter.

“Why don’t you try it, Padfoot?” Harry retorts back to him; thick hair flopping over his eyes as he grates his teeth. You’re given no warning as Harry extracts himself from your grip and stalks over to where Sirius and James sit comfortably.

You blink, dumbfounded. “Harry dearest, I don’t believe that is necessary—!”

“Go on then,” says Harry, jerking his head. “Show us all how to do it.”

To the side, Ron guffaws into his fist, brought nearly to tears. (Earlier he was apprehensive about the class. “We’ve got a whole new professor just for twirling around and all that girlish stuff?” he had asked in disbelief before entering the Great Hall.

“Shut your mouth, Weasley,” growls Draco Malfoy as he shoves past Harry and Hermione to head inside the hall.)

Sirius grins roguishly, having the gall to bat his eyes in confusion. “Who? Me?” He chuckles before forcibly slapping James’s back with the flat of his palm. “No, no. The honor should go to the debonair of his time.” Trenchant eyes flicker with mischief. “Have at it, James. How will the children ever learn without a proper demonstration?”

“Go on, Sir Prongs!” exclaims one of the red-headed twins. “Show us how it’s done!”

Alarmingly, the bespectacled man resigns to his fate, a deafening ovation as he shrugs his robes off, generously revealing his broad shoulders in a tight, black turtleneck; a leather wand holster across his chest; long legs framed by pleated trousers. You bite down on your tongue as James draws closer to you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. With an unerring arch of his back, he holds out his hand for you to take, “May I have this dance?”

Your breath stutters—if only for a moment. One cannot deny that James Potter is deviously more appealing to the eye than the dance partners you’ve had during Narcissa’s galas. Perfectly-carved cheekbones and golden hoops dangling from his ears; bright, hazel eyes girdled by rectangular glasses. “Well,” you say, pursing your lips as you slip your palm into his. “If you must.”

In contrast to his son, James needs little-to-no guidance from you. You’d have assumed that much, considering that both James and Sirius grew up in pure-blood customs. The warmth of his hand on your back is scalding. He spins you along to the song’s aria; the two of you gliding effortlessly through the soapstone floors. Any more closer to him and you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. “There will be lifts, turns, and dips during a waltz,” you inform the class as you demonstrate a twirl vine. “You will rise and you will fall together with your partner. Understand?”

James chuckles at the wistful sighs and horrified groans that erupt through the Great Hall. “You’re good with the children, you know,” he remarks cheekily as he gently lowers you to the ground, hand steadfast on your waist. You hear his unsaid words clearly: Sirius thought you’d be downright rubbish at it.

“Well, Mister Potter,” you say breathlessly, clasping your arms around his neck once more. “To some of the students here, frilly dresses and French designers are their entire world.” Your chin all but perched atop James’s shoulders; the scent of his famed Sleekeazy potion and vetiver—dew on fresh grass on a warm sunny day—fills your senses. You cast a sniffy glare in Sirius’s way, to which he responds with a raised brow.

“Bit shallow, isn’t it?” he murmurs, chest rumbling and his breath hot on your ear.

You scoff. “One could argue the same for a young Seeker who’s been given their first ever broom.”

James Potter has the nerve to smile at you. And as you move to extricate yourself from his hold, James mindlessly lets his hand fall from your waist to your hip—incidentally, where you’ve been nursing a heavy fracture. Sore bruises from chasing vampires the night prior as you were out hunting allies of the Dark Lord from the first wizarding war. Although you had drowned yourself in pain relief elixirs, it seems you’re more sensitive and hurt than you thought.

Even statues of white gold chip and fade over time—you’re reminded of this fact quite painfully. You roughly push James away from you, hissing in pain as you cradle the left side of your hip. Memories of crimson-stained teeth and rotten, pale skin flash before your eyes. You remember the stench of blood, and the feel of their nails slashing into your thighs. But most of all, you remember their ear-piercing shrieks just before you drive the stake into their chests, one by one, until you have left a graveyard of vampires in the outskirts of an abandoned mansion.

James furrows his brow immediately as you cave in on yourself. (Even Sirius surges to his feet.) “What’s wrong?”

Occlude! Occlude—you must occlude immediately!

With a sharp inhale, you close off your emotions for anyone else to see. “It is nothing of your concern, Mister Potter,” you respond blankly, as though your soul is locked far away. “I do believe we’re done here.” You step further away from him. Your attention shifts to the students as you fold your hands behind your back, lips curling into a virulent smile. The weight of your mask is comforting; you’ve forgotten how to breathe without it. “Now, let’s have the students pair up and practice what they’ve learned so far. I’ll have no patience for dilly-dallying and nescience on my watch. You’ll dance until I tell you to stop. You’ll practice until the soles of your feet are sore and raw.”

That, after all, is how you learned.

The class goes by accordingly; you maintain a distance from Sirius and James, turning a blind eye to their burdensome sympathy. (Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts—it always unnerves you how easily the avowed Marauders get deep under your skin.) You nip at the students’ heels, righting their poor footwork; looping the music until you are certain they’d hear it in their nightmares. To your surprise, the round-cheeked Neville Longbottom takes all your instructions in stride. From the moment that you allow Filch to lift the tonearm, the students practically fall to the floor, heaving; some forsaking their long robes and tying their hair in flimsy ponytails.

As the students retreat from the Great Hall, you slink away into the crowd of Slytherins, desperate to avoid a particular duo of Aurors—no doubt ready to probe you with questions. A numbing panic claws at your chest; black spots swallowing your vision. Emotions—how putrid. The students’ discordant chatter overwhelms your hearing, more than the ringing in your ears. The unyielding, outré stone walls feel like they’re closing in on you. Still, you keep your head above the water, enduring every staggered breath. You must.

What’s wrong?

The question echoes in your head.

Ha!

You scream inwardly, if they only knew!

While you had been expecting either James or Sirius to ambush you, you do not expect to see Draco Malfoy shouting your name as you flee down an empty corridor.

The miniature Lucius Malfoy stands before you, grimacing as he clenches his fists tightly. “Are. . .” Draco’s expression contorts morosely. “Are you alright? Theo and I were worried that the blood traitor upset you.” he spits his concern as if it were acid. Little snakes and their keen eyes.

“Mind your language, Draco,” you reply cuttingly, eyes flashing as you lift your chin. And for his question, one that you’ve been asked numerous times over the years, you have only ever had one answer. Despite the scars on your back, the tremors in your hands, the aching of your heart, and the endless bruises on your limbs, you tell him: “And do not ask what is not needed to be.”

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” he presses further, mouth pinched. “Don’t treat me like a dim-witted child because I’m not!”

A hand lays on his shoulder, and to your chagrin, Severus makes his appearance, lips downturned and his gaze filled with subdued apathy. Your day is about to get worse. “Perhaps, it is best if you leave this discussion to the adults, Draco.” Snape drones, leaving no room for debate. He tightens his grip on the younger wizard. “I will not be inconvenienced to explain to Minerva as to why you were dawdling in the corridors.”

In true Malfoy fashion, Draco sneers in disdain. He rips himself out of Snape’s grasp with a scoff. As he storms past you, you sigh and pat his side.

When Draco disappears into the corner, you release a deep breath as you prepare for the onslaught to come. “Just get it over with, Severus,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, the pounding in your head growing more unbearable by the second.

You see his nostrils flare as Severus turns to glare at you. “I wonder,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you are actually capable of following direct orders—of using that near-empty brain of yours!” His upper lip curls back into a snarl, as he scours the empty hallway for any prowling ears. “Your stunt made it to the Daily Prophet. You were asked to proceed tactfully, were you not?”

You lean against the wall, rubbing at the temples of your head. “And I’ve done my part. Every last one of them—dead by my hands. A problem you failed to deal with for the last two months. That I settled last night. Remind me why you’re still chittering into my ear, Severus darling?”

“Do not play coy with me,” he replies brusquely. “I’ve heard the students tattling about it as though it were the most interesting event in their pathetic, insolent lives. The Embris Mansion burnt down to the ground. There are talks of a vigilante, a good-for-nothing do-gooder. You got sloppy!”

“And if I did—so what?” You retaliate, chest heaving as you step into his face. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with him. Over the years you have left some sort of mark on your work. Not a phoenix, but a firecrest. Wings outstretched in flames. All eyes are on the ungovernable hero, the Firebird—and never on you, the foppy socialite. “Would it be so perverse to want even a slither of recognition, Severus?”

“Do not forget your duty,” he taunts venomously, the cords in his neck going rigid. “To the greater good you so earnestly fight for. Your duty to your mother.”

“Do not talk about her!” you all but shout, magic sizzling in the air around you.

“Then see to it that there are no more mistakes going forward!” Severus juts his chin, baring his teeth in contempt.

After a few long moments, he continues with a resigned exhale, dragging his palm down his face—as though you are the perplexing one. “This. . . Moody has developed a habit of emptying my cupboards.”

“And why, pray tell,” you retort gruffly, “should I care for this oh-so special cupboard of yours?”

“It contains ingredients for Polyjuice potions!” he proclaims angrily. “Get to the bottom of this. I’ll not have a blithering fool like Pettigrew get to the students again. Do what you must, I have no interest in understanding the workings of your mind—as long as you do not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.”

The sound of footfalls break you apart as Severus nimbly lifts the Notice-Me-Not charm he had cast earlier. Within seconds, you find Remus Lupin rounding the corner. He’s dressed in his usual baggy, gray jumper; jaw clean-shaved, and pinkish scars against his skin. A well-loved quilted coat over his shoulders—handmade by Lily, you presume. You notice the mismatched otter socks peeking from his loafers. Remus saunters down the hallway with tired eyes and a feeble smile as he stops right in front of you and Severus. He has a rather tall frame, slender even, despite his hunched shoulders.

“Snape,” Remus nods to him, gaze flickering back and forth as he attempts to discern what had transpired—well, you’re certainly in no rush to tattle and cry into his arms.

“Professor,” he says to you, an ever curious smile on his face. “You’re looking quite peaky. Is something the matter?”

“I am most certainly sound and fine, Mister Lupin,” you respond, irritated, as you wobble on your feet. You are at your wit’s end—how bothersome of it all. “Should you not be on your way to your next class, Professor?” you bite tiredly.

Remus shrugs, hazel-eyes crinkling in amusement. “Mad-Eye is taking over my next class. I thought it would be good for the students to learn from a veteran Auror. I’m sure he has much more experience to offer than me.”

You scowl, his humility smothering you painfully. “Well, I’ve no interest in dragging my feet around. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement with my cat and I’m afraid I’ve left her alone for too long.”

And as fate would have it, when you make haste for your quarters, you falter in your steps; lurching as your vision goes blurry. Your breath snags in your throat as Remus catches you by the waist. “Perhaps, we should get you to Lily,” offers Remus as he sets you upright, brows pinched worriedly, ignoring Snape’s eye roll in the background.

“I said I was fine!” You blurt out, cradling the front of your head as you sway backwards; now seeing two Lupins and two Snapes. “Merlin, are all Gryffindors this bloody meddlesome? Must I repeat myself? I am fine—!”

Turns out, you are not fine.

The last thing you see before losing consciousness is a pair of brown eyes with flecks of gold, more beautiful than any full moon you’ve ever seen.

—

You wake up to a dry, sore throat; the bitter scent of infirmary disinfectant—a Muggle’s touch, no doubt—and concoctions of various healing potions. Your head is still pounding, but somewhat bearable. The room is small, privy to only teachers, you conclude—although, it is the very first time you have ended up in the infirmary. Remus Lupin would feel your wrath, you’d make sure of it. Your back stings as though it were doused in Dittany recently. As you nearly break the flower vase in an attempt to reach for the empty glass, the door creaks open—and in comes Lily Potter with her husbands.

“Am I in hell?” you eye them bitterly.

“No,” says the youngest matron, dressed in her own version of the nurse’s uniform. Red vest over her white blouse, and a long, plaid skirt with pockets. Soft red hair tied back with a pink ribbon. Albeit, her expression is anything but sweet and delicate. “But you’re in my office, which means you are now under my care—therefore I’d like you to explain why you have vampire toxins in your blood.”

“And I would like to return to my quarters now, please,” you respond haughtily, referring to the private bedroom professors were offered in the castle. “I’ve nothing to explain to someone who administers the diagnostic charm on my person without explicit permission to do so!” you exclaim, releasing a shuddery breath as your head throbs agonizingly.

“You will listen to me—seven hours ago you were this close to paralysis!” Lily shouts right back, eyes glaring defiantly—she may have adhered to you in Malfoy’s territory, but no power holds more authority than an acclaimed healer over a patient. “If you had been a Muggle, you’d be dead ten times over.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that I’m alive and well, I suppose we have no more pleasantries to exchange, Lily darling.” You tear the flimsy blanket from your legs, grimacing at the bandages covering your skin.

“Not before you tell us where those bruises came from,” Sirius demands, voice low and knife-like eyes on you.

“Must have been the Nargles,” you reply sarcastically. No one would care for a bonny doll ripping apart at the seams and gathering dust on a child’s shelf. “They’re quite frisky this time of the year, didn’t you know? My good friend Xenophilius wrote about those creatures a long time ago. Good read, I’d say.”

“Are you capable of taking anything seriously?” cuts Sirius with a snarl, tendrils of hair curling around his face; hints of tattoos peeking out from his leather jacket. Vermillion satin shirt clashing against his pale skin. The lingering smell of lit cigars only reminds you of Regulus, and so you tear your gaze away from Sirius.

“Sirius, let’s not scare her off now, love,” Remus admonishes, softly resting his palm at the back of Sirius’s neck, before he stares at you with honey-dripping eyes. You have a desperate need to run away. They’re an uncharted danger that you aren’t familiar with navigating—and you figure young Harry wouldn’t appreciate you treating his parents like a rabid vampire. “We just want to know what happened, you looked worse for wear when we brought you to Lily and Madam Pomfrey,” Remus placates, treating you like a crow with its wing snapped in half.

You sneer. “If I am not dead, then these wounds hardly matter to me.”

Lily gasps, a sound so soft only the wind could have possibly heard it. “How could you say that?” she asks, hand flying to her lips. “Of course it matters, you had lost so much blood while we tried to get the toxins flushed from your system.” She stares at the puncture mark on your arm, before peering over at Sirius. “We nearly couldn’t find a match to your blood type. Sirius. . . Well, he’s a universal donor and he didn’t even hesitate in giving you his—”

“Giving me what?” you echo lowly. “What did Sirius give me, Lily?”

“Blood,” Lily says firmly. “He gave you his blood so you could live.”

“How dare you?” you seethe, chest rapidly rising; digging your nails firmly into your palms as you stare furiously at Lily. “You had no right!” You scream until your throat is sore; your magic overflowing until it shatters the nearby vase of butterfly weeds.

Rage tunnels your vision; heart hammering against your ribcage as you move to carelessly rip at the bandages over your wounds. “You had no right! You had no fucking right! I would have never done the same for you! Get out! Get out!”

“Get out!” You hurl the glass at the wall across from you, narrowly avoiding Sirius’s head; anguish tears itself from your voice and you barely notice James flinch from the intensely flickering lights.

“You think I’d be grateful?” you scoff, a burning heat spreading across your chest. “You think I’d be indebted to any of you after this? Is that what you wanted? What a fucking joke!” You laugh irately as you gasp for air. “I’d rather die!”

When you run out of items to throw at them—pillows, shards of glass, and crumpled flower stems—you sit on the bed, shoulders violently shaking as you cough yourself sick.

“I. . .” Lily begins, swallowing the lump wedged in her throat. “I understand. . . But I am the castle’s nurse, as long as you are under Hogwarts’ protection, I am keeping you alive no matter what.”

“I don’t bloody care,” you snide.

Her eyes flash to James. “We’ll leave you to rest, then.”

You stay silent, vacantly staring at the reddened welts on your hands. It’s not until you feel James’s arms around you and his chin hovering above your head that you realize you’ve stopped shivering. “I’m sorry,” is all that James whispers into your ear as he lays you to sleep with an inaudible charm. The chill of his magic is the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter to a close.

—

You wake up in the infirmary once more. This time, you lay stiff on the mattress, absentmindedly gazing at the plain ceiling; your chest falling and rising ever-so slowly. The stink of a Calming Draught is painstakingly familiar. A low humming sound tells you that you aren’t alone—but you barely flinch from their presence, too tired to do anything but close your eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me. . . . something. . . they’re okay,” murmurs one Sirius Black, tapping on his thigh as he rests his back on the rustic chair.

If Sirius wants an encore, he’d have to drag the fight out of you. You’re utterly drained from your emotional palaver earlier. “Didn’t know you were into Muggle songs, Black,” you chortle bemusedly.

Sirius halts in his singing as a forceful silence falls over the room—you distinctly hear the moment Sirius’s hand drops to his thigh, most likely taken aback by the sound of your hoarse voice. You feel the weight of his eyes on your bandaged arms and legs. A few seconds pass before he responds, his words but a faint breath. “After today, I believe that there is much to be uncovered for the both of us.”

You don’t bother replying—you’d have Obliviated them instantly if it wasn’t illegal to use on Aurors.

“We know it was you,” says Sirius out of the blue—your blood turns icy-cold on command, wondering if he’s figured out about the wizard behind the Firebird. “On the first day of term, someone had left a basket of freshly-brewed Wolfsbane potions enough to last him for the entire year,” he explains further, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stares at you unwaveringly. “I almost didn’t believe it, but a Marauder has his ways.”

(His son with an invisibility cloak and a handy, enchanted parchment.)

“Thank you,” he says, guttural with emotions. “It means more to Remus than you think.”

“Your gratitude is misplaced, unfortunately,” you rasp, coiling your fists tightly, stubbornly intent on avoiding his eyes—not wanting to get caught in the storm within. You exhale with a ragged sigh. Severus was right, you had been sloppy. And this is what carelessness leads to. “Don’t delude yourself, Mister Black, I couldn’t care less what happens to you or your family.”

Sirius chuckles, like he’d expected such a response from you. “Well, do what you’d like with my gratitude, I don’t care, just know that you have it,” he says, rising from his seat. “It’s past midnight, by the way. Lily’s left you some dinner in case you woke up hungry.”

Your eyes drift to the nightstand. There’s a steaming bowl of spinach rice with mushrooms, and a plate of honey cinnamon bars. But your gaze lingers on the bouquet of snapdragons and orchids placed in a ceramic vase.

“She believes home-cooked meals help the patients heal faster,” Sirius tells you, carefully observing your reaction—but there’s none to be found. He purses his lips into a thin, white line.

As he makes his way to leave, Sirius pauses, hand resting on the doorframe. “You know,” he begins quietly. “The thing about magic—it can fool the best of us into thinking we’re indestructible. But, you’re not as inhumane as you’d like us to think.” Sirius veers his head to look back at you. “Take that mask of yours off sometimes, yeah? You’d see the rest of the world clearly if you did.”

That is all you hear from him before the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

How arrogant.

How very Gryffindor of him.

You push the flower vase closer to the edge of the bedside table, indignantly eyeing the watercolor art. The room reeks of Lily’s kindness. Lions and their constant need to see the goodness in everyone. Take off your mask? You’d give your entire Gringotts account to wear the kind of rose-colored lenses they have—they’re more pestilent than you realized. No matter, it’s high-time you reintroduced yourself to the Marauders, anyway.

If you take off your mask, they would find nothing but a barren soul.

—

It seems your newfound parasites have forgotten who you truly are—but you have no qualms in reminding them why exactly you’re called the pureblood society’s darling.

For the week or so, the Daily Prophet features you out in luxurious restaurants, a new partner each night hanging off your arm. International Quidditch players, foreign models, esteemed opera singers, and even Muggle celebrities. Men and women are captured in moving photographs, avidly fawning over you.

You’ve missed three classes in favor of shopping in France; Flooing back to Hogwarts, stinking of bordeaux and rosa centifolia. Painite gems nestled around your neck, glittery sapphires lining your wrists. On more than one occasion, you’ve seen McGonagall lift her chin in distaste at your behavior.

“Well, that’s certainly a speedy recovery,” says Lily one afternoon as the owls take the Great Hall by storm. Rita Skeeter’s new article about you is plastered on the front page, apparently you’ve gotten into a catfight with an Italian seamstress. She risks a glimpse of you from the other side of the long table, laughing away with Professor Sinistra. The sound is scraping against her ears, yet Lily can’t help but feel disappointed.

Your desk is littered with mails from admirers, invitations to galas and fundraisers. The students can’t help but notice this fact as they’re brought to the dance floor each morning. (Each day, you rewind Coppélia’s song—her wishes, and her pain—but you plan to ignore the ballad until blood trickles from your ears.)

“Mumma’s just about ready to send her a Howler,” you hear Ginevra Weasley saying in passing after class. The young red-haired girl nearly bumps into Hermione’s shoulder as Ginny dips her head low, prattling excitedly, “Called the Professor a tart, even.”

Hermione stops walking, scrunching her nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” Ginny nods. “But enough about all that—have you seen the news this morning?”

Hermione looks up, lips wrinkled in thought. “The one about the Professor being seen in Muggle London? I thought that was rather stale for a headline.”

“Not that one,” Ginny says exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. “The article about the Firebird. Remember what happened during the World Cup? When You-Know-Who’s followers came and raided the entire campsite?”

“That would be pretty hard to forget, Gin,” Hermione replies softly.

“Well, the Firebird’s gone and hunted a few of them,” Ginny tells her, eyes brimming with awe. “Found their hideout and left them half-dead for the Ministry to find. No Malfoy, though, which is a bloody shame.”

At your desk, you sip your jasmine pearl tea with a knowing smirk.

On the first of October, your previous Head of House invites you to the greenhouse for an overdue get-together. Naturally, you greet Pomona Sprout with gift baskets overflowing with glacé treats, packets of tea, scented candles, and dried berries. She huffs in fond exasperation before instructing you to grab a pair of cotton earmuffs and gardening gloves. And, well, you don’t mind playing the part of a slap happy third-year under her gentle care. It’s a role you enjoy more so than others.

“You’ve been worrying me these days, dear,” Professor Sprout tells you earnestly as she wrestles with the Flitterblooms. Hoo-hoo chicks flutter around in their cage while the uprooted baby Mandragoras screech nearby. You feel the weight of her gaze, much like a knitted blanket draped over your shoulders on a cold, autumn noon. “The other staff have been expressing their. . . concern, as well.”

You busy yourself with planting the Wiggentree in its pot, allowing only a moment to raise your walls of Occlumency. You know that she couldn’t possibly be a threat, but you would not allow someone else to expose you bare for others to see. (You loathe the thought of Sirius’s blood flowing through your veins.)

You know that concern is shallow at best, forged from fear of the students being influenced by your frivolous escapades.

At your silence, Sprout continues on, “We always tell the children that their Houses will be like their second family during their time at Hogwarts.” You hear her draw in a long breath, gingerly placing the flitter tentacles on the ground. “I hope you understand that the same is true for the professors. We take care of each other, substitute teacher or not.” Pomona’s hand is leaden on your shoulder. “After all, you were our student before anything else. The Sorting Hat gave you to me, and what a darling blessing you have been, even until today. When I look at you now, I see the same young first-year student who was afraid of everything and afraid to come out of their shell—but do not forget, I will always be on my children’s side no matter what.”

How poignant that the first person who truly welcomed you to Hogwarts, is one of the only people who can see through you despite your protective barriers.

And so, the puppet show begins—like a lifeless ragdoll, you peel the deer-leather gloves off your hands, blinking away any hints of emotion. You stand tall before Pomona, dusting flecks of soil off your dovetail skirt. “No one has been on my side. Not then, not now,” you say as you snobbishly arrange the brim of your sunhat. “But do not be mistaken, Pomona. I have been fine on my own and a change still remains to be seen.”

In another life, you would have happily embraced her comfort and affection—but the fate of a lonely starlet is cruel. You’ve made your bed of thorns and wilted roses, and there you shall lay when there is no one left but yourself.

“Today was lovely, Pomona, thank you.” It is one truth you’ve permitted yourself to offer—a shred of humanity in exchange for her kindness. The dirt beneath your nail beds is real; so is the ache in your back and the sweat dripping from the side of your head to your chin. But you cannot feel any more than that—you forbid yourself. The Mandrakes fall silent, and you bid your goodbyes to the professor.

The sunlight on your skin is real as you step outside, and so is the sound of clamoring students heading for the greenhouse. Sixth-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hurry down the hill. Their unrestrained laughter and carefree smiles are real. And so is the unwashed blood on your hands; the killing curses that have fallen so easily from your lips, and the ghosts that haunt you as the moon arises. Perhaps, you could withstand it all if it means the children would live through a real future without the sins of people like you.

(But why is it that every time you distance yourself. . . there always seems to be someone calling out to you?)

Cedric Diggory, your godson, yells for you with a grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. You watch as his yellow scarf swings with each hasty step he takes. Cedric crosses the gap between you in under a minute, strands of wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glimmering eyes. It’s an unsolved mystery as to how you and him were sorted in the same House.

“Your shirt is wrinkled, Cedric,” you tut, straightening his tie. “Do you go riding Hippogriffs in your spare time?”

Cedric chuckles wholeheartedly. “Father told me to tell you that you’ve been invited this weekend for a dinner at Hogsmeade,” he says, cocking his head as a cheeky simper erupts across his face. “That is, if you aren’t busy.”

You raise a brow—sly little badger, he was. Harrumphing uppishly, you swivel to turn your back to him and say, “Tell your father that I’m choosing the venue, lest he chooses some primitive pub in the village.” You draw out the distance between you and Cedric, tossing your parting words into the chilly breeze, “Tell him I’m paying for everything, too.”

His hearty laughter cuts through the hillside as you make your way back to the castle. Thinking you have the last word, you don’t expect him to yell once more:

“I’m going to enter the tournament this year!”

You’re certainly taken by surprise, but you don’t slow your pace. An imperious smirk tugs at your lips—well, at least you know where you’re placing your bets.

A day before the esteemed guests are set to arrive, you run into Sirius and James—much to your annoyance. It’s just your luck that the evening prior you were hunting down a known member of Greyback’s pack. You played a little cat-and-wolf deep in the depths of a forest, hungrily isolating him from the rest of its family. Though this lycan was unturned, you walk away with claw marks on your back. Still, you hope that Greyback licks his wounds and feels the burden of this particular loss. However, you feel that dealing with James and Sirius will be much more difficult than bringing a werewolf to its knees.

After all, this is the first time you come face-to-face with them, nearly a month after your incident in the infirmary.

“Auror Black, Auror Potter,” you say liltingly, the rhinestone tassel clinking in your hair as you swirl to face them with a devious leer. “What can I do for you today?”

Sirius scoffs in disbelief. “So it’s like that, then? Like nothing ever happened?”

“Partying around, missing your bloody classes, parading all over the castle like you’re better than everyone else. We thought you changed. You know, I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that,” he punctuates his words with a harsh laugh, sneering at your blinding jewelry. “Guess we were the fools, eh?”

James stares at Sirius, a grim expression flashing across his face, before he shakes his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. What we saw at the infirmary—that’s not something anyone forgets.” He gazes at you with grief in his eyes. “It’s like you’re two different people.”

“It’s disappointing, really,” Sirius bites, his lips curling into a snarl.

They’ve made it all too easy for you.

“What are you so frustrated for, darlings?” you say in faux sympathy, stalking towards them as you tap at your chin; a sickly-sweet pout on your lips. “What were you hoping for? For all of us to become friends? We’re not children anymore, my loves!” you exclaim histrionically. “Did you actually fall for my little trick at the infirmary? The care parcel I left your husband? Didn’t you know my mother drafted the anti-werewolf bill?”

Sirius staggers.

“The real me?” you giggle incredulously. “What you see is what you get, dearest—don’t go searching for what doesn’t exist. It’s not my fault you fall so easily for a pretty face.” You tilt your head, fluttering your eyes as you drag your nail up James’s chin. “Not every damsel is in distress, you know.”

Your eyes slice towards Sirius with a coy smile. “Maybe if you had followed your head more often than your naive, little lion hearts—you wouldn’t have driven Regulus to his death.”

James recoils away from your touch just as Sirius flinches, eyes flashing with anger—Sirius digs his nails into his palms, chest heaving as he stares at you in disgust. You expect another stab in the chest from him, and so you lift your head up high, daring him to say another word. (You hope they stopped trying after this—that they would leave you alone to rot in your stage of lies and dutiful sacrifice.) But you don’t plan for James to step forward, shielding Sirius away from your gaze.

“You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen,” says James, words dripping in sincere revulsion. “Can’t believe I thought anything less than that.”

You smile widely, despite the tightening sensation in your chest. “Are we done here now, gentlemen?”

They would learn—this is who you are beneath your masks and pretenses.

The thirtieth of October brings about a cold you’ve never felt before. As you await the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, the outside corridors are teeming with students, eyes hungry with anticipation. You lean against the wall, exhausted physically and mentally, hugging your worn-out shawl closer to your shoulders.

The skies are exceptionally gray today—you’ve had to drag yourself out of bed earlier this morning, limbs heavy as lead. The teacup in your grasp is scalding to the touch—you find that nothing hurts more than the ache in your heart. The children are particularly rowdy at the moment—each time you close your eyes, you see the hatred in James and Sirius’s eyes.

Has loneliness ever felt so suffocating before?

When winged horses make their way from the heavens, the clamoring grows louder—yet all you hear are their words.

‘You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.’

‘I actually thought there could be something real to you under all that.’

You would not weep—not for yourself, and not certainly for them.

Sometimes, you wondered if you were hurting too much to even be considered alive. Did your marked flesh even count as skin anymore? Worthy to be cherished with gentle touches and tender lips? How much more did you have to do until the guillotine finally fell?

When does duty end? And when does life begin?

Madame Maxine and her drove of Veelas descend from their carriage; awestruck gasps and intrigued murmurs echoing along the corridor. When the Beauxbatons Headmaster comes to stand before you, you instinctively sink into the role of a diplomatic host—that is, after all, why Dumbledore hired you. With a nod of your head and a pleasing smile, you greet the first of your guests to arrive.

“What a relief that you made it safely to Hogwarts, Madame Maxime,” you tell her in a saccharine-sweet tone. “If you please, Mister Filch here will guide you to the dormitories where you’ll be staying while Hagrid will take care of your horses.”

You want to go to sleep already.

Finally, as a large ship emerges from the Great Lake—a sense of relief floods through you. Only one more person to greet and you’ll finally be able to return to your quarters, welcoming feast be damned—you’ve done your part for today. Igor Karkaroff and his students make their presence known; imposing statures and foreboding glares. The castle nearly crumbles from Viktor Krum’s entrance, Hogwarts’ Quidditch players eager to catch a glimpse of the prodigal Seeker—well, you could care less about such a barbaric sport.

Karkaroff presents you a slimy leer as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm—the dig of his long nails into your skin is a pleasant feeling, to your surprise. “Dumbledore did not inform me we would be greeted by such beauty. We would have arrived earlier, otherwise.”

You miss your cat.

(Sirius’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when you giggle and melt in Karkaroff’s wretched compliments.)

You want to die.

—

Chaos erupts the next day. The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth champion—Harry Potter himself. No one is more enraged than his mother, Lily. The Aurors on duty, James and Sirius, struggle to contain the students’ horror and verbal lashings. Some have taken to accusing James himself of putting Harry’s name in the goblet in the name of family prestige—predictably, it’s Draco and Pansy who lead that revolt. But you don’t expect for Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan to be swayed by the baseless gossip. So there’s a crack in the pride’s loyalty to one another, you surmise to yourself.

Like a Niffler drawn to shiny objects, you follow the Headmasters and professors into a room, away from all the ruckus.

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” the wise Professor Dumbledore asks calmly.

The atmosphere is beyond wintry—you note the biting criticisms in their eyes, particular between Fleur and Madame Maxime. Lily hides Harry from their scrutiny, proud and unyielding despite being shorter than the Beauxbaton champion. Across the room, you find Severus and Remus engaged in a muted, albeit wound up argument.

Everyone looks to the morose Bartemius Crouch Sr., awaiting his decision with a bated breath. You sympathize with the man—for a fleeting moment—for if looks could kill, Sirius’s tempestuous glare would have dragged him six feet under.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

Your blood runs cold.

Ludo Bagman appears to be pleased with his colleague’s decision—you see no reason why he shouldn’t be, he’s only ever put his odds in the thrill of the game. “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front!”

Dimwitted fool.

You scoff. “In a room full of Headmasters and Ministry leaders, surely one of you can find a way to unbind young Potter’s name from the tournament.”

“Err. . .” Ludo’s gaze flickers from Dumbledore to Crouch Sr. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff nod emphatically in agreement, forcing him into a corner with a ragged chuckle. “There’s nothing to be done, the Goblet of Fire has gone out.”

“Do you or do you not have a wand, Mister Bagman?” you reply, piqued; crossing your arms over your chest. “If the rules were written by a wizard, surely it can be unwritten by a wizard. Teaching an Unforgivable to a first-year would be more difficult than that.” “It is not as simple as that, Professor!” Bagman cries. “But you are welcome to try a hand at it.”

“So we just let a child run to his death, then?” you seethe, nostrils flaring. “I never knew the Ministry was teeming with incompetent men. Shall I steal your job from under your nose, Ludo dear?”

(Harry’s brows pinch in confusion. He does not expect for you to care so much.)

“He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” says Alastor Moody as he limps across the room, flask in his hand. You fall silent, an unnerving chill slithering down your spine. Something about this man did not sit right with you. You pull the sleeves of your blouse further down your arms.

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” Moody growls in response to Fleur. “Over my dead body!” James snarls, veins rigid against the column of his throat, eyes simmering in anger.

“Yes, yes, Potter, we all know you’d die for your son,” Moody remarks offhandedly, taking a large gulp of the liquor in his flask.

“It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it,” Dumbledore counters in an attempt to placate the tense atmosphere. Lily’s sharp sob engulfs the outraged clamors of the two other Headmasters. “Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do. . . .”

The glass sculpture of a long-haired mermaid shatters into fragmented pieces as you bump into the table; just about ready to flee before you do anything rash like point your wand at Crouch Sr. himself. Before you exit the room, you catch sight of Cedric’s eyes—worry and uncertainty pooling within his gaze. You slam the door hard enough until the wood splinters.

Harry Potter is imprisoned by his fate as the Chosen One—and it seems time has imprisoned everyone at Hogwarts, yourself included.

The first task for the tournament arrives defiantly, without care for Harry and his loved ones. You have only been to the Quidditch field twice—today happens to be the second time. Everyone is bundled in their wooliest sweaters and warmest jackets; although, Hermione did have her portable bluebell flames. You stare at it with envy.

“Oi! Professor, over here!” One freckled Weasley twin—Fred, you guess—beckons for you to sit by their swarm of red and gold. He pushes Ron away to make room for you beside Minerva.

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” you say quietly, sniffles falling from your frost-bitten nose.

It’s quite odd—you’d have expected to be sitting with Professor Sprout and Amos, amongst your sett of badgers. But it’s not half-bad. You don’t erupt in flames when Minerva holds onto you, shrieking, as Fleur narrowly avoids her dragon, awoken from its trance. You don’t particularly mind either, when the Weasley twins bump their chests and holler into Ginerva’s ear when it’s time for Viktor Krum to face the Chinese Fireball.

“We got a traitor here!” George snickers when you flinch and yelp for Cedric as he fights shy of the Short Snout’s fire, and cheering breathlessly when he eventually captures the golden egg. You glare at George mirthfully, wondering where your fight and heat has gone.

“Please excuse me for a moment,” you say, rising to your feet as the judges mull over their scores for Cedric. “Minerva,” you nod to her, and she offers you a hint of a wrinkly smile. (McGonagall thinks that if anyone can talk back in the face of a Ministry chairman in defense of her students, then perhaps she’s misjudged a professor or two.)

Your cheeks grow numb from the cold as you cross the swarm of Beauxbatons students, past the flock of Ravenclaws. Harry’s match is underscored by the deafening cheers; the stands rumbling from the yells for his name. You’re nearing the territory of yellow banners and black insignias, trumpets blowing into your ears, when the clamor and hurrahs turn into terrified gasps; students rushing back from the edge. You don’t understand the fuss until you look back at the arena.

Harry’s dragon has broken free from its chains.

You join Professor Sprout and Severus in herding the students away from danger—spotting James and Sirius across the arena, hastily reinforcing the protective barriers around the stands, uttermost precision in their wandwork. While Harry dances a life-threatening waltz, you hurriedly clear out the space closest to the banisters. Your breath hitches as the Hungarian Horntail wreaks havoc below, inducing quakes and showers of fire.

But more frightening than any dragon, you hear the bloodcurdling scream of a student.

“Daphne!”

The Greengrass heiress, Astoria, cries vehemently as Draco holds her back from rushing to the front of the stands.

You scour the area frantically—there, only a few feet away from you, lies a fear-stricken Daphne Greengrass, staring right into the eyes of the Horntail. Its teeth bare, growls like thunderstorms, and the rising scent of embers and ashes.

“Daphne, get away from there!”

You hardly hesitate—you run to her, desperation pushing at your legs, terror holding your heart captive. As the dragon screeches in preparation to breathe fire, the nearest Aurors miles away—each gasp for air is torn from your throat. In a blink of an eye, you grab Daphne into your arms and shield her from the Horntail. The crowd bellows in fright—you close your eyes, preparing for even the most excruciating of pain.

But there is nothing.

Just you, Daphne, the Hungarian—and Remus who’s pointed his wand at the onslaught of flames, redirecting it up into the sky as Harry grabs the Horntail’s attention, now zipping freely on his broom.

Remus looks back at the both of you in relief, drawing his wand back in his pocket. “Are you alright?” he asks you first, a weary tenderness in his eyes.

You tear your gaze away from him, checking on Daphne instead; cupping her pale cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Are you alright, Daphne? What do you feel? Come, darling, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey—can you stand? Here, put your arm around my shoulder.”

“T–Thank you, Professor,” stammers Daphne as Astoria rushes to her, the pair of sisters blubbering and crying. The blonde-haired girl nods to you and Remus, “Both of you. I–I don’t know how I’ll repay such kindness.”

“Don’t worry, Daphne,” says Remus, smiling as he offers her a lemon-flavored treat.

He steps back to make way for Lily to fuss over Daphne, his eyes straying to you, oozing with sincerity as he rubs his handkerchief to your cheek. He grins at you and your heart skips a beat. “My kindness is freely given.”

Has kindness ever felt so real before?

act iv. you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

“THE CHILDREN ARE terrified, Missus Fawley. Just last week, we had another incident. All the windows in the kitchen—shattered! The little ones couldn’t sleep for days.”

You hear the orphanage matron’s voice behind the bedroom door. You’re allowed but a moment of playing with your ragged, plush animals, before the matron comes barging inside. (How rude, you think to yourself. Hasn’t she ever heard of knocking before?) Although, unlike all the other times, she has a lady right on her tail. This woman is much taller than Sister Thompson, certainly more beautiful-looking, too. Not that you have anything against Sister Thompson’s wrinkly face and foul smile.

No, this woman walks with her head held up high, dressed in a burgundy leather coat that clearly costs more than the thin rag you call a shirt. This must be Mrs. Fawley, then. Her black heels click against the rusty, wooden floor; you watch impassively as she bends down to your eye level. She takes you by surprise when she grabs ahold of your chin, slowly turning your head from side to side.

“So this is the child,” Mrs. Fawley muses, red lips quirked. Haunting blue eyes stare back at you; hair dark as ebony falling to her waist. “You may leave, Sister Thompson. I would like to get to know my future ward.”

The matron widens her eyes. “Missus Fawley, I strongly advise against—!”

“You misunderstand me, Sister Thompson,” says Fawley, a sharp edge to her voice. “That was not a request.”

A strange sense of victory fills you when Sister Thompson bows her head in response, tossing you just one sour glare before exiting the room. The rickety door clicks shut and Mrs. Fawley returns her attention to you with a low hum, eyes raking over your form once more. You wonder what she’s thinking about; wondering if it’s the vast difference between her neatly-pressed clothing and your rumpled dress shirt. Many have visited the orphanage before, but none have spared you a second glance, not with Sister Thompson scaring them all away. (You suppose there is no appeal in adopting a child with temperamental issues who can make other girls’ noses bleed.)

“Show me,” Fawley commands, breaking the quietude; her voice stern, yet hypnotic. Much like the first notes of a pied piper’s song. For a few moments, you don’t understand what she’s asking for, until realization dawns upon you. You drop the plush toy’s limbs—seconds later, the teddy bear waves its hand as though it’s gained a soul. If this had been a wooden doll with a long nose, it would be saying: ‘I’m a real boy!’

Fawley chuckles, leaning back with a pleased look. Your head falls to the side in confusion—when you had shown this little trick to Daisy Anne and Annaliese, they’d begun to throw stones at you, screaming and saying that you were a witch. You don’t try to play with the other children anymore after that. Rather than being afraid, Missus Fawley seems to be happy with you. “My name is Agatha Fawley, special adviser to the Wizengamot, daughter of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she tells you, and you don’t have a lick of comprehension. “What do you know about witches and wizards, darling?” “I don’t know, maybe. . .” You scrunch your nose, making the stuffed elephant twirl the bear with just a glance—Fawley tilts your chin upwards, demanding your utmost attention. “That they aren’t real? Or if they are, they should be burnt at the stake?”

Agatha Fawley hisses, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine. You wonder if you’ve angered her. The toys fall back to the floor lifelessly. “Damned Muggles—! Is that what they teach these days?” She shakes her head. “No, never mind. What matters is what happens from now on.” “Are you going to adopt me?” you dare to ask, gaze falling to the floor, heart hammering against its confinements.

“I will,” she affirms and your eyes grow wide, breath stuttering in your throat. “But if we are to become family—there is one thing you must do for me.”

“Anything!” You all but scream in her ear, a plea for her to take you away from the orphanage; far, far away from hurtful words and a room that echoes your loneliness back to you.

“Never lower your eyes.” She smiles, teeth bared into a snarl, reminiscent of a prowling fox. “You are magic, my darling. And I will be your mother. No one on this earth can make you kneel in surrender.”

You believe her.

You believe her with all your heart.

But, you would learn that even monsters can call themselves ‘mother’ and embrace you with open arms.

The Fawley Manor is large—larger than the orphanage, and that was a place you couldn’t fully explore due to its largeness. There must be a thousand rooms, as far as the eyes can see. It’s like a princess castle coming to life—akin to the ones you’ve read about in storybooks. Missus Fawley’s home nearly touches the sky. There are tall trees, wide grassfields, and glimmering lakes. You gasp and cover your eyes with your hands as the chauffeur drives past the marble sculpture of naked ladies. (“Think of them as Goddesses bare to the mortal eye, dearest,” says Fawley when you yelp and sink into the leather seats.) Then, the family butler, maids, and chef come to greet you, all smiling at the new addition to the manor.

You meet Elsie, the house elf—your first real encounter with magic. Well, besides Missus Fawley turning paper into crystalline butterflies in the car. Elsie is a tiny, wrinkly creature who wears five different-colored knitted hats atop her head. She can’t seem to stop shuddering while speaking, too, as if drenched in cold, invisible water. But you look into her big eyes and you decide to be her friend forever.

“Get settled into your room, and then we’ll have you acquainted with the rest of the staff,” Fawley says after she ushers you into a room—a bedroom just for you, where you won’t have to listen to anyone else’s snoring or fight to the death for a blanket on a cold winter storm. The bed is bouncy and soft, not unlike the cardboard they’d given you at the orphanage. Your shelves are stocked with toys and books.

Then, you remember that in exchange for all this, you must do your best in school. That is one thing you aren’t looking forward to.

But, how bad could a school be if it’s filled with magic?

You happily imagine smelly trolls, dashing unicorns, talking ghosts, and floating crayons.

For your first week in the manor, you enjoy glazed desserts, fluffy pillows, and silken clothing—and on your second week, you are reminded of your duty to the family you’ve been brought into. Something bigger than studying in a faraway magic castle. Missus Fawley introduces you to her long line of ancestors. You stumble on your footing as the portraits shuffle around and gaze upon you with curiosity, some with a more heated glare than others. They call you a funny term as you walk past. Mudblood. But, Fawley tells you not to worry. You are now her child before anything else.

The family crest is chiseled with gold; you squint your eyes to make sense of the inscription: Virtus in Arduis.

“Virtue in hardships,” Agatha explains in her dulcet tone. As you featherly trace the emblem with your fingers, Fawley leans down to your height, clearing her throat; her expression impossible for you to read. “I brought you to this family because I saw potential in you. I sensed great magic from your person. But we all have our duties. Magic gives, and magic will take.”

“The wizarding world is in grave danger,” she tells you firmly, gripping the curve of your jaw with an intensity that frightens you. “Will you help me fight for the greater good?”

You blink.

You just got here and now you have to fight for a world that you never even knew that existed?

“Greater good?” you echo in disbelief. “F-Fight? Fight who? I’ve never even fought in my life! Making Daisy Anne’s nose bleed w-was just an accident!”

“I will be with you every step of the way,” she vows fiercely, the tips of her nails digging into your cheeks. “Tell me, do you understand? You will do what is right without any recognition at all. Think of it as a performance, my love. And I’m preparing you for your role in this world starting now.”

The ingénue in this act you have to play involves studying endlessly, practicing your wand work until Fawley is satisfied, and familiarizing yourself with every shelf in the library from dawn until dusk. You don’t understand why you must memorize every charm and every incantation—but Missus Fawley reminds you that you are bound to her and your responsibilities. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, cold and alone—so, you acquaint yourself with parchments and quills, swallowing the discomfort when the nib harshly rubs your skin raw.

On your tenth birthday, Missus Fawley gifts you with a closet overflowing with chiffon, taffeta, and organza. Lace parasols, pretty shoes, and wide-brimmed sun hats. The chef surprises you with a three-layered cake, the constellation icing charmed to flicker like real stars in the night. It’s the best birthday you’ve ever had. For the first time, you feel like your life is actually celebrated.

The next day, your adoptive mother says with utmost exigency, “This time next year, you shall be off to Hogwarts, but that means your debut in society is drawing near. The wizarding world will officially acknowledge you as my child.”

“When that happens, vultures will flock to you as though you were a corpse.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “And you will become one, unless you learn how to fend for yourself. The most ruthless of us all can be adorned in pearls and dressed in ball gowns. Appearance is everything in this world—do not let them see that you are afraid.”

And so, you don’t tell her that she’s petrified you to the bone.

“As the sole heir to my fortune and properties, you must understand how to navigate, not only the wizarding world, but this treacherous domain, as well.” Missus Fawley straightens your back, harshly tapping you once more to spread your legs at a more acceptable distance. “To be envied by all—the perfect host must always be ready to receive their guests with attention and politeness.”

When you wince, or move to massage your sore muscles, she barks at you, “You must always be composed, even in near-death. If you crumble—if you let even a single person know what you’re truly feeling, all this will be for naught.”

The burden of her words is heavier than the textbooks she shoves in your hold.

“Control them before they can control you,” Fawley explains as the seamstress measures your waist and arms. “Exert your influence in a conversation. Not only in words, but your stature. Present yourself accordingly. Jewelry and clothing can be your armor when you cannot draw your wand.”

You grumble under your breath when the seamstress accidentally pokes you with a needle for the nth time.

“Smile when flattered, giggle when offered a dance, and curtsy when greeted.” Fawley glares daggers at you when you hiss in pain. “But most of all, do not let any of those cretins know that you are fully aware of the power you wield over them. Anyone can be a puppeteer if they want to be. You’ll just be the greatest of them all.”

(But even a master of puppets has someone pulling their strings from behind the curtains.)

Elsie stays up with you each night, carefully pouring ice-cold water over your head, and playing with the floating bubbles to distract you from the ache in your legs and arms. “Elsie will give Master her hat!” the young elf says one evening, pulling the topmost beanie from her head and laying it on yours. She tells you a bedtime story before tucking you beneath the covers of your queen-sized bed. You fall asleep to the sound of grasshoppers chirping and portraits murmuring to one another.

Then, you get your first taste of a pureblood skirmish. Missus Fawley had taken you to Diagon Alley, months away from the first of September—a letter in your hand with all the materials a first-year would need for their classes. Safe to say, you’re more than excited. (“Oh, mother, look!” you exclaim, pointing to the various shops—and also remembering the rule of calling Agatha mother out in public. “A sweet shop! Fortescue’s ice cream parlor! Mother, can we go there? Please, please, please!”) Fawley smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, your hand in hers—today is a special one, she decides. You’re allowed a bit of fun. Especially since you’ve shown unfathomable progress in your studies.

You get your very first wand at Ollivanders—and now this world of grumpy goblins and jumping chocolate frogs becomes even more real. You hardly let go of your wand, a tingle of exhilaration running through you each time you brush your fingers against the finely-carved wood. Even Missus Fawley is pleased with the wand that chooses you. Later, you’ll be given three hours to practice your charms again, but you find that you don’t mind—not when you’ve learned that you can now read books under the covers when Elsie turns the lights off.

As you exit the shop, breathless and flushed with a hunger to explore more of this world you’ve been given access to, you and Fawley run into one of her friends. This must be one of the scary people she’s warned you about. Sharp cheekbones, unfriendly gray eyes, and a stern demeanor. You immediately suck in a breath and school your face just as Agatha has taught you.

“Walburga!” Fawley greets with a lovely smile, but you notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like when she smiles at you for growing another inch taller. She brings her hand onto your shoulder. “What a pleasant surprise, my dear.” She peers at the two young boys hiding behind her, much like you were doing now. “Oh, my! Is it that time already? I’d forgotten young Sirius was set to go to Hogwarts this year. You must be overjoyed.”

Walburga is a tall lady, taller than Agatha, even. She hums, lips quirked, chin held up high. “Fawley,” Walburga responds, rather displeased. “Talking my ear off, as usual.” Her trenchant eyes land on you and her smile curves into a sneer. “And who might this little one be?”

You risk a glance at Missus Fawley before offering the other woman a sweet, half-curtsy. “Madam Black, how do you do?” you smile at her, gaily revealing your name and the gap in your front teeth—the two boys snicker and your eyes instantly narrow into a glare.

Walburga stares you down harshly. “How adorable.” Her eyes slice to the two boys behind her. “Sirius, Regulus, introduce yourselves.”

Missus Fawley laughs, a grating sound—much like warning bells—as her eyes flash dangerously at her, hand tightening on your collarbone. “What a relief to know that Sirius will at least have one friend already before they arrive at the castle.”

“But—oh, dear, look at the time.” Agatha quickly casts the Tempus charm before looking at you aghast, eyes wide as saucers, mouth parted dramatically. “I promised the Daily Prophet a photoshoot today! It is my thirty-first birthday soon, after all. I’d give you tips on how to capture this look, but, Walburga, it seems you’re embodying the housewife fashion perfectly.”

“Ta-ta!” She plants two, airy kisses on Walburga’s cheeks before waving the three goodbye.

“That,” Fawley whispers into your ear as she snuggles the side of your face. “—is exactly how to do it.”

You collapse in your bed that night, wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into and what kind of world you’re about to live in.

How confusing.

All this time, you thought that Missus Fawley had been preparing you for an intense entrance exam. Why else would she make you study twenty-five hours a day and eight days a week? But as it turns out, all you had to do was sit on a chair and have Professor McGonagall put a talking hat on your head.

“Hufflepuff!” the Sorting Hat proclaims, and the table of yellow and black welcomes you with open arms. You sit next to a boy named Amos Diggory. Later in the night, you’ll share a dormitory with a kind girl named Amelia Bones.

(Hogwarts is the best!)

The holidays arrive in the blink of an eye and you find yourself standing at the steps of the manor once more. Agatha Fawley waits for you by the door, engulfing you instantly in a hug that shields you from the falling snowflakes and biting winds. Hot cocoa with marshmallows and gingerbread cookies await you in the grand dining room; you even get a crotchety greeting from Isolde Fawley the Third’s portrait. Elsie crumples to the floor and sobs at your arrival.

“So you were sorted there,” Fawley mutters to herself, a worried expression contorting her face. The fireplace crackles as a winter storm rages outside the manor. You lay on her lap as she absentmindedly pats your head. Stories of your first few months at Hogwarts fall from your lips without pause. “This would go smoother if you had been sorted in Slytherin, however; but no matter—it’s not what I expected, but we can make do. The Diggorys and Bones’ are purebloods, so maybe not all hope is lost. But you need to get more acquainted with the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, Druella Black’s daughters as well.”

You hide your frown against her legs. You really liked Amos and Susan, Bellatrix was just downright mean to everyone, even calling this one girl, Lily, a Mudblood, too. But if mother wanted you to try, you might, but only once. If Bellatrix didn’t want to be your friend, then there’s no helping that unhinged witch. (At least the Prewett twins’ pranks were funny. Bellatrix once snuck inside the Ravenclaw tower to leave a dead pig’s head in the girls’ dormitory just because.)

On the twenty-fifth of December, Agatha Fawley throws a gala just for you—masqued as a fundraiser for Muggle children in need. (None of the families cared about them, you would realize later on.) The ground nearly rumbles from the number of guests she’s invited. From your bedroom window, you spot a few familiar faces. Sirius Black, who stands out from the crowd like a pale bean sprout; his cousin, Bellatrix, who’s already taken to yelling at the staff; Lucius Malfoy, the Flints, and the Parkinsons. Your head goes dizzy.

As long as you don’t trip during your entrance, everything should be fine, right? Right?

(You one-hundred percent trip in front of everyone as you descend the stairs. The sound of James Potter and Sirius Black’s laughter haunts you.)

But other than that, the Yule event goes by smoothly. You don’t fall flat on your face when greeting Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier, and mother is thoroughly satisfied when you smile in the face of Walburga Black and Abraxas Malfoy. You stay in the corner after welcoming your guests, sitting in your chair like an abstract painting forbidden to touch; whilst the Prewett twins and James teased Elsie until she cried from anxiety. Sirius also goes out of his way to congratulate you for growing all your teeth in.

You don’t understand why Mother is so scared of these people.

But you’ll understand virtue in hardships soon enough when you receive your first tutoring in ballroom dancing. Instead of sapphire earrings or a trip to France, Missus Fawley has a different gift in mind for your fifteenth birthday. She surprises you with a tutor—you’re bewildered at first, arguing that you’ve consistently been at the top of your class. (“Madam Hawthorne is not here for your academics, my darling,” Fawley explains with her red-lips stretched in a foreboding smile. “Dance is a beneficial skill for any host to have. You’ll practice until your footwork is perfect. You will dance until I say you can stop. And when your feet are aching and bleeding, you will keep dancing.”)

Each night for your summer holiday, you go to bed, sobbing into your pillows, body trembling from Madam Hawthorne’s cane.

Everything changes on the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

Like all the years before, Missus Fawley invites the entirety of the pureblood society to the manor.

You stay with Narcissa and Andromeda, gently placating their concerns when they ask about your unnatural quietness—truthfully, you could no longer breathe in the flounced dress you’ve been forced to wear; the sides of your feet raw from constantly practicing with Madam Hawthorne, head aching from the lights and obnoxious perfumes; stomach gurgling. Bags under your eyes from revising endlessly for your N.E.W.T.S.

Eyes drooping and neck craning from exhaustion, you don’t at all expect for James Potter to emerge from the crowd; wavy, brown hair sweeping over his glasses, wine-colored suit melting into his dark skin. He holds out his hand to you with a boyish grin. “May I have this dance?”

You blink, frozen solid for a few moments until Narcissa softly nudges your side. “Y-Yes, if you must,” you splutter, placing your palm in his.

He leads you to the dance floor as the orchestra plays a song perfect for a waltz along a flower field; your eyes glued to his back. The chandelier hangs overhead as James settles your arms around his neck in one swift motion. You almost step on his feet, spluttering your gratitude when he steadies you by the waist, the heat of his hands permeating your layers of clothing.

“Isn’t it odd that the birthday celebrant wasn’t dancing all this time?” he says, pulling you in for a twirl.

“I assume the others were all too afraid to deal with my mother,” you reply timidly. “She’s quite overprotective, you see.”

“Who? That tall lady over there by Missus Black who’s currently glaring at me?” James chuckles into your ear as you step closer to hear his heartbeat. “She couldn’t possibly terrify me.”

“Lily says thank you, by the way.”

“Oh? For what?”

“Letting her copy off your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay—she’s downright shite at the subject. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

You laugh along with him, and you find that you could rest in his arms forever.

But, as your dance with him comes to an end, so does your wistful reverie.

When most of the guests have left the scene, and when the lights have dimmed, Mother presents to you her real gift—your debut in the wizarding society. She leads you to a room, one where you’ve never ventured before. It’s deep past the cellars, where cobwebs and dust bunnies grow. (Before you enter, Narcissa grips your hand firmly, a look of dread and urgency in her eyes. “Be brave,” is all that she says, encasing you in her arms.)

In this dark room, you see Abraxas and his wife, Walburga, Cygnus, the Notts, the Goyles, and more people you recognize, all dressed in their finest black cloaks—as though it were a funeral instead of a birthday. In the center of it all, is your mother, Agatha, with a man kneeling in front of her.

“What is this?” you ask in alarm, frantically searching for answers. The man struggles against his rope, binds, screams and pleas muffled by the cloth shoved in his mouth. The sight of his bruises makes you all but retch. “Mother, what is going on?”

Walburga is the first to step forward, her lips painted blood-red against her ashen skin, curving into an edacious smile. She cradles the back of your head to her chest. “My lovely dear, it has been the utmost privilege watching you grow. Your mother is certainly proud of you, we all are. Tonight, just as our sons and daughters before you, we offer you our blessing on this very special day.”

“You know of the Unforgivables, right, my child?” Her voice is a sweet, ruthless cadence in your ear; her touch, like worms crawling on your skin as she places your wand in your hand. You bite down on your tongue, swallowing each breath as the walls threaten to cave in on you. Your fingers forcibly shake in terror and you worry that you might snap your wand in half if you aren’t careful. “The Cruciatus, the Imperius, and—?”

“The killing curse,” you breathe out, ever-so stiff in her hold. You watch as Abraxas kicks the man to the ground; you dig your nails deep into your palm to keep from flinching.

“That’s right, little one,” says Walburga, tracing your jaw with a morbid sense of satisfaction. She holds your chin in place as Abraxas tears the cloth from the man’s mouth. It’s worse now. You hear his desperate begging and his guttural cries for help. “Muggles,” she spits the word out like venom. “Look at them. They’re filthy. Infecting our blood with theirs.”

“Kill him,” Walburga says, a delicate whisper, as though she had asked for a cup of tea. “Kill him and you’ll have proved your worth to us.”

“No! No, please!” The man struggles against Abraxas’s arms. “Please! I have a family! A c-child!”

You stagger backwards, nearly losing your grip on your wand. You look to your mother for help. “I—!”

“Kill him, pet!” Bellatrix cackles from across the room, teeth bared viciously, eagerly beckoning for you to come forward. “Make sure you mean it! Otherwise it won’t hurt!”

“You know the words,” says Walburga, lifting your pliable arm—a puppeteer controlling its ragdoll. “Say it.”

The man before you is real. He’s a real person with a real family anxiously waiting for him to come home. His children worried sick for their father. How can they just stand there and expect you to kill him? “Mother, please—I can’t. I w-wont.” Your breathing grows labored, hot tears pricking your eyes; the man screams and yells, and the sound echoes ceaselessly in your ears. “I don’t. . . I don’t understand.”

Agatha Fawley closes her eyes, and you understand perfectly.

Each sob wrecks your body and the tears endlessly flow from your ears, you hiccup and shiver; blood pooling from the bite in your tongue. “I can’t do this—please!”

“You will.”

You close your eyes just as a flash of unforgiving green shoots from your wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The man falls limp to the floor, and so does your wand. Walburga coos and drowns you in a sea of shallow praises, the men offer their congratulations, but all you hear is the sound of a lifeless body dropping to the ground.

A man who you just killed by your wand, in your home.

That night, the four walls of your bedroom bear witness to your anguish—you cry until you throw up on the floor, body lurching and quivering on the freezing red oak.

“Do you get it now?” says Agatha as she enters your room, the faintest of sunlight streaming through the windows. She bends down and cups your face in her palms. “This is your world from now on.”

You rip her hands away from you, gritting your teeth. “I don’t want to live in your world—not anymore! I don’t care about all this! Magic, wealth, and all these things mean nothing if I have to kill innocent people! You’re a monster!”

“Good.” Fawley’s voice is cold as she stands up, lifting her chin as her eyes glaze impassively. “That means you’re ready for your next lesson.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I was done!” you retort, sore from crying.

“Don’t you see?” says Fawley, pausing underneath the door frame, gaze ruthlessly slicing towards you. “We will destroy them from the inside out. Walburga, Abraxas, Tom Riddle. All of them, one by one. That is our true duty.”

As she turns to leave, she adds coldly, “Ready yourself. I’ll be teaching you Occlumency during your summer break.” Then she slams the door shut, leaving you all alone in your room.

When you return to school after the winter holidays, you’re forced to pretend that you hadn’t taken the life of an innocent Muggle.

‘Do not let them see you are afraid.’

“Unfortunately, flaming red hair and hand-me-down robes will not complement my dress—it’s crimson taffeta, you see, handcrafted only by the finest tailors in Italy,” you say dismissively to the ragtag of Gryffindors before you, Vittoria Zabini and Isadora Bulstrode giggling at your side. The Prewett boy visibly wilts and you almost give in—almost. But everyone must play their part in this world. You know that if you show a sliver of weakness, Vittoria and Isadora will be happy enough to report to their mothers—vying for the pedestal you’ve been put on by their parents.

For the final blow, you scrunch your nose in disgust, slamming your Divination textbook close. “Can you even afford anywhere in Hogsmeade for a date, Prewett?”

(Walburga would Avada you herself if she caught you in such a place with such a wizard. You’re more terrified of what she might ask you to do to Gideon—someone she deems as a blood traitor. You refuse to utter another Unforgivable. You just won’t.)

“Oh, you cruel wench!” Marlene McKinnon steps forward and before anyone could take another breath, she slaps you in the face. And, finally, you feel something other than the guilt of taking someone’s life.

Your cheek stings from the impact, your ears ringing with the sound of your friends asking if you’re alright and Dorcas Meadowes roaring about how you deserved it—well, you’re not about to disagree. You move your jaw about, cradling the side of your face as you sigh impassively—oh, it’s nothing compared to the etiquette lessons of Agatha Fawley. “My mother will certainly hear about this, McKinnon.”

“You and your mother can kiss my arse!” she shrieks, eyes ablaze.

“Gideon didn’t deserve that, and you know it,” Lily argues fervidly, eyes sickle-shaped as she looks back at the Prewett twin’s dejected expression. “How could you even say that?”

“How could I not, Lily darling?” you reply off-handedly with a roll of your eyes.

Lily flinches. In her gaze, all you see looking back at you is the Muggle father who had cried out relentlessly for one last glimpse of his children. She stares at the badger emblem on your cloak with disdain, and you with a great deal of pity. “You are, without a doubt, the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen.”

She has the softest voice you’ve ever heard, but it hurts you all the same.

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw in the bath, hoping that you’d wash the feel of your sins off your hands—it’s all for naught. Agatha might be a monster in your eyes, but you’re the fool that played right into her act.

You get to your feet, meeting her eye-to-eye. In a low whisper, lips close to her ear, you say, “There are far worse creatures out there, Evans. You’re lucky you’ve been born only a Muggleborn.”

Fortunate that she won’t ever have to play the role that you’ve been forced to. You feel an overwhelming envy towards her—effortless beauty, pure and untainted hands, a kind heart that draws in every one and every person. Compared to her, you must be a dirtied, black swan in a lake that’s only meant for white swans like Lily Evans.

And she will have more charming princes and truehearted fairies on her side than you could ever hope to gain.

“Say another word and I will tear your hair from that pretty head of yours,” Marlene snarls, pushing Lily behind her.

Oh, how easy they make it for you.

You smile in delight. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Marlene lunges.

(You are so tired of it all.)

Every night of your summer holiday, you spend it writhing on the floor, Agatha’s lessons on Occlumency taking its toll. She grows harsher, stricter, and more apathetic than the sun beating down on the manor windows. (“Again!” Fawley demands as you collapse to the ground, drenched in sweat and your head numb from her probing. “Do you think the Dark Lord will be lenient with you? Get up! We’re going again! If you want this to end, you will endure this without error!”)

While your peers are out swimming in lakes and racing around in Quidditch brooms, you’re stuck within the confinements of your home. But you are not that naive, you’ve seen the headlines of the Daily Prophet. A coalition known as Death Eaters have begun making their mark on the wizarding society. There are rumors of a great, sinister power rising. People go missing everyday, and you worry that this might be the world that your mother has been preparing you for all this time.

But why you? Why must you carry this burden all alone? Who will pick up the pieces of your battered soul when the weight of your burden crushes you entirely?

There are times when you wish you never left the orphanage at all.

A week into your summer break, you find out that your mother is dying. Violent coughing, dizzy spells, jaundiced skin, her eyes bloodshot, and the healer frequenting her bedroom quarters. You’re not allowed inside, of course, but you can hear her feeble voice and the doctor’s stern orders.

You also learn that she’s absolutely insane—but that is a fact you’ve come to terms with years ago. One night, during dinner, you’d let it slip that you have your suspicions of a classmate being inflicted with a lycan’s curse. Agatha Fawley reacts just about as one would expect her to.

“A werewolf? In Hogwarts?” Fawley staggers to her office, the tower of neatly-piled documents and research reports from the Ministry now fluttering to the floor. “No, no, no. . .” she utters to herself, panic seeping within her skin. It’s the most frazzled you have ever seen the great Agatha Fawley. You stare at her unraveling from the threshold of the room, unsure of what to do. “Dumbledore has gone mad! That old loon! What was he thinking? Sheltering a beast within the castle!”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” says Agatha as she reaches for you, a ghastly smile on her face and a near-empty look in her eyes. Your brows pinch together in confusion—you hadn’t been worried about that student at all. “I’ll have that monster out of the castle in no time. The Ministry will have no choice but to listen to me.”

“That’s it,” she mutters, haphazardly grabbing for her feather quill and blank parchment. “Perhaps a law to forbid werewolves from ever integrating into society. School, house properties—can you imagine if they manage to infiltrate the Ministry? Everything I’ve worked so hard for!”

“Mother?” you call out hesitantly, crossing the distance, hand outstretched as Fawley slips on her footing, a muttered profanity under her breath. The woman before you is unrecognizable, a sallow casing of a moribund soul. “Mother, please, Remus is no threat to the castle,” you plead, ripping her hand away from the quill. “You can’t do this!”

“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” Agatha seethes through her teeth, chest heaving as she glowers at you. “Everything I have done, I have done for you! Yet, you still continue to fight me? I should have left you in that orphanage to rot while I had the chance!”

“Well then, why didn’t you?” you scream, pushing her away as the words force themselves out of your throat. “Maybe that Muggle father would have still been alive if you did! Maybe I wouldn’t have to suffer so much! To hell with you and your duty!”

Fawley laughs to herself, a weak and feeble sound. At first, you think it’s in response to you, but then you watch her drag her palm down her face, unblinking when her fingers appear to be drenched in blood. You take a step forward and there’s crimson trickling down her nose, a pallid contrast against her skin. “Ha,” she chuckles once more, keeling over to the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, blood on her flesh. “Merlin, what have I done? I–I’ve gone too far—even the Gods cannot save me.”

The despair in her voice is confounding. “Come here, my love,” she croaks from the floor, reaching out to you with bloodstained hands. Reluctantly, you sink to her side, gnawing on your lower lip as she cups your face in her palms—how many times have you been in this position before? “I’m sorry,” she sobs, shoulders trembling. “Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I’m afraid I’ve doomed the both of us.” She traces the frame of your jaw and cheekbones. “My child, my beautiful child. What have I done? Will you forgive me?”

You realize that this must be the consequence of living in a constant lie. To be an imitation of a human person, with no room for grief, rage, fear, hope or even a semblance of love. You stay silent, drowning in the arms of your adoptive mother. “I am to die soon,” says Agatha with utmost finality, eyes boring into yours. “But you are better than me. Braver. Far stronger than I have ever been. I know this must be the heaviest burden a child can carry, but you must understand that the fate of this world is at stake. I am so sorry, my love, but I must leave this duty to you.”

She lets her head hang limply. “I-I am tired, as well. I’ve pushed away everyone and anyone for this. To do what is right, to endure what is hard—that is what I’ve lived by all these years.”

“And so must you.” Agatha has been mourning all this time, but not for her life.

You hate her.

You hate her with all your heart.

But even monsters need a heart to breathe.

A month passes by in a blur, and you are now set to meet the ill-famed Tom Riddle. You know that he was a student of Professor Dumbledore; that Narcissa is extremely terrified of him, and that Lucius Malfoy idolizes him to a fault. (“This is the moment I have been preparing you for all these years,” your mother tells you, shields of Occlumency glimmering in her deep blue eyes. “Do not let him in no matter what.”) Soon thereafter, Missus Fawley apparates the both of you to the Malfoy manor.

The dining room is bleak, befitting of a Malfoy; curtains drawn, fireplace idly crackling, and hushed murmurs upon your arrival. All eyes are on you, and you’re lucky to have dressed in your Sunday best. At the head of the table, you see Tom Riddle, with Abraxas and Cyprian Nott sitting on each side. You hear something large slithering across the polished floors—your breath hitches at the sight of a monstrous serpent curling around Tom Riddle’s chair. The glass chandelier chimes overhead and you wish it would fall from where he sits on his shrewd throne.

(You find Regulus Black sitting beside Narcissa, cheeks flushed, body quivering as his skin pales to a deathly color; holding onto his left arm for dear life. And, your heart just physically breaks. You don’t understand why this is the world you must live in.)

“Come here, my dear,” Tom Riddle hisses, urging you forward with a serpentine leer in his eyes. You feel like a circus lion forced to perform its tricks.

Tom Riddle is handsome—you notice begrudgingly. A menacing kind of beauty that entices the weak and preys on the vulnerable. (You would not be one of his victims, you vow, raising your own walls against him.) His gaze drills into your own—instantly, you feel his magic snaking around in your head, searching for hidden truths. The sensation is staggering, dizzying, and you’re nearly brought to your knees. You clench your jaw at his Legilimency—obstinate bastard.

“This one is lasting longer than your son, Abraxas.” Riddle chuckles, his finger tracing the curve of your jaw, as Abraxas forces a smile. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he leaves your mind. You release the breath you’ve been holding for the last thirty seconds. He finds none of your secrets, and you suppress a vindictive grin. Riddle glances at your mother. “How fascinating.”

You wonder if his intrigue will keep you alive for another day or bring you closer to your death.

“My Lord,” you greet windedly as you press a kiss to the cold signet of his ring. “What an honor to stand before you today. Although, I could have done with a more polite greeting from you.”

Bellatrix snarls at you in warning. “Do not speak to the Dark Lord that way, you insolent brat!”

“Enough, Bella,” Tom rasps, flicking her concern away, barely so much as sparing her a glance. “I’ve no need for a little girl to come to my defense.” She visibly wilts at his dismissive words and you almost feel pity for her—almost. Then, you remember this is the man who treats the Cruciatus curse like a treat to give away freely to children—now, you pity Bellatrix fully. The curly-haired girl twitches at the sight of him toying with his wand, Nagini’s forked tongue flicking in anticipation.

“Tell me, my dear,” says Riddle, trailing his gaze down to your arm. “Has your mother arranged a marriage for you yet? Much like our dear Cissa here.”

You grow frigid in his hold. “Not at all, my Lord. Mother thought it best if I focused on my studies before anything else.”

Tom hums in thought, eventually releasing you from his clutches. “I see. . . Then, have you considered other ways of pledging your allegiance to our cause?”

Instinctively, you hide your left arm from his sight. “My Lord,” you begin, wondering how much longer you can address him as such without throwing up in his lap. “The only reason there isn’t much backlash to your. . . merciful endeavors is because Mother and I have ensured that the Daily Prophet’s eyes are elsewhere. The Ministry is blindsided, and no one expects a mondaine darling to be under your influence,” you say, desperation pouring from each word.

You don’t want to carry his Mark. Not ever. You can endure it—you can endure it all so long as you aren’t eternally condemned to his name.

“Take that away, and you’ll face significant repercussions,” you threaten boldly. “I promise you that. They look away because of me.”

For every village and family terrorized, you had shifted the public’s attention to your facetious behavior. Throwing galas left and right, appearing out in public with various partners—you had done it all to bury the looming war. Rita Skeeter is at your beck and call. For every attack, your face is plastered on the front page. For every cry for help, the Ministry is busy dealing with trivial matters that your mother has proposed—such as anti-werewolf bills.

And Voldemort would never notice that you’ve been thieving covert information from right under his nose and delivering it anonymously to a rising organization known as the Order of the Phoenix.

(You’re also not pleased that they share similarities to your non de plume, the Firebird, but you suppose that is the least of your worries.)

If Molly Weasley comes across a sealed letter on the steps of Grimmauld Place, with complete details and addresses of Death Eater hiding places, it is no one’s business but the Order’s—and yours.

For every life taken, you remember that Muggle father in your mother’s cellar. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow—but you’ll dismantle the pureblood society yourself. All of them, one by one.

Tom Riddle smiles, and you realize that no one threatens him and gets away with it unscathed.

A day before you’re set to return to Hogwarts for your seventh-year, the Malfoy Manor is pervaded by your gut-wrenching screams.

There you are, little Firebird with your wings clipped, writhing on the floor of Lucius Malfoy’s guest room—the Cruciatus curse surging through your veins like molten lava threatening to burn you from the inside out. You hear Narcissa and Missus Fawley’s voices blend into a cacophony of panic. They’re shouting for various things: warm towels, bandages, essence of Dittany, and water. Regulus’s hold on you is tight, near-suffocating, even.

But you don’t feel anything other than the mutilated flesh of your arm.

You scream, cry, and scream again—you feel his magic over and over again. Branding you. The ink blends into your skin—but it’s not your skin anymore. A part of you now will always belong to him.

Bile rises to your throat.

Tears fall from your eyes.

(How cold is the floor? You don’t even care anymore.)

And, the worst part is that no one can see it. Riddle charmed it perfectly to coalesce against your skin tone. But you see it. You see the skull and the stupid, wriggling snake. You see Tom Riddle’s monstrous glee as he drives his wand into your arm—Abraxas and Lucius holding you down as you thrash and flail. Your only reprieve was your mother was there, cradling your head to her chest, blocking out their malignant laughter. (You can’t believe you never noticed, but your mother had been branded, too.)

“I’ll. . . kill him,” you say to yourself, blood and saliva trickling from your lips. If it is the last thing you’ll ever do, you will have Voldemort’s head on a silver platter.

“Don’t be foolish,” Narcissa scolds, tipping your mouth upwards to swallow the drops of Dittany. “None of us have the power to do that. We just have to make do with the life that we’re given.”

“I promise. . . you,” you gurgle through the searing pain, gasping for air, clawing at her arms. “I’ll destroy them all.”

You pass out in her arms.

When you awake, you’re on a train to Hogwarts, left arm bandaged and hidden under the sleeve of your school robes.

You don’t bother attending your classes—seeing no more purpose in Transfiguration and Herbology when you’re just a pawn in someone’s, everyone’s plans, apparently. The professors express their concern when you no longer turn in your homework or assigned projects. Once again, you barely see the need to. Your meals during breakfast, lunch, and dinner go untouched. You stay away from Narcissa, Vittoria, Isadora, Lucius, and Regulus. Your only friends, Amos and Amelia, stay away from you, too, having seen news of your promiscuity in the Daily Prophet. You scoff internally—you’ve never even had your first kiss yet. But even that seems like a distant dream.

You are tired.

How much longer do you have to play this part? How much more of yourself do you have to give?

You’re only seventeen—how can you even hope to defeat Voldemort like this?

The castle walls have dulled, and you drift through the corridors like a wearisome ghost. The once colorful world that you have been brought into now pales in the face of curses, spilt blood, and the Mark on your arm. You wonder what would happen—if you just run away now.

Why should you be the one to bear the burdens of this duty thrust upon you? Why do people like James Potter and Sirius Black find loyalty and a real family within Hogwarts, and there is no one willing to fight for you?

Perhaps, you have no one else to blame but yourself.

Rita Skeeter publishes her article on the growing rift between you and Vittoria Zabini—claiming that you had stolen her beau from her.

You toss the newspaper into the fire.

Some nights, you don’t bother returning to the Hufflepuff dormitories anymore. You know what they think. You know what they say behind your back.

For the third time this week, you find yourself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling from the edge of the window, eyes blankly staring at the horizon—if you run towards there, you wonder how long it will take before they find you. The cold nips at your cheeks, but you barely feel anything other than a gnawing emptiness.

Your gaze falls to the ground below, thirty, fifty meters from where you sit.

Maybe. . .

If you move a few inches forward. . .

If you just fly.

You’d be free.

“Oh, I didn’t know this window was occupied.” You loosely turn your head to find Remus Lupin standing before you with a crooked grin, hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly shuffles one foot over the other. He raises his arms up in surrender. “I guess I’ll. . . find somewhere else to brood.”

I don’t care.

Go away.

I want to die.

If I disappear, would you care? Would anyone?

You rest your head back on the windowsill, hugging your legs to your chest.

Starlings chirp and fly past you—how liberating it must be, to soar in the skies. But all you can do is watch enviously. Powerless, little songbird with no more lullabies to sing and no more wings to fly with.

You let your weight shift over the window.

Maybe if you fall, you could see what it’s like to fly.

“H-Hey! Don’t—!” Remus quickly snatches your hand and pulls you into his embrace—the both of you tumbling to the floor. You feel his chest heaving, arms trembling around you, and the sound of his rapid heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he looks over your face for any injuries. “Why would you do that? Are you mad?”

You sigh.

Maybe tomorrow, then.

“Oi!” Remus pokes your shoulder. “Don’t just ignore me! You scared the piss out of me, you know? Bloody hell.” His shoulders slump in relief, and he takes another peek at you—just to make sure you’re still in front of him. “A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, afraid to spook you further away. “Do you want to talk about it or anything?”

You shrug. “Nothing to talk about.”

His gaze flickers from you to the window ledge. “I think that’s a big something to talk about, honestly. B-But I get it. Really. No judgment.”

An unwilling chortle escapes past your lips. Remus Lupin and his marauding bunch of lions would never understand the burden you have to carry each day for the rest of your life.

Remus scratches the back of his head with a wolfish grin. “Hey. . . listen. We don’t know each other all that well—so this is going to sound terribly weird. But would you like a hug?”

He opens his arms wide enough for you to fit—and you stare at him in horror. “C’mon, then. It really seems like you need it. And honestly, I kind of need it, too, especially after a scare like that.”

You stay silent.

He shakes his hands, beckoning you forward, golden hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t bite. Promise. One hug and we’ll go on pretending like we don’t know each other tomorrow. Marauder’s honor.”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness,” you say with a prominent sneer—certainly not kindness from him. It must be another prank of theirs. You wait for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius to jump out and spray you with garlic juice.

Remus smiles. “I think you’ll find that my kindness is freely given.”

You nibble on your bruised lip.

Could you really?

Maybe just this once.

You’re only human, magic as you are.

You take one step forward.

Then another.

Another.

Until you fall right into his arms, and you inhale the scent of honey, milk raspberry chocolate, and cedarwood. The warmth of his arms around you is real. His voice is real. He whispers cruel words into your ear, “You’re alright, love. Let it out. I’m here.” You burrow your head deep in the crook of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat is real. He tightens his hold around you, and the ground underneath feels real. For a few moments, you don’t feel like you’re floating away into oblivion.

Maybe you’d stay alive—for a few more days.

To do what is right.

To endure.

Perhaps, tomorrow will be easier—if such kindness is real, maybe you’re allowed to seek it for yourself every now and then.

But your nightmare doesn’t end when you’re awake—it takes you by the throat when you find yourself summoned to the Malfoy Manor on Hallow’s Eve.

You’re not the only one caught by surprise. One by one, Tom Riddle’s followers apparate into the dining room, stumbling inside with a bewildered expression. Their Dark Lord has called for them in the dead of night—it must be for something important. You stiffen, sinking into Lucius’s shadow. You search for your mother but she doesn’t appear to be anywhere in the room. Someone brushes their hands against yours—Narcissa. She stands by your side, face impassive, her pupils frantically trying to make sense of the situation.

Then, Tom Riddle finally apparates into the room, startling you for a fraction of a second. Not far behind is Abraxas, Cyprian, the Lestranges, Bellatrix, and finally—

Your mother.

Fawley looks worse for wear, her skin sinking into her bones, clothes tattered, and her face littered with bruises. Bellatrix drags her across the floor, hair wrapped around her hands.

You move to stop Bellatrix, anger blinding your vision—Narcissa tightens her grip on your wrist, subtly shaking her head. You rip your hand away from her.

“We have found a traitor in our midst!” Bellatrix cackles, throwing your mother to the ground—your fists clench, swallowing each lump in your throat with rage blinding your vision. “I caught the bitch helping the McKinnons escape!”

“No,” you whisper, dread knocking you backwards—it just isn’t possible. The two of you had always been careful. Bellatrix hits her again, and you have to restrain yourself from marching forward and cursing her from where she stands.

One moment of weakness, that is all Tom Riddle needs. He finds you in the crowd with ease. The crowd of Death Eaters part like the red sea, and you steel yourself with Occlumency before you are sharply pulled forward, the mark on your left arm blistering as though a hundred needles are driving into your skin repeatedly.

“If the mother is a blood traitor, the child is sure to follow!” Bellatrix hisses, spit flying into the floor, her eyes gleaming with maniacal glee.

Voldemort cruelly holds your jaw in his hand, nails digging into your flesh, threatening to break through your bones. “Is this true?” he asks, drawing blood from your skin. “Tell me!”

“No!” you cry out, kicking and punching to get away from his hold. “It’s not—let me go! That is my mother! You’re hurting her! She’s sick!”

“That,” Riddle’s eyes flash with hostility, breath hot on your skin, “is a betrayer to our cause.”

“She’s not!” you scream.

“How did she find out, then?” Voldemort flings you to the ground—immediately, you rush to your mother, gathering her in your arms. Tom Riddle cocks his head and you’re blasted into the walls—you feel his Legilimency trying to force its way in, exploiting your pain and shock. But you won’t let him in. He’ll have to pry your memories from your cold, dead body.

The pain is searing—you’re being torn apart from limb to limb. Your mark is burning, head throbbing from a concussion, and still fighting against Riddle’s magic. Through your blurry haze, you see Lucius holding Narcissa back from running to you. “We’re not traitors!” you cry out desperately, crawling pathetically to your mother’s listless body. “I swear!”

Voldemort sneers just before he points his wand at your mother. “Crucio!”

“No! No! Stop it! Please! Please, stop it!” you beg on the ground as your mother helplessly writhes on the floor, the Cruciatus curse reducing the once austere Agatha Fawley to a whimpering mess. “You’re killing her!”

Tom snarls, “Good.”

Bellatrix digs her claws into your neck, her laughter resounding throughout the manor—you swallow the sobs down your throat as she drives her wand into your flesh. “Your mummy over there is done for. But you—our precious jewel, you can still prove your loyalty to our Dark Lord.”

She puts your wand and closes your fist over the wood—your eyes grow wide as you thrash in her hold, screaming as she forces you to look at Fawley. “Kill her. And you may live.”

“Just say it,” Bellatrix whispers in your ear. “Two little words. You’ve already done this before, pet—the second time should be easy enough!”

“No!” you knock your head back into her nose, slipping away as her hold loosens and she screams profanities at you—but to your misfortune, Voldemort captures you, like a defenseless bunny running into a starving snake.

“Mum, wake up, please!”

You cry out helplessly, sobbing as Voldemort forces you to watch the life gradually fade away from her blue eyes. Her magic envelops you—and you remember warm holidays spent by the fire, Muggle storybooks before bed, surprising you with breakfast in bed for your birthdays. It’s a warm feeling, a stark contrast to Tom Riddle’s invasive magic. Her voice echoes in your head one last time.

“Thank you for showing me what love feels like, if not for a moment. I am sorry I could not show it as a proper mother would.”

“Kill her!” Voldemort rages into your ear.

You watch as Fawley’s eyes drift to a close, an act of resignation. “It’s okay, my darling,” she whispers tiredly. “I. . . can rest now.”

For the second time in your life, you point your wand at someone’s heart—this time, it’s your mother’s.

“What are you waiting for?” Bellatrix asks, twitching menacingly. “Kill her! Before I do it myself!”

There’s a faint smile on her face.

“I’m. . . sorry.”

Those are Agatha Fawley’s last words before you take away her life.

The incantation falls so delicately from your lips, an act of mercy for the woman you once called your mother and your greatest tormentor.

But your eyes are on one person and one person only.

Tom Riddle.

“Avada Kedavra!”

He will know your pain.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But you’ll destroy them all, one by one.

a/n: THERE IS KISSING IN THE NEXT SCENE I PROMISE.... AND TRUST MY LILY LOVERS WE WILL GET OUR REDEMPTION ARC SKDJHFGKJH and sirius lovers too,, but yall are well-fed every day so.. next part has the yule ball, likee,, there's no way THAT becomes angsty.. if you saw a plot-hole, no you didn't just CRY and enjoy sdhgsdf... come tell me what you thought!! (if you have any constructive criticisms, just come to my dms BUT PLS BE VERY GENTLE.... oh and don't hesitate to tell me if i accidentally wrote anything super specific like height, skin color, etc.!!) i promise to better in the final part!!!! (there's only two parts to this fic.) I LOVE YEW I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY AAAAAAAAAAAA

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dirkxcaliborn · 2 years

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My darling my beloved my baby boy the love of my life I almost never call him the same thing twice in a row: Nazuna (Nito, Niichan, Nazunii, Nazunyan)

Almost never call them by their name: Tomoya (Tomo-chin), HiMERU (Meru), Arashi (Naru, Narunee), Kohaku (Kohakucchi), Tsukasa (Kasa)

Use their name and nickname interchangeably: Subaru (Soob), Tsumugi (Mugi), Kaoru (Babygirl), Mayoi (Mayo), Mika (Mika-chin), Hajime (Shinonon), Ritsu (Ricchan)

Just use their name: Natsume, Hiiro, Aira, Yuta, Jun, Izumi, Shu, Hinata, Keito, Souma, Eichi, Koga, Kuro, Leo, Mao, Niki, Yuzuru, Adonis, Chiaki, Hiyori, Hokuto, Ibara, Kanata, Madara, Makoto, Midori, Mitsuru, Nagisa, Rei, Rinne, Shinobu, Sora, Tetora, Tori, Wataru, Tatsumi

#coyo speaks #I don't generally use nicknames for characters rly #especially bc the silly fan-made ones never appeal to me #but a lot of these characters have such cute canon nicknames that I can't resist #I probably call Nazuna Niichan more than anything lol but he calls himself that so much #but I really will call him several different things within a single convo #also babygirl Kaoru is just so funny to me hxbdbsksvsj #Izumi and Nazuna come up with the best nicknames tho fr #Izumi's just like umm I wasn't really listening when you said your name and also I don't care #so I'm going to call you by a cutesy nickname that kinda sounds like what I heard and I'll die before I call you anything else #Nazuna mostly just adds chin to everyone's names #so I'm not saying he's the most creative lol but it still sounds really cute so I use them too #there's some favs hidden in the normal name group but I just don't have any good nicknames for them #Realized I never specified but babygirl isn't a canon nickname for Kaoru lmfao sorry if I got your hopes up #almost all of the others are tho #I still kinda hate that they translated Nazunyan as Nazu-meow #that doesn't sound even half as cute it's just too literal for something playing off similar sounds

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arthenaa · 1 year

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carnal — sebastian sallow x fem!reader x ominis gaunt

plot summary: Challenging two renowned Aurors responsible for almost half of the imprisonment of numerous dark wizards leads to you experiencing being hunted for your life during a celebratory party at the ministry.

warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, slight plot with porn, aged up characters (silver trio are in their mid 20's), sebastian and ominis are aurors, random ocs mentioned (i just shit out names tbh), random hp shit as well not sure some of them exist in the canon lore, reader is a magizoologist in a partnership w the ministry, they hunt u down (its all roleplay), dominis, switch seb, bottom reader, she/her prns is used for reader, ominis, you and seb like pulling each others hair lmfao, oral sex, p in v sex, choking, all the nasty stuff.

notes: inspired by @/pseudonymmcwriter i love prns fics pls you should check them out if ur into detroit become human <3 minors are highly discouraged from reading. read at your own risk. pt 2 of carnal.

It was supposed to be a joke.

A jest at their occupation. You didn't mean to talk shit about their jobs as Aurors. You were merely joking around, influenced by the festivities around you. Although, you suppose you shouldn't have tried to joke around Slytherins at all. It was a celebratory party for the new head Auror, Ryona Bassett, who was praised for her leadership skills and achievements in finally capturing a dark wizard creating havoc in the wizarding world. It was due to this that she had gotten her promotion, a well-earned position on her part.

Of course, she couldn't have done it herself. As part of her plan to capture said wizard, she had formed a group of talented wizards and witches to aid her. Part of that group was you. The wise witch had apparated in front of your apartment in London, sitting on the bench like the menace that she is in hopes of recruiting you as part of her team (You had almost jumped out of your skin at the creepy sight).

It was because of your skills and experience in the field of magical creatures that led you to be recruited by Ryona Bassett. Dragons were said to be one of the weapons used in the dark wizard's plan, and well, who'd be perfect for the job other than you? As a magizoologist, your job enabled you to mostly work alone as it required intensive travel all over the world. Although you worked for the Care of the Magical Creatures department, you were more of a partner rather than an employee of the ministry. You saved Hogwarts during your 5th year, rescued the fate of the wizarding world after a dark wizard had tried yet again to sabotage the election of a new leader, and also nurtured and rescued beasts in your care.

Basically, you were a big shot, and y'know that big shots like you always get called for the important stuff, which is why you're where you are today.

Part of the said group was also none other than your two dearest friends; Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt, Aurors at the British Ministry of Magic. Sebastian and Ominis were the two people who Ryona had at her beck and call given that they did work in her division. However, these weren't the only reasons why she had chosen the two. They both had risen the ranks at a much faster rate than others ever since they joined the Auror office. This wasn't to your surprise considering the two often sneaked out in the safety of the Undercroft to practice spells out of Hogwarts' jurisdiction. Sebastian Sallow was known for his magical prowess in dueling and knowledge of the dark arts whilst Ominis Gaunt excelled more in tracking and hunting through magical traces. Despite his blindness, he had formed a unique connection to his wand, allowing him to sense and feel magic more sensitively than others. The two are quite formidable Aurors and built up a reputation as one.

They were also known to be the pair who almost filled half of Azkaban. They were that good.

It didn't help that they were also attractive. They were deemed to be the ministry's most desired bachelors of this era. You couldn't agree more.

It had been a while since the three of you were together in the same room. You kept your friendship low maintenance and would send an owl to each other here and there. To be honest, the low-maintenance friendship was more of you and them, but we don't need the specifics. After a long month of trying to catch Hugo Blaire (the dark wizard, yes), it wasn't a huge surprise that a party would be done in honor of the group's efforts and contribution to making another safe and sound day for the wizarding world.

You don't know how many glasses of champagne you had downed in the past hour, but you sure as hell won't be counting. You've been scanning the crowd, looking for a particular brunette and blonde amongst a sea of unfamiliar people.

It was tiring trying to keep up with the greetings and the conversations. You probably mispronounced multiple last names at this point, and you couldn't care any less at how many eye twitches and failed to keep horrified expressions you've seen in the past hour. Your assistant, Judy Beckham, decided to be your spokesperson at the start as she noticed that the glass on your hand seemed to have no plans leaving your grasp. It was funny seeing her play as your publicist as you had yet again purposefully mispronounced "Yaxley" to "Yackley? Yatley? Yale? Shitley?" (It was well deserved, to be honest. He was on your shitlist after he had tried to order your imprisonment when you were trying to rescue a Zouwu who had wreaked havoc in the streets of London. He claimed you were the one responsible for the mess... Which was partially true... But not all of it!)

"And that should be your final drink." A voice interrupted your thoughts before a hand grabbed the refillable glass in your hand, moving it away from your grasp. The scent of musk and wood immediately infiltrated your senses as your back feels the presence of another. You turn to face the culprit, smiling at him.

"Sebastian." You softly reply as you place a hand on his arm. "I was looking for you."

"As have I, darling." He chuckles before glancing at the glass in his hand, watching as it filled back up with champagne. "Though it seems you've already started to enjoy yourself."

"Refillable charms are a crime." You softly laugh in response. The Auror has a soft look on his face. You glance back at the center of the ball where Ryona stood alongside the rest of the crew, entertaining guests. "Aren't you supposed to be there?"

"You mean we?" He corrects as he places a hand on your waist. You feel butterflies in your stomach. You push it away.

"... Right."

"Where's the little redhead you're with?" Sebastian doesn't need to crane his head to survey the room. He was a tall motherfucker who was gifted with the lucky genes. You didn't know how much a person could grow knowing that he was the same height as you in your fifth year, then you were at his shoulder in your 7th. He was tall and attractive. A direct shit to your face.

"You mean Judy?" You raise an eyebrow at him despite mentioning her multiple times in your letters. He smiles a boyish grin at you.

"I saw her a moment ago trying to calm down August Yaxley from transfiguring you then and there. What'd you do this time?" You feel his thumb rubbing the material of your dress on your waist. His stare was unwavering as he encouraged a response out of you.

"Mispronounced his name. It was quite funny seeing the number of expressions running through his face. Quite a life-changing experience, if I do say so myself. As for Judy, she just gave up on me. She's probably drinking herself to death somewhere." You jest. He chuckles at your response before pulling his hand away from your waist. It almost made you whine at the loss, but you remember this is your best friend, and you shouldn't be whining like a submissive bitch in heat at the loss of his touch. "Where's Ominis?"

"Ah." He places the glass on the waiter's tray as one passes by before crossing his arms over his chest. He looks so attractive in his black three-piece suit with a silver chain hanging on his vest. It didn't help with the way the material of his coat stretched along his arms, fitting his physique perfectly. You wanted to drool. "He'll be here in a minute."

"That sounds oddly vague." You rest your weight on one leg as you copy his form. "What's he really doing?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes before raising his arms in defense. "You got me. He's finishing writing up and collecting final intel on another case."

"That quick? Damn." Your eyes widen in amusement.

"Remember that church we went to last week? A couple of days before Blaire's capture? The one in Glasgow." He recalls. You hum, remembering the place. "Turns out, there were other traces of dark magic there different from Blaire's lot. It was an infamous place for dark wizards to gather, and we were lucky enough to be able to hit two birds with one stone. Ominis was able to decipher the similarities of that dark magic to the ones he received from that hacienda back in the Philippines."

"That's amazing." You marvel at Ominis's tracking skills.

"I know. Bassett put us on the case right after this." Sebastian sighs. "Not sure if that's a blessing or a curse."

"Just shows how talented you guys are." You bite your lip as you pat his arm. Sebastian shakes his head.

"You had a hand in this, too." He gives you a pointed look. "If it weren't for our daring escapades, I wouldn't be where I am today."

"Yeah, right. If I recall correctly, you were the mastermind of it all."

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't witness your magical prowess in ancient magic, Ms. Hero of Hogwarts." He leans in, pinching your cheek as he teases you. You flush in embarrassment at the title, trying to forget after years of hearing it multiple times to the point where all you wanted to do is obliviate the whole damn school. Wasn't it so hard to just say you saved the school? Why'd they have to press in the title 'Hero'? Thankfully, Sebastian's proximity made you forget an incoming war flashback of your time at Hogwarts. You would've died from cringe there and then.

"You two look cozy with each other. If I were from Daily Prophet, I'd already made millions from using this as gossip material." A new presence has arrived, startling you two out of your comfortable conversation. Sebastian sighs dramatically at his entrance.

"Ominis. You're late." Sebastian chastises jokingly as he watches his best friend glare in the direction of his voice. You might've laughed at Sebastian trying to act like a disappointed mother, but you were taking your time checking out the new addition to your little group. Similar to Sebastian, Ominis had also experienced a growth spurt. Nearly at the same height as the brunette beside you, the man embodies the essence of elegance and gallantry. His hair is in his usual slicked-back hairdo and wearing a dark blue three-piece set that matched his cloudy blue eyes. Ominis adjusts the tie on his neck with his free hand before moving close to you two with the guide of his wand.

"Thanks, Sebastian, for the obvious observation." He sarcastically replies before feeling for your hand and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it. "Hello, love."

"You two practicing on your courting game or something?" You joke as you watch Ominis put down your hand gently. Sebastian tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he moves close to stand behind you. "I feel so flattered."

"It's just the bare minimum, dove." Sebastian leans in to whisper against your ear. He laughs softly as you move back, tickled by his breath. Ominis wasn't able to hear what the other Auror said and could only sigh in exasperation at Sebastian's antics.

"I heard you were finishing an intel report on a new case, Ominis." You change the subject as you rest your hand on his arm. Ominis places a hand on top of yours.

"Yes. Did Sebastian mess up again?" He turns to the direction of your voice with an accusing tone. "Don't answer. Of course he did."

"Hey! That's unfair of you to assume." Sebastian pouts.

"Am I wrong?" Ominis raises his eyebrow. Sebastian falls silent. "Thought so."

"Shut up."

"I am quite curious, though, did you ever have an instance that you weren't able to track someone?" You ask out of curiosity as your arm intertwines with Ominis's. You glance between the two as they pause to think. These two were deemed the best in the industry. Surely, the praises were exaggerated, right? You had a hard time tracking poacher locations, and you already had possession of ancient magic. Being the best doesn't entail 100% success.

"Nah." Sebastian answers nonchalantly. Ominis nods in agreement. "Sure, some took more time than others but everything's trackable."

You pause for a moment at their answers. "Really?"

"Yes. Everyone leaves tracks of magic every day. It's quite easy to decipher once you're used to it." Ominis adds, trying to convince you further. You hum, still unconvinced by their claims. Sebastian turns to you, looking at you with an unwavering stare. You tried to look back, but you could only glance away, not able to return it.

There's a moment of silence before the brunette breaks it off.

"You don't believe us, do you?" Sebastian says with his eyes wide and eyebrows raised in amusement. Ominis has an unreadable look on his face. You feel like you've offended them both with the way Sebastian's staring at you and Ominis's tense body.

"Well— I mean, surely not all right?" You sheepishly smile at him. Sebastian scoffs at you.

"I assure you, Y/N. When I track something, I get it done." Ominis turns his body towards you, causing your arm to fall from his. You look between the two as they continue to look at you with unreadable looks. You feel as though you've suddenly been cornered. Like you've done something worthy of their attention as Aurors and not as Sebastian and Ominis. This shouldn't excite you, but it did, and so you stupidly continued your plan on pissing them off.

Slytherins are known for one thing, and that's their drive for ambition and winning in competitive environments. What more to entertain yourself by pissing off not one but two snakes?

"Bullshit." You've resorted to using harsh methods. You could see the way Ominis's eye twitched and Sebastian's sudden change of posture. You were glad you met those boring guests back then, it certainly helped maintain a straight face. "Not even once?"

"Y/N." Sebastian takes a step close. "We're not kidding."

"Sure you are." You let out a giggle as you move a step back, trying to gauge their reactions. Ominis steps close to Sebastian's side as he clenches his jaw. This is fun.

Now, this is where the actual problem starts. You were having way too much fun trying to get a rise out of them that the words spewing out of your mouth were thought half-assed. You were joking but they we're taking it seriously.

"I'd bet my whole fucking body you won't be able to catch me. Even Bassett has a hard time getting me these days. What more of a challenge than a magizoologist to track, hm?" You laughed.

Bad move.

Bad fucking move, because all of a sudden, you could feel the tenacity of their stare. Even Ominis seemed like at that specific moment could see you and stare straight into your soul. You felt your body go rigid with nervousness.

The silence was long and uncomfortable. Both of them stood there, postures domineering and authoritative. You felt scared but at the same time, excited. You decided to make the first move.

"Guys?"

Sebastian licks his lips as he looks at Ominis before leaning close to his ear and whispering. The other Auror blinks slowly as he listens to him before nodding. Sebastian moves forward first.

"What's the bet again?" Sebastian smugly asks. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"I'm afraid I'm not following—"

"You said you'd bet your whole body, right?" He reminds you. Your eyes widen in response.

"I wasn't serious about it." You try to reason with them.

"We weren't joking in the first place. You know we've always liked you. Why not take advantage of a little opportunity, hm?" Sebastian says with a low voice as he raises a hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with eyes that seemed to mock you. You felt slightly ashamed but tried to keep your confidence afloat.

It was common knowledge that the two best friends pined after you. Ever since your 5th year, the two had fallen irrevocably in love with everything about you. You knew. They knew you knew and yet a silent pact was made between the two to never make a move on you as they didn't know how you felt and didn't deem it worthy as the fall of their friendship. You were glad somehow but also saddened because you never really chose between them. You liked them both. But they didn't need to know that. Right?

Well, it seems as if they're testing you right now, and with the amount of alcohol in your system combined with their dark looks trained on you, you wouldn't be surprised if you did admit your attraction to both of your best friends.

"Aw, are you scared?" Sebastian taunts. Ominis only stands behind him, posture calm and collected as he listens to his partner speak for him.

"Shut the fuck up." You reply in a weak voice, feeling intimidated by their aura. Ominis lets out a soft laugh. "I was joking about it in the first place—"

"Ah, ah." Sebastian grasps your chin in his hand, turning your face towards him. "You said it first. We're just finishing the job."

You let out a shaky breath as they continue to move closer and into your space. Sebastian's thumb caresses your bottom lip as he stares at you with want and desire.

"Let's be clear here, darling. The only reason why Bassett can't properly find you is that it's her that's finding you." Sebastian mumbles lowly. You could feel the grip on your chin tightening. Your knees tremble at his domineering hold on your face as your core begins to burn with arousal. "You've never had us."

Shit.

It's Ominis that sets the final nail in the coffin. He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Ryona's going to give a final speech in the next few minutes."

A hand slithers across the small of your back before grabbing your waist, pulling you close to him. You let out a small moan at the harsh movement before the lips against your ear continue to move. "We're going to give you 30 seconds to move. You got that, sweetheart?"

A soft kiss placed on both sides of your neck makes you whimper as both of them pull away from you. You watch as Sebastian casts a final look at you before both of them disappear into the crowd. You stand with knees weak and mind in shambles as you hear the crowd cheer at Ryona's entrance. She waves into the crowd and suddenly you're face with an existential crisis.

We're you suppose to move during? Or after? Did you have to hide? Fuck, did the 30 seconds already start? You couldn't grasp a single thing in your mind as your eyes tried to find the familiar backs of the two. It seemed all the eerier that you didn't know where they were. It was like a predator hiding and waiting for the perfect chance to pounce. So as the submissive prey that you are, you began to move.

You squeezed your way through heaps of people. Ryona's speech was already considered background noise for you. You had reached the east entrance, sighing in relief before a pair of hands stop you from reaching freedom. You could almost feel your heart drop before exhaling a big breath at the sight of your assistant, Judy Beckham.

"Where were you? I was looking everywhere for you!" Judy worries like the inner mother that she is. You could almost coo at her concern over your well-being but the thought of two Aurors after your ass was more pressing than the worried redhead in front of you.

"Listen, Judy. If ever you come across Sebastian and Ominis, tell them I went to the west side of the building." You smile widely as you hold her arms tight within your grasp. Judy raises her eyebrow in confusion.

"Y/N, you're not making sense—"

"Please!" You plead as you pull her closer to your face. The girl cranes her head back at the proximity. "I'm in grave danger if those two ever find me. Be a gal and lie, okay?"

Judy stares at you for a few seconds before sighing. "West. Got it."

"Thank you!" You grab her for a quick hug before bolting through the doors. Your heels clack noisily on the marble floor as you rushed through the partially empty corridors of the ministry. You pass by familiar faces who you kindly shoot a smile at.

"Fucking heels—" You groan as you reach for the devil traps on your feet, pulling them off and continuing your escape barefoot. You manage to reach the hallway to the elevator before a voice causes you to pause and crouch down to hide.

"Y/N." Ominis's tender voice echoes throughout the empty corridor. You hide in a corner as you watch his figure pass by the elevator. Great, the easiest way out was already guarded. You should've thought that ahead. "I know you're here."

You remain silent as you watch Ominis pace back and forth slowly, face looking calm and collected. You assess your surroundings, looking for a way to escape.

"Do you want to know why I know you're here?" Ominis asks which catches your attention. You check behind you to ensure that no Sebastian was sneaking up on you to catch you off guard. You wait for him to reply. "You've always had a particular magical aura. I sensed a glimpse of it when you entered the doors of the Great Hall in our 5th year, then it grew bigger and stronger when I saw you exit the Undercroft. Magical auras tend to vary according to a wizard or witch's personality and most of them feel loud and ... unnerving. You, however, shine like sunlight on a sunny day. A gentle breeze at the start of autumn."

Your breath hitched as you hear his footsteps halt. You feel your cheeks heat up at his declaration, you bite your lip as you wait to hear more. "I felt attached to you because of it. Like a moth to a flame. Do you think spending years by your side that I haven't got your aura ingrained in my head? I suppose that's what I get for falling for you."

Fuck. You don't know where he went. It seems as if one moment you knew he was there and then the next he was gone. You peek into the hallway, glancing back and forth.

You knew you shouldn't have let your guard down. You knew that you were faced with someone who was so used to tracking and feeling magic differently and more sensitively than others that it became an extra sense to them. You feel his breath before his touch.

"It's the very reason why I sense you right away. You're leaking your tracks everywhere, love." He speaks lowly against your ear. With a harsh shove and a twist of your arm to your back, he pushes you against the wall with your front against the hard surface.

"O-Ominis, wait!—" You try to plead but the Auror only presses you more against the wall. He had your arm twisted against your back with a hold of your wrist. His chest pressed against yours and his face on the side of your neck.

"That fast?" He mocks you as he laughs closely against your ear. You try to push back against his grip but you remain defenseless.

"Fuck you."

"You wish." He mumbles lowly in your ear. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before placing possessive kisses against it. You let out sighs of pleasure before groaning in pain as Ominis grabs your head by your hair and angles it for more room on your neck.

"Let me go." You breathlessly beg as you allow him to pepper kisses against your neck. You wish to stay there and then but you knew that the boys wanted a bit more fun. After all, you wanted to get the most out of this once-in-a-lifetime situation.

"Now, why would I do that?" Ominis bites your ear lobe as he grinds his hips against your ass. You try to turn your head towards him.

"Cause you love a good chase, right? This barely counts as one." You tempt him, grinding back against his moving hips. He lets out an amused laugh, letting go of your wrist as he encloses his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against him. You bask in his presence, head falling back on his shoulder. He turns his head to the side, placing more kisses on your neck before biting on your shoulder. You let out a soft moan.

"I'm giving you another 15 seconds. Run as fast as you can." He whispers in your ear before sensually moving his arms off your waist. He takes 5 steps back before motioning the empty corridor with a nudge of his hand. You lick your lips before running away from him.

Ominis tilts his head back as he pants from the arousal, running his fingers through his neatly styled hair before a voice enters his mind.

"Are you on your way?" Sebastian asks. Ominis rolls his eyes before fixing his coat. Sebastian often flexed his magical abilities, especially this one he had learned recently. The ability to communicate through the mind. His best friend was a natural student of magic, curious to the wizarding world and desperate in learning all of it as he is a son to two former educators. This was also what made him a pain in the ass.

"I let her go. She's on her way to you." He replies as he takes his time following your trail. He's sure if he made a run for it now, he'd get you in no time. But he decides to play by your rules.

"Fucker. Did you get a taste?" He hears Sebastian chuckle through their shared mind connection.

"Get the fuck out of my head before I get her myself."

"You're hot when you're angry, y'know?" Sebastian purrs. Ominis grunts at his flirt. "Got it, sir."

You don't know how long you've run. Most of the ministry departments were empty due to the large celebration on one of the building's halls. Everyone was there and the only creatures patrolling the halls were Matagots. They were formidable creatures who easily sensed intruders so if there was a breach in security, a single spell cast on a Matagot would immediately alert all of you. You've decided to stop at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as you deduced that Sebastian would probably be on standby in front of the elevator when it reached the ground level. At least here, you were close to the ground floor and there's a passageway that leads you down to the ground floor discreetly (you'd have to thank Hank, the house elf in charge of the elevator for that one).

Also because you've chosen this floor, consequently you knew you were on the floor where the Auror office is located. Which means, Sebastian and Ominis's floor. This is probably the least floor to logically be on but you probably (emphasis on probably) knew that they wouldn't check here. The passageway was located at the Head Auror's office and so you just need to sneak your way in and easily escape.

Unfortunately, Merlin was being a bitch.

As soon as you opened the entrance to the Auror division, you gasp quietly at Sebastian leaning against the doors to the Head Auror's office, twirling his wand elegantly between his fingers.

"Fancy seeing you here." Sebastian smiles so innocently. You stand on alert as he moves away from the double doors and towards you with careful steps.

"How'd you know?" You ask as you take steps back with every step forward from the man in front of you. Sebastian shrugs.

"When you're well versed with the dark arts, it's quite easy to detect certain things." Sebastian hums. "Or maybe it's just basic logic. After all, you have to think ahead of your opponent."

You continue to take a step back before your back meets a surface that wasn't originally there. You turn around to see the very same man who had given you a moment of mercy.

"Again?" Ominis smiles with pity, pretending to have no clue as to why he found you yet again. You let out a loud gasp before rushing to the one side of the room to move away from them both. The two stalk toward you like predators. You could feel your breath shortening with nervousness as they cornered you to a wall. You had no way out. You discreetly glance around you before seeing an opening to the Head Auror's office. In a moment of panic and sheer bravery, you bolt down towards the double doors leading to your escape, trying to get one last chance to run away.

Sebastian snarls as he runs after you. Ominis stands behind, arms behind his back as he lets his partner handle the work. You could feel the fast thumps of his foot against carpeted floor as your hands try to open the overly complicated entrance. You clumsily open the door before a set of strong arms grab your waist and pull you away from your only chance of escaping. You scream in retaliation before a hand covers your mouth.

"Bad, bad girl." Sebastian huffs as he presses you against his chest, hand on your mouth as he watches you fight back in his grasp. His hands then move to reposition themselves. One hand wraps around your waist while the other grabs your neck and grips it back to lay your head back against his shoulder. "Should I cast Oscausi on you for being so fucking loud, hm?"

"Sebastian." Ominis calls his attention before nodding to one of the open and empty offices. He moves towards the two of you as Sebastian pulls you to the empty roomwith Ominis locking the door behind him. "Stop scaring her."

"Do you think she looks scared?" Sebastian raises his eyebrow as he settles on a desk, pulling you to his lap. You shake, riddled with sensitivity as Sebastian continues to grip your neck. Ominis raises his hands, gliding up your arms before feeling Sebastian's hold on your neck and then moving up to your face. He feels the heat from your cheeks, the dryness of your lips and hears the soft little gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You were aroused and completely at their mercy. Ominis smiles as he runs his thumb against your bottom lip before leaning in close.

"We won, little dove. Are you ready?" He gently asks. Sebastian gently eases on his grip but remains his hold on your neck. You look up at Ominis and softly brush your lips against his.

"Just fuck me already." You pant, blunt with your response as the two fall into silence.

"Fuck." Ominis curses before surging in to press his lips against yours. Sebastian almost falls back at the sudden pressure but recollects himself as he busies with kissing your neck.

Hands begin to grope at your body. Sebastian's hands gripped your waist as he moved his hips up against yours, his bulge rubbing against your heat. Ominis cups the nape of your neck to angle you for a deeper kiss. You open your mouth, allowing the blonde to intertwine his tongue with yours.

"You're so fucking pretty," Sebastian mumbles shakily as he continues to place more marks on your neck, taking advantage of a sweet spot as you moan in surprise. "She's so fucking beautiful, Ominis."

"Yeah?" Ominis responds breathlessly as he pulls away for a moment before diving in for more. "Of course, she is."

Your hands find their way into their respective hairs. Gripping the roots tightly as you pull them closer to you. The two groan in pleasure. The three of you continue to make out before Ominis pulls you back with a tug on your hair.

"On your knees, baby." He licks his lips, savoring your taste on his lips. "Suck Sebastian off."

You pant as you look back at the brunette behind you who looks at you two with lust in his eyes. Sebastian smiles smugly. "You heard the man."

You giggle before rising from his lap, placing a chaste kiss on Sebastian's lips before kneeling in between his legs. Ominis moves to your left as you unbuckle his slacks before pulling down to expose his member, watching as it slapped heavily in between his thighs. Taking his cock in your hands, you gather your drool in your tongue before dripping it down your mouth as a form of lubricant. You perform swift up-and-down motions to start it off.

"Fuck, that's it." Sebastian moans as he runs his hands through your disheveled hair. Ominis listens to his moans before feeling his way up Sebastian's shoulder and finding it's way into his curls. He grips his hair and crane his head towards him. Sebastian moans loudly at Ominis's hold on him.

"Tell me what she looks like," Ominis whispers into his ear as he places wet kisses on his jaw before biting his earlobe. He then harshly pushes his head down towards you which gives you a signal to start using your mouth on him. You lean down to take his cock in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down as you use your hands to take what you can't fit in.

Sebastian chokes his moan as he feels Ominis's grip on his head become tighter. "S-She's taking it all in. Like a good fucking girl."

Ominis hums at his response. You look up towards Sebastian innocently as you pull slightly back, sucking on his tip before you twirl your tongue around it like a lollipop.

"F-fuck— Ah. She— She looks so perfect with my cock in her— A-ah! I-In her mouth. Look's so fucking pretty— Merlin's beard." Sebastian stumbles over his words as you bob your head faster. Ominis smirks against Sebastian's cheek before he speaks parseltongue into the brunette's ear. You feel the shiver and twitch of Sebastian's hips as his face becomes flushed red at Ominis's hypnotic speaking of the language of snakes.

It seems as if Sebastian enjoyed it too much as a hand wraps itself around his neck, gripping it tight as Ominis continues to speak in tongues to his ear. Sebastian whimpers, eyes rolling back before the blonde moves his grip on his neck to his jaw to pull him into a deep kiss.

You moan at the sight of the two making out, encouraging you to give the best fucking head Sebastian Sallow has ever fucking had in his life. With a twist of your hand and fast bobs of your head, Sebastian archs his back in sensitivity, breaking away from his kiss with Ominis. His body curls as he grips your hair, pulling you away from his dick.

"F-fuck wait." Sebastian whines as he pants, not handling the intense pleasure from your mouth on his dick and Ominis's mouth on his, especially the fucking parseltongue. He almost came in your mouth if it weren't for his swift reaction. You twist your hand over his tip to tease him. He then transfers his hand from your hair to your neck, gripping it firmly. "I said wait. Can't follow simple fucking instructions. Get up."

You whimper as Sebastian pulls you up from the floor through the grip on your neck before moving his hands to grip the back of your thighs to carry up you and wrap them against his waist. He settles you down on the desk before pushing you back to lie down on it. Ominis moves to the other side of the desk where your head is placed. The two make haste on pulling your clothes off of you, leaving you bare and naked on the wooden surface.

"Fucking gorgeous," Sebastian mutters under his breath as he runs his hands on your thighs before pulling them apart to stare at your pussy. Ominis runs his hands on your chest, groping your breasts into his hands. The blonde groans at the feeling of your body within his grasp. He remembers dreaming of this very moment and it's now within the palms of his hands (literally).

Sebastian pushes your thighs up against your chest and you whine in embarrassment at the exposing position. Sebastian chuckles at your sudden shy behavior. "Don't worry, it'll pass. I'll make sure of it."

You could barely process Ominis's groping on your upper body before you feel Sebastian's tongue on your cunt. You gasp at the sudden feeling which makes Ominis smile.

"Sebastian, wait—"

"I told you to wait awhile ago, why would I do that?" Sebastian retorts before diving in and devouring your pussy like a man finally quenching his thirst. His tongue licks back and forth on your clit before sucking it. He then presses the flat of his tongue, moving it up and down before using the tip and move in circular motions. He slurps the juices dripping out of your pussy, moaning at the taste. The vibration of his moan causes you to moan loudly in pleasure.

"Sebastian— Oh fuck! fuck.. fuck!" You pant as you grip Ominis's arms, taking what Sebastian's giving. "Don't stop, please please please please!"

"Yeah?" Ominis leans down to caress your face, feeling the tears drip down the side of your face. "Little dove crying because you feel too good, hm? Poor girl."

You sob as Sebastian continues to assault your pussy with his tongue. Pleasure courses through your veins as the brunette between your legs manhandle you into the position he desires. Ominis basks in the sounds of your moans and the wet and messy slurps of Sebastian's work. His cock twitches against his pants. He eases the pain by using his free hand to rub against the front of his slacks. You look up at Ominis who continues to caress your face. "Ominis..."

"Hm?"

"Kiss me." You whine softly as you feel a knot slowly build up in your stomach. Sebastian continues to eat you up and a building pressure reveals itself in the process. Ominis smiles at you before leaning to place a kiss on your lips, upside down. He swallows your moans of pleasure as he pushes in his tongue, slowly and passionately kissing you deeply.

Sebastian glances up from his position, furrowing his eyebrows at the loss of your pathetic moaning. He smirks as he sees you focused on kissing Ominis before deciding to take matters into his own hands. He moves up to your clit, focusing the attention of his tongue there before adding the usage of his hand, gently rubbing the entrance of your cunt. You gasp at the sensation before yelping at the insertion of a finger inside.

"Ah!" You pull away from Ominis in the process as Sebastian eases his fingers into you. The brunette glances at the blonde with a smirk and a light chuckle. Ominis definitely heard that.

"Feel good, pretty girl?" Sebastian hums against the side of your thigh as he watches his finger go in and out of you before adding another one. You let out a measly moan in response. "I need to hear an answer."

"M-Mhm." You moaned out as he begins to curl his fingers up, pushing it deep within you. Sebastian pushes back against your clit, sucking it and licking it well for you. The sensation of his tongue and fingers begin to bring you closer to the edge. "Oh, fuck."

"Close?" Ominis whispers as he leans down against your ear. You let out short breaths as you feel the knot slowly unravel. Sebastian enters another finger as he speeds up the process. His fingers begin to reach depths even yours couldn't reach. It felt so fucking good as the tips of his fingers brush against a sensitive spot within you that jolts your back into an arch. It was there yet it wasn't. Sebastian's tongue flicks and sucks faster against your clit as you descend rapidly into the madness.

"Let me cum, please. please." You whined as your hand reaches up to intertwine with Ominis's locks. The blonde torments you from above as he sucks marks alongside Sebastian's work during his time on your neck from awhile ago.

"Go ahead, pretty girl," Ominis whispers in your ear alongside Sebastian's ministrations. The knot unravels fast as your body shakes violently in their care. Your orgasm is hard and slow as Sebastian does his best to lengthen it, your thighs crushing his head close against your heat. You let out long and loud moans as your body rises from the desk in the process. Ominis grabs you against his chest, kissing the side of your head softly as Sebastian continues his assault between your thighs, making sure to slurp every last bit of your release. "There you go."

"Stop, stop!" You reach a hand down, trying to push his face away from your heat. You let out a small laugh from the sensitivity as he continues to mouth your cunt.

"Tastes so fucking good," Sebastian growls as he pulls away, lips red and chin dripping with your arousal. He places a gentle kiss on your clit as you twitch in sensitivity at the action before kissing his way upwards and pulling you into a deep kiss. Your tongues intertwine as your back rests against Ominis's chest. The blonde's hand runs through Sebastian's locks, gently petting his head as the two of you kiss. His free hand moves to where your lips are connected, probing his index finger within your tongue as he tries to feel you two kiss. Ominis lets out a shaky sigh at the feel of your tongues moving against one another before you two pull away.

The brunette looks up at you with a smile. "How'd you want us?"

You take a breath as Sebastian places a chaste kiss on your cheek while Ominis places one on the side of your head. "Ominis inside. You get my mouth. He's been on the sidelines for way too long."

Sebastian nods with a cheeky grin. "Got no complaints there."

Ominis places a kiss on your forehead as he helps you up before exchanging places with Sebastian. The brunette sits on the desk as you stand between them with Ominis behind you. You hear the rustling of clothes behind you before turning around to look. Ominis had taken off his coat and bottoms, leaving him bare from the waist down. His cock slaps heavily up against his stomach, dripping pre-cum from the amount of waiting he had done. Throughout your sexual escapade, Ominis opted to listen in on your and Sebastian's pleasure than himself. He was more of a observer, preferred ordering the two of you and revel in the moans and pants pulled by pleasure. You take a note to spoil him further in the future.

He pulls you back against his chest as he moves close to you and Sebastian. The brunette cups your cheek, placing a peck on your lips before he travels his hand to the top of your head and pushing you down gently to his cock. You eagerly use your mouth to pleasure him, slipping it inside and try to take him all in.

"Damn, fuck. Can never get used to this. Your mouth is a fucking haven, baby." Sebastian curses as he feels the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat. You choke slightly at the deepness of his dick before bobbing up and then down, forming a rhythm. The brunette tilts his head back in pleasure, letting out soft moans as his fingers tighten within your locks. Ominis listens in on his moans as he uses his wand to conjure a lubricating charm before pumping his dick for a bit of stimulation. He lets out a moan before pressing the his cock against your folds.

You moan at the feeling of a new sensation against your heat. Ominis places a hand on his shaft, rubbing the tip against your folds. He slides it against your clit, moving it in circular motions and hears your appreciative moan. His free hand then grabs your waist as leverage before finally positioning the tip against your entrance. "I'm pushing in, love."

You hum against Sebastian's dick in response before feeling the pressure of Ominis's cock split you open. He was a bit longer than Sebastian but the brunette was thicker. The two were already considered big and the moment that you felt the two of them inside you made you all the more conscious of their size. You whimper against Sebastian's cock, unable to move as Ominis continues to slide in his cock.

Sebastian glances down at your tear-stricken face, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Ominis bottoms out with a groan, letting you adjust for a moment before beginning to move. The jostle of Ominis's hips propels your forward causing Sebastian's dick to go deeper inside your mouth.

"Yeah. Liked getting fucked by Ominis?" Sebastian taunts as he brushes your hair away from your face. A bruising grip on your hips that you're sure will mark you in the morning, pulls you back with every thrust. Ominis's cock reaches depths farther than Sebastian's fingers, the curve of his dick and the ridges alongside it brushes deliciously against the soft walls of your pussy.

You moan in response as Sebastian begins to move his hips, thrusting into your mouth. You choke as you feel his throat touch the back of your throat once again.

"Support her upper body." Ominis orders. Sebastian places a hand on your shoulders as Ominis grabs both of your hands, twisting them against your lower back, holding them both with one hand as he suspends your upper body in the air with Sebastian's help. The position allows you to be completely at their mercy as Sebastian fucks your mouth at this point and Ominis's thrusts go deeper, faster and harsher.

You can only shriek and moan against Sebastian's cock as you take what they give you. Sebastian feels his release fast approaching, hips stuttering. "Holy fuck, I'm close."

You allow him to use your mouth as he pleases, thrusting fast into your mouth as he moans loudly at the process. Ominis leans down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before growling in your ear. "Don't waste a single fucking drop."

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine and it seems as if Sebastian also heard it. The brunette releases with a choked moan, spurting his release into your mouth. He moans as his hips jerk in sensitivity, emptying it all before slumping on the desk. You swallow it all before coughing, finally being able to breathe.

Ominis takes this as an opportunity to fuck you harder.

"O-Ominis!" Your voice raises in pitch as his hips hammer against yours. He releases your arms, opting to pull you up against his chest. His hands busy themselves with your breasts as he grunts into the crook of your neck. "O-Oh fuck. Right there."

Sebastian smiles lazily as he watches his best friend rail you to the point that your eyes roll back in pleasure. To give you a more pleasurable experience, he raises a hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, gripping it with enough pressure to hear you whine and moan.

"Yeah, that's fucking right baby. Sebastian's choking you again? You love that shit." Ominis growls against your ear as he pounds your tight pussy. He angles his hips to hit that spot that Sebastian grazed over with his fingers, pulling louder moans from you. Your eyes lock with Sebastian's as Ominis fucks you from behind.

"Pretty girl's crying because you're fucking her too good." Sebastian laughs as he leans forward to kiss your tears away. Ominis chuckles against your neck. You could feel your release fast approaching as a hand makes it's way down to where you're connected.

"Mm, stretched so fucking well for me." Ominis hums before moving to your clit and circling it fast deliciously. Your moans get louder.

"Ominis, Sebastian!" You whine as you feel your release fast approaching. Sebastian tightens his grip on your throat making your moans choked as Ominis fucks you faster and deeper.

Already feeling the edge of his release, Ominis rubs faster as his hips stutter. His pace becomes harder and harsher. "Cum baby. Cum."

You let out a high-pitched whine before finally reaching your climax. Your knees shake, almost giving you up before Ominis grips you up, supporting you against his chest. You let out loud moans as your orgasm wreaks havoc throughout your body in violent shakes. Tears stream down your face at the intensity of your release and Sebastian smiles at the beauty of it all. Ominis continues to pump his cock inside, reaching for his release. "Where?"

"Inside. I-I'm on the potion. Please, cum inside." You moan as you lock eyes once again with Sebastian, his grip loosening from your neck as he pulls you into a kiss. Ominis grunts before releasing inside. He moans loudly, bottoming out as he orgasms. "Good girl."

You rest your upper body in Sebastian's embrace, waiting for Ominis to finish before whimpering as the blonde pulls out. Ominis runs a hand down to your cunt before pushing the cum back in. Sebastian chuckles as he hears you let out another weak moan.

There's a moment of comfortable silence as you three catch you breath from the amount of strenuous activities you've done in the past few hours.

"Damn, that was probably the best sex of my life." Sebastian chuckles, breaking the silence as he pulls you fully into his embrace. You rest your head on the crook of his neck while Ominis runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm so tired." You groan in exhaustion. "I'm not moving a single fucking muscle. This is both of your fault."

"Me too? It's Ominis who you should be blaming. The man was railing you to fucking oblivion." Sebastian jests which receives a harsh smack on the back of his head. You chuckle at the crisp sound of Ominis's palm hitting Sebastian's head.

"You literally fucked my throat. Sore throats are a bitch to cure." You weakly pull away from Sebastian's embrace, feeling the ache on your ass. Ominis notices your discomfort from your grunts of pain.

"Did I go too far?" The blonde shyly asks. You turn to look at him with a soft smile. You had the hardest and best fucking orgasm of your life and now this man was acting all shy and cute after he had just practically destroyed any other chance of another person reaching that kind of level with you. You couldn't really blame him after he had just ascended you to a different realm with his dick. Sebastian helps you up before you place a kiss on Ominis's lips.

"Don't worry. I loved it." You reassure him. Sebastian and Ominis help you get dressed before the two focus on their garments. Sebastian casts a cleaning charm to any suspicious fluids that might have touched any surface while Ominis casts Reparo to the destroyed piles of paper scattered on the floor (a product of their haste to fuck you moments ago).

There's a moment of silence after cleaning up as the three of you stand, fully clothed in the empty office space. This time, Ominis makes the first move. "I assume from all that's happened that you know we're still pretty much in touch with our feelings for you."

Sebastian looks at you, assessing your facial expressions as you looked at them both. Sebastian continues. "This can be a one-time thing if you don't want to delve deeper into it. We also don't mind if you prefer one over the other. Our friendship will remain intact, that I assure you."

You look at them both as their body language speaks of nervousness and fear of rejection. You doubt your friendship will ever be fixed if you chose one of them. You roll your eyes playfully. "I literally just got fucked by both of you and you're telling me to choose one?"

"I— well." Ominis tries to reason. Sebastian is silent for a moment before shrugging in agreement.

"I mean she's got a point." The brunette chuckles. You limp towards them, Sebastian's hand reaching out for you while Ominis's arm wraps around your waist.

"I assume you're choosing us both, correct?" Ominis clarifies. You chuckle at his need for reassurance before reaching up to place a kiss on his lips before turning to Sebastian to give him one as well.

"Yes. I am." You firmly answer. Ominis lets out a smile while Sebastian laughs softly. "Now please apparate me home, I'm not walking another fucking corridor after what you guys put me through."

"Yes Ma'am."

A/N: ITS DONE OFMHDHDH this took way too long but I had fun writing it. It's my first time writing filth and I hope it was up to satisfaction 😭🧎‍♂️🫶 will probs cringe at this in the future. TYSM.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #arthenaa #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis smut #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #filth #absolute filth

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circuitcircus · 5 months

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in defense of kabumisu……..

addressing things I see people say about why kabru being shipped w mithrun is ‘bad’ or why their canon relationship ‘doesn’t mean anything’ while also clearing up misconceptions of the characters some fans have

listen it keeps popping up and I just gotta do this or my brain will melt (if you don’t see it around then god I wish that were me) there’s an age gap!- erm there’s also an age gap in farcille (ily), the most popular ship in the series...also chilchuck looks like a kid but a lot of fans recognize him as a dilf because of his relative age, so there should be no age gap discourse among adult characters because it feels so conditional tbh

kabru taking care of mithrun is racist!- marcille likes to take care of others as well. is that sexist, or just an aspect of her character?

kabru isn’t treated like a servant, waiting on mithrun hand and foot…I mean he gives mithrun a foot massage but no one told him to do all that lmfao

he's also not the only one to care for mithrun. pattadol is shown to worry for him and milsril was the one to start taking care mithrun in the first place after he…...y’know. speaking of which-

they probably met when kabru was a kid!- neither of them showed signs of recognizing each other the entire time mithrun was introduced nor when they were together. and im pretty sure KABRU of all people would show some kind of recognition if they'd met before. it's kabru!!! the people person!!! mr. "i-noted-down-50+-characters-in-this-dude's-backstory-for-fun-and-actually-enjoy-social-gatherings"

you would think some kind of memory would come back to him especially after hearing mithrun’s backstory if milsril had even told kabru about him as a kid. but nope. it’s just fan speculation unless there's a side comic suggesting otherwise that i haven't seen

mithrun doesn't care about kabru, his shapeshift double looked like shit!- it's obviously because of mithrun's (then) lack of desires that it looked like that, but they really grow on each other

i think it's safe to assume it'd look more like kabru after they spent so much time together (also laios can barely even remember kabru's name..also saw his face multiple times and didn’t recognize him when they talked for the first time)

mithrun is racist!- he’s actually the least likely character to be racist since he lost his desires and that includes a desire for superiority over others. he even calls his past self out on that part of himself. the other elves in that side comic were being just as racist to shorter lived races but just didn’t use ‘outdated slurs’

(unfortunately literally every main character in dunmeshi is at least a lil prejudiced, but I believe it’s worldbuilding and a sign of the times rather than a reason ryoko kui is giving to hate each character)

taking care of others is a pain in the ass!- saying this as a reason kabru and mithrun shouldn't be together is basically saying disabled people shouldn't be allowed to have romantic relationships because they're a "burden"...if someone is actually willing to put in the work, then let them be.

that's not even all of their relationship, mithrun is the fighter of their duo and kabru would've been killed by the shapeshifter or something if he'd fallen down the hole on his own since he sucks at fighting monsters. mithrun helps collect ingredients for cooking every time, too (barometz fruits and griffin egg). he pulls his weight and then some!! i feel like people forget that part of mithrun a lot somehow.

+senshi literally cooks for everyone all time. it's kind of an important aspect of the narrative.

+also, while it is a popular fan thing I see around that kabru handfeeds mithrun, he literally never does lol this is mithrun using his own hands to eat:

also here we have him washing his own body

just saying because people like to treat mithrun like a baby even though the narrative respects him as a capable adult who also has special needs because of an accident. he’s captain for a reason

kabru hates taking care of mithrun!- not exactly, he was initially surprised and put off but got used to it quickly. i’m sure he’s grateful for all the times mithrun saved him from a monster and teleported them out of danger as well

he even starts doing “unnecessary” things for mithrun’s comfort and safety like when mithrun pushes himself too hard fighting, even after his mission to take care of him was complete when the canaries came back

here is even kabru resting while mithrun keeps watch (mithrun let him sleep for 5 hours before waking him up from the nightmare earlier, too):

there's nothing more to their relationship!- they actually have had a very tight and consistent dynamic since they met and they incite the most change within each other by the end. kabru is the one who inspires mithrun to create new desires so he doesn't waste away, and mithrun is the first person we see kabru being genuine with and it leads him to be more honest with others by the end instead of tiptoeing around everyone all the time (that mask was also the reason some ppl initially disliked kabru…)

kabru’s relationship with mithrun is honestly so important for his character and vice versa, but it’s often disregarded because of one over exaggerated aspect of it (an aspect that isn’t even the first way they interact with each other) or because people want to just straight up ignore it for some reason 🥲🥲

kui dedicates many panels to them that don't particularly serve the narrative as a whole in order to demonstrate this and i think that's pretty significant

you're taking this too seriously!- as if i'm the first person in the world to be crazy about a ship or the characters 😭 i love analyzing text and it's upsetting to see them mischaracterized when kui lays out the characters so clearly and deliberately

also they end up touching each other like all the time and have the kind of canon validation most ppl can only dream of lol i feel so insane look at this:

and this is just when they're first getting to know each other cuz there's a fuckload more

kinda hard to explain how i don't actually need them to get married or whatever but i'd die on this hill for them and i enjoy their dynamic immensely

haha you thought you were reading ship discourse but it was actually a character analysis 🤪🤪🤪

also don’t somehow take this to mean I think anyone has to ship them, I just need everyone to understand these accusations kind of don’t make sense especially when they can also apply to other pairs or characters

bonus kabru just looking at mithrun:

#dungeon meshi #kabumisu #kabru of utaya #mithrun #dungeon meshi spoilers #i'd rather be able to enjoy their dynamic without feeling like i have to explain it but i keep seeing the same takes i cant do this anym-#i feel like i advocate for kabumisu so much because i see so many people mischaracterizing kabru to make l4bru work like how they want #by saying he’s obsessed w laios because he thinks he’s hot..but he was curious about his autistic behavior and eventually thought his lack #of malice would make laios the best candidate for becoming dungeon lord to prevent another utaya tragedy. tho eventually he doubts that #not that i care that he's shipped with laius. i just want ppl to see kabru for who he IS bc some still think hes nothing but a shady bicth #i think that's best shown through his dynamic with mithrun (other than his own words of course) so i want ppl to acknowledge it properly #like idk if I can trust popular fan interpretations of the characters or relationships anymore after the shit with toshiro bro 💀💀#not trying to attach kabru’s entire being to mithrun or anything either just..saying #hm i feel like the way i worded all of this will make some ppl mad. not my intention but whoops #anyways has anyone drawn ship art of senshi and mithrun yet? anyone?

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cordeliawhohung · 9 months

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okay, here's the better run down on mafia!Soap as promised (as well as his fem!nurse!Reader gf <3)

like it's sorta referenced in canon, Soap is the youngest of Price's closest circle. he used to do freelance work as a programmer/hacker and got hired by the wrong crowd trying to steal some of Price's information. impressed, Price actually offered the man a job and he took it mostly because Price paid better. stayed because he also grew to like the man.

people legit call the man Soap in this universe too because he can clean hardware and information like no one's business. otherwise, they'll just call him by his last name or Johnny.

has an odd dynamic with Simon in this universe. more of like his annoying little brother than a good friend. they get along fine, but they don't really interact much outside of work. he's actually really close friends with Kyle, though. the two play games together sometimes, and Soap of course teaches him how to torrent games because fuck activision <3

he's got a few piercings. simple ear lobe piercings that he usually wears simple studs in, but he also has a tongue piercing. just the classic, straight through with a simple bar. he got it because he's a fucking munch

i feel like he wouldn't get many more tattoos than what he already has in canon ngl. if he does, they're def something stupid as fuck that have no meaning. something he probably got due to a dare, or while he was insanely inebriated.

he also doesn't have as many scars as he does in canon. certainly not the one on his chin. he def played football when he was younger, and still likes to play skirmishes every now and then. he also lifts on the regular. sure, he's tech savvy, but he goes fucking insane having to sit around too much, so going for a run or hitting the gym is a really good way to get his energy out!

while he doesn't have too many scars, he still is getting himself hurt a lot. not because he's clumsy or anything, he just really, really, really wants to ensure that something gets done right whenever he's sent out to do "field work." usually ends up with a TBI because of it lmfao.

and that's actually how the two of you met (:

being an ER nurse, you saw a lot of weird shit at the hospital, especially on day shift. then you had this loud man with a huge gash on his head and a suspected concussion roll through the door and honestly you're just glad it wasn't another damn car accident. you were tired of looking at compound fractures.

Johnny is just a fucking loon. literally acting inebriated, and poor Kyle is trying to prevent him from saying anything too stupid.

it doesn't work

at first you have a hard time telling if he's being a creep or not. commenting on your scrubs, how he likes the color, but honestly you've heard worse. but it is sort of cute. he's so loopy he's got this dog-like excitement to him and has a hard time focusing on anything in particular. it's more innocent than anything else.

he falls in love with you the moment you bring him a snack (some shitty and dry saltines and a cup of water). he devours one of the crackers like it's crack and thanks you with his mouth half full.

that's when he gets the bright idea to give you his number. a simple thanks isn't enough for the kind gift you've given him! he's got to let you know that he's down to do anything for you! so if anyone fucks with you, if you need someone taken care of give him a call. he won't ask any questions!

kyle is fucking mortified, hiding his face in the corner of the room, but you just smile and kindly take the piece of paper with his scribbled number.

of course you don't actually text or call him. he was a patient of yours, and that's just breaking so many rules! and you certainly don't need anyone to be taken care of. so you leave it be. despite how adorable his loopy smile was or how pretty his eyes were or... christ, you need to throw that scrap paper away.

and Johnny? well, he forgets all about you. not on purpose or anything, the poor man was hardly conscious when he met you, and he only interacted with you briefly. so imagine his surprise when him and Kyle are out on the town and the man points you out to him asking if you ever ended up texting him.

Johnny is fucking confused. why would she text him? (you gave your number to her, idiot) oh. that can't be. (why not?) because he would have fucking remembered if he had given his number to a girl that beautiful.

now he wants to figure out why you never texted him ):<

anyway there's more to this but my shift was long and my brain is frozen from the fuckin -31 degree weather we got so <3 enjoy lore about the idiot

#mafia!soap #mafia!johnny #mafia!141 #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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miguelhugger2099 · 6 months

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Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality.

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.”

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered.

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck.

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.”

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples.

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil.

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks.

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back.

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?”

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself.

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

#nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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thepaintedsable · 4 months

Text

PYRO! It’s Pyro! Yippee e!

I accidentally inverted the colors all of the insignias and gave Blue Pyro Red Pyro’s flamethrower :( My professional explanation for the second part is that Blue Pyro beat the living shit out of Red Pyro and stole their weapon, my professional explanation for the first part is I am is have are stupid.

Close-ups and special sketch page below the cut!!!

I remembered TF2 existed and this happened.

I have to mention that I have never touched this game, but I’ve been fairly aware of it for a really long time. I strayed away from it all because I was not/am not the best at multiplayer games, especially shooters (especially team shooters), and I never exactly felt like I had the skill to draw any of the characters. Plus the comic’s whole “missing the last issue” situation. I just really, really, didn’t want to be let down by investing myself in something I couldn’t be invested in. But something about “Meet the Pyro” stuck in my head like a burr to a shoe.

Rewatched Meet the Pyro more times than I should have. Looked into more animations and the fandom. Finally broke down and read the comic LMFAO. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed it! Even with the missing part, the format it’s presented in and the general wackiness was refreshing compared to what I normally read.

I still like Pyro, and when I remembered I’m better at drawing now, augh. There he go. They are all over, as they should be.

MF has a homemade flamethrower, canonically killed great value brand Smokey the Bear (on purpose), is/was the highly successful CEO of an engineering company, and is so efficient on the battlefield his teammates are horrified by him and his methods. Also there is no telling wether they even know what they are doing or where they actually are because of the pyro vision stuff. Plus the fun mystery of who they are under the mask. :) We don’t even know nothin about this guy.

Just a silly little guy. I’d like to take both the “They know nothing about what they are doing” and the “They know everything about what they are doing” and staple them to Blue and Red respectively. Which is which, though? Not important. Only need enough info to pit two bad bitches against each other, and also to consider how their teams treat them in response. They are both fucked up, but in opposite directions.

ALSO WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND OUT THIS FANDOM HAS THE CUTEST SHIP NAMES EVER ON MY OWN????? I don’t even really like ships in general, but like… Texas Toast? Speeding Bullet? Brush Fire??? Can someone please please confirm that French Toast is another one oh my god???? I don’t even care about the ships, I care about wordplay and cleverness. If you look up Texas Toast on this site it is all Engineer x Pyro and that is SO FUNNY

I can’t promise that this will be the last Pyro page. He might be the one that’ll actually stay.

#sketchbook 29 #traditional art #art #sketchbook #gouache #watercolor #mixed media #colored pencil #alcohol markers #pyro #tf2 pyro #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #team fortress fanart #fanart

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bbagelbitch · 2 months

Text

Assorted Nekoma headcanons: (just for funzies)

(they've been sitting in my archives for YEARS)

First years:

Lev actually managed to get a girlfriend at one point about halfway through first year, she asked him out because she thought he was cute, broke up with him a week and a half later after realizing he’s a dumbass and a bit of a weirdo

Shibuyama is one of those people who you’d think he’s just listening to Taylor swift or something but he unplugs his earbuds and its like- little darkie or some screamo heavy metal LMAO

Shibuyama has a helicopter mom which feeds his anxiety to the point that he carries pepper spray with him sometimes

Tamahiko has a pet tarantula

Inuoka is the kind of person who’d wear shorts when its snowing out

Inuoka and lev will both unironically do Fortnite dances during practice

Shibayama totally has a bunch of allergies and is a picky eater

Inuoka and lev are basically just human garbage disposals (will eat ANYTHING)

Lev can’t swim

Biblically accurate lev Haiba (gets the worlds WORST sunburns every time he goes outside)

Lev has low blood pressure and will randomly faint when standing up too fast (Kenma has the same problem but refuses to admit it)

Inuoka is one of those people who types in all caps the majority of the time. Every literature and language teacher he’s ever had has told him off for using way too many exclamation points. (He can’t help it he’s just a happy little dude)

Lev texts constant updates about what he’s doing t the team group chat to the point where he’s been kicked off of it more times than he can count. (Usually for talking about taking a shit) (see Charles Boyle from B-99 for reference)

Second years:

Fukunaga and Kenma rarely have actual text conversations but they’re constantly sending memes back and forth to each other

Tora actually has fairly curly hair and it was a borderline afro when he was in elementary school (he’s part latino in my mind argue with the wall)

Kenma listens to almost exclusively video game soundtracks (skyward sword is his favourite)

Tora totally listens to girypop rap (he is 100% a Flo milli Stan sorry)

Tora has asked kai for advice on how to talk to girls SEVERAL times and the information that you should just talk to them like they’re normal people blows his mind every time (how does kai do it? Is he a witch? A demon?

Fukunaga owns at least 3 cats and they all have weird names (inspired by my friend who’s cat’s name is Fax Machine)

Kenma is the world’s driest texter (canon actually)

Also fukunaga uses :3 constantly

Fukunaga and kenma constantly bully Tora about his obsession with looksmaxing and say shit like “he can’t talk he’s too busy mewing” LMFAO (you either drip or you drown taketora)

Tora knows how to braid hair cause he’d help akane with her hair when they were younger

All of the second years used to bite people when they were kids

Third years:

The third years have done group costumes for halloween since their first year

Kai is basically the team’s dedicated tutor (Kuroo is too snarky and yaku is too impatient)

Kuroo listens to western (English) music cause he thinks it makes him seem cool and he developed a superiority complex about it. “Oh you haven’t heard of Radiohead?”

Also kuroo and yaks have pretty similar music taste (a lot of modern rock) but the key difference is Kuroo likes arctic monkeys and yaku likes the strokes (they argue about which band is better constantly (yaku is right, its the strokes))(cause they always have to be arguing about something smh)

Kai also totally has a longtime girlfriend in high school bro is possibly the only person on the team who’s done ANYTHING with a girl (probably one of the only people on the whole damn SHOW)

Kai defo knows martial arts I would not want to face him in a fight

Kuroo still uses emoticons instead of emojis :3 ;D and whenever he does, yaku makes fun of him and tells him to “get with the times”

Yaku 100% repeats what Kuroo says in a mocking tone whenever the opportunity arises

Kai is the type of person to say “personality” when asked if he prefers tits or ass

Miscellaneous:

Nekoma is the most neurodivergent team in the whole show bruh like come on

(autistic: Lev, Kenma, fukunaga.)(kenma totally also has ARFID)

(ADHD: Inuoka, Yamamoto, (both textbook cases of ADHD in guys) Kuroo, fukunaga) (Fukunaga my AuDHD king)

(OCD: Tamahiko, shibuyama (I just get vibes ok leave me alone)

(Yaku isn’t neurodivergent he just has anger issues lmao)

Kai is the only sane one on the entire team

Kuroo is also 100% one of those kids who got diagnosed with adhd really young so he appears mostly normal thanks to being medicated from the age of like- 6

Every single person on the team is oblivious as to when someone is flirting with them (kai is the exception)(girls pull out the wow your hands are so big and you’re so tall all the time and NOBODY reads into it)

Kai exclusively smells like a mix of vanilla and sandalwood and on the other side of that spectrum, Yamamoto reeks of axe body spray and b.o. No matter how many times Kenma tells him that axe actually drives girls away, Tora never listens.

Akane becomes manager of the boys volleyball team once she reaches high school (the first years will be third years by then)

The team all protective as HELL over akane (canon tbh)

#nekoma #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #kozume kenma #kuroo testuro #yaku morisuke #kai nobuyuki #yamamoto taketora #fukunaga shouhei #lev haiba #inuoka sou #shibayama yuuki #they’re all neurodivergent

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kkyaka · 9 months

Text

Summary: Raising a kid is never easy, but confessing to his next door neighbor seems even harder

Pairing: Terushima Yuuji x black!fem!reader

Word Count: 31,222 (🧍🏽‍♀️)

Warnings: neighbor!au, single dad!terushima, a lot of fluffy moments, kind of a slow burn, mostly in terushima's POV, terushima is really whipped for you, terushima's friends are really annoying to him lol, oikawa makes an appearance, terushima gets a little jealous, angst sprinkled throughout but a lot towards the end, terushima and satomi's mother don't get along, terushima's a girl dad, smut: breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, fingering (f), brief handjob, terushima's a bit possessive, fluffy moments under the influence of alcohol (everyone is of age), kinda canon divergent, kinda not, I think I covered most of it lol

A/N: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC, I HAVE READ IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN. IM OBSSESSED. EVEN IF NO ONE LOVES, I DO AND THATS ALL THAT MATTERS. also this fic is so long and I am so sorry for that LMFAO 💀 but if you read all of it, I really appreciate it and love you. Also ik the end is kinda rushed, I'm so bad at closing out fics 😭😭😭

You always have those initial thoughts when you move into your first apartment. You’re finally on your own now, you don’t have to worry about anyone else, and you can sing as loud as you want and wear whatever you want. Something that most people forget about though is their neighbors. When you toured the place, your hallway was pretty quiet, so you went in with the expectation that you wouldn’t be disturbed by loud neighbors.

But you’re only a week into your new place and two seconds from filing a noise complaint against the neighbor to your right. You totally understand that babies aren’t going to stop crying on command, you’ve dealt with them before. But this baby in particular has been crying all week, and your room seems to be in the right place to hear them screaming throughout the night.

You’re about to move to the couch to sleep, looking at the clock to see that it’s two in the morning. You wouldn’t be worried about being up at two in the morning, but you’re trying to get your sleep schedule back on track since you start your new job next week. Right as you sit up, you notice that you don’t really hear the crying anymore.

You frown, now realizing how silent it is, but then you hear a knock at your door. That makes you uneasy, and you grab the baseball bat by your bed that your dad got for you, and you slowly tiptoe to the door. You carefully look through the peephole, and that’s when you notice that the crying is right in front of your door. You think the worse; that the person just left the baby on your doorstep, but as your eyes focus through the image in the peephole, you see a guy standing on the other side of the door with a baby in his hands.

You set the bat against the wall before you unlock and pull the door open, and those familiar cries are clear in your eyes. The blond man looks even more tired than you do, and you’re pretty sure that the bags under his eyes could hold something.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” he starts. “But I’ve tried everything, and she won’t stop crying.” You pity him a bit because you've been in the situation when babysitting in the past, and you step to the side to let him in. He walks into your apartment slowly, cooing at the baby to try to get her to stop crying. “I’m Terushima, by the way. Terushima Yuuji,” he groggily introduces, and you give him a soft introduction of your name before you ask to hold her.

“She won’t take a bottle?” you ask as you bounce her in your arms, and her cries settle just a bit. He shakes his head, setting the baby bag he had on his shoulder on your island. He pulls out one of the bottles, handing it to you.

You try to give it to her, but she refuses, so you don’t try to force it. You notice that she doesn’t have any tears running down her face, and her cries start to pick up volume. “What’s wrong, mama? Why’re you giving your daddy such a hard time, hm?” you whisper as you start to walk around your apartment, continuing to bounce her in your arms.

You rest your cheek against her head, and that’s when you feel how warm she is. “Has she always been this warm?” you ask, taking one of your hands and putting the back of it against her neck. “She’s burning up,” you say, feeling that her skin is sticky with sweat. You put your hand against her little feet, and they’re really warm too.

“I-I think so,” he murmurs, and you walk to your bathroom, grabbing a thermometer. You come back out, running it under some warm water from your sink. You get her arm out of the sleeve of her onesie before you put the thermometer under her armpit. You wait until it beeps, and your heart drops when you see the numbers.

“She’s got a fever, Terushima,” you tell him, and his tired eyes go as wide as they can.

“What?” he whispers.

“Do you have any medicine?” you ask, walking towards him, and he shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know,” he sighs in frustration. “What do I do?”

“Okay, okay. Calm down,” you say. “My aunt’s a doctor, and she’s usually on call around this time. Lemme give her a call.” He’s on the brink of becoming frantic, but your words seem to calm him a little. You call your aunt, and since you don’t have any medicine, and there are no convenience stores open, she tells you just to bring her in.

You offer to drive since he’s definitely not in a good state to drive right now. He quickly grabs his car keys, and you drive over to where your aunt works. You have to wait for her when you get there since she’s currently working with a patient, so you sit down in the chairs, holding her in your arms while Terushima paces in front of you.

“Terushima, I promise she’s fine,” you tell him, but you don’t think he hears you. You stand up, softly putting a hand on his arm. He stops walking, turning to look at you, and you swear he’s going to cry. “You should sit.” You make it sound like an offer, but you guide him to sit down next to you. “Just breathe. She’ll be fine.” You rub over his back, and he puts his elbows on his knees, resting his hands on his face, and you see that his legs are bouncing.

He’s looking ahead, and you can’t imagine what he’s going through, but you try to be as supportive as you can. Your aunt comes out a few minutes later, and Terushima’s in his own world, so you grab his hand. He jumps when you do, and you pull him to his feet. You notice how tight his grip on your hand is, so you don’t let go.

She brings you into a room, and you sit down on the hospital bed while he continues to stand, but his hand doesn’t leave yours. You explain to her what’s going on, and you hold her while she does a quick exam. “How old is she?” your aunt asks.

“She’ll be a year in a couple of months,” he answers softly, his gaze going from his daughter to the floor.

“And her name?”

“Satomi,” he answers quickly, and you smile softly when you look down at her. When you look at Terushima, he still looks anxious, so you get his attention by gently shaking his hand.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you tell him. “C’mere.” You pull him to sit next to you, and you rub over his back again, but when you stop, his hand is holding yours instantly.

“She just has a small fever. It’s nothing major,” your aunt tells you, and you can see Terushima relax a bit. She gives Satomi some medicine, which she fights just a little bit, but it’s not too long before her cries start to subside.

Your aunt hands Terushima the medicine since both of your hands are occupied. “You can give this to her twice a day, and she’ll start feeling better. If she doesn’t, bring her back in.” You nod, thanking your aunt. “Does she have a doctor?” she asks, and you look at Terushima, and it takes him a while to answer, but he eventually shakes his head.

“No. I, uh, I just got her. It’s a long story,” he says, and neither of you asks for an explanation.

“I have a friend that has her own practice. I can give you her information,” she offers, but Terushima spaces out again, so you answer for him.

“That’ll be great, Auntie. Thank you.” She walks out of the room, and you try to follow, but he doesn’t move. You call his name softly, pulling gently on his arm, and he finally stands. Once you get everything checked out, she gives you the information for the pediatrician. You thank her again for seeing you on such short notice, and she gives you a hug before leaving.

Terushima’s quiet on the ride home, and so is Satomi, so you figure the medicine is starting to kick in. He’s had this look in his eyes since your aunt gave him the medicine, and he doesn’t let go of your hand when you try to go back to your apartment.

“Terushima.” You call his name, your voice firm, and he looks up at you. “Satomi is fine. This isn’t uncommon.”

“I just feel like I failed her,” he whispers, and you feel your heart crack. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I thought that I could be mature enough for this–”

“Yuuji.” You stop his rant by putting your hand on his shoulder. “No one is prepared for this. So, please don’t beat yourself up. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” It doesn’t really look like your words reached him, but he nods anyway. “I can stay and watch her while you sleep,” you say, and he quickly shakes his head.

“You’ve done enough already, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re exhausted. I’ve stayed up later than this anyway, so I don’t mind.” He doesn’t put up much of a fight, and it looks like the fatigue starts to hit him. He unlocks his door, and both of you take your shoes off. You carefully take Satomi out of her car seat since she’s sleeping, and he stops you when you try to sit on the couch.

“Do you mind if you lay on the bed?” he asks. “Sorry. I just don’t wanna be in a different room than her.”

“Don’t apologize. That’s totally okay.” You follow him to his room, careful to avoid all of the baby toys that are on the floor, and his room looks even worse than the living room.

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles, and you stop him when he tries to clean up. You push him to the side of the bed that isn’t covered with baby stuff, and you clean off the other side. He’s nearly asleep when you finally get in, setting yourself up against the headboard. He lays on his side to keep his eye on her, and you rub your hand over his forehead.

“Go to sleep, Yuuji. We’ll be here when you wake up.” His eyes are already closing when you rub over his forehead, and when you try to pull your hand away, he softly grabs your wrist. You don’t need anything more from him to know what he wants, so you move your hand to his hair, running your fingers through it.

You listen to their breathing as you get comfortable, and you can’t help but laugh quietly as you look between them. So much for getting your sleep schedule back on track.

When Yuuji wakes up, he can tell that he’s alone. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and sees that you or Satomi are not in bed with him, and his room looks spotless. He takes a deep breath in and something that smells really good fills his nose. He groans softly as he gets out of bed, walking out of his room as he opens his eyes.

He walks into the living room slash dining room to see that it’s also spotless, and he spots you in the kitchen, and now he knows the source of the smell. He sees Satomi on a couple of blankets within your line of sight, and he clears his throat. You jump, turning around as you take the last pancake out of the pan.

“Morning!” you say softly. “I hope you don’t mind that I ran to my place really quick since you didn’t really have any food. With Satomi, of course.”

“Don’t worry about it. It smells amazing,” he says, walking over to pick up his daughter. “What time is it?”

“Three o’clock.”

He winces. “I was asleep for that long?”

You laugh a bit as you hand him a plate. “Yeah, but you didn’t snore once. Satomi is one lucky girl,” you tease, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that it’s a plus.”

“Oh, it sure is. My dad snores so loud that I can hear it through the wall,” you groan, shaking your head at the thought. He sits down at the island, and you eat your pancakes while standing on the other side of him. Satomi is definitely feeling better, seeing that she reaches for Terushima’s fork every time he brings the fork to his mouth.

“I can’t thank you enough for all of this and this morning,” he says after he finishes eating. “I’m kinda embarrassed about how I acted.”

“That’s totally okay. You were tired. I’ve done plenty of things while I’m running on little sleep.” You offer him some more pancakes, and he easily accepts. You wash your plate before taking Satomi out of his arm so he can eat without his food being stolen from him. You grab one of her toys to keep her entertained, and you sit next to him.

“Also, you didn’t have to clean the place,” he adds, feeling his face warm in embarrassment.

“Terushima, it’s okay. I just wanted to help you out.” You move the toy around, making noises, and it makes her giggle, yours following right after.

“You seem like a miracle worker with kids,” he says after he watches you for way too long, turning to his food so that you don’t see.

“Well, I was a babysitter in my neighborhood in high school and college. But I’ve always been told I have a way with kids,” you muse.

“Well, they are definitely not wrong.” He can’t help but watch you, and he feels like he has to apologize again. “I seriously owe you one.”

“I said don’t worry about it. Being a first-time parent isn’t easy, like I said, no one is ready for it,” you emphasize. “Next thing you know, you’ll have a hard time saying goodbye to her when you have a date.”

“Yeah,” he blurts out. “That won’t be happening any time soon.”

“Struck a nerve?” you ask, grimacing a bit, and he shakes his head as he stands, taking his plate and fork to the sink.

“Satomi’s mother and I fell off, and the next thing I know, she’s at my doorstep,” he says, gesturing towards her. “She never told me that she was pregnant, and then suddenly I’m being thrust into fatherhood.”

“You’re doing a really great job,” you say when he goes silent.

“I didn’t know my own daughter had a fever,” he laughs bitterly.

“You were tired, Yuuji. Cut yourself some slack,” you remind. “Being worried about her health tells me that you’re doing just fine. And you asked someone for help when you didn’t know what to do. That sounds pretty good to me.”

You grab the toy again, putting it on her body before pulling it away suddenly, gasping when you do before moving it back towards her again, and Satomi laughs loudly, which makes you laugh. The only thing Terushima can do is watch you, and things start playing in his head, but he quickly shakes them off.

“You have to let me pay you back,” he tries again.

“I already said that it was no big deal.”

“Let me buy you dinner,” he blurts, and he quickly realizes that it sounds like he’s asking you out on a date, and he feels himself blush, but you start talking before he can backtrack.

“Well, I never say no to food,” you respond, and it doesn’t sound like you thought he was asking you out, so he sighs internally.

“Wherever you want to eat tonight, it’s on me,” he says, and you pretend to think about it.

“Alright. That sounds good to me.”

Things have kind of fallen off since that day. With you starting work, you haven’t been able to spend as much time with him as usual. It seems like, after that day, he got himself together. Terushima hadn’t told anyone that he had a kid, not even his parents. Satomi’s mother left the adoption papers with her, and right before he knocked on your door he thought about signing them. But then you came to his rescue, and he felt much better about being able to do this.

Your reassurance helped him a ton, and he made some calls. He leaves the backstory a little bit blurry, not ready to go into the details yet, but his friends and family were more than supportive, and he couldn’t ask for more. Since he has a support system now, he didn’t really need to ask you for help unless it was an emergency.

He also knew that you were starting your new job, so he didn’t want to turn your life upside down even more than he already had. Although, he will admit that it bothered him that he wasn’t keeping in touch with you as much as he wanted to. That morning, you were the light in his swirling darkness, and for a while, he just called it that. He was in a vulnerable position, so of course, he would have some feelings for you.

But when he would strike up a quick conversation with you at the mailbox or while you were on your way to work, he would think about asking you to stay and talk with him just a little longer. You actually came by when he was celebrating Satomi’s first birthday, but you couldn’t stay long since you had to run back to work. The fact that you had run home just to show your face meant more to him than you could ever know.

He never really expected his life to fly by as fast as it did, and now his daughter is going on six years old. Staying in an apartment this long with a child probably didn’t look the best, but he was having trouble getting a job while trying to find a good schedule for someone to watch Satomi, and he definitely couldn’t afford a babysitter.

His friends and family weren’t always available, and the only time you could watch her was on the weekends, but that’s definitely not going to be enough money for him and Satomi to stay afloat. He has some money saved up, but that’s about to run dry, and he feels like he’s leeching off of his parents even though they swear it’s fine.

It’s not fine with him, but since Satomi has a schedule now, he might be able to make it work. She’s taken up dance, and she has practice for that twice a week. Once that’s set in stone, he decides to apply for some jobs, hoping that he can finally take a step in some direction.

Satomi knows you, of course. You’ve been in her life since she’s been here, and he can’t help how his heart flutters every time she screams your name whenever she sees you. He hasn’t told you about everything because he doesn’t want you to step in and help like he knows you will. There’s still a part of his ego that’s bruised ever since he knocked on your door.

His job hunting isn’t going so great, but he tries not to let his frustration show in front of his daughter. Pursuing something in cosmetology was something he wanted to do once he got out of college, but a lot of things have put that on hold, and with no experience, it’s only making things harder. He sighs heavily as he sits on the couch, wondering what he’s going to do.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” He quickly turns to his daughter, hosting her up into his lap.

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m just feeling a little tired,” he lies, and she frowns a bit.

“Did you not get enough sleep last night?” she asks, and he can’t help but laugh, shrugging.

“Maybe.” She gasps before she wiggles out of his hold, and she runs to her room. He follows her when she runs back, climbing back into his lap.

“My class is selling cookies, and whoever sells the most gets a prize!” she tells him excitedly, handing him the multiple forms that she’s brought home.

“Really? What’s the prize?” he asks as he looks through them.

“There’s multiple, but one of them—there! I want this one!” she says, pointing to the prize when Terushima flips to it. He feels something form in his throat when it’s a dollhouse set that she’s been asking for, it’s been going on about a year now, but he hasn’t been able to make it work. “It’s got a whole bunch of stuff that comes with it too!”

She starts talking about it, but it all starts to blur together as he falls victim to his thoughts. “Daddy?” He blinks quickly, looking from the papers to her.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” He tries to listen to her as she repeats herself, and it doesn’t seem like she minds, but those ugly thoughts won’t leave his head.

You sigh as you get comfortable on the floor in front of your couch. You turn on a show that you’ve seen before, and you chuckle a bit when you set your coloring book on the coffee table. Your friends just don’t understand the peace it brings you. You’ve finished three so far, so this is a new one, and you’re ecstatic to start it.

You’re picking out your color scheme when you hear a knock at your door. You groan, letting your head fall to the side before you get up. When you open the door, you realize you have to look down, and your eyes meet a familiar five-year-old who’s missing one of her front teeth.

“Hi y/n!” she beams, holding the handle of a wagon in her hand. You look behind her to see she has boxes, but you can’t really see what they contain.

“Satomi? Does your dad know you’re here?” you ask, and the look that appears on her face is enough of an answer. “You know you can’t leave without telling your dad.”

“I know, I know, but I can trust you, right?” she asks, and you sigh as you crouch down.

“Of course, you can, Satomi, but you have to let your dad know where you’re going. He’d be worried sick if something happened to you,” you tell her, and she pouts a bit. “Just promise me that you won’t come over here without telling him first.”

You hold your pinkie up, and she smiles widely, bouncing on her toes as she hooks her pinkie around yours. “I promise!”

“Good,” you laugh. “Now, what’s in the wagon?” you ask, and she steps to the side so you can see.

“My class is selling cookies, and whoever sells the most gets a dollhouse!” She all but shoves the paper in your face, and you have to push her hand back a bit to see it.

“That’s a pretty big dollhouse. How many pieces are in it?” you ask in a bit of disbelief.

“A bunch! There’s different clothes for the dolls, and there’s a bunch of, um…um…”

“Furniture?” you try, and she nods her head quickly.

“Yeah! That!” You laugh, and she puts the paper down. “Would you like to buy some?”

“Sure! How much is it gonna cost me?”

“Ten dollars.”

“For a box?!” you ask suddenly, and she nods happily. “They’re already setting you poor children up in a scam,” you whisper. “I’ll buy the whole cart.”

Her eyes widen, and she jumps into you, almost knocking you over as she hugs you. You can’t help but laugh, barely having a chance to hug her back before she’s pulling away.

“I’m definitely gonna win!” she shouts, and you have to remind her that she has to keep her voice down in the hallway. She lowers her voice, but her excitement doesn’t. You have her bring the wagon inside your apartment, and you grab your phone to text Terushima.

“What was your dad doing before he left?” you ask as you text him.

“He was in the shower,” she hums, not really paying attention as she sits on the floor where you were before she knocked. “Were you coloring?” she asks, and you set your phone down, sitting next to her.

“Yup. It’s my favorite thing to do when I have time off from work,” you tell her, and you have the other ones with you, so you show them to her, and she takes the colored images in with wide eyes.

“Wow! They’re so pretty!” she gasps.

“Well, thank you. I try my best,” you say, and she stops flipping the pages, pointing at something on the back of one of the pages.

“Did you draw this?” You look down, and you smile a little when you see what she’s pointing at.

“Yeah, I did,” you answer with a nod.

“You’re so good! Can you draw me something?”

“Sure, whaddya want?”

“A tiger!” You chuckle as you grab some colored pencils and get to drawing.

“A tiger, huh? That’s your favorite animal?”

“Yeah! They’re so pretty, and they have stripes!” she highlights. “I love stripes.”

“I can tell!” you say back, noticing that her outfit is nothing but stripes, and she hovers over you while you draw which you don’t mind. The cookies are momentarily forgotten as you draw her a tiger, and she tells you a whole bunch of facts about them while you work. When you’re done, she looks at it like you’ve drawn the best thing in the world. “You like it?”

“It’s awesome! Can I keep it?”

“Of course, you can!” She takes the book, getting up to put it in the wagon, and she brings it over to you.

“Are you really gonna buy all of them?”

“Yeah! My co-workers love these cookies, so they’ll be very much appreciated.” You help her count all of the boxes, and then you help her count up the money.

“Thank you so much, y/n!” she says, hugging you again.

“Of course! Anything for my favorite munchkin.” There’s a series of quick knocks on your door, and you instantly know who it is. “It’s open!” you yell, but Satomi is too busy to notice, and Terushima comes bursting in. “Did you get my text?” you ask, and he sighs heavily as nods.

“Daddy! y/n said she’d buy all of my cookies!” she tells him, and you don’t blame him for sighing in relief again before he responds.

“That’s great, sweetie. But what did Daddy tell you about leaving without telling him?”

“I know. I already promised her that I wouldn’t do it again,” she explains. “And I pinkie promised, so I definitely won’t break it!”

He laughs a little, pushing his hair back, and you notice that it’s still wet. “Thank you.”

“And look, she drew me a tiger too!” She opens the page and holds it up to him. He takes it, and his eyebrows raise when he looks at it.

“You drew this?”

“Yeah, I draw in my free time a lot, it’s nothing,” you dismiss, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re amazing,” he comments, and you wave him off as you stand.

“I wouldn’t say that. But thank you.” He hands the book back to her, and she admires it again while you go get the money. You hand it to him, and he hesitates to take it.

“You really don’t have to buy all of them,” he says, and you push it into his hand.

“It’s all good. My co-workers eat them up. Literally,” you laugh. Thankfully, he takes the money without much of a fight, and he turns to his daughter.

“Alright, you little gremlin, you’ve bothered her enough. Let’s go,” he says lightly.

“But she said this was her day off!” she argues.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a break.”

“She’s fine, Terushima. I was just gonna sit and color for a while anyway. She’s not bothering me at all.” He doesn’t respond when you finish, and you give him a look.

“I hate to ask, but do you think you could watch her for a while? Something came up, and I don’t have anyone to watch her. That’s why I was in the shower.”

“Of course, I’d love to have her over.”

“I get to spend more time with you?!” she asks, and you nod your head eagerly.

“Sounds like it!”

“Can you draw me more tigers? Wait, I have to get my stuff!” She starts making her way toward the door, and Terushima rushes out after her, and you shake your head as you laugh. They come back after about ten minutes, Satomi now with a backpack on. She sits down at the coffee table, and you turn to Terushima.

“Is everything okay?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah. I just have to help my parents move some stuff, and Satomi won’t be much help,” he laughs, and you do the same as you agree. “Thank you again. Sorry to have you babysitting while you’re off.”

“It’s okay,” you press, putting your hand on his shoulders. “I love spending time with her, so it’s totally fine.” You turn your attention to Satomi when she calls your name, and you walk over and sit down next to her. Terushima catches himself looking at the two of you, and thankfully his daughter breaks him out of it.

“Bye, Daddy! See you later!” He laughs as he walks towards her, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be back, okay?” he says, rubbing over her head, but she’s already engrossed in the coloring books.

“Be safe, okay?” you tell him, and he’s overcome with a strong urge to kiss you too.

“Right. Thanks again.” And he hightails it out of there before he does something stupid.

“So, Satomi’s been telling me something lately on our rides home.”

“About what?” Terushima asks, and he’s not fully focused on the conversation because he’s focused on what he’s doing.

He’s met Oikawa before through some friends of friends, and he really wants to start working soon, so he just decided to start doing hair in his own apartment. Right now, Satomi’s with her grandparents so he can put all of his focus into his work.

Oikawa visits him frequently ever since he said he had an interest in it, and they’ve gotten pretty close, sometimes he even picks her up from school.

“About a certain someone named y/n?” he inquires, and Terushima’s movements falter a bit. “You wanna explain?”

“There’s nothing to explain,” he tries, but there’s no way Oikawa is just going to drop it.

“Really?” he hums. “Well, she seems to talk about her non-stop. She told me that she’s your neighbor.”

“Where are you going with this, Oikawa?” Terushima sighs.

“I’m just asking some innocent questions.”

“Well, your voice doesn’t sound like it.”

“I’m just saying with the way she talks about her, it seems like she’s a big part of her life,” he continues, and Terushima can’t deny that. You have just as enough presence in her life as his friends and family.

“Okay, and?”

“You’re really bad at diverting the conversation,” he laughs.

“You know I have scissors in my hand, right?” And Oikawa jumps away, leaning forward as he looks at him over his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Terushima just glares at him, pulling him back against the seat before he continues what he was doing. “So, is she a potential love interest?” You’re something. Terushima just doesn’t know what. Or rather, he doesn’t want to try and sway things between the two of you. Your relationship is just fine where it is, but of course, there’s a part of him that wishes it was more. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

Oikawa glances over his shoulder just to be on the safe side, but he’s always been known to pry. It’s in his personality. “She helps out with Satomi sometimes, yeah.”

“That’s not what I asked.” There’s a knock on the door, and Terushima’s grateful because he’d rather be anywhere else than in this conversation. He sets his stuff down, wiping his hands before making his way to the door. A smile appears on his face the moment his eyes land on you when he opens the door.

“Sorry to bother you,” you start.

“It’s okay. What do you need?”

“Is that the infamous y/n?” You frown playfully at Terushima when you hear your name, and he sighs deeply as he closes his eyes. You peek over his shoulder, and the guy behind him waves at you. You scoff a little as you smile, waving back at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in the middle of something.”

“You’re fine. I was just–"

“It’s rude to not invite people in!” Oikawa yells, and Terushima groans before he steps back, turning to glare at his friend. He doesn’t have a choice now, and he lets you in, giving the man a look as he closes the door behind you. “Nice to meet you, I’m Oikawa.”

“Nice to meet you. I would introduce myself, but it sounds like you already know me,” you laugh, and Terushima grabs a chair for you, putting it perpendicular to Oikawa.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Satomi,” he supplies.

“That makes sense. She could talk for hours,” you say. “I didn’t know you knew how to do hair, Yuuji.”

“Oh, well, I’m just starting out. I’m not that good yet,” he replies, his words coming out choppy.

“He’s just saying that. I’d trust him with my life. He’s the only one that can get my hair right,” Oikawa boasts, and Terushima kicks his chair just a bit. “He’s pretty mean to his regulars, though,” he throws in.

“Only the ones that annoy me,” he mutters under his breath.

“So, what do you do if you don’t mind me asking?” Oikawa asks, turning back to you.

“Oh, it’s just a boring office job. My mom got it for me, but I don’t really like it,” you admit sheepishly. “I’d rather be doing something with kids to be honest.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, I never really figured it out. I kinda just gave up on it when I got to college. I guess I’m just waiting for something to stick out to me.” Terushima listens intently, realizing that he never really asked you any questions like that, and in his head, he kicks himself. “Wait, Oikawa? You wouldn’t happen to be the same Oikawa that plays for Argentina.”

“The one and only.”

“Wow, that’s so cool! How come you never told me you know professional volleyball players, Terushima?” you question and his answer is a bit delayed because of your reaction. Oikawa’s always been getting girls, and for a moment, he feels like he’s lost. “I watch it all the time.”

“Do you play also?”

“I did in high school and in college. I wish I could still play it now,” you reminisce.

“That’s funny because Terushima played as well. If I can recall, he was a pretty good ace.” Terushima would tell him to stop, but his pride’s been hit, so he doesn’t call him out on it.

“He’s exaggerating just a little bit.” He buds in anyway, but he doesn’t deny his words too much.

“That’s so crazy! I would’ve never guessed. It sounds like he was better than me,” you say.

“You played the same position?” Oikawa asks, and you wave him off.

“Not really. I mean, I guess you could say that. I wasn’t that good,” you stutter. “We made it to like, the third round of nationals one year, though.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re better than you’re letting on,” he teases.

“Maybe,” you reply softly, diverting your gaze, and Terushima can’t help when jealousy courses through his veins. You and Oikawa talk for a while, but Terushima barely buds in. He’s in his head too much to really think about tuning into the conversation. He does pay attention when you say that you’re leaving.

“What did you need?” he asks when you stand.

“Oh, I was gonna ask about Satomi, but she’s not here, so I’ll just come back,” you explain, and for some reason, that makes his heart sink a little. “Oh! Before I go, do you think I can get your autograph?” you ask Oikawa, and Terushima’s heart falls. “I have a friend that is a huge fan.” He hates how easily that makes him feel better, and he gives you the autograph.

“If I can get your number,” Oikawa starts, and he jumps when Terushima closes the scissors loudly. “Then I can let you know when I’m in town, and all of us can go play sometime.”

“Cool, that sounds great!” you easily agree, and Terushima is staring daggers into his friend's head as he watches. “It was really nice to meet you. And I’ll see you later, Terushima.” You wave when you get to the door, and Oikawa waits until it closes to speak.

“I just wanna clarify that I was not making a move on her. And please tell me you didn’t cut off my hair,” he whines. “So, I guess, you really like her then.” Terushima doesn’t say a word, but his silence is more than enough of an answer.

“I’m done,” he eventually says, ignoring the question, and he rolls his eyes at how long Oikawa looks at his hair in the mirror.

“You do great work as always,” he jests.

“You don’t have to pay,” he tells him, and fuck, that whole interaction still has him in a mood.

“I’m going to because you’re really good at what you do, and you know what you’re doing,” he says. “I think you should stop being so scared, and go after what you want.” Terushima begrudgingly takes the money as he thinks about the double meaning of his friend’s words.

Terushima takes Oikawa’s advice, but not before threatening to cut all of his hair off in his sleep after he noticed his phone blowing up. He didn’t even have to look to know that Oikawa opened his big mouth, and he doesn’t even have time to look at it when Satomi gets back home.

He applied for a couple of jobs and he instantly closed his laptop and walked out of his room, but now he has that hanging over his head also. He hesitantly checks his laptop that night to find that one of them responded, but the job interview is right when Satomi gets out of school. He thinks about trying to find an alternate time, but he thinks about the dollhouse that she wants, so he confirms it.

He comes back home after dropping Satomi off at school, and he knocks on your door, hoping he didn’t catch you in the middle of getting ready for work. “Terushima? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, um, I have a job interview right when I have to pick up Satomi–”

“Say no more! I gotcha covered. Congrats by the way,” you add, pushing him in the shoulder a bit, and that alone has made him feel so much better about the interview.

“Thanks,” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck. “You might have to watch her after too, I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

“That’s totally fine with me. Good luck! I know you’ll do great!” you praise, and he wonders why he was ever worried about it in the first place. “Where did you apply?”

“A hair salon down the street,” he answers, and you look more excited about it than him.

“I’m so excited for you! You have to tell me how it goes.”

“I definitely will.”

“Okay, I have to go, but I will be there to pick up Satomi, so you just focus on that interview.”

“Thank you,” he says, and you scoff a little.

“You don’t have to keep saying that. I’m always willing to help you out with her.”

“No, I mean–I was really nervous, so thank you for the encouragement.”

“Hey,” you start, stepping closer to him and resting your hands in between his neck and shoulders. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You know what you’re doing, now you just gotta show them.” It feels like everything around him disappears as he takes in your words, and he can’t stop himself from pulling you into a hug.

He feels your arms wrap around him, and he sighs into your hair. It takes him too long to realize that he’s been holding you for too long and too tight. He pulls away, and he feels his face warm. “Sorry, I know you have to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is softer this time. “I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You leave work early to pick up Satomi, and you notice that she’s not as perky as she usually is. She doesn’t tell you anything about what happened at school, and you notice that she’s walking kind of behind you. She wordlessly follows you into your apartment, and she drops her backpack by the door. You toy your shoes off, and when you look at her, there’s tears in her eyes.

“Oh, no, baby, what’s wrong?” you immediately ask. You pick her up in your arms, and she wraps her limbs around you. She mumbles something into your neck as you sway back and forth, but you can’t hear her. “What’d you say?”

“I didn’t win the dollhouse,” she whispers, and you feel your heart break.

“Oh, Satomi, I’m so sorry.” You rub her head, and she sniffles heavily. “It’s okay, baby. Let it out.” She cries a bit harder, and you feel so bad. You don’t know what to do other than to just hold her while she lets it out since you don’t know how long she’s been holding it in. Her arms tighten around you, and you close your eyes as you continue to rub her head, your hand moving to her back.

You move to sit down on the couch, grabbing a box of tissues before you sit. She moves so that her legs are over your lap, and she rests her head on your shoulder. She’s hiccuping, but she’s not crying anymore, and you hand her some tissue. She blows her nose after wiping the tears away, and she takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay to cry. I know how much you wanted it.”

“I’ve been asking Daddy for it, but he never got it.” And you somehow put two and two together, figuring out why he was so nervous about the job.

“Well, your Dad is trying really hard. I promise he’s not ignoring you,” you tell her, and you push her hair out of her face when you look down at her. “He’s working on it, I promise. Okay?” She nods slowly, sniffling again. “Did you get any of the other prizes?”

“I wasn’t gonna play with them, so I gave them to my friends.”

“That was really nice of you.” It looks like she might break again, so you hold her close, kissing the top of her head. She seems to calm down again because she goes quiet, and you notice that she’s playing with the string on your jacket. You sit there with her in silence, resting your cheek on her head.

You notice that her hand isn’t moving anymore, and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep. You’re at a crossroads because you don’t want Terushima to come in with good news and see Satomi like this. You know it’ll break his heart. You carefully get up, walking her to your room, and she barely stirs when you lay her in your bed.

You brush the hair out of her face again, wondering if there’s anything you could do to try and make her feel better. An idea comes to mind as walk back into the living room, but then you hear some familiar footsteps. You open the door before he can knock, and you put a finger to your lips. He frowns at you, but he walks in when you open the door wider.

“How’d it go?” you whisper.

“I got it!” he cheers softly, matching your voice even though he doesn’t know why.

“Congratulations, Terushima. I knew you could do it.”

“What’s wrong? Where’s Satomi?” You hesitate to tell him, but you’re not sure if Satomi will tell him.

“She didn’t win the dollhouse. She started crying the moment she walked in the door. She’s sleeping now.” You put a hand over your mouth when you physically see the happiness fall out of his body. He goes silent, and you don’t know what to say, opting to rub over his arm.

“If I had gotten it sooner–”

“Hey, don’t start.” You guide him to look at you, keeping your hand on his face. “Do not blame yourself for this, Yuuji. You’re doing everything you can. She will not hate you for this.” You bring your other hand up to his face, and his head falls. “I know why you got the job, Yuuji, and I guarantee you that is enough.”

“She’s not happy,” he responds, lifting his head to look at you, and he looks absolutely crushed. You pull him into a hug, moving his head to your neck, and he wraps his arms around you. You rub over his back, and you don’t know if there’s anything you could say to make him feel better.

“You’re doing everything you can despite the walls you’re facing,” you whisper. “You’re already making her happy, Yuuji. You don’t need a toy to tell you that. She loves you all the same.” He lifts his head from your shoulder, and you put your hands on his face, wiping his tears. “Don’t cry on me. I can’t have my two favorite people crying today.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m one of your favorite people?” he asks, letting his hand rest on yours.

“Of course, you are.”

Something shifts in his expression and his grip on your hand tightens. “y/n, I–”

“Daddy?” You both turn around, and you see Satomi rubbing her eyes as she walks into the room. She runs towards him, and he’s already on one knee, ready to hold her in his arms.

“I heard what happened. I’m so sorry,” he says, and she hugs him tight before pulling away.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, princess.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel like the dollhouse was all I cared about,” she says, and her words shock you both, and Terushima releases a shaky breath.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not mad. I just wanted to make you happy.” You slowly take a couple of steps back giving them some space, and you sneak into your room.

“You’re already making me happy. You let me wear stripes every day.” A laugh bubbles out of his chest. “And you read me stories every night. I don’t need the dollhouse. I have you.” She hugs him again, and he can’t stop himself from crying again. He looks up when you walk back in, and Satomi hasn’t noticed you yet.

You pull out something from behind your back, and he smiles when he sees what it is. “I think y/n has something to give you,” he says to her, and shake your head, wanting him to give it to her, but she’s already turning around to look at you.

You walk up to her, getting down on one knee also. You move your hands in front of you, and she gasps when she sees what it is. “I got you this a couple of days ago.” She takes the tiger puzzle in her hands, smiling widely. “I was thinking you could put it together with your Dad.”

“I wanna put it together with the both of you,” she tells you suddenly. “Can we do it now?” she asks, and you glance at Terushima, and you already know his answer.

“Of course, we can.” You clear your coffee table, and all of you sit down while she dumps out all of the pieces. You start helping her out, telling her to start with the corner pieces first, and Terushima doesn’t join in right away, he just sits back and watches. This image is something he’s been seeing in his dream a lot lately, but he knows that in those dreams, your relationship is different.

He hopes he gets the courage to say something to you, but for now, he grabs your hand to get your attention. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Of course,” you whisper back, and you both help her put the puzzle together.

“So, you weren’t going to tell us that you live next door to a hot woman who looks after your kid?”

“Why are either of you here?” Terushima grits.

It’s Terushima’s first week working at the salon, and it’s going great. The place is small, with only a few people working here, and he gets to make his own hours. Of course, the moment he breaks the news, his friends make find their way over here.

“We’re here to know what kind of review we should leave.” Kazuma jokes and Terushima rolls his eyes.

“You both are wasting my time,” he says even though his former teammate is sitting in his chair.

“But why did we have to hear about this from Oikawa of all people?” Takeharu asks.

“Because he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, and he’s also stalking me. I never gave him my address, so he showed up unannounced,” he says. “I bet that was Kazuma’s doing,” he sighs, cutting his eyes towards the man who’s currently sitting in the other chair across from Takeharu.

“How do you even know him anyway?” Kazuma asks.

“You know how tight the volleyball community was. I met him through some friends.”

“Okay, so spill. You still haven’t told us anything.”

“There’s obviously a reason for that,” he whispers. “There’s nothing to tell. She’s my neighbor.”

“According to Oikawa, you almost cut his hair off, so she’s definitely not just your neighbor,” Kazuma mocks. “You have a picture?”

Of course, he does. Whenever his appointments run over, you offer to pick up Satomi, and he’s always catching the two of you doing something when he walks into your apartment to come to get her. His phone is usually filled with pictures of just Satomi, but recently, that hasn’t been the case.

“If I show you, will you leave me alone?” he questions as he pulls out his phone. He already has one saved as his screensaver, and it’s the picture he took after you all finished the tiger puzzle.

“Oh, yeah. He’s definitely far gone,” Kazuma laughs. Terushima’s smile drops for a second, and he pulls up the picture he was looking at. Kazuma stands, walking over to him when he hands the phone to Takeharu. “Shit, dude,” he whistles. “And she’s single?”

Terushima turns on the hair dryer and blows it in his face. “Satomi seems to really like her,” Takeharu comments as he scrolls through some of the pictures before he hands him the phone back.

“She won’t stop talking about her,” Terushima laughs.

“So, let me get this straight,” Kazuma starts. “You’ve known her for like, five years. She’s been with Satomi since she was a baby, and she trusts her enough to go to her apartment without telling you,” he lists off. “And you still haven’t asked her out? Are you waiting for someone to swoop in and take her?”

He jumps back just in case Terushima is trigger-happy, and he relaxes when all he gets is a glare. “She has such a good relationship with Satomi, and I don’t wanna mess that up,” he admits.

“You don’t think she has feelings for you?” Takeharu asks.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, but he thinks about what you said to him after you told him about Satomi not winning the dollhouse. You’re one of my favorite people.

“The look on your face is so gross.”

“I don’t think she’ll stop helping you with Satomi if you ask her out,” Takeharu offers.

“But then things will be awkward. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“The awkwardness or her not returning your feelings?” Kazuma presses and Terushima sighs again.

“Has she even said anything to make you think she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“No, but isn’t it wrong to assume that there might be something there?”

“If you would just ask her out, you wouldn’t have to assume,” the brunet deadpans. “Let us meet her. We’ll tell you if she has a thing for you.”

“Absolutely not,” Terushima states.

“Why not? We were your wingmen at one point, so I don’t see the problem.”

“There’s a lot wrong with letting that happen.” He finishes up Takeharu’s hair, and he takes the cape off of him. “Now, get out. I have a client coming in ten.”

“So rude,” Kazuma frowns. “I’m giving you one star.” Terushima all but chases him out of the salon.

Satomi told you about one of the dance recitals she was having, and she had to make sure you were going to be there. You knock on his door, and to your surprise, Satomi answers the door. “You know you’re not supposed to answer the door without asking who it is first,” you tell her, closing the door behind you.

“But I knew it was you!” she tells you. “I stood on the stool and looked through the peephole.” You scoff as you shake your head, and she runs towards Terushima’s room, knocking on the door quickly. “Daddy, hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

He sighs as he pulls the door open, and you have a hard time taking your eyes off of him. You haven’t really seen in him anything other than shorts and a t-shirt most of the time, but he actually dressed up a bit. The slacks he’s wearing emphasize how big his thighs are, and your eyes trail up his torso, and you see that his shirt does the same thing his pants are doing.

You look at his face when he turns to you, and you look down at your outfit. “Should I change?” You’re wearing everyday clothes, and you did put a decent amount of thought into it, but if you need to wear something a little nicer, you can.

“No. You look great,” he compliments, stopping in front of you, and he doesn’t say anything after that, and for a while, it’s just the two of you looking at each other.

“Hurry, you guys!” Satomi yells, making the both of you jump, and Terushima makes sure he has everything while Satomi pulls you towards the door. You wait for him to lock the door, and she runs ahead of the both of you, but once she gets to the doors of the apartment building, she waits for you.

She grabs both you and Terushima's hands, and you all walk to Terushima’s car. You buckle her in before you get into the car, and she’s more than ready to get there. The car is mostly filled with her conversation along with some music playing lowly from the radio. She practically pulls the both of you to the building when you get there, and she has to have the both of you with her when she goes backstage.

“Are you nervous?” Terushima asks, and she gives him a look.

“Of course, I’m not nervous, Daddy. I’ve been practicing for this!” He smiles at her, giving her a hug.

“I can’t wait to see you dance!” you tell her, and you crouch down.

“You have to make sure you get good seats,” she tells you matter-of-factly, and you laugh but nod your head intently.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, saluting to her, and she gives you a hug as well. She hands Terushima her coat right as the dance teacher tells all the parents to exit backstage. You walk toward the row of chairs, and Terushima grabs your hand as he walks to a row towards the front.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t want you to get lost,” he lamely adds as he drops your hand, and he groans in his head.

“Well, thank you,” you laugh. The seats start to fill up, and Terushima feels like he should make conversation, but he doesn’t even know where to start. “How long has she been dancing?” Thankfully, you start talking to him first, and he’s relieved.

“She just started a few months ago. She’d do it all the time at home to the Disney movies she watched, and when I asked her if she wanted to do this, she said yes.”

“That’s so cute,” you coo, and he notices someone sitting next to him, but they bump into him, and he turns to see who it is, and his face drops when he sees his former teammates occupying the seats next to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses.

“You really thought I was gonna miss my niece’s first recital? Who do you take me for?” Kazuma says dramatically. He leans forward, getting your attention, and if looks could kill, he would be instantly dead. “Hey, I’m Kazuma. This is Takeharu. We played volleyball with this guy in high school.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say warmly, shaking his hand. “I’m his neighbor. Nothing really spectacular about that,” you chuckle.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Satomi,” he tells you and you nod as you laugh.

“That seems to be a common theme whenever I meet one of his friends.” The lights start to dim, signaling that the show is about to start, and everyone starts to go quiet while Terushima elbows his friend in the side.

When the curtains open, Satomi is front and center, and you can instantly tell that she’s looking for you guys. You wave your hand a bit, and when she sees you, her smile widens. There’s a few moments of silence, and then the music starts. You can’t keep the smile off your face as you watch her, seeing that she looks absolutely ecstatic to be up there.

You notice Terushima filming in your peripheral like most of the parents are, and you decide to do it as well since your aunt is always asking about her. He films the whole thing, and when it’s over, everyone is standing on their feet, clapping. You yell out Satomi’s name, and she waves wildly at you, and you wave back. When his Kazuma starts getting a little too loud, Terushima smacks him in the back.

When all of the kids start to find their parents, they leave, and Satomi runs right into her dad’s legs. “You did so great, princess!” he praises, and the look on her face is something you’ll never forget. He, of course, has to get pictures, and you all take some. Terushima hands you his phone to take a picture of them together, but as you hold the phone up, she stops you.

“I want you to be in it, too!”

“Oh, okay,” you say suddenly, passing the phone to Kazuma before you stand on the other side of her. He’s only able to take about five good ones before her attention turns to you.

“Did you see me dancing, y/n?!” she asks, and you pick her up.

“Yes, I did! You were amazing! I wish I could dance like you,” you tell her, and you laugh when she does. You start to walk towards the car, the men in tow and Kazuma clears his throat, but only Terushima hears it. He glares at his friend, who speaks up suddenly.

“We should eat out tonight! To celebrate Satomi’s first recital,” he offers, and with the way Satomi gasps, Terushima knows he won’t be able to say no.

“Yes! We have to show her the restaurant we always go to, Daddy!”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Takeharu buds in, and Terushima wonders if he really needs friends at all. You’re pretty sure all of her energy is due to the adrenaline that’s still running through her body, and the excitement of where you’re going next.

“You’re paying,” Terushima orders when he meets his friends in front of the restaurant, and you all walk in together with Satomi holding your hand.

There aren’t many people here, and you follow them in, but Satomi soon takes the lead, pulling you to a certain table. “We sit here every time we come here,” she tells you, and you move to sit down while Terushima sits on the other side of her.

Kazuma and Takeharu sit across from you, and Terushima tries to figure out what they’re up to. Satomi talks to them, catching them up on what’s been going on, and you can’t help but notice how much she mentions your name. Someone comes to take your orders, and she’s talking their ears off.

Terushima taps you on the shoulder, and you turn your attention from Satomi to him. “You’re okay with this, right?” he asks cautiously.

“Yes, I am. I’ve never been here before, so I’m excited to try the food,” you answer, and he smiles at you. The waiter gives Satomi some paper, which she immediately pushes your way. You laugh, already knowing what she wants you to do. You busy yourself with her, talking to her while you draw, and Kazuma gives Terushima a look that has him kicking him under the table.

When Terushima looks back at you, you’re helping Satomi draw what you just drew, your hand over hers. She looks so focused, and he smiles at the image as you guide her through what you’re doing. She cheers when you finish even though it doesn’t look exactly like yours, but she’s happy regardless.

She starts talking to Terushima, and Kazuma takes the opportunity to talk to you. “So, are you seeing anyone right now?” he asks, and Terushima goes rigid for a split second.

“Oh, no. I’m not,” you laugh.

“Really? Well, I know–” Terushima all but celebrates when your food arrives, and Kazuma acts innocent when Terushima looks his way. As far as the dinner goes, neither of them seems to ask you any more forward questions, but Terushima keeps a close eye on the conversation regardless.

Satomi goes quiet after she eats, and you look down at her when she leans into you. “Looks like someone’s getting sleepy,” you comment, moving some of her hair back from her face.

“No, I’m not,” she slowly replies, but she snuggles into you further, and you smile as you wrap your arm around her. You all continue the conversation quietly, and when the bill comes, Terushima is the first to speak up.

“Kazuma offered to pay for all of us,” he says quickly.

“Really? Well, thanks,” you say, and Kazuma gives you a friendly smile while Takeharu laughs into his hand. Terushima carries Satomi when you guys get ready to leave, and you all stop by Terushima’s car. “It was nice meeting you guys, too,” you reply once the conversation starts to die down.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you again,” Takeharu says.

“If he gets his shit together,” Kazuma mutters, and Terushima is quick to shoo them off. He straps her into her car seat before he drives off.

“Thank you for coming,” he tells you on the way home. “She was really looking forward to it.”

“Of course. She looked like she was having a lot of fun. And the food was really good.” You both make small talk on the way home, and his arm rests on the console even though he wants to desperately reach over and grab your hand.

You offer to carry Satomi to his apartment, seeing that she’s still asleep when you get home. You lay her down in her bed, and neither of you wants to wake her to get her to change into her pajamas, so you just tuck her in. “Thanks for coming, y/n,” she whispers, and you kiss her forehead softly.

“No problem, Satomi.” She falls back asleep right after, and you both carefully step out of her room. Terushima pulls the door closed, and he follows you when you walk to the front door.

“I can walk you back,” he jokes, and you have to stifle your laughter.

“Thank you so much,” you jest, and you both make the short walk next door.

“Thank you again for coming,” he repeats.

“Thank you for letting me tag along,” you reply, and he has that one question on his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to ask you. “Goodnight, Yuuji.” You move in to hug him, and he gladly accepts it, holding you close.

“Goodnight,” he echoes, and he watches you walk into your apartment, the door closing softly when you disappear. The next opportunity he gets, he’ll take it. He tells himself that now, but doesn’t even know if future him will take the chance.

Terushima rolls over onto his back, looking at the ceiling. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this. He doesn’t work tomorrow, so he’s not sweating the amount of sleep that he’s losing. It’s another night that he’s having trouble sleeping, and he has a pretty good idea of why that is. Satomi’s mother contacted him out of the blue, and he hasn’t responded.

He doesn’t think he wants to. He doesn’t know what would happen if he tried to let her back in his life, and he figures it would be good for Satomi to meet her mother, but there’s something about that that he doesn’t like. He hasn’t told anyone about it mostly because he would like to just ignore it, but he knows he can’t do that.

He jumps a little when his door is softly pushed open, and he sits up to see Satomi walking into his room. “What’s wrong, princess?” he asks, pulling the blankets off of him and setting his feet on the floor. She stands in between his legs, and he pulls her hand away when she starts rubbing at her eyes too much.

“I don’t feel good,” she murmurs, and he presses the back of his hand against her forehead. She’s really warm, and he moves to her neck to see that she’s really warm there also. She climbs into his lap, and curls into him as much as she can.

He took her to the doctor yesterday, so she must be feeling the after-effects of the shot she got. He lays back down, holding her in his arms. “Does anything hurt?” he asks her softly, and he can feel her nod.

“My head,” she tells him, and when he tries to get up to get her some medicine, she doesn’t let him go. He sighs quietly, getting up with her in his arms before he walks to the bathroom. They both squint suddenly when he turns the light on, and as he’s getting the medicine, he thinks about the first time he met you.

He thinks about how he’s not even scared like he was back then. Although, he’s relieved that she can actually tell him when she’s not feeling good. She fights it a bit, but she eventually takes it, and he goes back into his room. “What’d you say?” he asks, hearing her mumble something when he sits back down on the bed.

“I want y/n,” she whines, and he sighs a bit, but he doesn’t lay back down.

“She’s sleeping right now, Satomi. You can see her tomorrow,” he tries, but that doesn’t make her happy at all. He can hear her start crying, and he feels his resolve breaking. He reaches for his phone anyway, pulling up your contact. “If she doesn’t answer, then you can see her tomorrow, okay?” he offers, and that seems to be enough because she nods.

The phone rings for a while, and he sort of hopes that you don’t answer because he would hate to wake you up so late. He feels so bad when you answer especially because you sound like you’ve been woken up.

“Terushima? Is Satomi okay?” you ask as soon as you pick up the phone, and the fact that you instantly asked about her makes his heart flip.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little under the weather because she got a shot yesterday,” he explains.

“Daddy, I wanna see her,” Satomi presses.

“Do you mind if we come over for a bit? She won’t stop asking about you. I’m sorry.”

You huff a bit, and it sounds like you’re sitting up. “That’s okay. The door will be unlocked.”

“Thanks,” he says before hanging up the phone, and he stands, sliding on some shoes. He carries Satomi over to your apartment, and when he opens the door, you’re standing on the other side. She immediately reaches for you, and you step forward to take her in your arms.

“Aww, you poor baby,” you whisper, kissing her forehead as you rub over her back.

“I’m really sorry to wake you,” Terushima says, and you wave him off.

“It’s okay,” you say with a yawn. You look at him, frowning a bit before you put your hand on his face. “Have you been to sleep tonight?”

“No,” he admits with a shake of his head. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately,” he tells you.

“I got some melatonin if you want,” you offer, but he shakes his head, putting his hand on yours when he feels like you might pull it away.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”

“y/n, can you sing me something?” Satomi asks, and you turn your attention to her, and your hand falls from his face, and Terushima never thought that he would be jealous of his daughter.

“Of course, whaddya wanna hear?”

“Anything.” You feel her forehead as you start singing a Disney song, and you walk into the bathroom. You grab a washcloth, turn on the water, and get it wet. You ring out the excess water before walking out of the bathroom, and you press the cold washcloth to her head as you keep singing.

Terushima blinks sleepily as he listens to you sing, and suddenly he’s not worried about anything anymore. You glance at him, grabbing his hand a split second later, and he easily follows you to your room. Satomi’s asleep by the time you sit on your bed, and you make yourself comfortable against the headboard.

Terushima just stands next to your bed, but you’re still holding his hand. “We weren’t gonna stay long,” he tries, but you pull him towards your bed anyway.

“I promise you, I will be fine. My boss is really chill anyway.” He crawls into bed, sitting next to you in the same position, his shoulder bumping against yours, but as soon as he settles down, he can feel sleep catching up to him.

He tries to stay awake, but it’s no use, and when he feels you gently guide his head to your shoulder, he doesn’t fight it. As he starts to fall asleep, he wonders why he ever wanted to leave in the first place. He’s not very comfortable in this position, so he shifts until he is.

“Goodnight, Yuuji,” you whisper, and he hears you, but all he can manage is a soft hum. He totally blames it on the fact that he’s so close to going to sleep, but he snuggles into you, and he’s pretty sure he can feel you laugh.

When you wake up, you notice that you feel very hot, but you can’t move away from it. You open your eyes, remembering how you got into the position you’re in now. Your phone rings suddenly, and you try your hardest not to wake either of them when you reach for it. Both of them stir just a bit before they settle down, and you take a deep breath.

You see that your mom is calling, and you already know what she’s calling for, so you answer, turning down the volume just a bit. “Happy Birthday!” It’s from multiple voices, and you can’t help but laugh a little bit.

“Thanks, you guys. But do you really have to call so early in the morning?” you question, and you can hear your mom scoff.

“You’re supposed to be up anyway, aren’t you?”

“I called out today, so no, I wouldn’t be up.”

“We sent you a gift, and it should arrive today,” you hear your dad say in the background.

“I’ll look out for it, thanks.”

“Well, I hope your day goes really well,” your mom tells you, and you look down at the two sleeping faces on you.

“Yeah, it’ll be great.”

Terushima wonders why you didn’t tell him about your birthday. He heard your phone ring while he was pretending to be asleep, and he couldn’t find the right time to say something. He heard the phone call with your parents, and his heart dropped when he heard them tell you happy birthday on the phone.

He doesn’t even know where to start with getting you a present. He’d ask his friends for help since he doesn’t really know that much about you, but they’d just tell him that it’s his fault for that since he hasn’t asked you out yet. He’s totally aware of that, but he’s just got a lot going on, okay? And yeah, maybe he’s still scared that you won’t return his feelings if he asks, but who wouldnt be in this situation?

He stops by the store on his way home from picking up Satomi from school, and he’s been racking his brain all day, but he still doesn’t know what to get you. He doesn’t want to get you just anything. You’ve helped him out in so many ways more times than he can count, so he wants your gift to be special.

“What are we doing here, Daddy?” Satomi asks while he walks through the aisles, hoping he sees something that’ll catch his eye.

“Today is y/n’s birthday, so I wanted to get her something,” he tells her, and she gasps loudly.

“It’s her birthday?! I wanna get something for her, too!”

“What do you wanna get her?” he asks, feeling the frustration rise when he can’t find anything.

“Some pants with stripes!” she says. “She said she loves stripes like I do, and that she needed some more pants for work.” He’s not sure if they’ll be able to find that, but they walk over there anyway. He lets her do most of the looking while he continues to think, and he looks at her when she finds what she’s looking for. “These! She’ll love them!”

He’s looking at what she’s found, and he’s not too sure about them, but there’s no way he can tell her that. He tells himself in the back of his head to keep the receipt so you can take them back, but then he realizes that he doesn’t even know your size. He picks her up, and she looks through the hangers before she finds the right ones.

“Are you sure that’s the right size?” he asks, and she nods quickly.

“Yes! She let me dress up in her clothes, and she told me!” Terushima takes her word for it, even though he’s not sure how trustworthy it can be. “And we should get her oatmeal cookies! She said those were her favorite!”

And how does she know more about you than he does? They’ll have to make them themselves since they don’t have any without the raisins, so he grabs a couple of the bags that have the batter already in them. He’s about to give up, his head metaphorically in his hands until he passes by the art section.

He backtracks, walking through it, and hoping he can find something as this might be his last chance. He stops when he finds a set of colored pencils that he’s pretty sure you’ll love. He takes one look at the price though, and he feels like he might have a heart attack. He looks up the brand, seeing how well the reviews are, and he thinks about your reaction when he gives them to you, and that ultimately seals the deal.

He picks them up without a second thought, and he grabs some tissue paper and bags for your presents to go in. “Can we get her a balloon?!” Satomi gasps, and he thinks it might be overkill, but he lets her grab one anyway. His heart nearly falls again when he hears the final total of his purchases, but he pushes it aside.

Satomi holds onto the balloon like her life depends on it, and she’s talking about giving you your present the entire ride home. He reminds her to keep her voice down in the hallway just in case her voice carries, and he lets her wrap the presents while he starts on the cookies. When she’s done with that, Satomi helps him stir the batter, and makes sure she stands back when he puts them in the oven.

She’s talking nonstop while they wait for the cookies to bake, and Terushima admits to himself that he’s excited too. She makes you a card while they wait, and he totally forgot about one while he was in the store, so he makes one with her also.

He checks the cookies to make sure they’re baked through, and he places them in a baking dish that he’s never used. Satomi uses one of her ribbons that she wears to tie it around it, and they collect all of their things and make the short walk to your door.

Satomi knocks, and it’s not long until you’re answering the door. “What are you guys doing here?” you ask in surprise, a happy birthday headband adorning your head.

“Happy birthday!!!” Satomi shouts, running to your legs to give you a hug. You let them in, and that’s when Terushima realizes that you’re not alone.

“Wow, you guys didn’t have to do this,” you say before you introduce them to your friends. Some of them you’ve known since high school while others are work friends.

“We made you oatmeal cookies!” Satomi says, her little arms shaking as she hands you the pan. “And we got you a balloon!” She hands that to you next, and Terushima could see the look on your face for the rest of his life.

“Oh, my God! This is so sweet! I was wondering why I was smelling something good,” you say, setting the pan down on the counter before you tie the balloon to the chair you were sitting at.

“Here, I got you a present!” Satomi says, handing you a bag, and you sit down to open it. There are different reactions when you pull the pants out of the bag, and you gasp as you let them fall down so you can see them fully.

“Oh, my God. These are amazing.” Your reaction surprises Terushima, and you quickly get up. “I’m gonna go try them on.” You run to your room, closing the door behind you, and Terushima notices that all of your friends are looking at him.

“I’m Satomi!” she introduces, going up to each one of them and shaking their hands.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” one of your friends says. “She has a picture of your recital framed on her desk,” she tells her, and that gets her talking even more. Terushima feels his heart warm at what your friend said, and he’s never felt more for you than at this moment.

You walk out, doing a dramatic spin as you show off the pants. The pattern is absolutely ridiculous, but you pull it off so well. “You make those pants work so well,” your co-worker says.

“I know, right?” Terushima is silent as he looks at you. The pants flare out at the bottom, but they hug the rest of your body, and he can’t say anything. “I love them, Satomi. I’m gonna wear these forever.” You pick her up, giving her a hug.

“I got them for you so you can wear them to work!”

“Well, I’m definitely going to do just that,” you tell her as everyone laughs.

“Daddy got you a present, too!” she says, and you sit down with her in your chair as he hands it to you. You quickly pull the wrapping paper out of the bag, and your movements slow when you pull the present out of the bag.

“Oh, wow,” one of your friends says, and Terushima hates how his breathing stops for a bit.

“Yuuji, are you serious?” you ask, turning to him. “How did you know I’ve always wanted these?” You look over them, and your mouth is still open in disbelief. You let Satomi down before you get up, giving him a hug. He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, and it’s too short for his liking. “Thank you so much. I love them,” you tell him when you pull away, and you look back at them again, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Of course. You do so much for Satomi, so I wanted to show you how much I appreciate it.”

You smile doesn’t waver, and you hug him again. “Oh, my God, I can’t wait to try them!” you beam. “You guys should stay. We have cake!”

“I love cake!” Satomi shouts, and you pick her up again while you pull up a chair for Terushima. You cut Satomi a small piece, and she doesn’t really care for the icing, so you scrap it off. Terushima doesn’t mind that at all because that means she won’t have as much sugar, so there are no complaints from him.

He makes conversation with your friends, but his eyes always drift back to you. He’s never seen you laugh so hard, and he could hear it for the rest of his life. Satomi starts to settle down as soon as the party starts to settle, and he helps with the cleanup.

“You know, I was wondering why she hadn’t mentioned a guy in a while,” Terushima hears, and he looks to see one of your friends that he was talking to earlier standing next to him. “But she showed me the recital pictures, and it fell into place.

He doesn’t really know how to respond, and he looks at you again, seeing you holding a sleepy Satomi as you talk with your friend. “So, what are you waiting on?” she asks, and he looks at her again.

“What do you mean?” he questions even though he has a pretty good idea about what she means.

“If you’re worried about asking her out because she doesn’t feel the same way, then I’m gonna tell you right now that you shouldn’t be.” Hearing that makes him so relieved she doesn’t even know it. “Sure, she talks about Satomi most of the time, but I can hear how her voice changes when she talks about you without even looking at her. So, don’t be scared, okay?”

He gives her a small smile, nodding his head. “Alright.”

“So, I better hear her telling me about a date soon. The look in your eyes is very obvious by the way, but she’s always been really dense,” she sighs, and Terushima feels his face grow warm as he laughs.

“Are you embarrassing me over here?” you ask her quietly when you walk over since Satomi is on her way to sleep.

“I’m helping you out,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“With what?” you question with a frown, and she gives Terushima a look.

“As I said,” she comments, and Terushima laughs again. “Happy Birthday,” she tells you, giving you a side hug. Your brows are furrowed as you watch her walk away before you turn to Terushima.

“Thank you both for coming. I loved my gifts,” you tell him.

“We both made you cards,” Satomi whispers, and you go over to your island and pick them up. “Read mine first,” she says, and you chuckle as you open hers. Your smile starts to fade as you read it, and Terushima frowns when you sniffle.

“Thank you, Satomi. I love it.” She hugs you when you hug her, and he notices that you’re crying.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod quickly, wiping your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This was the best birthday ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says warmly. You hand him her card while you read his, and he never got a chance to read hers before he came over here because he was so focused on what he wanted to say in his.

Happy Birthday, y/n! Thank you for always drawing me tigers! I hang them up on the wall in my room! Thank you for always watching me and for buying all of my cookies! I know I don’t have a mommy, but you feel like mine! I love you so much!

Terushima reads the second to last sentence over and over again, and those words echo in his head. He looks up at you at the same time you do, and you hold his card up. “This was really sweet,” you tell him. “Thank you, Yuuji.” You step closer to him, kissing him on the cheek, and he feels a spark fly all over his body.

“You’re welcome.”

Terushima coincidentally booked himself full on the day that Satomi was out of school, so you offer to take her to work with you when he tells you. You reassure him that it’s totally fine, and that your co-workers bring their kids to work all the time. Satomi is more than ecstatic when she finds out, and she has everything packed the night before.

She’s even already up when Terushima walks into her room to wake her. He drops her off at your place when he’s sure that she has everything, and he thanks you again before he leaves. You strap her car seat into your seat when you’re ready to head to work, and you don’t listen to the radio on the way to work like you usually do since you have Satomi.

She holds your hand as she walks with you to your building, and when she sees some of your co-workers that she met at your party, she instantly runs over to them to give them a hug. “You have your own office?” she asks when you open the door.

“Yeah, I do,” you chuckle as you set her bag on one of the chairs you have. She spends about the next hour asking you questions about what you do, and you answer every last one of them. She occupies herself with the stuff she brought, and you’re lowkey grateful for the distraction because you actually have work that you need to do today.

You start writing on the whiteboard in your office, and suddenly her coloring is forgotten. “Can I draw on it, too?” she asks, and you draw a square in the corner of it to give her some boundaries before you let her have at it. That seems to occupy her for even longer especially since she can erase everything and start over again.

When lunchtime rolls around, you brought your own lunch because you didn’t feel like going out today, and you make sure to pack extra for her as well. After lunch, you decide to give her a tour of the building you work in since you can see her starting to get antsy from not moving enough. She meets your boss, who absolutely loves her, which you’re not surprised about since she has a daughter her age.

That seems to settle her down because she sits in your lap without moving too much, and Terushima calls you. “I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t causing you too much trouble.��

“She’s totally fine. We just took a tour around the building,” you tell him.

“I got to draw on her whiteboard!” she says into the phone, and you can hear his laugh come through.

“That sounds like fun, princess.”

“Can I get one, too?” she asks, and you both laugh at her question.

“We’ll see.” He tells you both that he has to get back to work, and you both tell him goodbye before you hang up the phone. She starts to get a little tired after that, and you can tell because she starts to curl into you.

You wrap your arms around her as you finish up your work for the day, and you check in with your co-workers before you head out. She sleeps on the way home, and you carry her to your apartment. You change out of your clothes after you put her down in your bed, and you think about what you might want for dinner as you turn on the TV.

Satomi comes out of your room about an hour later, sitting next to you on the couch, and you change the channel to something she wants to watch. While she’s entertained with that, you hear your phone ringing in your room, so you check to make sure she’s alright before you get up an answer it.

“Hey, Yuuji. It’s everything okay?” you say as soon as you pick up.

“I’m running a bit late, and we just had a couple of walk-ins come in. You might have to watch her for a couple more hours,” he tells you.

“That’s okay! Don’t rush. We’ll be waiting for you,” you say.

“Thank you so much. I gotta go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll see you when you get home.” You hang up the phone, taking it with you as you walk out of your room. “Your dad’s running a little behind at work,” you tell her when you walk in. “You hungry yet?”

“Do you have chicken nuggets?” she asks instead of giving you an answer, and she follows you when you walk to the fridge. You open the freezer, and she gasps when you pull out a big bag.

“Dinosaur chicken nuggets.” She jumps happily while you set some out on a pan for the both of you. You get her some fruit that you have, and she sits at the dining table you have, her feet swinging as she eats. You give them time to cool after you pull them out of the oven, and you get her some juice while you wait.

“Someone has a birthday coming up,” you start as she finishes eating her nuggets.

“I do!” she cheers loudly, pointing to herself. “I’m gonna be six years old!”

“Wow! You’re getting so big!” you say with just as much enthusiasm. “What do you want for your birthday this year?”

“A tiger!”

“That might be kinda hard to do,” you chuckle.

“It doesn’t have to be real. I just want one to have on my bed,” she offers and you nod.

“I think that can be arranged,” you tell her, and you laugh when she does.

“There’s something else that I want,” she adds, and you raise your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Oh? What’s that?” She gets out of her chair, and you pick her up, plopping her in your lap.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers, and you lower your voice as you nod.

“Of course, you can. I won’t tell a soul.”

You lean down so that she can whisper in your ear. “I think my Daddy really likes you.” You can’t help but laugh as you pull away.

“Really? What makes you say that?” you question.

“Because he smiles whenever he’s on the phone with you. And he talks about you all the time!” You can’t help it when your face heats up, and you try to focus on the conversation instead of how warm you’re getting.

“What does that have to do with what else you want for your birthday?”

“I want my Daddy to be happy.” You frown a little at her words.

“But he is happy, Satomi. You make him happy every day,” you say, smiling when you boop her softly on the nose and she giggles.

“Yeah, but I’m not always around. Someone has to make him happy while I’m at school and at dance practice.”

“Well, that makes sense,” you point out.

“So, if you’re here while I’m not, then he’ll always be happy!” she puts together.

“You’re a very thoughtful person, Satomi,” you say earnestly. “I’ll do my best to make your Dad happy while you’re gone.”

“Thank you.” You laugh again, and you start to tickle her softly, and her giggles fill your apartment.

You migrate back to the couch, and you can feel the day starting to catch up to you. It’s starting to get pretty late, and you check your phone to see that Terushima texted you to say that he’s almost done. You send him a thumbs up, and you go to tell Satomi, but you see that she’s sound asleep.

You adjust her in your arms, and your blinking starts to get heavy. You let your head fall back onto the back of the couch, and it’s not long until you’re asleep like Satomi. You don’t know how long you’ve slept, but you wake up when you hear knocking at your door. You stand carefully, making sure not to wake her up, and you open the door.

“Sorry, I dozed off,” you tell him as soon as you open it.

“That’s okay. I’m sorry I finished so late,” he says, and you wave him off.

“Terushima, it’s alright. She already ate, so she’ll probably be asleep through the night.” He tries to take her from you, but you both frown when he can’t get her off of you. “Satomi, sweetie, your dad’s here to get you.

“I want you to tuck me in,” she murmurs, and he sighs heavily. He grabs her stuff before walking to his door. You walk to her room, waking her up for just a little bit so that you can change her into her pajamas, and then you’re putting her into bed. “Goodnight, Mommy.”

You rub over her forehead, smiling softly. “Goodnight, Satomi.”

Terushima looks over the room, making sure everything is just where it needs to be. He looks over everything, checking off things in his head as he surveys the room. He sighs when he thinks he has everything, and then he wonders where you are.

“Yuuji!” you call, and he walks down the hall to the room where you’re peeking your head out. “I need some help. You mind zipping me up?” He walks into the room, and he wants to laugh at the image in front of him, but there’s no way he can.

You’re wearing a bodysuit that covers your whole body, one of your hands holding the back together, and he runs his eyes up and down your body countlessly. You turn around, but his eyes trail down again, and he swallows heavily. He takes a step forward, and he’s not really thinking about his actions because his hands have a mind of their own.

They start at your hips before they ghost a trail up your body, and it takes him too long to realize what he’s doing. He clears his throat, grabbing the zipper at the bottom. He places his other hand on your hip as he slowly starts to zip the suit up. You move your hair to the side once he starts to get closer to the top, and he lets his hands linger on you just a little bit longer.

You sigh heavily when he finishes, throwing your hair back as you turn around. “Thank you so much,” you breathe. “This thing is tighter than I thought it would be,” you laugh, but Terushima’s brain is taking a while to catch up. “Do you think Satomi will like it?”

“She’ll love it,” he answers absentmindedly, and his phone pings with a text, which thankfully, breaks him out of it. “She’s walking up now,” he says when he reads the text, and you push him out of the door so that he can greet her. The door opens, and Satomi frowns when she sees her dad standing in the middle of the room.

“Why’s it so dark?” she asks, and Takeharu turns the lights on. She gasps as she takes in the room, which is decorated with a jungle theme and tigers everywhere.

“Happy birthday, princess!” Terushima yells, holding his arms out. She spins around in a slow circle as she takes it all in. “You like it?”

“I love it! Thank you, Daddy!” She runs to give him a hug, and soon after the reveal, her friends and their parents start piling in. He puts a crown on her head as she sits at the table, and chatter fills the room. “Where’s y/n?” she asks, looking around, and you jump up behind her.

“Surprise!” She gasps, taking in the tiger bodysuit you’re wearing, ears adorning your head as well.

“You look awesome!” she says, giving you a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, Satomi,” you say warmly.

“Did you paint your face yourself?” she asks, poking at the whiskers on your cheeks, and you nod fervently.

“Yes, I did. You want your face painted?” You already know the answer, and you bring her over to a table so you can paint her face. You constantly have to hold her so that she’ll stay still, but when you’re done, she smiles widely in the mirror.

“I look like a real tiger!” she comments as you put tiger ears on her head.

“Yeah, you do!” You suddenly have a line of children behind her, and you spend the next fifteen minutes painting a nose and whiskers on their faces.

Terushima’s standing off to the side, glad that Satomi looks absolutely overjoyed, and his friends walk over to stand next to him. “A bodysuit, huh?” Kazuma says first. “Was that your decision?”

“Of course, not,” he retorts quickly. “She thought Satomi would like it.”

“Well, she’s definitely not the only one who does,” Takeharu adds, and Terushima knows that better than anyone, balling his fists every time one of the dads stares at you for just a little too long as you walk around.

You finished painting, and the kids are back to eating at the table, but Satomi is talking to you the whole time. Your attention is soon diverted from her when one of the dads starts talking to you, and Terushima knows his track record from some of the other mothers.

The moment he takes a step forward, Kazuma grabs his arm. “Easy, tiger. You don’t wanna make a scene at your daughter’s party.”

Thankfully, the conversation doesn’t last long, and you’re walking over to him, standing on the other side of him. “This thing is a lot hotter than it looks,” you breathe as you fan yourself, but it’s loud enough that only Terushima picks it up, but that sentence alone starts to do things to him. “I’m glad I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you comment more to yourself, noting how your bra and underwear stick to you uncomfortably. Terushima hears it, and he starts to feel warm all over before he tries to think about anything but him getting a chance to take it off of you.

“Thank you so much for the help,” he tries, diverting the conversation.

“Of course! I’m glad she’s so happy,” you say, looking toward her. Takeharu offered to have the party at his house since there were going to be a lot of people coming, and after Terushima shared the idea with you, you helped him set everything up while Takeharu and Kazuma kept Satomi entertained until the party.

“Yeah, me too.” Satomi’s happily talking with her friends as they finish eating, and he feels a breath of relief run through him. He jumps when he feels a hand on his back.

“Relax, Yuuji. You did really good,” you tell him, and he smiles at you. “So, have some fun today, okay?” Satomi runs up to you, and you bend down to her level, turning to her immediately.

“Is there cake?”

“Of course, there’s cake!” you reply, and you have her go sit down before you and Terushima go to get the cake. He makes sure to block anyone’s view of you as you walk, and he can’t help but slide his hand on your waist as he does so.

You have her close her eyes while you put the “six” candle on it, and you light it. “It’s a tiger!” she screams when you tell her to open her eyes.

Everyone sings happy birthday, and she leans forward in her seat so she can blow out the candle. She’s very insistent that no one cut the cake, which is what both of you expected, so you bring out a bigger one to give to all of the kids. Satomi’s the only one who eats her tiger cake, and Terushima tells her to slow down when he notices that she’s eating too fast.

You know she’s just excited about the presents, so you all migrate to the other side of the room where the presents are. Terushima films while she opens her presents, leaving the big ones for last. The presents she opens first came from some of the parents, and she’s just as happy when she reveals each one.

You have her open yours after she finishes with those, and she laughs loudly when she sees what it’s inside. “It’s a big tiger!” she yells, hugging the stuffed animal to her body. She gives you a hug with the tiger still in her arms. “Thank you!”

“Of course!”

She runs back over to open the last one, and she looks at the sticker on the wrapping paper. “This one’s from you, Daddy?” He nods, not wanting to say another word, and you help her open it. “It’s the dollhouse I wanted!!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, and you think she might explode when she sees all the extra stuff that Terushima bought her. He took up the extra work just to get it for her, and he thinks it was so worth it as he watches her.

She runs over to him, nearly taking him down, and he crouches down so she can hug him. “Thank you so much, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Satomi. You’re welcome.” He kisses her on the forehead, and she runs back over, looking at everything that he got, and the tiger you got her doesn’t leave her arm.

The party stays in full swing after she opens them for about an hour or so, and the kids are starting to get tired, so everyone starts to make their way out, giving Satomi a final happy birthday before they leave. You stay to help clean up, and you groan once you finish, wiping over your forehead.

“God, I cannot wait to get out of this thing,” you groan.

“Are you gonna need help with the zipper again?” Terushima can’t help but ask, and you nod with a tired look on your face.

“Yeah, definitely.” He checks on Satomi before you leave, seeing that she’s asleep on the couch with the tiger in her arms, and he shoves Kazuma when he catches him laughing as he follows you down the hallway.

You move your hair to the side, and Terushima can’t help thinking about how warm you feel as he pulls the zipper down. Once it’s all the way down, you sigh loudly, quickly pulling your arms out of it and pulling it down so that it’s at your waist.

“Thank you so much. I feel so much better.” You turn around, slumping a little as the cool air hits your skin, and Terushima really wishes he could look away from you. You take the hair tie off your wrist and put your hair up to get it off your neck, and you sigh in relief again. “I’m glad Satomi liked it, but I don’t know if I could do this again,” you laugh, and Terushima looks into your eyes just in time.

“That’s okay. I don’t know how I’m gonna top this party,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll have a new obsession next year anyway,” you dismiss, and he steps closer to you.

“Thank you for helping set all this up.”

“Well, you did most of the work,” you say, wiping your face. “You made her really happy today, Yuuji. You’re the best dad in the world in my book.” He laughs when you do, and even with the paint still on your face, he desperately wants to kiss you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says after he’s silent for a bit.

“How so?” you question as you frown.

“Because you were always there encouraging me when I felt like I wasn’t doing the best,” he admits, and you let your head fall to the side as you rest your hands on his neck.

“Yuuji, you are always doing your best. You’re not going to be perfect a hundred percent of the time, but when you try, that’s more than enough.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” he chuckles.

“Well, you definitely don’t give yourself enough credit when you should. You do everything you can to make Satomi happy, and that’s what matters.” Fuck, he’s about two seconds from pulling you into him and planting his lips on yours, and right now, there’s nothing about to stop him. But you let your hands fall, and you turn away from him to grab your clothes. “Now, I need to get out of this before I burn up.”

“Of course. I’ll be out here,” he says, and he hates how he feels like he missed his chance. He walks towards the door, and when he turns to close it, you’ve already shoved it to your ankles. He falters when he sees you bent at the waist, and he quickly swings to door closed, but it’s too late, the image is already burned into his brain.

He clears his throat as he pinches himself as a punishment for regretting not looking any longer, and he takes a deep breath before he walks down the hallway. “That took longer than it should have.” Terushima jumps at the sound of Kazuma’s voice, and he nearly throws him out of the door.

“Go home,” he orders, pushing him forward, and the guy laughs as he walks to the front door. “Thanks for offering up your house, Takeharu. I hope we didn’t do too much damage.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was worth seeing the biggest smile on my niece’s face.” Terushima smiles before he turns his attention to his daughter, and he sighs in relief when he’s able to pull the tiger from her arms without her waking up.

You come into the room with no paint on your face and the bodysuit in your hand as he picks her up. You grab the tiger as you say goodbye to Takeharu, and you all make your way to Terushima’s car. The dollhouse is already packed up in the trunk, and he straps her into her car seat.

You both yawn at the same time when he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment, and you both laugh. He decides to tackle the dollhouse when he’s not tired, and you walk into his apartment to put her to bed. You set the tiger next to her, and you smile at how peaceful she looks.

You yawn again as he walks you to your door, and you turn to him before you open it. “Goodnight, Yuuji,” you say softly.

“Goodnight.” You’re about to turn around, and he stops you, carefully pulling the tiger ears from your hair.

“Oh, I totally forgot. I definitely would’ve fallen asleep with them off,” you laugh tiredly. Instead of kissing you like he wants to, he pulls you into a hug, and you don’t seem to mind how long he does.

“Thank you,” he repeats.

“Any time, Yuuji.”

I want to see her.

Terushima doesn’t know how long he stares at the text, but he can’t bring himself to reply. The amount and range of emotions he feels makes him feel so overwhelmed, he throws his phone to the side. The texts have been getting more frequent despite his responses being pretty dry. He knows that he shouldn’t keep Satomi away from her mother, but after all this time, why now?

She never once made any effort to contact him, and he’s had to raise her without her. He has half a mind to tell her to just leave him alone, but there’s no way he can actually say it. He sighs again, letting his head fall into his hands. He wants to ask somebody about it, but he’s being stubborn and he’s trying to push the problem away until it disappears. But that’s easier said than done. Way easier.

“Daddy?” He quickly lifts his head up, looking over his shoulder to see Satomi walking towards him.

“What’s up, sweetie?” he asks, putting on a smile that he hopes she can’t see through.

“Can I go over to y/n’s?”

“What for?”

“I wanna ask her something,” she says, and she doesn’t give him an explanation, turning her attention to a string on his shirt. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

He laughs softly, but he stands up anyway. “Alright. Let’s go see if she’s busy.”

“Wait! I wanna go by myself,” she says suddenly, stopping him from walking.

“Why?” She doesn’t answer, looking down at the floor, and he lowers himself to her level. “What’s wrong, Satomi?”

“Nothing! I promise. I just wanna talk to her.” He knows that he won’t get much out of her, and when she knows he won’t ask any more questions, she runs to the door. He’s quick to follow after her, and he stands in front of his door in the hallway, watching her knock on your door.

Satomi bounces on her toes as she waits, and her face lights up when you open the door. “Satomi? Does your dad know you’re here?” you ask as soon as you see, and he chuckles as she points to her left.

“Yeah! He’s right there!” You step out, looking in the direction she’s pointing, and you laugh when your eyes meet his. You wave at him, and he barely gets a chance to return it because Satomi pulls you into your apartment. He smiles as he watches, but the moment your door closes, the smile falls.

“So, what brings you over here?” you ask her after she pulls you to sit on the couch.

“I wanna talk about something, but every time I bring it up, it makes Daddy sad,” she tells you, and you frown as you rub your hand over her head.

“What’s wrong, Satomi?”

“Daddy’s been sad lately, but every time I come in the room, he smiles like there’s nothing wrong.” After hearing that, you can’t say that you’re not concerned.

“What were you trying to tell your dad?”

“I wanted to ask you if you would come to school with me next week.”

“What for?”

“We’re having a bunch of activities going on, and some of the stuff I’ve never been able to before, so I wanted to ask if you could come.”

“Of course, I can, Satomi. I would love to come,” you tell her softly, and she smiles a little at your answer but it doesn’t last long.

“I just don’t know why Daddy isn’t happy about it.”

“I don’t think he’s upset about you asking me. He might have something else going on,” you try, and she picks at her pants.

“When I ask him if you can be my mommy, he never gives me an answer.” You sigh as you listen to her talk, and you have a feeling that Satomi’s mother might be playing a part in why he’s acting the way he is. You’re not going to ask about it, obviously, but you hate that you can’t give her a straightforward answer. “But you would like to be my mommy, right?”

You think about what to say before you answer her honestly. “I would love that, Satomi, but I don’t know how your dad feels,” you huff, and she’s quick to sit herself up on her knees.

“But my Daddy really likes you! He’d be okay with it!” You can’t help but laugh, and she keeps going. “I know he likes you. He even says your name while he’s in the shower.”

You choke suddenly, feeling your face go hot at her words. You try to cover it up with a laugh, and you can see that she’s confused at your reaction, so try to gloss over it and continue the conversation. “I think your dad is just dealing with a lot of things right now. I can try and ask him about it if you want me to.”

“I don’t mean to make him more upset,” she whispers, and you’re quick to reassure her.

“No, no, sweetie. I can tell you right now that it’s not your fault. You’re not making him any more upset, I promise. Okay?” She nods, giving you a hug. “Did you wanna talk to me about anything else?”

She shakes her head, but she doesn’t pull away from you. “Thanks, y/n.”

“Of course, Satomi. I’ll always be here if you need to talk, okay?” She nods, and after a while, she’s ready to go back next door, so you walk over there with her. The door’s unlocked, so you both walk in, and Terushima’s sitting on the couch.

“y/n wants to talk to you about something!” Satomi announces the moment she steps inside and before either of you can respond, she’s running to her room. You close the door behind you as you step further inside the apartment, and both of you laugh as he stands and walks toward you.

“I told her I’d go to school with her next week if that’s okay with you,” you tell him, and you notice that he doesn’t look as happy as he usually does, and now you understand what Satomi was talking about.

“Yeah. I know she’s excited about it. She’s happy that she can bring someone this year.” His smile doesn’t even last his entire sentence, and you grab his hands.

“Yuuji, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but Satomi notices. I don’t wanna tell you this, but she’s worried about you.” He sighs, letting his head fall forward for a second before he looks back at you.

“I know. I’m just kinda stuck right now,” is all he tells you, and you lace your fingers with his.

“That’s okay, but don’t be afraid to reach out and ask somebody. It’s not good for you to keep it in.” You let go of one of his hands to rub at the lines between his eyebrows. “You’re too young to get wrinkles.” He smiles when you laugh, and he pulls you into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your hair, but he doesn’t let you go, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course, Yuuji.” You don’t question how long he’s holding you, and you guess he’s been needing his for a while. “She also said that she wants me to be her mom,” you chuckle, and he hums at your words, holding you a little tighter. He doesn’t respond to you, and you move one of your hands to run through his hair. “You okay?” you whisper when he doesn’t let you go, and he’s been quiet for a while.

“Yeah, I am now.” He smiles when he feels you laugh, and he pulls away when he feels your head move, but he keeps his arms around you. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage to make me feel better.”

“But I didn’t even do anything,” you muse, and he kisses your forehead before putting his against yours.

“You don’t have to.” He takes a deep breath out through his nose, and he feels his whole body relax. He doesn’t want to let you go, and he knows that he has to face reality, but now, he feels like he can.

“I’m always here if you need anything,” you whisper, and you always are, he hasn’t doubted that for a second.

I’ll think about it.

That’s all he can really manage, but he doesn’t want to give her the impression that he’s going to let her waltz right back into his life after all this time. He told his friends about her contacting him, and their reactions were just like he expected. Kazuma was a lot more passionate than he thought when he was telling him to just block her.

He doesn’t really have any bad feelings toward her with regard to their relationship. People fall out all of the time, it happens. But that doesn’t mean that he was okay with her just leaving his kid on his doorstep without a word. In the back of his mind, he admits that he’s scared thinking about potentially seeing her after these few years.

He’s just uncertain about what this would mean for Satomi, and there are a lot of people who are afraid of the unknown. He pushes all of that to the side though when he hears Satomi talking loudly in the living room. He can hear your voice as well, and he must’ve been so into his thoughts that he didn’t hear your knock.

He shoves his phone in his pocket with that one conversation specifically muted, and he walks out of his room to an image that he sees all the time, but he still feels his heart flutter when he sees it. You’re holding Satomi in your arms as you talk to her, and he lets his feet guide him toward you.

Satomi’s excitement is practically radiating off of her as he drives to the school. He barely gets a chance to talk to you because as soon as he gets her out of the car, she’s pulling you towards the building. Recently, Satomi’s been adamant about skipping school whenever this day rolls around. He knows why this day always had her down, but he didn’t think there was anything he could say to make her feel better. He always offered to go and spend the day with her, but it wasn’t enough.

She pulls you into her classroom, and she has you sit at a table with three other girls. “These are my friends!” she tells you, and they all give you a shy wave before Satomi leans toward your ear. “They don’t have a mommy either,” she whispers to you, and you feel your heart sink.

“Can you draw any animal?” one of her friends ask you.

“I can. What do you want me to draw?” you respond instantly.

“A panda,” she says softly, and all of her friends crowd around you as you start drawing while the rest of them ask you to draw them something as well.

Every year they have a day where the kids can bring their parents, and there’s a bunch of activities they can do. It falls between Mother's and Father’s Day, so some of the games that are played usually involve either both or one parent. Satomi hasn’t been in the past two years, and it always hurts Terushima in a way that he’s never hurt before, but now, he’s seen her happier today than she’s ever been on this day in the past.

He knows that he’s been kicked to the curb today, and he can’t help but laugh about it, so he just focuses on helping out where he’s needed whether that’s for the activities or the games. He’ll catch you being pulled around by Satomi, and he notices that her friends are with you as well. They all stay glued to your side as they walk you around to do all of the different things, and as you migrate outside, your hands are full of all of the things they made.

Satomi grabs the things out of your hand and runs them over to Terushima. “Daddy, you have to hold this so y/n can race with me!” He barely has time to catch it all before she runs away. You have to do a three-leg race first, and Terushima finds somewhere to stand so he can watch.

He knows you’ll probably kill him later, but he can’t help but pull his phone out. The race starts, and it takes a while for the two of you to get going, but you start pulling ahead soon after. You have to slow your steps so that Satomi can keep up, but your leg that’s with hers is almost in perfect sync. You both finish first, and Satomi almost falls from how hard she’s celebrating.

Terushima looks down at his phone, looking at the video again, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to lose his smile. He looks back up after a while when he hears cheering again, and he frowns for a moment when he sees you racing again. One of Satomi’s friends is with you this time, and Satomi’s at the finish line cheering you on.

You’re actually really good at the race, winning twice in a row. You’re not celebrating as much when you win, and Terushima’s eyebrows raise when Satomi pulls you to the starting line again. Another one of her friends is racing with you, and Satomi and her friend race to the end to cheer you both on again.

You have to do the race again, and you just barely make it. Satomi and her friends are cheering loudly following you while you find the closest seat. You nearly collapse, and you barely get a chance to catch your breath before Satomi pulls you to your feet. Terushima follows, almost losing you in the crowd, and he sees that she’s pulled you to a potato sack race.

He doesn’t get there in time to save you, and he feels so bad for laughing, but by the time you cross the finish line, you look two steps away from falling out. You ditch the sack, finding a blanket to lie on. Satomi and her friends’ attention is quickly diverted by something else to do, and Terushima walks over to you.

“You were amazing,” he laughs, and you groan as you place her hand on your chest, your breathing still heavy.

“I cannot feel my legs,” you rasp. “Oh, my God. I’ve never done that much cardio in my life.” He sits down next to you, and you open your eyes when you feel something cold touch your hand. You gasp, taking the water bottle from him. You only get through about half before you have to take a break. “My legs are shaking,” you groan. “Holy crap.”

Satomi and her friends run back over to you, but they don’t seem to notice how out of breath you are. “They’re doing face painting! You have to come!” She grabs your hand, but this time, she can’t get you to move.

“Satomi give her a chance to catch her breath,” Terushima tries. “You guys wore her out.”

“But she was amazing! She won all of them!” one of her friends says, and you lay back down on the blanket.

“Thank you. I tried,” you breathe. “Give me five minutes.” That seems to tide them over, but you realize that you probably should’ve told them more time because you know Satomi will take it literally.

You hold out your hand, and Terushima carefully pulls you up. You take another swig of water, a deep breath following after. “I think it’s your turn,” you jests, and he shrugs as he shakes his head.

“I tried to give you a break, but Satomi has officially kicked me to the curb.”

“Lucky me,” you laugh, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “I didn’t know I was gonna have to do four races. I would’ve mentally prepared myself.”

Satomi comes back over when your five minutes are up just like you knew she would. Terushima helps you up, and you shakily walk over to where the face painting booth is. They insists that you paint on their faces, so you pull up a chair and paint what they want.

A kid notices the face paint on Satomi’s face, and they run over to you asking if you can paint as well. Their mom apologizes for the sudden ask, but you don’t mind at all. You paint what they want, and they thank you loudly before running off. Before you know it, you have a line of kids in front of you, and it definitely doesn’t help when you catch Satomi boasting about your skills.

You lose track of how many kids come through, but by the time you’re done, your hand is starting to cramp. Terushima manages to pull you away in an attempt to save you after he diverts Satomi’s attention again.

“I’m sorry. You definitely signed up for more than you thought,” Terushima says when you find a park table to sit at.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m having fun. The running was a bit much, but this is way better than being stuck at work.” You sigh a little when you notice that Satomi and her friends manage to find you, and you’re relieved when they ask Terushima to play with them this time. “My hero,” you muse, and he laughs before being pulled away by his daughter.

You smile as you watch them disappear into the crowd, and you turn when you hear a voice next to you. “I’m Satomi’s teacher,” she introduces herself, and you shake her hand. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“No, of course. Go ahead.”

“y/n, right?” she asks and you nod.

“I’m guessing you heard about me from Satomi?” you surmise, and the both of you laugh as she nods her head.

“She won’t stop talking about you, but I see why now. You’re amazing with children. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her friends smile so wide.”

“She told me about their situation when I first met them, and they never left my side after we did the crafts.”

“Have you ever considered working with kids before?”

“In college, yes. I actually majored in education, but I wasn’t sure if I would be cut out for it.”

“Well, if you ask me, you are more than qualified for it.” You don’t respond, giving her a small smile. “We actually have a teacher that’s leaving at the end of the year. She teaches the same grade I do.”

“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

“Here’s my number,” she says, handing you a card. “You don’t have to make your decision now, of course. But I think you would be amazing at it.” You look down at the card, feeling a wave of emotions running through you. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same,” you whisper, and she gives you a friendly smile before she gets up. You pick at the corner of the card as you chew on your lip. Who knew you would have something like this come up all of a sudden?

“Hey, you okay?” You jump at Terushima’s voice, looking up as you cover the card with your hand.

“Yeah, I was just talking to Satomi’s teacher,” you smile, and you quickly try to change to subject. “Where are the girls?”

“Oh, they’ll be here in a second,” he says, and he steps to the side when they come running up to you.

“Happy Mother’s Day, y/n!” Satomi yells, and they all hand you pink and red pieces of paper. You sort them and you realize that they’re in the shape of hearts. Their names are on all of them, and each of them has something written on the back. You read through all of them, and you bite your lip to try and keep your tears at bay.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you tell them, and you’re really fighting the tears when they all hug you. “I’m gonna put these on my wall, they’re so beautiful.” As your hand runs over them, in the back of your mind, the conversation with Satomi’s teacher runs through your head.

You all go get food as the day starts to unwind, and you all eat at the table together. While the girls are talking, Terushima nudges you softly with his shoulder. “What’s up? You keep spacing out.”

“You noticed?” you chuckle. You don’t bother to hide it from him, and you pull out the card. “Satomi’s teacher told me that they’re going to have an open position at the end of the school year.”

“Are you gonna take it?” he asks honestly, and you look up at him.

“I dunno,” you admit. “I guess I’m just still trying to process the fact that I’m getting an opportunity.”

“Then you should take it,” he tells you softly. “I don’t think there’d be anyone better for it than you.” You look at him softly, and he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “And Satomi would be thrilled to see you more,” he adds, and that makes you laugh. “But seriously, you shouldn’t be afraid to take a chance at it. It’s clear you know what you’re doing. So, now you just gotta show them.”

You laugh again when you notice that you said those words to him once. “Thank you, Yuuji,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back, kissing your forehead before he wraps his arm around you.

You and Terushima help with the cleanup after you finish eating, and he holds your hand while you both walk to the car, Satomi way ahead of you. “Excuse me, are you Satomi’s mother?” You stop suddenly when a man walks up to you, and since you’re so off guard, you just let words flow out of your mouth.

“Oh, I–yes.”

“I’m Aneko and Emiko’s father. I just wanted to thank you.” You frown at his words, turning to fully face him. “They’re friends of Satomi’s, and they told me all the things you did for them today. I–” He stops himself, taking a deep breath before he continues. “I couldn’t make it today because of work, and they lost their mother a year ago. I’ve never seen them so happy.”

The tears make it to your waterline when you see his, and you pull him into a hug. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, and you rub your hands over his back.

“Of course. I’m so glad they were able to have fun.” He gives your hands a squeeze when he pulls away, and he gives you both a quiet goodbye before he heads to his car. Terushima wipes the tears from your face when they finally fall, and he keeps his arm around you as you walk to the car.

Satomi is asleep before he barely makes it away from the school, and he holds your hand on the console as you look out the window. He doesn’t try to press you when you’re quiet on the ride home and when you walk to your apartment. You help him tuck Satomi in, and she gives you a tired hug before you lay her down.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Satomi. Did you have fun?” You smile when she gives you a sleepy nod. “I’m glad,” you say, rubbing over her head. You lean forward to kiss her forehead, and she quickly leans up to do the same. “Goodnight, Satomi.”

“Night.” Terushima gives her a kiss on the forehead too, and he walks you to your door after walking out of Satomi’s room.

“I don’t know how I can thank you for today,” he says once you stop at your door.

“Maybe with a hot bath,” you joke. “My legs are gonna be feeling it tomorrow.” You both laugh softly in the quiet hallway. “I’m just glad I got to see Satomi happy.”

“I’d say she was even happier than her birthday party,” he responds.

“Then I’d say I did pretty well today,” you chuckle. “The soreness is definitely worth it.” He pulls you into a hug, and he memorizes the feeling of you in his arms. When you pull away, his face is right in front of yours, and he lets his hand rest on your neck.

“Don’t be afraid of the offer,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. You nod, and he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin just a little longer.

“Thanks, Yuuji.”

“How did we get here?” Terushima whispers to you as you both look at your friends sitting and talking in front of you.

“I have no idea,” you whisper back.

You and your friend were out when you ran into Kazuma. You all struck up a conversation, but while you weren’t paying attention they must’ve had a conversation on their own because you find yourself on a Friday night with your friends and Terushima’s friends in his apartment. Satomi wanted to spend the weekend with her grandparents, and Kazuma jumped at the opportunity to help his friend out.

You’ve obviously played a couple of drinking games, but you notice that you and Yuuji are a little bit drunker than everyone else in the room. “Okay, I think we have to up our game,” your friend whispers to Kazuma. “They’ll never get together if we don’t do something.”

“You’re telling me,” Kazuma groans, rolling his eyes at how long it’s taken for Terushima to even think about asking you out. The friend that Kazuma met while you were out was the same friend that talked with Terushima at your birthday party. She mentioned him when you introduce Kazuma, and that’s how the plan was formed.

“Okay, so let’s play Never Have I Ever,” your friend offers to the crowd, and you and Terushima are both a bit suspicious when everyone easily agrees.

“And why would we do that?” you ask, squinting your eyes at your friend.

“Why not?” she shrugs before she pulls out some shot glasses. You don’t disagree, but you make sure to keep an eye on her.

The questions start out pretty generic, but you and Yuuji start to find that the questions are oddly specific to the two of you. You really start to feel the alcohol after about the fourth shot, and you’ve always been a bit of a lightweight. Your friend knows that, and oh what a coincidence, so is Terushima.

“Okay, these questions are ridiculous,” you say, but you fall back into Terushima’s side, and he easily throws an arm around you.

“Yeah,” he lamely adds. “We’ve been the only ones to drink in a row. I haven’t seen you drink in a while,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Kazuma. “What are you up to?”

“Okay, how about this?” Kazuma starts, completely ignoring his friend’s question. “Never have I ever had a job.”

Terushima rolls his eyes, but everyone drinks anyway, and you know that your words are going to start slurring a bit. They ask a few more questions just to make sure their plan will work, and they know they’ve done it when you and Terushima start talking amongst yourselves.

They both know your mannerisms, and you’re practically on top of one another. “Let’s change the game,” your friend offers, but she doesn’t say it loud enough, and if you do hear her, neither of you is paying attention. “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven!” She raises her voice just a little, but when you guys finally catch on, she’s quick to continue talking. “Nose goes!”

Everyone almost in unison puts their finger on their nose, and you and Terushima are the only ones who haven’t. They’re quick to push you into Terushima’s room despite your protests, and the door closes behind you. “The timer starts now!” you hear Takeharu yell, and Terushima tries to open the door, but it’s no use.

He groans, sitting on his bed. “They definitely did this on purpose,” he says, and you walk over to him.

“They definitely did.” Your words are slow, and neither of you has been this drunk since college. You try to sit next to him, but your balance is off, so he grabs your hand to stop you from falling. “Thank you,” you say with a giggle. “I’m probably gonna fall if I move anymore.”

“That’s okay,” he laughs.

“But I wanna sit down,” you whine, and he grabs your hips, pulling you towards him. It takes you too long for his liking to understand what he’s doing, but when his hand drifts to your leg, your brain finally catches up. You straddle his lap, your legs on the bed, and he keeps his hands on your hips.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and you nod as fast as you can as your hands slide over his shoulders. You lean into him, inches from his face, and you both laugh as you stare at each other. “I haven’t been this drunk in a long time.”

“Me neither. I hope I don’t wake up with a hangover,” you complain, and he fully wraps his arms around you. “Do you think this was their plan?” you ask quietly.

“What? Getting us drunk and locking us in a room together? Oh, definitely.” You laugh, leaning more of your weight forward, and he falls backward.

“Sorry,” you giggle, letting your forehead rests on his, and he copies it, letting his hands run up and down your back.

“It’s okay. I’m more comfortable this way anyway.” Your hands run through his hair, and even though neither of you is saying anything, you’re looking at each other. It’s like you’re in your own world.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, and he smiles when you do, your head momentarily falling from his before you put it back where it was before.

“Really?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I’ve thought that since I first met you.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty cute,” you respond, bumping your nose against his.

“There’s so much I wanna say to you but definitely not while I’m drunk.”

“That’s fair,” you laugh. You move your head away to yawn, but you're quick to rest it on his again, and both of you feel sparks run through your body when your lips brush yours. “I think I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Me too,” he whispers, and you shift so that you can rest your face on his neck. His hands don’t stop rubbing over your back, and your eyes start to feel heavy. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Teru.”

“They’re so hopeless,” your friend groans as she peeks her head into the room. “They’re sleeping.”

“Are you serious?” Takeharu says, and Kazuma sighs with a shake of his head.

“What else can we do?” Kazuma asks. “I’m just gonna drink out of annoyance.”

You wake up first, and the first thing your brain tells you is that you have to pee. You carefully but swiftly peel Terushima’s arms from you before you make a beeline for the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you pee, and when you walk out after washing your hands, you see your friends sleeping in the living room. You laugh as you wobble a bit, and you’re definitely still drunk.

Terushima comes out of his room right as you walk into the living room, following the same path as you while he tries to keep his balance. You stretch, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom, and you turn when you hear the door open. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?” you ask because you don’t want to deal with fumbling with your keys.

He nods, letting you in the bathroom, and he finds one under the sink. He hands it to you, putting some toothpaste on it before he does the same to his. You both laugh softly to yourself as you brush your teeth, both of you having a hand on the counter to steady yourself.

“I’m definitely still a little drunk,” you tell him after you brush your teeth, and he sighs as he nods.

“So, am I.” You walk back out, following him to the kitchen and he grabs you some water. You lean back against the island, and he stands in front of you, nearly as close to you as he was last night. “What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t care. Whatever you have,” you answer, sitting your cup on the counter next to you.

“Are you using your second bedroom?” he asks, setting his cup on the counter behind him.

“I’m using it as an office, kinda. It’s mostly storage, though. Why do you ask?”

“Because Satomi wants to have a sleepover with her friends, but there’s not a lot of room in her room.”

“That’s so cute. Yeah, you can use mine. You’ll just have to help me clean it out.” He steps closer to you, resting his hands on your hips.

“It’s okay if it’s too much of a hassle, I can find–”

“Yuuji,” you start, resting your hands on his face. “I just told you it was okay.”

“I just feel like you do so much, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you fully.”

“Well, I do love food,” you tease, and he smiles when you laugh.

“You want me to buy you food?” he asks as he thinks of his first interaction with you, and maybe it’s still the alcohol running through his veins, but he steps even closer to you. “How about I make it a date? Is that okay?” He leans towards you, and he stares at your lips as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, that’s more than okay.” He smiles when you nod, and he’s thought about kissing you for so long that there’s nothing going to stop him now. You don’t pull away when he finally meets your lips, and he sighs heavily, wondering why he deprived himself for so long.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him back, and his hands move to your neck as he deepens the kiss. When you both pull away, your heavy breathing is barely audible over his heart pounding. “Wow,” he mumbles, and you giggle softly.

“You usually save that for end the of the date,” you jest, and he rubs his thumb over your lip, his eyes only focusing on that.

“Is it okay that I did it before? Sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer,” he says, and he barely waits for you to nod before he goes back in. You follow him when he leans forward, and he grabs your hips to help you sit on the counter. He doesn’t break the kiss, and your back arches when you feel the coldness of the counter against it. You moan when he slides his tongue in your mouth, and he doesn’t think there’s going to be anything that can stop him from taking you right here.

“It worked!” You both jump when you hear a voice, quickly remembering that you’re definitely not alone. Terushima pulls away, looking up to see your friend slowly getting off the floor, your head turns to look up as well.

“It only took him five years,” Takeharu says before he puts his head back down. “And I might need a trashcan.” Everyone splits as last night’s events start to catch up to them. Terushima feels his face flame as you look back at him and both of you laugh.

“Looks like we’re gonna be taking care of people,” you note, lifting yourself up, but he’s still in your space. He puts his hands back on your waist, and he thought he would be satisfied after kissing you, but the urge now is only fueled. He kisses you again in lieu of answering, and he can hear Kazuma groan, but he doesn’t give a shit.

“Okay, enough with the PDA, I’m already sick,” Kazuma groans before his head falls into the trashcan.

Kazuma is more than willing to watch Satomi the next weekend, and Terushima spends the whole week a nervous wreck. He’s been out of the game for so long, and he doesn’t even remember the last time he went on a date. The day comes, and Kazuma swings by to pick her up. She’s ecstatic about it, of course, and while she’s getting ready, Kazume notices how his friend is pacing.

“Please don’t tell me you’re stressing about this,” he says, and Terushima wipes his hands on his shorts, his hands sweating just thinking about it.

“Do you remember the last time I’ve been on a date?”

“Dude, the only thing you need is for the other person to like you back, and she does. Stop worrying so much. You’ve been around her for this long, so you have nothing to be scared of. You’ve done worse around her anyway, and it hasn’t scared her off, so I’d say you’re good.”

Terushima quickly glares at his friend’s back-handed encouragement, but he does have a point. He takes a deep breath to try and calm himself before he changes the subject. “And why were you so eager to watch Satomi this weekend?”

“Because I’m trying to get a date myself,” he admits easily.

“Are you really using my daughter to pick up women?”

“You did it,” he counters quickly. “But I’ll actually do something about it rather than wait five years.” Terushima rolls his eyes, and Satomi comes out of her room with just her backpack. Terushima laughs to himself before he goes into her room to pack her some clothes, and she gives him a hug before bouncing towards the door. “Don’t stress, have fun. And don’t have another kid,” Kazuma tells him before he can say anything back, and he quickly closes the door. Some friends he has.

Terushima has spent the last couple of hours figuring out what to wear, and he internally admits how stupid this all is. You’ve seen him in worse, but he wants to make a good impression. You were kinda vague about the details, and he wishes you weren’t so he could have some guidance. He jumps when he hears a knock at the door, and he mildly panics. He just throws on the first outfit he tried on, and he races to the door.

He opens it, and the moment his eyes land on you, he wondered why he was ever stressed in the first place. “Hi! Sorry, I’m a little early, but I already ordered the food.”

“No, that’s okay,” he says, letting you in, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The dress you’re wearing seems to hug your body tighter than the bodysuit you wore for Satomi’s party, and he almost wants to say it’s too short.

He takes a deep breath as he closes the door, rubbing his hands on his pants again. He sits down next to you on the couch, and he feels warmth spreading through his body when his knee brushes your leg. He’s glad that you don’t seem as nervous as him, and the small talk you make gives him time to calm his racing heart. Although, that’s kind of difficult when it races at the mere sight of you.

“You’re paying for the food, remember?” you tease when there’s a knock at the door, and he can’t help but laugh as he goes to answer the door. You offer to drink something non-alcoholic as he sets out the food, and he doesn’t think about opposing, as he’s still recovering from last weekend.

As you eat, he asks you all the questions he’s been dying to ask you. You already know so much about him, so he doesn’t mind that you’re doing most of the talking. He mentally kicks himself when he thinks about why he waited so long to do this, but he’s just glad that he’s finally doing this with you now.

He’s all in your space when you finish eating, but it doesn’t look like you mind. He rests his arm on the couch as you talk, and you laugh softly as you finish your sentence. “Sorry, I’ve been talking your ear off,” you say as you fold your legs. You both decided just to sit at the coffee table to eat, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I love hearing you talk.” You rest your arm on the couch as well, letting your head fall into your palm. He can’t help but lean in, and he kisses you softly. “I really like this dress,” he mumbles, his fingers playing with the hem of it.

“Thank you. I save it for special occasions,” you joke, and he smiles before kissing you again. He cups your face with his hand as he kisses you with a bit more zeal, and his fingers sneak under the fabric as he starts to lean forward. You start to fall backward and to keep his lips on yours, he quickly moves with you until your back hits the floor.

He rests his weight on his knees as your legs spread to give him room, and he feels the dress inch higher up your thigh when you do. He laces his fingers with yours, moving his hands so that they rest above your head as he deepens the kiss. He can feel himself starting to go crazy as he kisses down your neck, and the moan that comes from you vibrates against his lips.

He lets your hands go in favor of rubbing them over your legs as he continues to kiss your neck, and he breathes deeply as he smells how good you smell. Your hands pull at the top of his shirt, and he has a quick moment of insecurity runs through him, but he pushes past it, lifting off of you for only a second to shed his shirt. He slows his movements as he tries to gauge your reaction, and you’re chest rises and falls quickly before your hands reach out to rub over his body.

He hasn’t been able to work out like he wants, but by the look on your face, he doesn’t think you mind. Your hands rise up his skin as you lift yourself up, and he stays silent as he watches you, breathing in and out through his mouth quietly. He shudders when you kiss over his chest, and he’s practically frozen in place as he looks down at you. “I didn’t think you could get any hotter,” you mumble against his skin, and he can’t help when his face starts to turn a little pink.

“You think I’m hot?” he asks pathetically, having a hard time figuring out what to say, and you smile as you continue to kiss down his stomach, which caves a little as you do so.

“You’re a dad, of course, I do.” You smile when he snorts, moving onto your knees as you hook your fingers in his belt loops.

“That’s all I’ve got going for me?” he muses, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course not,” you answer, kissing him on his nose. “You’re really sweet,” you start, kissing his cheek. “You’re really thoughtful,” you continue, kissing his other cheek. “And you’re really great kisser.” You plant your lips on his, and he rests his hands on your hips.

“I guess that’s pretty good,” he breathes, his face feeling like it’s been set on fire, and you can’t but giggle at his reaction. He doesn’t stop you when you start to unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down so frustratingly slow. He frowns a bit when you stop, resting your hands on his shoulders to help you stand. His eyes follow your hands as they run over your curves, and he holds his breath when your hands grip the hem of your dress.

You pull the fabric over up your body and over your head, and he swallows heavily as you stand in front of him in nothing but your underwear. His mind goes blank as he looks over you, and he tries to reach for you, but you just move out of his reach. He can’t help but follow you, and he frowns again when you move back. He has to get to his feet to reach you, but the moment he moves forward, you move back.

He catches on pretty quickly, and he ends up chasing you to his room. You laugh loudly when he catches you right as you get to his bed, wrapping his arms around you. “Gotcha,” he whispers in your ear before his hands start to wander. Your laugh dies in your throat when he squeezes your tits softly. Your nipples are in between his fingers, and you moan softly when he applies the slightest pressure to them.

His dick is digging into your ass as he pulls you into him, and your body goes warm all over. His lips find your neck again as his hands run down your body, and he sticks his hands under the thin sides of your panties, squeezing at your thighs before they quickly move to your ass, repeating the same motion. “Fuck, I’ve thought about this for so long.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you whisper back, turning to look at him over your shoulder. He doesn’t respond, moving one of his hands into your underwear, and you jump when he runs his fingers through your folds. He moans at how wet you are, but he keeps his eyes on you so that he can watch your reactions.

He’s thought about doing this with you for so long, and there’s still some part of him that can’t believe he’s doing this. He rubs over your clit, and your nails dig into his wrist, your hips moving as a silent plea for more. He bites his lip as you rub against his hard-on, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before. He doesn’t know if he’s feeling light-headed from watching you, desire, or the blood rushing from his brain.

“Yuuji,” you moan, a hint of desperation in it, and he almost doesn’t let you go when you start to move away from him. You shed the last of your clothing before you climb onto the bed, rolling over onto your back, holding yourself up with your elbows.

He can’t even think to speak as he looks over you fully naked, and this is better than any wet dream he’s ever had. He wants to taste you first more than anything, and you follow him when he moves onto the bed. He doesn’t bother kissing over your body again, deciding to plant himself right in between your legs, his face merely inches from your sex.

You rest your legs over his shoulders, and he gladly accepts the warmth, licking his lips as his hands rub over your thighs. Once he gets a taste of you, he doesn’t stop. You’re pretty sure his moans are louder than yours as he eats you like it’s his last day on Earth. He pushes one of your legs out of his way as he licks at your clit, and he uses his other hand to slide his finger inside of you.

He rubs over your walls, making you even wetter so he can slide in another. He continues to suck at your clit while he curls his fingers, pressing on that sensitive spot of your walls that has you arching your back off the bed. He follows you when you move as you feel your orgasm approach, working a third finger into you. “Fuck, Yuuji,” you moan, digging your fingers into his hair, and he moans loudly when you pull at it.

You start to move too much as you feel your pleasure mounting, but stays with you, his head moving wherever you go, never letting you escape the toe-curling ecstasy. He nearly cums himself when you cum all over his face, and he gets every drop he can. His mouth doesn’t leave you, and you try to inch away from him weakly, but it’s no use.

“Y-Yuuji!” you whine, pushing at his head, and he finally takes his mouth off of you, but his eyes don’t leave your soaked core. He slides his fingers out, sliding them into his mouth instantly to taste you as much as he can. Your heavy breathing is the loudest thing in the room, and before he can try and let his mouth touch you again, you make a feeble attempt at pulling him up to you. He easily goes, sliding his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself as he gets rid of the last of his clothes.

You both moan when he pushes his weight onto you, and he ruts his hips against you frantically. He hasn’t gotten stimulation that feels so good in who knows how long, and he’s practically drooling into your mouth as he feels like he might go insane. He groans softly when you reach down to touch him, and it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there. You stroke him quickly, using your cum to make it easier, and his eyes slip closed against his will.

“S-Shit, baby, y-you gotta…fuck–stop,” he whines. “You’re g-gonna waste it,” he rushes out as he feels the pleasure rising up his spine. He’s quick to push your hand away, feeling dizzy as he lines himself up. You rub at your clit as he pushes himself in, and he doesn’t know if he’ll make it all the way before he busts, his head falling on yours as he feels you pulse around him.

He pushes the rest of the way in, nearly slamming his hips into yours, and you cry out loudly, a broken moan leaving your lips as your body gets used to the intrusion. He doesn’t wait much longer to start moving, and he groans, feeling like his heart is beating too fast. “Oh, God,” he moans, and you wrap your legs around him, your ankles digging into his back.

“Cum in me, Yuuji. I want it,” you whimper, and that’s what does him in. A deep shudder runs through his body as he cums, his dick twitching as he empties inside of you. He’s definitely seeing starts as he comes down, and he surprises you when he pulls out, quickly flipping you over.

He gets you on your knees, his eyes zeroing in on his cum sliding out of you, and he pushes it back in with his fingers. The image alone is enough to get him going again, and he lets a glob of spit fall onto your pussy just to make it even messier. He slides back in again, digging his fingers into your hips. His hips slamming against your ass mingle with the sounds of your moans, and he leans forward so his chest is flush against your back.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder as he rams into you, putting his hands on top of yours and weaving his fingers with yours. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good,” he slurs. “Wanna put a baby in you.” You suck him back in every time he leaves, and he can’t get his mouth shut. “I’m gonna make you a mommy again, baby–fu-uck.” You can only express your agreement with your own sounds, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to understand you anyway.

“P-Please, please, please,” he begs. “Lemme put a baby in you,” he moans, and he only fucks you harder when he feels you clench around him at his words. “I’ll make you feel so good,” he adds despite the fact that he’s already, very much, doing that.

“Want it so bad, Yuuji,” you eventually respond. “Make me a mommy.”

“Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna give it to you, you’re gonna make such a pretty momma,” he babbles. “Gonna look so pretty carrying my kids around. You’re gonna be so round and full of me,” he grunts. “Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.” His thoughts come out against his will, but he doesn’t care. He’s so lost in the pleasure, his eyes rolling as he feels that knot building up in his stomach again.

“I’m ready, Yuuji. S-Show them who I belong t-to,” you moan, and he bites down on your shoulder as he kisses your cervix, making sure you’re taking all of him with every thrust.

“You’re mine,” he repeats again. “Gonna fill you up so good.” He moans weakly in your ear, but it only heightens how good you’re feeling, pushing back to meet his hips.

“This pussy’s a-all yours. Fill me up, baby. Wanna have your babies.” His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out as his orgasm hits him, and his eyes roll deep into his head as he shoots into you. He fucks his cum into you as you cum right behind him, your walls clamping down on him so hard, he can barely move back out.

He fucks you through your orgasm, his hips stuttering to a stop. His chest is heaving as he starts to relax, feeling fatigue catching up to him. He doesn’t pull out of you, turning his head when you do to kiss you, his tongue moving into your mouth the moment he does. His heart feels like it might pound right out of his ribcage, pulling away to roll the both of you over.

You whine softly as he presses into your cervix at the impact of hitting the bed, and he rubs over your body as he kisses you soundly. Your bodies are covered in sweat, his chest peeling away from your back briefly before he moves back into you.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making the both of you laugh. He doesn’t know what came over him, and he blames the heat coming from his face on the amazing orgasm he just had.

“That was amazing,” you whisper as you shiver slightly, goosebumps rising over your skin as your body starts to cool down. He manages to pull the blanket over both of you, and he snuggles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

“Yeah, it was,” he hums, feeling like the happiest man in the world. “I think I love you,” he mumbles, and it slips out before he can stop himself, and he suddenly feels his world stop. His heart does something weird as he waits for your reaction, and he almost doesn’t look at you when you slightly turn your head to look at him.

“Yeah?” you smile. “You think you love me?” you tease, and he smiles as he pushes away the negative thoughts. “Well, when you know that you love me?”

“I know I love you. I have for a while,” he admits quickly. “From day one, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Day one, huh? When you walked over to my apartment at three in the morning?” you question, and he doesn’t hesitate to nod.

“Getting Satomi all of a sudden, I wasn’t in a good place, but you helped me turn everything around. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s a pretty big honor,” you laugh, but your face softens, and you lift your hand to rest on his cheek. “Thank you for letting me be a part of you and Satomi’s life,” you say softly.

“You don’t think this is too fast?” he asks, and you huff a little.

“My friend told me that we’ve been pining over each other for years. According to her, it’s like, three years too late.” He chuckles a bit, thinking that his friends would say the exact same thing. “I think I love you, too,” you whisper.

“And when will you know?” he counters playfully, and you turn your head to yawn, curling back into him.

“Mm, I’ll get back to you in the morning,” you joke softly, and his heart feels so happy that he doesn’t even try to press you about it, feeling tired himself. His eyelids start to feel heavy, and he tightens his arm around you.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers into your hair. “I love you.”

You rest your hand on his, your breathing starting to even, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep until he hears you speak. “I love you, too, Yuuji.”

Terushima helps you clear out your second room, which takes a lot longer than he would like since Satomi keeps asking about everything you own in the room. She’s more than excited to have the sleepover, and that’s the only thing she talks about until her friends arrive.

You let them in, and the girls start talking amongst themselves, and they’re so engrossed in their conversation that they barely notice their parents walking out the door. You’re about to go finish setting up the room when Aneko stops you.

“I made these for you,” she says quietly, holding up some paper flowers, and your heart swells as you take them. “Thank you for being with me at school,” she adds, and you crouch down to give her a hug.

“Of course, Aneko. These are beautiful, I love them.” She gives you a small smile before she goes back over to her friends. Yuuji helps you with the finishing touches, and you call all of them so that they can see it. Their eyes widen as they take in the changes you made, and they look around the room as they walk in.

You’ve hung thin curtains from the ceiling, decorating them with fairy lights that you never got around to hanging up in your room. It’s draped over their sleeping bags which you’ve already set up, and Terushima moved her dollhouse into the room for them to play with. Satomi gives you a hug before running over to her sleeping bag, and you also decided to add some pillows in there as well.

“This is awesome!” You notice that her friends aren’t as loud as her, but they’re excited about it nonetheless, agreeing with her quietly. You and Terushima try to make a quiet exit, but Satomi stops you right as you take a step back, asking if you would color with them.

You can’t refuse, and Terushima huffs just a little bit. You had bought some coloring books for her since she’s been staying at your place when Terushima’s at work most of the time, so you give them one before you take one of your own.

They sit around you, and you don’t know how long it’s been until you realize that Terushima’s not in here with you. You tell them that you’ll be back, getting up to go find him. He’s not in the living room when you walk out, so you try your room, and you see him sitting against the headboard, scrolling through his phone.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, crawling into bed on the other side. “Are you pouting?” You’re smiling at him, but he doesn’t respond, locking his phone before turning to you.

“I thought I would be able to spend time with you,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh, sitting next to him, and he wraps an arm around you.

“Are you seriously jealous because I’m with them and not with you?”

“I’m the one dating you, and Satomi’s spent more time with you than I have,” he responds, annoyed, and if his arm wasn’t wrapped around you, you’re sure that he’d be crossing his arms right now.

“Well, we have some time before Satomi comes to get me,” you offer, and he just pulls you into him, wrapping his other arm around you.

“I’m not gonna let you go,” he mumbles, and you huff, shaking your head. The angle you’re resting at becomes too much of a strain on your back, so you lay down, Terushima doing the same thing. “I’m gonna fight for you.”

“I’d love to see that,” you laugh, rubbing your hands through his hair. “Oh, I forgot to put Aneko’s flowers in a vase.” You go to move, but he stops you, and his grip is so tight that you can barely move.

“No. You’re not going anywhere,” he says, shifting so that he’s fully on top of you. You laugh, and the comment that’s on your tongue is cut off when his lips meet yours. His kisses stay soft, and he rolls over onto his side, keeping his hand on your waist to guide you to do the same.

You’re interrupted soon after by a knock on the door, and Terushima groans loudly. “Are you guys awake?” You can recognize that it’s Satomi’s voice, and you smile at Yuuji’s reaction.

“We’re sleeping! Go away!” he responds.

“But you just said something!” Satomi counters quickly, and he groans again, putting his face in your neck, and you laugh before telling her she can come in. You roll over and sit up, but Terushima stays in the same position, his arm resting over your legs.

“What’s up?” you ask, and Terushima looks up at her over you.

“You said you would come back.”

“Why can’t I spend time with her?” Yuuji questions with a pout on his face. “You spend more time with her than I do.”

“No, I don’t,” she giggles. “You see her all the time.”

“So, do you! You’re supposed to be having a sleepover with your friends!”

“But, we were having fun,” she tries, and you start to move, but he tries to stop you.

“Yuuji, I’ll be back. I promise,” you say, and the pout on his face deepens as you slide out of the bed. Satomi runs off, and you lean down to kiss him. Even though he’s not happy, there’s no way he would ignore you, so he plants his lips on yours, and then the pout immediately returns. You shake your head as you laugh before you walk into the girls’ room.

Turns out, you don’t really have to stay long because you can tell the girls are getting tired. Satomi tries to put on a face, but you know that she’s just as tired. You slowly start to get them into their sleeping bags, and they all lay down, but you notice that Miwa is still sitting up.

“You okay?” you ask softly, and she nods, her fingers curled around her blanket softly.

“Can you read to me?” she asks quietly.

“Of course, I can.” She smiles softly before reaching over into her bag and pulling out the book she wants you to read. You sit next to her, getting comfortable before you start reading. You keep your voice soft, looking up and every now and then to see her blinking getting slower.

One by one, the girls start to fall asleep, and you read a little longer just in case. When you’re sure they’re fully asleep, you carefully close the book, setting it down, and you quietly make your way out of the room. You close the door softly behind you before you walk back to your room, and part of you expected Terushima to be asleep, but as you get closer to the door, you hear his voice.

By the time you walk in, he’s hanging up his phone. He’s sitting on the other side of the bed, so his back is to you, and he sighs heavily before tossing his phone onto the nightstand. He jumps a bit when he turns around, his eyes landing on you, and you close the door, turning off the lights. He’s silent as you get into the bed, and you can tell something’s wrong, but you don’t try to pry it out of him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask quietly, and he gets under the blanket. You roll over onto your side, and he does the same thing, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter than you expect.

“Satomi’s mother keeps contacting me,” he says softly before sighing again. You stay silent, not really sure how to feel. “I don’t know what to do. What should I do?” he asks, letting his face rest in your neck.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to say anything, Yuuji. But just know that I’ll be here for you,” you answer, moving your hand so that it’s resting on his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his arm tightening around you just a little bit more.

He’s at such a loss, and he feels like the right thing would be for Satomi to meet her mother, but he doesn’t want to make her upset. He doesn’t know how she’ll react, and he hasn’t even begun to tell Satomi who she really is. He hasn’t found the right time, but then you came into the picture, and there was a part of him that felt like he was never going to have that conversation with her.

It takes him a long time to go to sleep, but even when he finally does, his dreams just make him face reality all over again.

After the conversation with Satomi’s mother, Terushima’s been in a slump. His mind’s been running, and he knows that he’s worrying you and Satomi, but he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so helpless. It’s been a week since then, and it just looks like she’s getting more and more eager to meet her. There’s a strong part of him that just wants to get it over with.

He’s thinking that he’d rather be spending time with you, and right as he decides he’ll just go over your place, there’s a knock on the door. He frowns, wondering who it could be, but he walks over to it, hoping that it’s you.

His hopes are horribly diminished when he sees who’s on the other side of the door. “You’ve been ignoring me for too long, Terushima.”

He’s frozen on the spot. There’s nothing in his head to tell him to move or say anything. He was nowhere near ready for this, and now he’s going to have to face it head-on. “What are you doing here?” he finally manages, but he doesn’t let her in.

“I want to see my daughter.”

“Why? It’s not like you wanted her in the first place,” he says quickly, but he immediately regrets it, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

“Terushima, please.” He’s trying to prepare himself for this, but to his dismay, Satomi walks into the living room.

“Daddy? Who’s at the door?” He can’t look at her, and he watches her mother’s reaction. He moves when she walks in, but he’s quick to stand behind Satomi as if he’s trying to guard her.

“Oh, my God. You’re so big,” she says, and Satomi has a questioning look on her face as she backs into Terushima. He chews on his lip before he brings himself to speak again.

“Satomi,” he starts, having a hard time saying the words. “This is your mom.” She’s smiling at her, but for a couple of seconds that seem to last forever, Satomi doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve been wanting to see you for so long.” She tries to reach for her, but she moves out of her reach and she laughs. “Come on, Satomi. I’m your mother.”

“No, you’re not! y/n is my mommy, I don’t know who you are!” Before Terushima can move, she’s running out of the apartment, and he watches her disappear, but he’s not worried about where she’s going. Terushima feels his heart breaking at Satomi’s reaction, but he can only blame himself.

“Who’s y/n?” she questions, but he doesn’t answer. “So, you’ve already gone and replaced me?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit! There was nothing to replace because you weren’t here!” he yells, feeling nothing but anger rising in his veins. “This is your fault! You could’ve easily been in her life, but you left me in the fucking dust!”

“I was scared, Terushima!”

“You don’t think I was too?! You left a fucking baby on my doorstep with a fucking note! I was scared out of my fucking mind, and where were you in all of this?! I had to take care of her on my fucking own!” Everything he’s ever been thinking comes out, and he doesn’t know if there’s any way to stop it. The fact that she’s looking at him like the bad guy doesn’t help his emotions either.

“I thought you would leave me if I told you,” she tries, and he can’t help but scoff.

“Why would I do that?! When have I ever made you feel that way?! I’m not a fucking asshole!” He knows he should lower his voice since his front door is wide open, but he takes a couple of seconds to take a deep breath. “Where have you been all this time, huh?”

“I just needed some time,” she responds hesitantly, and he scoffs bitterly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to find myself–”

“No, you wanted to live your life without a kid! Don’t lie to me! You wanted to have the time of your life while I’ve been here picking up your fucking slack!” he yells, and she has the audacity to look ashamed. “Why did you come back here?”

“I wanted to see her,” she tries. “I told you that.”

“Is that all? You sure there isn’t another reason?” Now, he knows why they always had falling outs, and why he always took her back every time. Whenever things were going good, she would leave out of the blue, saying she needed space. It always left him confused and gutted, it would take him so long to get over it, and when he thought he would be at his lowest, she’d come back out of nowhere.

He doesn’t know how he never put it together after so long, and he wishes that he would’ve listen to Kazuma a long time ago. “You can try and build a relationship with Satomi, but you can’t blame her for how she’s responded.”

“You could’ve told her about me,” she replies. “You didn’t have to leave me out.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t shift the blame to me because you feel like shit since I’m doing just fine without you,” he counters quickly. “I told her that you weren’t coming back, and at the time, I thought it was the truth. I didn’t wanna keep bringing it up because seeing the look on her face broke me more than you could ever know.”

He can feel himself tearing up just thinking about it. She dropped the subject a couple of years ago especially when she started to see you more, but he’ll never get over the dejected look on her face. “You only have yourself to blame for all of this.”

The yelling seems to have died down, but Satomi hasn’t let go of you since she ran over here. You tried to ask her what she’s was doing at your door, but she ran into your legs as soon as you opened it. You could barely pry her off of you, and when you finally did, you were met with her teary face. You picked her up immediately, holding her in your arms as you sit on the couch.

“There’s a lady saying that she’s my mommy,” she whispers, and it all falls into place. You try to choose your next words carefully, sighing heavily as you think.

“I’m pretty sure she is, Satomi.”

“No, she’s not. You’re my mommy,” she argues, and you hate how this situation has turned out, and considering her reaction, you’re pretty sure she came to Terushima’s door unexpectedly.

“Well, technically, she is. You grew inside of her,” you try, and she sniffles heavily, wiping her face before she looks at you. “I kinda just stepped into the picture to help your dad.”

“I wish you were my real mom,” she says, and you feel your shoulders fall just a bit.

“But, Satomi, if I were, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be a completely different person that probably wouldn’t even like tigers.” You try to joke with her, but it seems to fall flat, although, it seems like she’s calmed down for now. “I know that this is really upsetting, but it’s the truth.”

“Does that mean she and Daddy will get back together?”

“I don’t think so. Just because they’re your parents doesn’t mean that they have to be together,” you answer, but of course, there’s a part of you that doesn’t have a confident answer. You try not to think about it too much, focusing as hard as you can on making Satomi feel better.

“I’m sorry I ran over here.”

“Satomi, you don’t have to apologize for that. Your dad probably knows that you’re over here anyway.” You brush her hair back, kissing her on the forehead softly. “You know I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you,” she whispers as she gives you a hug.

“I love you, too, Satomi.” You both sit in silence, and you decide to get her to watch something on your tablet in your second room, giving her headphones just in case they start yelling again. You sit next to her, your phone in your hand as you wait for something from Terushima.

“You know this won’t work,” Terushima sighs. “You don’t care about her at all, you’re just trying to get to me. And I will not let you treat my daughter that way,” he declares. “If that’s all you came for, then you can leave. If you want to see Satomi, I’ll arrange it.”

“Don’t bother,” she spits, and Terushima tries to keep himself calm at her reaction.

“Get out.” He wants to add that he doesn’t want her to contact him again, but there’s still a voice in his head telling him that he can’t keep Satomi from her mother. “I never said anything bad about you because I didn’t want to ruin her image of you.” Although, he’s pretty sure that you’ve changed that, but there’s isn’t a bone in his body that’s upset about that. “But, just know that this outcome could’ve been changed.” He really hopes it hits home as he reminds her again, and she doesn’t leave with another word, a scoff leaving her lips before she walks out of the door. He doesn’t jump when the door slams, but his ears ring with finality.

That could’ve gone so many ways, but he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and he sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He checks his phone when it dings, seeing a text from you, but he’s not ready to talk to you yet. He asks if you can watch Satomi for a bit while he gets himself together, and he sits on the couch as he texts his friends.

Some time has passed, and he feels like he’s in a good place to go over to yours, hoping that the speech he has won’t fail him. He knocks on the door before he opens it, and you’re sitting on the couch, watching TV. You stand as he closes the door, pointing over your shoulder as you walk toward him.

“Satomi’s watching a show with headphones on,” you tell him, and he pulls you into a hug that takes you by surprise.

“I love you,” he whispers, and he tries not to hold onto you so tight to the point that that he might hurt you, but he can’t help it. His head has been spinning for so long, and hugging you makes it stop in an instant. He’s not too shaken up about the conversation with Satomi’s mother, knowing in the back of his head that it wasn’t going to work out anyway.

“I love you, too, Yuuji,” you reply. “Is everything okay?”

“She probably won’t be back. Our relationship was doomed from the start.” He doesn’t add many details, and he doesn’t feel like he needs to, but if you ask, he’ll tell you. “Thank you for being here all this time, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He pulls away to kiss you softly, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s floating, like his body is running over with happiness.

“It was no problem,” you respond softly. “I love you and Satomi both so much. Thank you for letting me be with you and her.” He feels like he has to kiss you again, and there’s so much he wants to talk with you about, but he knows it’s not the time for it right now. But he’ll tell you eventually.

How he wants to really be a family with you, how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and how he wants to make you happy for the rest of your life. He’s been thinking about it for a while now, and when the time is right, he’ll tell you. He doesn’t hate Satomi’s mother. He can’t. She gave him one of the best things of his life, but he can’t hate her for causing him to cross paths with you.

From day one, he knew you were the one for him, and you constantly fueled that voice in his head. He couldn’t ask for a better outcome when his life was suddenly turned upside down, and now, he knows that he’ll be able to live this life with you until the end.

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