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aspenmissing · 17 days ago

Note

Firstly I adore how you write the arcane crew with kids ❤️ What if they have kids but the reader us a feline vastaya ? How mixed would they be ?

ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴꜱ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ/ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 8372 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅɪꜱᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀʏᴀ'ꜱ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴀᴡᴡ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ! ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ᴅ ᴀᴄᴛ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴍɪx ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀʏᴀ ɪꜱ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ! ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀʏᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3

JAYCE

Years after Jayce’s first encounter with Y/N, their bond had deepened, not just through shared interests, but through the way they balanced each other’s worlds—science and art, reason and magic. Their love had brought forth a daughter named Elena, a perfect blend of both their spirits. Elena inherited her father’s sharp, analytical mind and her mother’s free-spirited energy. In looks, she was a striking mix of both. She had her father’s deep, expressive brown eyes and tan skin, with a soft, angular face that reflected his features. From Y/N, she inherited a darker, more mysterious quality—her mother’s delicate pointed ears and long, flowing hair that shimmered with a hint of silver. Elena’s tail, inherited from Y/N’s Vastaya heritage, was an elegant and playful addition, often swishing with excitement as she moved.

Her childhood was filled with exploration, whether through the scientific marvels of Piltover or the ancient mysteries Y/N had whispered about while they crafted together.

One day, when Elena was around 10, she accompanied her parents through the bustling Piltover marketplace. The stalls were alive with vendors selling everything from mechanical parts to exotic herbs. Elena darted from one stall to the next, mesmerised by the intricate clockwork trinkets, the vivid fabrics, and the glittering jars of strange potions.

"Mom, look!" Elena tugged at Y/N’s sleeve, halting in front of a stall filled with coloured threads that shimmered like the paints her mother used in her art. Y/N crouched beside her daughter, smiling warmly.

"That's beautiful, Elena," Y/N said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just like your work."

Elena's eyes sparkled. "I want to make something with these. Maybe a new quilt for the house!" she said excitedly.

Jayce, overhearing them, smiled with amusement. “Already planning ahead, huh? You do know your mum’s quilts are legendary in Piltover, right?”

Y/N chuckled, eyes softening at the thought. "She has a good teacher."

Elena beamed with pride, her excitement growing as she skipped to another stall. Her eyes landed on a peculiar set of enchanted crystals that hummed with strange energy. Her fingers hovered over them, intrigued by their shimmer.

“Are you sure those are safe?” Jayce asked, his protective instincts flaring.

Elena turned with a cheeky grin. “Of course! They’re just… magical.”

Y/N and Jayce exchanged a glance, realising their daughter was a fascinating blend of both their worlds—the rational mind of a scientist and the wonder of an artist with an affinity for the mystical.

As the day wore on, Elena continued her exploration, picking up trinkets and curious finds along the way. She was their child through and through—always reaching for something new, whether in the mechanics of Piltover or the untold secrets of magic.

Jayce watched his daughter from a distance as she carefully examined a piece of clockwork, her brow furrowed in concentration, and smiled. He saw so much of himself in her—a mind that could never be contained within the bounds of tradition, always reaching for more.

And as Y/N walked beside him, their hands intertwined, they knew their daughter would continue to weave their worlds together in ways they had never imagined. From Piltover’s mechanical wonders to the untold mysteries of magic, Elena was destined to make her own mark.

Their life in Piltover wasn’t always easy—being a Vastaya in a city of high society meant stares and whispered comments, especially when they strolled together as a family. But Y/N stood tall, her tail swaying behind her as she held Jayce’s hand firmly. The occasional glance or whisper from a passerby didn’t faze her. She had learned to rise above it long ago. Jayce, ever the protector, offered her silent reassurance with his touch, the steady strength of his presence beside her.

"Careful, Elena!" Y/N called after their daughter, who had run ahead in excitement. "Don’t run off too far."

Elena turned with a wide grin, slowing her pace. "I’m just looking for something fun!" she replied, her voice filled with the wonder of a child exploring the world.

A few people glanced at Elena’s energetic enthusiasm, the contrast to the calm sophistication of Piltover’s streets. Y/N caught the looks and flicked her ears in amusement, but Jayce didn’t miss a beat, squeezing her hand as they walked side by side. "She’s got your spirit, doesn’t she?" he teased.

Y/N smiled, her tail flicking behind her as she watched Elena. "She’s got a bit of both of us in her. I just hope she doesn’t get into too much trouble."

"You two are a lot of trouble together," Jayce teased back, his lips curling into a smile.

The warmth of the moment was something Jayce cherished. When they first met, he could never have imagined a life like this—a life filled with love, family, and a deep connection to a woman so different from him. Y/N, with her vast knowledge of Zaun, her calming presence, and her fierce protectiveness, had swept him off his feet. She had her own strength, her own struggles, yet she had always supported him, as he had supported her.

And then there was Elena a living testament to the way they’d both changed and grown. Elena was a reminder that love could transcend all—whether it be between cities or species. She had inherited Jayce’s insatiable curiosity and Y/N’s ethereal presence, a calm and warmth that grounded everything. She was the perfect mix of their worlds, a child with a fierce mind and an open heart.

As they walked further through the market, Elena suddenly stopped in front of a stall brimming with art supplies—paints, brushes, and sketchbooks. Her eyes widened with excitement.

"Mum! Look!" she exclaimed, tugging at Y/N’s sleeve. "They’ve got paints and all the colours you use for your lessons! Can we get some?" Her fingers traced the vibrant shades, her imagination alight with possibilities.

Y/N chuckled and knelt down beside her daughter. "You’ve got a good eye, sweetheart. These would be perfect for some new artwork. Let’s pick out the colours we need, and we can work on something together."

As they lost themselves in the moment, a passerby lingered a bit too long, his eyes darting from Y/N’s tail to Elena’s pointed ears. Y/N noticed and smiled politely, but the man quickly averted his gaze, muttering something under his breath. Jayce didn’t miss it either. He shot the man a pointed look, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say a word.

Elena, her tail flicking behind her in excitement, jumped up. "Can I make something for Dad too? Like you always do for him, Mum?" she asked eagerly, her face lighting up with the joy of creating something special for her father.

Y/N smiled softly, resting a hand on Elena’s shoulder. "Of course, darling. We’ll make something special. How about a painting for Dad to hang in the workshop?"

Jayce couldn’t help but laugh softly. "You two will have a whole gallery before the day’s out, won’t you?"

Y/N winked at him playfully. "Perhaps. But we’ll make it something extra special for you. A masterpiece from both of us."

Elena nodded enthusiastically, her bright eyes alight with excitement. "Yeah, Dad! You’ll love it!"

Jayce smiled, kneeling down to their level. "I can’t wait to see what you both come up with." His heart swelled at the thought of his daughter and Y/N creating something together—an expression of their love for him. It was moments like this that made everything worthwhile.

As the family continued their walk through Piltover, Jayce couldn’t help but feel a deep peace settle in his chest. He had never believed in destiny, but the life he had now felt right—right in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Y/N and Elena were his world, and he would do anything to protect them. The life they had built, the family they had created, was everything he had ever wanted, even if it had come in ways he hadn’t expected.

There was a perfect balance in their little family—Jayce’s determination and vision, Y/N’s wisdom and gentleness, and Elena’s playful energy and unyielding love for both her parents. Together, they were a testament to what could be built when two people from different worlds came together with understanding, compassion, and love. Elena had the best of both worlds in her, and that made her something rare, something special.

As they headed home, the sun setting behind them, Jayce whispered softly to Y/N, "Thank you for this... for everything."

Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned into him. "It’s not just me, Jayce. It’s all of us—together."

With her head resting against his shoulder, they walked into the future hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges came next. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Jayce knew that the future was theirs to shape, together. The stares, the whispers, the discomfort of others couldn’t touch what they had—what they had built. Nothing could.

VIKTOR

Years had passed since that fateful night in the alleyways of Zaun, when Viktor had first reached out to Y/N, guiding her away from the chaos of the streets. That moment had been the beginning of a journey neither of them could have predicted—a journey filled with both hardship and unexpected tenderness. As the years went by, their bond grew stronger, woven together by shared moments of quiet understanding, and an unspoken promise to never let go.

Viktor’s path had eventually led him to Piltover, a city of progress, knowledge, and endless possibility. The brilliant Heimerdinger had recognised Viktor’s genius and, after much persuasion, brought him to Piltover to become his assistant. It had been a turning point in Viktor’s life, a chance to leave Zaun behind and be recognised for his talents. But even in the gleaming towers of Piltover, Viktor had never left Y/N behind. She had been by his side through it all, as steadfast as ever, and it was in her presence that he found his peace.

Though Piltover was unfamiliar, even overwhelming at times, Y/N had adapted with grace. The city's bustling streets and towering structures felt a world apart from the alleys of Zaun, but Y/N’s ability to blend her Vastaya heritage with the world of Piltover’s scientific and artistic communities had made her a quiet but respected presence. Her talents—both as a healer and a seamstress—were highly valued, and over time, she had carved out a place for herself, always with Viktor’s unwavering support.

Their shared history, their differences, and their shared journey from the broken streets of Zaun to the polished city of Piltover were reflected in their daughter—Lira.

Lira had inherited both of her parents' qualities, yet she was truly a reflection of both their worlds. She had taken more after Y/N in many ways—her skin, the same faint greyish hue, her long, delicate ears, and her tail, which swished expressively behind her. But there was also something of Viktor in her, something sharp in her eyes—a quiet intelligence, an almost unnatural understanding of things. Lira was a blend of their two worlds, and in her, they saw the future—a new generation, capable of bridging the divide between science and nature.

They had named her Lira for a reason—a name that meant "song" in the old language of her mother’s people. Lira was a name that symbolised harmony, the blending of two very different worlds. It was also a tribute to her mother's Vastaya heritage, with the hope that, like the name itself, she would find a way to bring unity and understanding to the world, just as her parents had.

Viktor’s heart would swell with pride each time Lira came running into his arms. Her small hands would touch his cane, her eyes full of wonder as she asked him to explain the intricacies of his latest invention. Though Viktor had always been focused on logic, reason, and progress, the sight of his daughter’s curiosity, her hunger to understand the world, softened him in ways he never thought possible. Lira would sit beside him for hours, watching his work with wide eyes, absorbing every detail with an intensity that made Viktor realise that, perhaps, the future was more than just a series of equations. It was in the small moments—like the gleam in his daughter’s eyes when she solved a problem or the way her fingers danced across the pieces of his machines, as though she were already a part of his world.

But Lira also shared her mother’s creativity, her deep understanding of beauty in its many forms. While Viktor worked tirelessly at his projects, Lira would often be by Y/N’s side, learning the intricate arts of weaving, stitching, and crafting. Y/N would teach Lira how to create beauty from the raw, the imperfect—how to use her hands to shape something meaningful from the world around her. Whether it was repairing a tear in a favourite shirt or creating a new quilt from old scraps, Y/N would impart lessons that spoke not only of the skill of the craft but of the deeper understanding of the world’s rhythm—its delicate balance between nature and the manmade.

One evening, the soft glow of Piltover’s lights filtered through the windows of their home, casting long, gentle shadows across the room. Viktor was at his desk, lost in thought as he worked, his mind consumed by the details of a new project he was collaborating on with Heimerdinger. The familiar hum of machinery drifted in from the workshop, a constant companion in Viktor’s life. Yet, despite his mind’s focus, his thoughts kept drifting back to how much had changed since that first moment he had helped Y/N in the alley.

Behind him, Viktor heard the soft rhythm of Y/N’s sewing machine—a comforting sound that always brought him a sense of peace. Lira’s voice bubbled up with questions, her soft laughter filling the house as she worked with her mother. The scene was so familiar, so comforting, that Viktor couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of it wash over him. It was a far cry from the days of Zaun—no more threats lurking in the shadows, no more hunger or cold.

“Viktor?” Y/N’s voice, warm and calm, broke through his reverie. He turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. Lira was perched on her mother’s shoulder, her small arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck as she gazed at her father with wide, eager eyes.

Viktor’s heart swelled with love at the sight of them. “Yes, lásko” he replied, his voice thick with affection. (Love)

Y/N crossed the room slowly, her movements as graceful as ever despite the tiredness that sometimes lingered in her body. She placed a gentle hand on Viktor’s shoulder, grounding him in the moment. “Lira’s been asking about your work again. She wants to understand how it all fits together.”

Viktor smiled, his eyes shifting to Lira, who was now standing at his side, her bright eyes fixed on him with an intensity that reminded him so much of himself as a child. “Does she now?” Viktor said with a chuckle. “She’s certainly persistent.”

Y/N smiled, a touch of amusement in her voice. “Just like you,” she teased. “She wants to know how things work, how they fit together.”

Lira’s golden eyes widened with excitement, and she hopped down from her mother’s shoulder to run to Viktor’s side. “Papa, how do you make the parts move like that?” she asked eagerly, her tiny finger pointing to the small mechanical model sitting on his desk.

Viktor’s heart swelled with pride and affection. He took a deep breath, then gestured for Lira to come closer. “Well, miláčku,” he began, bending down to her level, “it’s all about understanding the way the pieces fit together. It’s a bit like how your mother weaves her fabrics, you see?” (Sweetheart)

Lira tilted her head, processing the information, before repeating thoughtfully, “Like weaving?”

“Yes,” Viktor continued, his voice warm with encouragement. “Everything, whether it’s a machine or something more natural, is connected in some way. It’s just a matter of finding the right way to put it all together.”

Y/N watched the two of them, her heart full as she observed the bond that had flourished between Viktor and their daughter. Lira was a living testament to the way both of them had shaped her. The curiosity, the drive, the sense of wonder—all of it was there, in her.

The three of them stood together in that quiet moment, a family forged from the strength of their love, their shared creativity, and their unwavering belief in each other. The lights of Piltover shone brightly outside, but inside their home, there was a warmth that no machine could replicate. Together, they were a family—strong, united, and ready to face whatever the future held.

And as they stood there, Viktor couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For the journey, for the lessons, for the love that had filled his life in ways he never thought possible. And for the tiny girl with the golden eyes, whose presence had made it all worthwhile.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Viktor whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder as Lira clung to his side, her golden eyes wide with curiosity. “So am I, Viktor,” she said, her voice filled with quiet contentment. “So am I.”

JAYVIK

Several years had passed since that long, weary day in the lab. Time had a way of softening the sharp edges of past pain, but for Y/N, some wounds still lingered, just beneath the surface, waiting for the world outside to remind her of its harshness. Yet, in spite of these lingering scars, brighter days had emerged—days filled with laughter, love, and the indescribable joy of watching her children grow, finding their own voices in the world that had once felt so unkind.

On this particular afternoon, Y/N strolled through the park, her twins—Elowen and Cassian—holding tightly onto her hands as they skipped beside her. Elowen, with her wild curls bouncing in the breeze, had inherited Viktor’s meticulous nature but also Y/N’s boundless curiosity and wild spirit. She was always the first to ask questions about the world around her, eager to uncover the mysteries of both magic and science. Cassian, on the other hand, with his mischievous grin and dark eyes that mirrored Jayce’s, thrived on adventure. His curiosity often led him into trouble, but his infectious joy in exploring made up for it. Together, they were a perfect blend of their parents—two little bundles of energy, wonder, and mischief.

Viktor, leaning on his cane as always, followed closely behind them. His faint but content smile revealed how deeply he cherished these moments—the ones where time seemed to slow down, where the world faded away, and only the people at his side mattered. He was proud of his children, proud of Y/N, and proud of the family they had built together. And there was Jayce, walking beside him, just as devoted, just as protective. Y/N could see the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at their children, his love for them as fierce and unconditional as her own. Together, the three of them made a home, one built on love, understanding, and a shared commitment to protect each other from the cruel realities of the world outside.

But as they walked through the park, something stirred in Y/N—an old discomfort, a prickle of awareness that she couldn’t shake off. At first, it was subtle—just a few sideways glances from passersby. But as they continued, the stares grew longer, the whispers more frequent. She could hear the hushed voices, barely masked by the rustling of leaves and the laughter of children. Some of the looks were filled with curiosity, some with disdain. The word "unnatural" caught her ear, and muttered remarks about her “strange” heritage reached her with painful clarity.

Her chest tightened, and she could feel the familiar weight of their gaze bearing down on her. The faces that looked upon her with suspicion, fear, and even hatred never failed to cut through her, no matter how much time had passed. The tightness in her chest grew as she glanced down at Elowen and Cassian, who were oblivious to the tension in the air. They were laughing, caught up in their joy, but Y/N saw the way the world would see them too. Her children—her precious children—were not exempt from the cruel judgment. Their innocence would never be enough protection from the harshness of the world.

Viktor noticed the shift in her posture before she realised it herself. Her grip on Elowen and Cassian’s hands tightened, and her tail, once relaxed behind her, now flicked anxiously. He could see the muscles in her back tense, her ears flattening slightly in response to the murmurs and stares. He knew her so well that he didn’t need to ask. But he did, anyway.

“Y/N?” Viktor’s voice, low and cautious, reached her. He stopped beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, his cane resting beside him. His other hand reached for hers, a quiet offering of support. “Is everything all right?”

Y/N blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. She gave him a tight smile, but it was weak, strained. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice faltering. “Let’s just go home.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed in concern. He knew her too well to be fooled by her words. He glanced around and saw what she saw—people still staring, still whispering. He could feel her anxiety, a tight knot in his chest as he struggled with the helplessness of not being able to shield her from it all. He said nothing, though, as they turned to leave, both of them guiding their children with quick, deliberate steps.

Cassian, sensing the shift in the mood, looked up at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. His gaze, full of concern, didn’t escape Y/N. “Mum? Why are we going home? We were having fun!”

Y/N forced a soft laugh, bending down to ruffle his dark hair, her heart aching with the weight of his words. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll come back another time, I promise.”

Elowen, always attuned to the emotions around her, glanced up at her mother with a furrowed brow. Her bright eyes, much like Viktor’s, narrowed with concern. “Are we going to be okay, Mama?”

Y/N’s heart clenched as she looked into her daughter’s earnest eyes, those same bright eyes that shone with curiosity and understanding. She kissed Elowen’s forehead gently, a soft whisper escaping her lips. “We’re always okay, Elowen. Always.”

Jayce, who had been walking slightly behind them, caught up and placed a hand on Y/N’s back. He had noticed the subtle shift in her mood, the change that always followed when the world became too much for her to bear. His voice, calm and steady, broke through her thoughts. “Don’t let them get to you, Y/N. They’re just ignorant.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, grateful for the support but not quite able to shake the lingering discomfort. “I know, Jayce. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

Jayce squeezed her shoulder gently. “We’ll make sure they never see the world the way we do,” he said, his tone filled with determination. “We’ll teach them how to rise above it. We’ll show them what true strength is. And they’ll grow up knowing that love and family are the most important things.”

Viktor nodded in agreement, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. “They already know what matters, Y/N. They’re growing up surrounded by love. That’s what will guide them.”

They continued their walk home in silence, Viktor keeping a protective hand on Y/N’s back, Jayce walking beside her, a quiet but unwavering presence. His warm smile, though faint, was a silent reassurance that they were all in this together. Elowen was perched on his shoulders, giggling with delight as she tugged on his hair playfully, while Cassian swung from his hand, laughing with each swing. Jayce, as always, did his best to be the stabilising force, effortlessly balancing the responsibility of keeping them safe while maintaining the lightness in his step that made the children feel unburdened by the world outside.

Y/N’s tail flicked nervously behind her, her unease bubbling under the surface despite the joy in her children’s laughter. She could feel the stares, the muttered comments, and the weight of the world pressing against her chest again. Viktor noticed her tension immediately and slowed his pace, coming closer to her side, his hand brushing against hers in quiet comfort. He knew her well enough to recognise the signs of her discomfort, though she was trying her best to hold herself together for the sake of their children.

As they neared their home, the murmurs faded into the background, replaced by the warm comfort of familiar streets, the comforting sense of belonging within their own space. Y/N sighed, the tightness in her chest easing as they reached the door. When the latch clicked shut behind them, a sense of relief washed over her like a wave. Here, in the sanctuary of their home, she was safe. She was with Viktor, Jayce, and their children—where the world couldn’t touch them so easily.

Viktor, ever observant, placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but steady. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of empathy. “I know it’s not easy.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into him, her head resting against his chest for a brief moment. The steady thrum of his heartbeat soothed her, grounding her in the present, in the love they had built together. “I just… I just want to protect them. I don’t want them to see the world like I do. I want them to grow up free of fear.”

Viktor’s hand moved to the back of her head, fingers carding through her hair in a gesture of care. “They will,” he reassured her. “They have us. And we’ll teach them what matters—love, understanding, and the strength to rise above the ignorance around us.”

Jayce, having entered behind them, placed a hand on Y/N’s other shoulder. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, his voice low but filled with unshakable confidence. “They’ll never know the world like we do. They’re going to be better than that. And we’ll make sure of it.”

Y/N felt her heart swell with gratitude, her breath steadying as she looked at the men who stood beside her. Despite the world’s cruelty, she had this—she had Viktor, Jayce, and their children. Their family was her safe place, a foundation built on love, strength, and resilience. Together, they could weather any storm.

That night, as they settled in, Y/N tucked Elowen and Cassian into their beds, pressing gentle kisses to their foreheads. The twins were already drifting off to sleep, their innocent smiles and soft breaths reminding her of the purity of their hearts, untouched by the harshness of the world. “You’ll never have to carry the world’s burdens. We’ve got you. Always,” she whispered.

Her heart ached with love as she pulled the covers up around them, watching over them like a guardian, as Viktor and Jayce quietly stood by her side, sharing the weight of the moment. The world outside could be unforgiving, but within these walls, surrounded by their family, Y/N knew her children would always be safe. They had each other—and together, that was more than enough to face whatever the world threw their way.

With Viktor’s steady calm, Jayce’s boundless energy, and the love they shared, Y/N knew they would find a way through the darkest of times—together, stronger, united, and full of love. With their hearts intertwined, they were a force to be reckoned with, no matter what. And that made all the difference.

VANDER

As the months passed, life in the undercity settled into a familiar rhythm, but things were never quite the same after Y/N gave birth to Kael. The quiet, curious child brought with him a special kind of presence that seemed to resonate deeply within the walls of the Last Drop. From the moment he was born, Kael's appearance caught the eye of everyone in the bar. His features were a striking combination of Y/N and Vander—Vander's strong jawline and broad shoulders, but with Y/N's deep, almond-shaped eyes, shimmering with a mysterious wisdom far beyond his years. His small, cat-like nose and faint markings on his skin were unmistakable signs of his mother’s Vastaya heritage, marking him as something rare, something different in a world where differences were not always welcomed.

They named him Kael, meaning "mighty warrior" in an ancient tongue, as Vander had suggested. The name seemed fitting, not just for his appearance, but for the world he had been born into—one filled with struggle, hardship, and a need for strength. Y/N agreed, feeling the weight of the name as she held her son close. Vander, with his protective nature, already saw the resilience Kael carried, even as an infant, and he was proud to see that strength take root in his son. Y/N felt a similar bond, sensing that Kael was destined to carry a power that neither she nor Vander could fully comprehend.

In the meantime, the children of the Last Drop—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—had grown especially fond of Kael. The little boy’s serene presence seemed to calm the chaos of the undercity, and the children couldn’t help but adore him. They took turns helping Y/N with him, vying for the opportunity to hold him, to make him laugh, or simply to spend time with him. Vi, ever the fierce protector, kept a close watch over her little brother, ensuring that nothing could harm him. Even in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the bar, she would often sit beside Y/N and Kael, offering a silent, watchful gaze over the newborn.

Powder, though usually lost in her own world, was particularly enamoured with Kael, often offering him her toys and coaxing a giggle or smile from him, her face lighting up with pure joy when he responded. Mylo, the prankster, joked that Kael would grow up to be a tough kid, always looking out for his sister, and while his words were playful, there was an undeniable truth to them—Kael already possessed a quiet strength that would make him stand tall when the time came. Vi, fiercely protective, always kept a watchful eye on him, whether he was peacefully napping or playing, and would stand guard, her instincts flaring if anything or anyone posed a threat. Claggor, the silent one, gravitated toward Kael, his usual quiet nature softening around the baby as he sat nearby, observing with a gentle, affectionate gaze. It was clear to everyone that, despite their differences, each of them held a deep, protective love for Kael, their bond as strong as family itself.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the way her children had embraced Kael. There was a tenderness in the way they interacted with him, a protective instinct that ran deep. Vander, too, found his heart swelling with pride every time he saw Kael surrounded by his "siblings," playing, laughing, and sharing in the simple joy of being together. In a world as harsh as Zaun, moments like these were rare, and Vander appreciated them more than anyone could know. He found peace in seeing Kael grow up in the warmth of his new family, surrounded by those who cared for him and would protect him fiercely.

However, as much as Kael was a light in their lives, the undercity was not without its shadows. Life here was brutal, and not everyone looked upon a Vastaya child with the same warmth that his "siblings" did. It was one thing for Vander and Y/N to protect him within the confines of the Last Drop, but outside, in the rough streets of Zaun, there were dangers lurking at every corner.

One day, when Y/N and Vander were busy tending to the bar, they decided to let the kids venture out to explore Zaun for a while. The air was thick with the usual mixture of industry, smoke, and the distant hum of machines. The kids roamed the streets, their laughter echoing off the walls of the narrow alleys, their boundless energy filling the cracks of the city. Vi kept an eye on Kael, who was nestled in her arms, his curious gaze taking in the world around him. Powder ran ahead, giggling as she chased after a small mechanical bird that had caught her eye. Mylo and Claggor wandered together, though Claggor’s eyes were always alert, and Mylo kept up his usual antics, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

It was during this outing that they encountered someone who would test their bond.

A man, clearly down on his luck, spotted Kael from across the street. His eyes narrowed when he saw the child’s markings, his lip curling in disgust. He had no love for the Vastaya, nor for anyone who didn’t belong fully to Zaun or Piltover. The sight of Kael, with his distinct features—a blend of Vander's sturdiness and Y/N’s exotic markings—filled the man with a deep sense of disdain. He muttered something under his breath, his hand gripping the edge of a nearby crate as he approached the group.

“You think you’re one of us?” the man sneered, his voice rough and threatening. “What, you think this little bastard belongs here? A freak like him don’t fit in, not with the city’s blood or with any of you.”

Vi’s protective instincts flared, and she stepped forward, her fists clenched. “Watch your mouth,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

The man, clearly not used to being challenged, took a step closer, his gaze now focused solely on Kael. “I’ve seen your kind before. You don’t belong here,” he spat, his words dripping with venom.

Powder, who had been playing nearby, immediately ran to Kael’s side, standing next to him with her fists raised in defiance. Mylo and Claggor moved in as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with Vi, their expressions serious. The playful antics had fallen away, replaced by the fierce loyalty they had for each other.

“We don’t let anyone talk about him like that,” Mylo said, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a determined scowl. “You need to get lost.”

The man, realising he was surrounded, hesitated for a moment. But his temper flared again, and he sneered. “You’re all freaks, then. What are you gonna do about it?”

But before the situation could escalate further, the unmistakable sound of Vander’s voice rang out, deep and commanding as he approached. "I don’t think you’ve been listening," he said, his presence alone enough to make the man hesitate. "You’ll apologise, or you’ll leave. Your choice."

The man looked around at the children, then at Vander, realising too late that he was outmatched. His bravado faltered as he took a step back. "Freaks," he muttered under his breath, his words weak and meaningless now.

But just as he was about to leave, Y/N stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with a fierce protectiveness. Her ears were pinned back, and she let out a low hiss, like a cat cornered in a threat, her stance poised to defend her family. The man paused, momentarily startled by her reaction.

With a final glare at the children, the man staggered off, grumbling to himself, but his bravado had crumbled in the face of Vander and Y/N’s unwavering stance.

The tension in the air evaporated the moment he left. Vi, still holding Kael, looked down at him with a reassuring smile. "See? Nothing to worry about," she said softly.

Powder clung to Kael, her face beaming with pride. "You’re safe, Kael," she whispered, her voice full of admiration.

Mylo chuckled lightly. "Told you you’d be tough, little guy."

Claggor nodded silently, his gaze steady as always, but his actions spoke volumes as he kept a watchful eye on Kael. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to his little brother.

Kael, still a baby, looked up at them all with wide eyes, sensing the love and protection surrounding him. He let out a soft giggle, the sound a reminder that, even in the harshest of places, there was always room for love and family.

Vander and Y/N watched the scene with pride and gratitude, their hearts swelling at the sight of the children’s bond. Despite the chaos of Zaun, there was a rare beauty in these moments—moments when love and loyalty triumphed over hate. Kael was part of something special, something worth protecting, and Vander would do everything in his power to ensure that his son would always know that, no matter how dark the world around them became, he would never be alone.

SILCO + JINX

Years had passed since that fateful moment in the alley, where Silco had broken the chains that bound Y/N, both physically and metaphorically. In those years, the two of them had built something together—an empire forged from shadows and ambition, yet tempered with a bond that neither could fully explain. The world they had shaped around them had grown even darker, but it had become a world that they controlled, one where their power and influence rippled through the streets of Zaun and Piltover.

Silco, ever the calculating figure, had changed in small but undeniable ways. Y/N’s presence, her quiet strength and the way she could bring peace to his otherwise turbulent soul, had carved a place in his heart that he had never imagined. There was still coldness to him, still the calculating mind of a man who would sacrifice anything for power, but Y/N’s unwavering loyalty, her warmth, and the strength of her love had brought a new dimension to him. Silco no longer saw the world only through the lens of domination and revenge. Y/N had taught him that there was a kind of strength in love, and that perhaps there was more to life than just ruling with an iron fist.

The change in Silco wasn’t immediately visible, not to everyone, but Y/N saw it in the way he would hold her hand in the quiet moments after a particularly brutal business deal, or the way his gaze softened when he watched her care for their children. There was an unspoken understanding between them now, something beyond the power plays and dangerous politics that had once consumed them both. They were building a future—not just for themselves, but for the little ones who depended on them.

And then, their daughter was born.

She came into the world with a quiet intensity that mirrored both her parents. Her eyes were Y/N’s—bright and full of life, but with a depth that seemed to carry the weight of both their worlds. Her skin, a soft blend of Silco’s smooth, darker tone and Y/N’s lighter, ethereal touch, held the markings of her mother’s Vastaya heritage—small yet distinct patterns that hinted at her mystical bloodline. Silco, who had always been distant and controlled, couldn’t help but gaze at his daughter in awe, as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen. The first time she cried, it was as though the sound itself cracked open something in him—something that had been sealed off for years.

They named her Sira.

The name felt right—it was simple, yet carried an air of strength and beauty that seemed to fit their daughter perfectly. It was a name that bridged both of their worlds: Silco’s world of control and power, and Y/N’s world of magic and nature. Silco looked at her and saw a future—one where his legacy would live on, not in the empire he had built, but in the strength and intelligence of his child. Y/N looked at her and saw the blending of two worlds that had once seemed irreconcilable, but now came together in the form of their daughter.

As Sira grew, so did the complexities of her existence. To Silco, she was his blood—a living, breathing piece of his legacy, a future that could be molded into his image. To Y/N, she was a connection to her own heritage, a continuation of a line that stretched far beyond the borders of Zaun and Piltover. She was their hope, their love, and their proof that, despite the darkness around them, something good could come from it.

And to Jinx? Well, at first, it was something else entirely.

Jinx had always been fiercely protective of her adoptive parents. They were her family, her everything. She had grown up surrounded by chaos, and Silco and Y/N had been the constant, the ones who had taken her in and treated her as their own. The idea of sharing them, of giving her love and attention to someone else, felt like a betrayal. So when Sira entered the picture, Jinx’s first instinct was to keep her distance, to resent the little girl for stealing the attention that she had always received. To her, Sira was a threat, an intrusion into the fragile space she had carved out in her heart for Y/N and Silco.

But Sira, even as an infant, had an innate charm. It wasn’t just her appearance—a curious mix of the fierce and the gentle—but the way she would giggle and grasp at Jinx’s bright hair or the way her tiny hands would reach out, wanting to touch, to play, to explore. Slowly but surely, the walls Jinx had put up began to crack. The more time she spent around Sira, the more she realised that the little girl wasn’t trying to take anything from her. She wasn’t a threat. In fact, she had a way of drawing Jinx in, of making her feel needed, wanted, and loved in a way that she hadn’t expected.

Sira quickly became the centre of Jinx’s attention. When she was a toddler, Jinx was rarely seen without her, proudly parading her around, holding her outstretched in her arms like a trophy to Sevika, to the gang, to anyone who would look.

"Look at her!" Jinx would say with a mischievous grin, holding Sira up in front of her. "Isn't she just perfect?"

At first, Sira was just a quiet baby, taking in everything around her with wide eyes, but she grew into a toddler full of curiosity and joy. Her giggles and the sparkle in her eyes were contagious, slowly softening even the hardest of hearts around her. Even Sevika, who had always been tough and unflinching, couldn’t resist a smile when Sira reached out to her, or when Jinx spun the little girl around, her laugh ringing through the air.

In moments like these, the older woman could hardly resist. The tiny hand in hers, the way Sira’s tiny voice would giggle as Jinx spun her around, the way she proudly showed off the little one as though she were her own—Jinx had finally accepted her role as the big sister, the protector, the one who would teach Sira the ways of their world.

Silco watched all of this with an intensity that could only come from a father who was fiercely protective of his daughter and also quietly proud of how his ragtag family had come together, in spite of the violence, the chaos, and the unspoken tension that had once ruled their lives. His dark eyes tracked Sira as she giggled, her tiny hands reaching up for Jinx, who was already spinning her around with a wide grin plastered across her face.

"Jinx," Silco called out sharply, his voice laced with concern as his eyes narrowed. "Careful with her."

Jinx paused, looking over at Silco with mock innocence, but the mischievous glint in her eyes gave away her feigned innocence. "Oh, come on! She loves it," she teased, giving Sira one more quick spin before looking back at Silco.

Silco stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in, and he held up a hand, his voice suddenly stern. "That’s enough, Jinx." He moved closer to Sira, his eyes softening as he took her from Jinx’s arms. "She’s still too little for that much, alright?"

Jinx raised her hands in mock surrender but couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at her lips. "Alright, alright. You’re such a softie, Silco."

Silco didn’t respond at first, his gaze lingering on his daughter’s small, trusting face as she nestled into his chest, her little hands clinging to him. The sound of Sira’s laughter, light and full of joy, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. It was a reminder that, no matter how dark the world could get, there was still something pure—something worth protecting.

But now? Now, there was something more—something worth fighting for, worth living for. And that something was standing there, in the form of their daughter, who would one day inherit both their legacies, and who would grow up to be as formidable as her parents. Silco, who had always been a man of control, found himself utterly undone by the sight of his daughter smiling up at him. Her little hands reached for him, and his heart stuttered in his chest. This was no longer just about power and survival.

"Daddy," Sira whispered, her voice small and sweet, yet full of certainty as she held her arms out to him.

Silco’s expression softened, his usual cold mask slipping for just a moment. He reached down, lifting his daughter into his arms with a tenderness that only those closest to him would ever witness. "What is it, Sira?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, almost as though he was afraid she might break if he spoke too loudly.

Sira rested her head against his shoulder, her tiny fingers tracing the dark tattoos that marked his skin. "Love you, Daddy," she murmured, her words simple yet full of meaning.

His breath caught in his throat. Silco, the man who had controlled entire factions, who had torn through his enemies without hesitation, now found himself speechless, overcome by a feeling he had never quite understood until now. In Sira’s smile, in the way she clung to him as though he was her entire world, he realised that he wasn’t just a ruler. He was a father.

Y/N, always by his side, watched with a sense of contentment. Her gaze flickered between Silco and their daughter, her heart swelling with pride and love. The journey that had brought them here, to this moment, hadn’t been easy. Their family had been forged from the harshest of circumstances. Yet somehow, in spite of it all, they had found each other and built something stronger than anything Silco had ever set out to create.

"She’s growing up so fast," Y/N said softly, her voice full of affection as she approached, her hand brushing against Silco’s. "Can’t believe how much she’s learned already. She's just like you, Silco. Strong, determined, and fearless."

Silco’s expression darkened slightly at the thought of their daughter inheriting his dangerous traits. "I’d rather she take after you," he muttered, though the hint of affection in his tone was impossible to miss.

Y/N chuckled, her eyes filled with warmth. "Oh, I’m sure she will. She already has your wit. But she also has something more—something that neither of us can control." She smiled up at him, her hand slipping into his, a silent bond that spoke volumes between them.

The two stood there, side by side, with Sira nestled between them.

"You know," Y/N continued, her voice teasing now, "I used to think we would never get this moment. That everything would be consumed by the shadows we’ve built our lives in. But Sira, she’s proof that we can have more than just the fight. She’s proof that we can still live, Silco."

Silco looked down at their daughter, the quiet strength and warmth in her tiny form overwhelming him. The empire he had built, the countless battles he had fought—none of that mattered in the face of this small, innocent life that he and Y/N had brought into the world.

In the silence that followed, a rare peace settled between them. Silco, ever the calculating strategist, found himself no longer concerned with his empire. The life he had created with Y/N and Sira, with Jinx now fully integrated into their strange family, was more than any territory or wealth could ever offer.

And as the years went on, Y/N and Silco knew that no matter what the future held, they had built something unbreakable—a family united by blood, by choice, and by love. A family that, for once, wasn’t just about survival, but about living.

"She’s going to be a force," Jinx remarked from the background, watching as Sira tugged on Silco’s sleeve, her eyes bright with mischief. "Just like her parents." The words were both a promise and a challenge.

Silco glanced back at Jinx, his lips curving in a faint smile. "She’s already a force, Jinx. But she will also be something greater than either of us could ever have imagined."

Y/N nodded, leaning into Silco as Sira reached up once more, her tiny hands brushing against her parents. "Together, we’ve built this. And together, we’ll see it grow."

Sira’s smile was the brightest thing in the room, her hand reaching for Jinx, who immediately scooped her up and spun her around once again. The laughter that followed was full of life, full of love, and Silco found himself finally able to admit, for the first time, that this—this was the future he had always wanted.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #Vastaya!Reader

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bunny-hwa · 1 month ago

Text

Popular, Boy

☆03: The first betrayal.

Pairing: Nerd!Hongjoong x Popular!Reader

Genre: +18, slow burn, angst, smut, drama, dark academic, love triangle.

wc: 8,6k

Summary: Tensions simmer as alliances fracture , and lines are crossed; forcing one unexpected figure to take a stand. But every choice has a price, and betrayal lurks where it's least expected.

Leaving friendship and loyalties hanging by a thread.

Warnings: Cursing, verbal abuse, public humiliation, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fluff, SMUT (MDN!!) Sub!Hongjoong, Virgin!Hongjoong, oral (m receiving) cum eating, use of pet names (good boy) suggestive.

Series masterlist

☆02 ☆04

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of your world enveloping Hongjoong entirely.

On monday, you made a show of having Hongjoong walk you to class, your hand looped through his arm as if he were some prized accessory. Your laugh rang out in the hallway, over-exaggerated yet charming enough to keep everyone’s attention firmly on you.

Hongjoong smiled sheepishly, still unsure how to navigate this new role. Despite your guidance, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong picture.

By Tuesday afternoon, your curiosity got the better of you.

"You’re always talking about books and nerdy stuff." You teased, leaning against the library’s entrance "Show me what’s so interesting about it."

He blinked in surprise, adjusting the strap of his backpack. He wasn’t sure if you were serious or just looking for another way to flaunt your dominance. Still, the chance to share a piece of himself was oddly appealing.

"Uh, okay." He said, leading you to a quiet corner of the library.

You trailed behind, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. When you reached the shelves, Hongjoong’s demeanor shifted. His posture relaxed as he ran his fingers along the spines of the books, his face lighting up in a way you hadn’t seen before.

"This one’s incredible," He said, pulling a worn paperback from the shelf. The cover featured a pirate ship hurtling through the clouds. "It’s about a crew exploring the universe, trying to find a new home after their planet’s destroyed. The writing is just… amazing."

You arched a brow, your manicured nails tapping lightly against the edge of a nearby table. "Sounds... intense."

"It is," Hongjoong replied eagerly, flipping through the pages "But it’s also about relationships and survival. You’d like it, I think."

You leaned closer, taking the book from him, inspecting it like a rare artifact "You think I’d like it? Bold assumption."

Hongjoong chuckled nervously "Well, maybe not the battles. But the characters… they’re complicated, just like you."

Your lips curved into a smirk, and you handed the book back "Careful, Hongjoong. You’re starting to sound charming."

You spent the next hour browsing, with Hongjoong pointing out his favorite authors and you occasionally picking up a book just to make a witty comment about its cover. It was strange, almost surreal.

YN Clarke, the queen bee, immersed in his world.

At one point, you plopped down on a cushioned chair and crossed your legs elegantly.

"Okay, impress me." You said, holding out a slim notebook you had pulled from your bag. He hesitated, then sat across from you, scribbling a quick sketch of the pirate ship he’d described earlier. He showed it to you shyly, half-expecting a sarcastic remark. Instead, you studied it thoughtfully. "Not bad," You admitted, handing it back "Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought."

Your words were teasing, but the tone was softer, almost approving.

For the first time, Hongjoong felt like you were seeing him, not as a project or a pawn, but as something more. But just as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

You stood, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt "Alright, nerd. Let’s go. I’m starving."

"Where to?" He asked, slipping the notebook back into his bag.

"Back to my place," You said with a wink "You can show me more of your… fascinating hobbies while we snack."

As you left the library, Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of pride and unease. Your approval was addictive, but at what cost?

That afternoon was spent at your house, watching movies or listening to music in your plush room. You sprawled out on your bed, phone in hand, while Hongjoong sat awkwardly on the edge.

"You can relax, you know," You teased, patting the space beside you.

He hesitated before joining you, feeling your warmth radiate beside him. You tilted your head to look at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile.

"See? This isn’t so bad."

By Wednesday, you had fully integrated Hongjoong into your routine. You sit with him at lunch, laughing at his jokes, and an odd sincerity in your gaze when you look at him.

For a moment, the lingering tension, the unspoken dynamics, and the ever-watchful shadow of Dann keeps Hongjoong’s heart uneasy, even as he tries to enjoy the fleeting comfort of your charm.

Little did you know, the world you were teetering on the edge of, was about to shift once again.

✮ ⋆

That same day, the tension between Seonghwa and you had reached a boiling point. It wasn’t just about your weird relationship anymore, it was about the power shift that Hwa couldn’t ignore.

You had been spending all your time with the nerd, and he couldn’t stand being sidelined.

At lunch, Seonghwa makes his move.

You are at your usual table, Hongjoong at your side, your heads bent close as you laugh over some private joke. His jaw tightens at the sight.

Without waiting for an invitation, he walks over, towering above you “YN,” He says curtly, his voice cutting through your laughter “We need to talk.”

You barely glance up, your gaze cool. “About what?”

“Alone.” He insists, his tone sharp.

Your lips curl into a faint smirk “If it’s so important, you can say it here.”

Seonghwa’s eyes flicks to Hongjoong, who stiffs slightly under his gaze “Fine,” He says tightly, crossing his arms “What’s with you? Ever since the party, it’s been all about him.” He jerks his chin toward Hongjoong “You’ve barely said two words to me.”

“So?”

Seonghwa let out a bitter laugh “You’re unbelievable. I get it now. He’s your new toy, right? Your latest project… What’s the plan, YN? To make him worship you till you get bored?”

Your eyes narrow as you rise slowly from your seat, meeting Seonghwa head-on “You’ve got some nerve, Park. Is this jealousy? Or are you just mad that you’re no longer the center of my world?”

He steps closer, his voice lowering but his words sharper “You think I’m mad because you’re ignoring me? No, Clarke. I’m mad because I know you, and I know how this ends. You ignore me and then come back to me like nothing happened, it's tiring.”

“Stop complaining, I can handle myself.”

“Can you?” Hwa shoots back, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “What would your brother think if he knew about your little extracurricular activities? The drinking? The parties? The weed?”

Hongjoong frowns at his words. Brother? Do you have a brother?

Your composure cracks further. The mention of your older brother makes your stomach twist. You could almost feel the sting of his hand across your face, the disappointed look in his eyes as he coldly tells your parents everything.

“Careful, Hwa. You don’t know what you’re talking about.��

“Oh, I know plenty. Imagine if your brother finds out. What’s his name again? Oh, right—Mr. Perfect. He still thinks you’re his sweet, innocent little sister, doesn’t he?” Seonghwa grinds, he isn’t done “How do you think he would react if he found out about all the bad things you've done since he left? Or better yet, how do you manipulate people and toss them aside like trash? Bet he wouldn’t be too proud of his baby sister then.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You say between your teeth, almost a murmur.

“Oh, I would,” His grin gets bigger “He’s abroad, isn’t he? Perfect son, perfect man... but if he found out about all this?” He gestures vaguely around “How long before he tells your parents? Or better yet, how long before he comes back and shows you what happens when you ruin his perfect family image?”

For a moment, all your confidence falters. Your heart racing at the memory of your brother… your parents’ golden child, the one person you couldn’t afford to disappoint. But you recover quickly, your smirk returning like armor.

“Nice try, Seonghwa. But let’s not forget that you have secrets too. Drinking? Drugs? You think your parents wouldn’t care? You’re a Park. Your last name is everything. What would your father say if he knew his precious son was sneaking around doing God-knows-what? How long do you think that reputation of yours would last?” Hwa’s smirk froze, his confidence visibly shaken for the first time “That’s what I thought,” You continue with an icy voice “So don’t come at me with fucking threats unless you’re prepared to deal with the fallout.”

He scoffs, his frustration evident as he turns and walks away “You’ll regret this.” He mutters under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.

As Seonghwa walks away, your mask slips for just a second, jaw clenching and your eyes flashing with anger and fear.

Hongjoong frowns confused “What was that about? Is he threatening you?”

You exhale sharply, brushing off his concern “Don’t worry about it. Seonghwa’s all talk.”

But your voice lacks its usual conviction, and Hongjoong isn't entirely convinced.

As you return to your conversation, your mind churns, plotting your next move. Whatever it takes, you’d make sure your secrets stay buried.

✮ ⋆

After lunch, your mood seemed lighter to anyone who didn’t know you well, but Hongjoong could see the subtle tension in your shoulders, the slight edge to your voice.

You barely touched your food, and your eyes kept darting around the cafeteria, likely searching for Seonghwa.

As the bell rings and students begin to shuffle to their next classes, you grab Hogjoong’s arm, pulling him close

“We’re skipping.” You announce, leaving no room for argument.

“What? YN, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.” You interrupt him, locking your gaze with his “I need to relax, and you’re going to help me. Now come on.”

Without waiting for a response, you drag him through the hallway, your grip firm as you lead him to a quiet, empty classroom on the far side of the building.

“YN, what’s going on?” He asks as you close the door behind you, the soft click of the lock making his heart race.

You turn to face him, your expression unreadable for a moment before a sly smirk creeps into your lips.

“You’re going to make me forget about Seonghwa and his stupid threats.”

Hongjoong blinks, caught off guard by your sudden shift in tone “What does that mean?”

“It means,” You step closer to him, your fingers toying with the collar of his shirt “That I need a distraction. And you’re it.”

His breath hitch as your hands slid to his chest “YN, I don’t think—”

“Stop thinking, Kim.” You whisper, lips brushing against his ear “Just do what I say.”

Before he can respond, you press yourself against him, your lips finding his in a heated kiss. His resolve crumbles almost instantly, his hands finding your hips as you deepen the kiss.

You push him back against the desk, movements confident and calculated. As you straddle him, your fingers trail teasingly along the waistband of his pants, your touch light but deliberate, as you glance up at him with a sly smirk.

He holds his breath for a sec, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He looks down at you, wide-eyed and unsure, but there is no mistaking the nervous excitement that flickers in his gaze.

“You’re so tense, Joongie.” You purr with a soft but teasing tone “Relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

Your fingers toy with the fabric for a moment longer before tugging gently, letting his pants slide down his hips, and letting free his length already hard as a fuck.

Is he hard with just a few kisses? Cute

Taking a deliberate step closer, your hands gliding up his thighs as you position yourself between his legs, arching your back as you go down on your knees, your smirk growing as you notice the way his whole body tenses.

Hongjoong’s feels his face burning, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts as he struggles to meet your gaze. He swallows hard, trying to focus on breathing, but his chest feels tight, like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

He's never been in situations like this before, he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know where to look, at your hands, at your face, at the classroom door, but his eyes keep drifting back to you, to you in a way he can't control.

He doesn't want to give you any more signs of his embarrassing virginity, but he can't help but feel tense.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” A soft chuckle leaves your lips, the panic in his eyes seems tender to you “Relax, babe. Just enjoy it.”

His voice cracks as he tries to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled sound. You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his reaction. You let your hands glide up his sides, nails grazing his skin ever so lightly.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You inquire, looking up, connecting your gaze with his. You wait patiently for an answer by stroking his skin with your fingertips.

Shit, Hongjoong doesn't want to accept it, but you look fucking cute that way.

Kneeling in front of him.

Hongjoong’s jaw drops slightly, and he nods so quickly it's almost comical “Y-Yeah… please.” He stammers, his words barely audible.

“Good boy.” You murmur with a satisfied grin, your fingers brushing over his trembling hands as you guide one up to your head “Hold on if you want. I don’t mind.”

His touch is hesitant, his fingers barely tangling in your soft hair as if he is afraid to push too far. You roll your eyes with a playful smirk, your hands holding his thighs steady as you lean in.

His thick cock is firmly against his stomach, it has a deep shade of pink, and some pre-cum at the tip, its the prettiest dick you've ever seen.

Everything about Kim Hongjoong is pretty.

You hold the base, your fingers barely touching the skin, you start slow with kitty licks on the tip as you test his reactions. Hongjoong’s breaths come in uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling as he tries to process everything happening.

Your hands hold his thighs firmly, keeping him grounded, but his body seems to move on its own, shifting slightly as he instinctively searches for more.

He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip to keep from making a sound when suddenly you put all his length in your mouth, the warm feeling of your lips around his dick make his head spin in pleasure.

Soft whimpers escape him as he tilts his head back slightly, relaxing under your touch, enjoying the moment.

Fuck, he never understood why his male classmates always talked about blowjobs as if it were the best thing in the world, and now that he is in this situation, he understands them.

The warm feeling of your mouth around him, the wet sound that comes every time you bob your head, your hand stroking where your mouth can't reach, and the pleasure sounds you let out while savoring every little inch of his cock.

Goddammit! This is the best experience a virgin boy could have.

You glance up at him, relishing the way his head tilts back, his lips part, and his entire being is consumed by the sensation.

Every gasp, and every shaky exhale from his mouth feeds your ego.

“You’re so easy to please.” You tease, pulling back just enough to flash him a knowing smile.

His voice is barely a whisper as he mutters.

“YN, I…”

“Shh.”

As you continue sucking him off, you caress his thighs, and try to enjoy every part of his length. Savoring every inch of his dick, the softness of his tip stroking the back of your throat, the taste of the pre-cum on your tongue…

Fuck, you’re getting more than horny for this nerd.

Hongjoong feels himself nearing the edge, his breaths coming faster, his grip on your hair tightening just slightly causing you to whine. His whole body trembles, his hips moving involuntarily as he tries to hold on, but it's too much.

He is literally fucking your mouth, you couldn't be anything but happy, and your satisfied moan made it clear.

“Fuck… I-I’m close.” He whines with shaky breath, his hips moving a little faster.

You almost let out another whine when you hear him curse for the first time, you didn't think hearing it would make your skin crawl with excitement.

Motivated by the sweet sounds coming out of his lips, you move your head faster, applying more force with your tongue.

Hongjoong gets louder, forgetting where he is for a moment. His gasps turn into soft, needy whimpers, his free hand clutching at the desk behind him as if it was the only thing keeping him on the ground, and with one final moan, he finally reaches his limit, his whole body tenses, his breath catching in his throat as a broken moan escapes him.

“Shit…”

His vision is hazy, but he can appreciate the way you swallow all his load, licking every drop like it's your last meal.

He closes his eyes cursing internally, that is the hottest thing he's ever seen and experienced in his fucking life.

The best of all? It was with you.

When you pull back, just a little to watch his pretty face. You smirk to yourself, knowing that you have him completely undone. A satisfied grin spreads across your face as he slumps back against the desk, utterly tired.

When he finally regulates his breathing, Hongjoong can't bring himself to meet your eyes, his face burning with embarrassment and something else…. something like awe.

“See? Told you I’d take care of it.” You say smugly, standing and cleaning the edge of your mouth, removing any traces of lipstick.

Hogjoong looks up at you, his face red, his chest still heaving “I… I don’t even know what to say.”

You giggle “Don’t say anything.” His tender demeanor makes you laugh a little “Just remember who made you feel this good.”

You approach him to give him one last kiss, Hogjoong groans, he can taste himself in your mouth.

When you break the kiss he looks at you with something new in his eyes, you're not sure what it is, but as long as he's by your side doing everything you ask without question, you won't complain.

From that day on, Hongjoong could only think about you and the amazing first blowjob he received that day.

Maybe he should thank Seonghwa for making you angry.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

That week had been amazing for you and Hongjoong, every interaction and every moment made you feel genuinely closer, and not only because of the small deal you made that day in the school's garden.

There was something more between the two of you but you didn't want to accept it.

However; that whole week was a martyrdom for Dann, you keeped asking her to do uncountable tasks that she can barely have time to do on her own.

In the mornings before going to school, you asked her to bring you breakfast in bed, to organize some things in your backpack, and to carry the books or folders with the work she did for you.

During school hours, you asked her to bring your things to your classroom and a matcha latte before the first class started. At lunch she would go get your and your friends' food.

She looked like a small waitress going from one end to the other with trays in hand.

And when she thought she could rest at home, you called her to do your homework and projects, in addition to cleaning your room, which by the way there was nothing to clean anymore... you just wanted her to waste her time.

One of the things that bothered Dann the most was the fact that not only did you order her what to do, but your friends also asked her to do small errands when they visited your home.

'I'm not their servant,' she used to repeat when Mindy or someone else asked her for something, but your strong gaze and your perfect raised eyebrow forced her not to reproach and to do what they asked.

She was tired, tired of your orders and mistreatment. The worst of all is that no one could help her. Your parents, especially your dad, were okay with you treating her like your personal doll, so she couldn't complain to them.

On the other hand, her mother could only look at her with pity every time your voice calling for her was heard. Dann complained every day to his mother about the things you made her do and she just hugged her, patted her on the back and said it would all be over soon....

But when will it be that, a week has passed and she feels desperate for this martyrdom to end.

Another thing that bothered Dann was the fact that Hongjoong was by your side all the time and watched the daily humiliations without doing anything, without defending her.

They're not supposed to be friends? Why doesn't he defend her as she did several times?

“I want to go shopping.”

Your voice slices through the fog of Dann’s thoughts, yanking her back to reality. She blinks at you with a blank expression, already bracing herself for whatever new errand or degrading task you have in mind.

“Have fun.” Hongjoong says casually, flashing one of his rare, easygoing smiles.

Your perfectly manicured fingers gently swat his arm, your playful grin in stark contrast to the command that follows “You’re coming with me, silly.”

He blinks, taken aback “Wait, me?” He asks, the confusion on his face almost comical.

“Of course. You don't want to come with me?” You tilt your head, feigning innocence, but the glint in your eyes reveals your true intention. You weren't asking him, you were telling him.

Hongjoong hesitates for a moment, his gaze flicking toward Dann, who shrinks back into herself, pretending not to listen.

“I... uh—”

You cut him off, stepping closer and lowering your voice “Don’t tell me you’re saying no, Kim Hongjoong.”

He responds immediately to your harsh tone when saying his name “Shopping it is.”

You clap your hands together in mock excitement “Perfect! You can meet me outside in ten minutes. Oh,” You turn to Dann, a sickly sweet smile spreading across your face, “And you’re coming too. I’ll need someone to carry my bags.”

Dann’s stomach knots as she swallows back a retort. She wants to argue, to tell you she has better things to do, but the cold, expectant look you throw her way dares her to say otherwise.

“I’ll... grab my things.” Dann mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

You watch her retreating figure with a satisfied smirk, then you turn back to Hongjoong, your tone softening “We’re going to have a lot of fun!”

✮ ⋆

The luxury mall gleams under the bright lights, filled with the chatter of shoppers and the faint sound of background music. You move through the aisles of an upscale clothing store with an air of authority, Hongjoong walks beside you gladly holding your hand while Dann follows at a distance, burdened with shopping bags that seem to multiply by the minute.

You pause your walk in front of a mannequin dressed in a sharp blazer and slim-fit pants.

“This is perfect for you.” You turn to Hongjoong, your eyes scanning him with a mix of scrutiny and mischief “Put it on. Let me see.”

He hesitates, glancing at the price tag “It's so expensive.”

You step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you take the tag out of his hand.

“Don’t look at the price. Your only job is to look good for me.” Hongjoong’s cheeks flush, but he nods and takes the blazer to the fitting room. You turn to Dann, your smirk widening “Careful, Dann. Those bags are worth more than your tuition. Don’t drop them.”

Dann glares at you, but she says nothing, her grip tightening on the handles.

Moments later, Hongjoong reemerges, the blazer fitting him like it was tailored just for him.

Your eyes light up as you clap your hands “I knew it! You look incredible, Joongie!”

You step closer, tugging at the lapels to adjust them. Your hands linger, smoothing the fabric over his chest before trailing down to his forearm. Hongjoong stands frozen, his breath catching as your touch sends a spark through him.

It's only been two days since that incredible blowjob, an act too intimate in his opinion, but he still can't help but feel shy about your touch and presence in general.

You lean teasingly close enough that he can feel your breath “I might just keep you dressed like this all the time. You look hot.”

Hongjoong chuckles nervously, his face bright red. Your lips curve into a sly smile, and before he can react, you lean in, brushing your lips softly against his mouth. Giving him a little peak.

“Consider it a reward for being such a good boy.”

He feels his ears burn, and his pulse racing at the sudden show of affection. Also; that pet name makes him feel something he shouldn't.

Dann, standing a few feet away, shifts uncomfortably, her expression a mix of bitterness and hurt.

✮ ⋆

You are sitting in a plush chair, slipping on a pair of sleek red stilettos. You stretch your leg out, admiring the way the shoes accentuate your figure. Hongjoong sits nearby, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, while Dann sits on a bench surrounded by luxury brand bags with all your purchases.

You glance up at Hongjoong with a mischievous smile “What do you think? Pretty?”

You tilt your foot, the curve of the stiletto catching the light.

Hongjoong stammers, his eyes darting nervously “Uh… They’re… pretty.”

“Is that all you’ve got?”

You stand, crossing the short distance to him. Placing your hands on the arms of his chair, leaning closer, your face inches from his.

“Say it like you mean it, Joong.”

He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper “You’re stunning.”

You smirk, clearly pleased. You straighten up, brushing a hand lightly across his shoulder as you walk back to your seat.

“That 's better. I like it when you’re honest.”

Dann shifts awkwardly, her eyes darting between you two. You notice and smirk again,

“We’ll take these. And those boots too.” You say to the salesperson with a sweet smile.

“YN, you really don’t need to buy me things.”

“Hongjoong…” You cut him off as you step closer again “I want to do it.”

Your thumb brushes lightly over his shirt, and he nods, his breath hitching.

Dann looks away, her face tight as she pretends not to notice.

✮ ⋆

All of you step out into the cool evening air, the weight of the shopping bags palpable, well… at least for Dann.

You walk confidently ahead, your hand joined with Hongjoong's was becoming a habit, casual intimacy.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Shopping is fun.” You tease with a grin.

Hongjoong chuckles nervously, his gaze darting to the bags Dann carries.

“I feel bad, though. About, you know… her.”

Your smile falters slightly, but you recover quickly, tightening your grip on his hand.

“She needs this. It’s character building.” You stop abruptly, turning to face him. Your free hand reaches up to toy with the collar of his denim jacket “And you need this too. You’re not the same guy you were last week, Hongjoong.” You lean in, your lips capturing his, lingering just enough to make his knees weak “You’re mine now. Don’t forget that.”

Hongjoong nods, his heart pounding as you lead him to your car.

Behind you, Dann struggles to keep up, her expression a mixture of bitterness and heartbreak.

YN and Hongjoong holding hands.

YN brushing her lips against his in fleeting, possessive kisses.

YN laughing, her voice light and carefree, while Hongjoong smiled at her like she hung the stars.

Each glance they shared felt like a dagger. It wasn’t just the weight of the bags that left Dann breathless; it was the sight of Hongjoong, her Joong, so completely absorbed into your orbit.

Dann swallows the lump in her throat as a sharp ache settles in her chest. She had known this day would come…. the day Hongjoong is fully absorbed into your world, but it didn’t make it any easier.

For every bag she carried, there was another piece of herself being stripped away, replaced by bitter envy and an unbearable sense of invisibility.

By the time they reached your sprawling mansion, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The estate was as imposing as ever, with its perfectly manicured lawns and grand double doors.

You toss your keys to the porter, your demeanor as effortless and commanding as always.

“Let’s head up to my room,” You say, turning to Hongjoong with a smile that could light up the night “Snacks and a movie sound good?”

Hongjoong hesitates, glancing at Dann, who stands at the base of the grand staircase, clutching the bags like they were her lifeline.

It's not the first time he's spent the afternoon at your house, but having Dann right there watching your interactions makes guilt consume him.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He mumbles, torn between your intoxicating pull and the pang of remorse that lingers whenever he sees Dann.

“Dann.” You call sharply, breaking Hongjoong’s thoughts “Take these up to my closet. Organize everything by type and color. Oh! And tell your mom to bring up snacks for us in ten minutes.”

Dann’s stomach churn, but she nods, her jaw tightening as she obeys.

Inside your room, the atmosphere is a world away from the cold detachment of the mansion downstairs. The expansive space is bathed in soft pastel tones, luxurious fabrics, and delicate lighting from the ornate chandeliers.

Despite its size and splendor, the room always feels surprisingly intimate.

You plop into the oversized bed, tossing your designer heels to the floor without care as you pat the spot beside you, looking at Hongjoong with an expectant smirk.

“Come on, don’t be weird about it. Sit.”

Hongjoong sits down, his posture stiff despite the number of times he's been there now. You roll your eyes, leaning into him with playful ease. “Relax, Joongie. I don’t bite… unless you want to.” You tease, running a hand lightly over his arm.

He gives you a little shy smile, but says nothing.

The movie began playing on the massive screen, though neither of you seemed particularly interested in it. You lean back against his shoulder, your head resting there comfortably.

You grab a handful of popcorn from the tray one of the maids had just delivered, holding a piece up to his lips, fingers brushing against his mouth as you feed him, and you smirk when you notice him blush.

As Hongjoong grows more comfortable, his gaze wanders around your room. His eyes caught on a silver-framed photo on your nightstand. It shows you smiling—truly smiling—beside a tall, impeccably dressed man with striking features.

“Is he your brother? The one that Seonghwa mentioned that day?” He asks cautiously, nodding toward the photo.

Your teasing smirk falters for a moment, and your body stiff slightly against him. You sit up and grab the frame, holding it in your hands as your eyes trace over the image.

“Yeah… That’s Mike.”

Hongjoong sense a shift in your tone, the lightness replace by something far heavier “I didn't know you had a brother.”

“Almost no one knows, only a few. He’s... perfect. The perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect everything.” Your fingers grip the frame a little tighter “He’s the reason I’ll never be good enough for my parents, no matter what I do.”

He frowns, leaning in slightly “YN...”

You force a small laugh, though it sounds hollow “He’s studying abroad now, getting his business master’s degree. Every time he comes back, it’s just to remind me how much better he is at everything. And if he ever found out about... stuff, he’d make sure my parents knew. It’d be game over for me.”

Your words falter as if Seonghwa’s voice still echoes in your mind from that day in the cafeteria.

'How do you think he would react if he found out about all the bad things you've done since he left?'

Hongjoong shifts closer, his hand resting gently on yours as you hold the photo “YN, nobody’s perfect—not even him. And you’re not... you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

You look at him, lips pressing into a tight line “You don’t know him, Hongjoong. He would... he’d destroy me if he knew half the things I’ve done.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you quickly look away.

Hongjoong hesitates before squeezing your hand gently “Maybe he’s not as invincible as you think. Maybe he’s got his own flaws, like everyone else.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eye quickly as if you would never show vulnerability for too long.

“That’s generous of you.”

“No, it’s honest. You’re more than whatever shadow he’s cast over you. I mean it.”

For a moment, you just stare at him. Your usual sharpness seems to melt away, replaced by something softer, something raw. Then you set the photo back on the nightstand, your hand lingering on it briefly.

“Thanks…” You murmur, so softly it's almost inaudible.

He leans back with you again, letting you rest your head on his shoulder once more. Neither of you say anything, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable.

It’s a rare moment of understanding, one they both seem to need.

As Dann carries the bags upstairs, she hears the faint sounds of your laughter and Hongjoong’s responses through the closed bedroom door.

Her heart twists, the weight of the shopping bags nothing compared to the invisible burden she carries.

Dann unpacks the bags in your enormous closet, her hands moving automatically as her mind replays every painful moment of the day. When she finishes, she sits on the edge of your chaise lounge, staring at the floor.

From the hallway, she hears soft laughter and murmurs from your room, each sound a reminder of how far you and Hongjoong have drifted apart.

Her mother passes by with a tray of tea, her face tight with worry as she glances at her daughter. Dann gives her a weak smile, but as the door to your room closes behind her mother, the bitterness and heartbreak she’d been holding back finally spills over.

She sits in silence, the faint echoes of your laughter stabbing at her like tiny needles.

In that grand mansion filled with people, Dann had never felt so utterly alone.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Once again, Dann sighs tired while she organizes your and your friends' drinks on the table.

“Careful, Dann. If you spill anything, that’s just more work for you.”

She wants to roll her eyes at your words but she doesn't want to make a scene.

“Honestly, she should be thanking you, YN. Who else would give her such a generous chance to repay her debt?”

Dann places the drinks carefully on the table, her hands trembling slightly from exhaustion and frustration. She doesn’t reply to those sharp comments, knowing that any response could worsen her situation.

Mindy laughs, taking a sip of her coffee “She’s like your little pet now, Babe. So obedient.”

Dann grits her teeth but keeps her head down, focusing on arranging the drinks neatly “I’m not a pet.”

You raise an eyebrow, your sharp ears catching the quiet defiance “What was that, Dann?”

Dann stiffens, her hands clenching into fists by her sides. She looks up, meeting your cold gaze with as much courage as she can muster.

“I said I’m not a pet.”

The table goes silent for a moment, the air thick with tension. You lean back in the chair, crossing your legs elegantly. Your lips curve into a dangerous smile.

“Not a pet? Funny, because you’re doing a pretty good impression of one. Running around, fetching drinks, doing homework. Should I get you a designer leash next?”

Mindy and the others burst into laughter, and Dann feels her face burn with humiliation.

“YN, maybe that’s a bit much…” Hongjoong quietly, almost hesitantly says.

“Oh, now you have something to say? Where was this energy all last week when she was crying about carrying my books?”

Hongjoong looks down, not daring to meet your eyes. Dann glances at him, hoping for some semblance of solidarity, but he avoids her gaze entirely.

You sigh dramatically and turn your attention back to Dann “Now, Dann, let’s be clear. You ruined an expensive dress, so until I say otherwise, you’re working for me. Unless you’d rather I take the cost straight from your mom’s paycheck?”

Dann’s breath catches, and she clenches her fists tighter “No... I’ll keep working.”

“Good girl. Now, you’ve wasted enough time here. Go grab some snacks.”

Dann hesitates, her pride fighting against the inevitable, but ultimately she turns and walks toward the counter.

“Anyways, tomorrow I won't come, my father has a billion-dollar meeting and important executives will have dinner at my house, so don't miss me too much.” You drink your smoothie gracefully and your friends laugh.

“That's right, queen, I hope your dad gets those billions and can go on that summer trip that we have planned.”

“Of course it will be, my daddy is the best at his job.”

When Dann returns to the table, you look up at her with a saccharine smile “Took you long enough. Now clean this up, and make it quick. We’re leaving soon.”

Dann nods silently, her head low, as she leaves the snacks on the table and starts cleaning it. Her chest feels heavy, but she pushes the feelings down, knowing there’s no use fighting back.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

It’s a rare day at school without you on her all the time. Dann feels a strange mix of relief and unease knowing you are back at your mansion, preparing for your father’s dinner.

With no errands to run for you, Dann finally has a moment to herself.

She sits quietly in the library with Jongho, Yeosang and Yunho, all of them engrossed in a shared book, when Hongjoong unexpectedly joins them.

“Hey, guys.” He greets them happily.

“Aren't you going to play at being popular today?” Jongho makes fun of him and he rolls his eyes while taking a seat next to Yunho.

“She is not here today Jongho….” Dann murmurs without taking her eyes out of the book, but then she frowns, looking at Hongjoong “Wait, why aren’t you with her friends? Did they give you the day off, too?”

“As you said, YN is not here. Why should I stay with her annoying friends? I prefer to hang out with you guys.” Hongjoong shrugs, smiling to see his friends here.

“Why?” Yeosang narrows his eyes at him.

This looked suspicious, for two weeks he ignored them as if they hadn't been friends since high school, and now he's coming back as if nothing happened.

“What do you mean, why? Can’t I just hang out with my friends?”

Yunho raises an eyebrow “We haven’t exactly been friends since... well, since you started following YN like a dog.”

Hongjoong lowers his gaze in sorrow “That’s not fair. Things are complicated with her.”

Jongho snorts “Complicated? That’s a nice way of putting it. You mean stupidity.”

Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he glances at the book in their hands.

“You’re still into these epic fantasy novels, huh? Guess some things never change.”

Yunho smiles softly “And you’re still into coding, I bet. Or did YN ban you from being a nerd?”

Everyone laughs at the tallest funny remark, even Hongjoong does.

“I sneak in some nerd time when she’s not looking.”

They fall into a familiar rhythm, talking about things they used to enjoy together. Books, games, and small, silly inside jokes.

For the first time in what feels like forever, they see a glimpse of the Hongjoong they used to know.

They had missed him a lot, but just as they’re laughing about an old shared memory, Mindy, one of your closest friends, spots them from across the library and strides over, her heels clicking against the floor.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? The nerd squad back in action.” She mocks.

“What do you want, Mindy?” Jongho is the first one to confront her.

“Oh, nothing. Just making mental notes for YN. You know how she gets when people step out of line, right Dann?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business for once?” She closes her book suddenly feeling angry at Mindy’s presence.

Mindy ignores her words, patting Hongjoong’s shoulder “Just giving you a friendly warning, Joong. YN’s not going to be thrilled when she hears about this little reunion. Better get your story straight before she does.”

Mindy saunters off, leaving behind an uneasy silence. Hongjoong looks conflicted, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s not here, Joong. You don’t have to let her control you every second of the day.” Yeosang says softly, feeling pity for his friend.

“It’s not that simple, you don’t get it.”

“Maybe we don’t. But you used to.”

They don't push further, but the words hang in the air. For a brief moment, Hongjoong feels a pang of guilt, a memory of simpler times when things weren’t so messy.

✮ ⋆

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, you are busy overseeing preparations for your father’s dinner when Mindy calls to report what she saw.

“Babygirl, you’re not going to like this, but guess who Hongjoong was spending his day with?”

You frown “What are you talking about?”

“Your little maid, Dann and the other freaks. They were all chummy in the library. It was kind of gross, honestly. Looked like they were best friends again.”

Your grip tightens around the phone. The thought of Hongjoong spending his time with his old friends you care little about, but with Dann… laughing with her, reminiscing. Sparks a flicker of jealousy and anger.

“Thanks for letting me know, babe.”

Cutting the call, you tell yourself it’s nothing. But the idea of Hongjoong slipping back to his old life, even for a moment, makes your blood boil.

The sound of the preparations for the business dinner echoes faintly through the mansion, but your focus is entirely on the phone.

Maybe you should remind Hongjoong which class he belongs to now.

Hongjoong’s phone buzzes just as he’s settling into class after his little encounter with his friends. His stomach drops when he sees your name pop up.

YN♡: I heard you were with Dann at school today. Care to explain why you thought that was a good idea?

Joong: We were just talking.

YN♡: Talking? Mindy says you were hanging out like old friends. Do you even realize how that makes me look?

Hongjoong hesitates, his mind racing. He knows your temper and doesn’t want to risk your wrath.

Joong: It’s not like that. I was just bored, and she’s… easy to be around when there’s nothing better to do.

The words feel wrong even as he types them, but he presses send anyway.

YN♡: Keep it in mind, Joongie. She’s not your friend anymore. You belong to me, remember that.

Joong: I know, YN. I won’t talk to her again. Promise.

✮ ⋆

It’s late in the evening. The business dinner is in full swing downstairs, but you have excused yourself to your room.

When you hear Dann come back from helping the staff, you call her up.

Dann knocks hesitantly on your door. She’s exhausted from helping clean up after the dinner preparations, but your icy summons gives her no choice.

“Close the door and sit.” With your head you point to the seat next to your large bed. Dann obeys, her hands clenching nervously in her lap “So, I heard you had a good time with Hongjoong today.”

Dann opens her mouth to start babbling “I… I didn’t mean anything by it. He just—”

“Oh, spare me. I already know everything.” You interrupt her.

You toss your phone onto the bed so Dann can see the screen. It’s open to Hongjoong’s messages.

Dann reads it, and her eyes moisten with sadness ‘easy to be around when there’s nothing better to do…’ Her heart sinks. The words sting more than she expected, and she feels a lump form in her throat.

“See? Even he knows where you stand. You’re nothing, Dann. A convenient distraction when he’s bored. That’s all you will ever be.” You lean back, watching the emotions flicker across Dann’s face; confusion, sadness, and humiliation.

“Why are you showing me this?” She whispers.

A mischievous smile lands on your lips “To remind you of your place. Don’t get too comfortable with Hongjoong. I don’t share what's mine.” Dann nods silently, unable to meet your gaze “Good. Now get out. I have to go back to an important dinner.”

You sit back down on your bed, satisfied but strangely restless while Dann stumbles out of the room, holding back tears.

As she retreats to the staff quarters her emotions swirl, the door clicks shut behind her, her legs give out, and she slides to the floor, the weight of your words pressing down on her chest.

She pulls her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against them as the messages replay in her mind.

‘Easy to be around when there’s nothing better to do.’

The words sting like a fresh wound, sharp and unrelenting. Hongjoong’s voice echoes in her head; not the Hongjoong she knew from before, the one who stayed up late helping her study for exams, who always made her laugh even when things were tough.

This Hongjoong felt like a stranger, someone who would say anything to stay in your good graces.

Her heart aches.

Why does she keep hoping he’ll be the person he used to be?

Dann clenches her fists, anger flickering alongside the sadness. Your smirk and your cruel words swirl in her thoughts, too. Dann knows your power, the way you can bend people like Hongjoong to your will.

But that doesn’t excuse him. He chose to say those things about her.

A single tear slips down her cheek, and she brushes it away furiously. She’s tired of feeling weak, tired of being the easy target.

"You’ll regret this, YN. One day, you’ll push too far, and everything you’ve built will crumble.” Dann exhales slowly, her tears finally dry “I can’t let her win. I won’t let her win."

✮ ⋆

Early the next morning, Dann wakes before dawn, the Clarke’s mansion still cloaked in silence.

She moves through her routine with mechanical precision, but her mind is elsewhere. Formulating, planning.

She thinks she owns me. That her words and her smirks can crush me into submission. And maybe, for a while, they did. But every cutting remark, every degrading task, only sharpens my focus.

'One day YN Clarke, you’ll realize I’m not as small as you think I am.'

She pulls on her simple clothes, smoothing the creases in the mirror. For a brief moment, her reflection stares back, eyes tired but filled with a quiet fire.

"I won't let her humiliate me anymore.”

Later that day at school in the cafeteria during lunch. You and your entourage sit at your usual table, the center of attention, laughing and chatting.

Dann approaches, carrying your latte on a tray. Her face is calm, but her heart races. She’s had enough of your endless demands and sharp tongue.

Dann’s fingers tighten around the tray. She can feel the weight of their stares, the way Mindy smirks at her like she’s a walking joke.

Her stomach churns, but she keeps her head high. She’s done everything you asked, swallowed every cruel word, and yet you still treat her like dirt.

‘One little accident wouldn’t hurt.’ She tells herself.

As she reaches the table, her hand shifts slightly, and the latte tilts; pouring straight into the table and your purse.

“What the hell?! Are you crazy?” You gasp with sharp voice

Dann feigns panic, though her lips twitch with suppressed satisfaction “I’m so sorry! It slipped!”

You stand abruptly, staring at your stained designer purse. Through gritted teeth “It slipped? You’ve got to be kidding me.” You scoff.

“Wow, Dann. Maybe YN’s been too nice to you.”

You narrow your eyes “You’re right, Mindy. I think Dann needs a reminder of her place.”

Dann’s satisfaction fades as Mindy steps behind her, pushing her forcefully down to her knees. The cafeteria goes silent, all eyes on the scene unfolding.

“What—what are you doing? I said I’m sorry!” Dann starts to panic, her confidence leaving immediately.

“Sorry isn’t enough.” You step closer, towering over Dann. Your voice drops, sharp and cruel “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Dropping my drink on purpose like a little brat. Let me make one thing clear. Your mother might work for my family, but that doesn’t mean you’re worth anything. You’re just a servant’s kid playing in a world you don’t belong to.”

Tears sting Dann’s eyes, but she bites her lip, refusing to cry. You smirk and Mindy crouches at Dann's height to whisper against her ear.

“Now, beg. Right here, in front of everyone. Beg for her forgiveness.”

“No... I won’t—” She shakes her head. You cut her off, stepping forward and pressing your Louboutin heel onto Dann’s hand “Stop! That hurts!” She yelps with tears rolling down her cheeks now.

You let out a slight laugh at her cries “That’s the point. Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before trying to humiliate me.”

The cafeteria is deathly quiet, the other students frozen, unsure whether to intervene.

Hongjoong stands a few feet away, frozen in shock. His stomach churns as you dig your heel into Dann’s hand, and your words like knives.

Hongjoong steps forward, raising his voice.

“YN, stop!”

You turn your head sharply, her eyes narrowing “Oh, What’s the matter, Joongie? Feeling guilty for siding with me?”

“This isn’t right. Let her go.”

You've never seen him so serious, for the first time his look made you feel intimidated. You blink several times before faking a smile.

“Fine. I’m in a good mood today.” You step back, your heel lifting off Dann’s hand.

She pulls her hand back, cradling it as she glances up at Hongjoong, his expression torn between anger and guilt. She wants to scream at him, to tell him it’s too late for him to play the good guy.

But instead, she swallows her pride, standing shakily and clutching her bruised hand. She doesn’t say another word. Instead, she stands up and walks out of the cafeteria, leaving the whispers and stares behind.

You watch her go, your lips curling into a satisfied smirk. Hongjoong’s angry glare doesn’t faze you; if anything, it’s amusing.

“You’re welcome to join her if you want. Maybe you two can cry about it together.”

He doesn’t respond, but the look he gives you says more than words ever could. He lets out a sigh and begins to walk in the direction Dann left.

You snort without being able to believe what you see “Fucking losers.”

Taking your phone, you open the chat you have with him.

YN♡: I hope you enjoy your return to the losers’ club, ungrateful pet.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

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bcnes-archived · 2 years ago

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continued from ( x ) with @finalfronticr

He doesn't want to know, he tells himself. He doesn't want to know. He'll end up rolling his eyes out of their sockets this time around - he should've known better than to put Jim to the task of acting. If the man hadn't been roped into joining Starfleet he would've wound up in a traveling Shakespeare troupe, of that he's damn well certain. Course, that wouldn't be half as exciting as Kirk would like.

But even as he's stalking off down the hallway shaking his head to himself he can still hear the doors swoosh open behind him, and Bones doesn't even turn to glance over his shoulder - nobody else in their right mind would bail this early, which means it's either Kirk (victorious) or Kirk (getting his pathetic ass dragged out to sickbay by somebody else, whiskey-less and defeated).

"Act like you've done this before," he fires over his shoulder, "which is funny considering how I distinctly remember you tellin' me all that whiskey you gifted me back at the Academy was legally purchased!"

At the very least Bones can rest easy knowing he couldn't have gotten away with the whole feigning sick act. Not when his roommate was a doctor. Otherwise his career would've been hindered by a hell of a lot more academic suspensions.

#finalfronticr #ic [ + ] aos #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads

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bcnes-archived · 1 year ago

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"No, and I don't doubt it'll be the last, either." He sounds only a little grudging, but this is how it's been since forever, and to be entirely fair, McCoy had been the one to start it. Asking Jim to trust his life - or at the very least his leg - to McCoy's foolhardy notion that he, in all his bright-eyed, still-optimistic bravado at the time, could somehow do better than any other doctor and save the man's limb. Jim had done so, had sat through surgery after surgery and weeks, months of physical therapy so intense that McCoy figured the man would spend the rest of his life cursing his name. But he'd been so damn certain, in a way that wasn't warranted, that he was the best doctor for the job - that even if the Farragut shipped out without his patient, the galaxy would need James Kirk at its very best and how could he trust that to the hands of anyone else? He was unlikely to cross paths with the man again. Being hated from across the stars was a pretty small price to pay, anyhow.

And the experimental procedure had worked, and he'd taken Jim out to the family cabin to celebrate, and that had really been the beginning of the end as far as the normal course of his life was concerned because every waking moment after that was a series of increasingly bold requests, culminating in a fucking starship posting: partly to get the hell away from Joce, partly out of genuine scientific curiosity - the need to help and to heal, and mostly because Jim Kirk had asked him to.

In comparison to that, asking him to hit on a Vulcan is slightly easier.

"But I'm gonna quote you on this months or years or decades down the line when it all goes to hell in a handbasket, so don't say I didn't warn you." He wishes he could think they'll fare just fine, but he's never been able to project anything close to Jim's illusion of unerring confidence, much less feel it. And, anyway, it's easy for Jim to say that when Spock looks at him like he hung the damn stars in the sky. Loving Jim is the easiest thing in the world for both of them, and if Spock deserves anything, it's love that feels just like that - as easy and natural as breathing. It's hard enough for him already. But McCoy is hard to love. He knows it, but he hates feeling as though it's true, hates the reminder that loving him is more akin to suffering than anything joyful. Deep down he's more certain than anything that he won't actually be able to do this, that he'll be a disappointment for both of them, that it'll kill him to know he's making Spock struggle and he'll be why it all falls apart, if it ever pieces itself together at all in the first place. If he knew how to stop being anything but what he is, he would've stopped ages ago, years ago, when it'd all gone to shit the last time around. But he's never learned how to reconstruct himself so thoroughly like that.

Maybe he's got time, he thinks, drumming an anxious thumb against Jim's arm, for him to figure it out before it's too late - Lord knows Spock will drag his feet. And Jim seems so damn happy with all this that McCoy can't even bring himself to start giving serious thought to the visions of his own failure lurking right there in the backdrop. Happy even in his misery - all McCoy could ever ask for is to shield Jim from the mountain of missed opportunities and sacrifices and feelings of inadequacy that's built up behind him over the years, and maybe he can't do that, but if he can somehow twist himself into being enough to shield him moving forward... well, he owes Jim a whole lot more than that, but it's at least a start.

He knows he'll never be able to make himself the sort of person Spock could love, but Jim? Maybe. He can live with that, though it might kill him every day to only have been enough for the one of them, even if it winds up being temporary on his way to something or someone better equipped for this. He supposes at the end of it all he'll be grateful for whatever capacity they allow him to remain. At least he might still be a half-decent friend.

"I'd say that's part of the human experience, but I think it goes well beyond us humans," he reflects. A smile is leagues better than another undue apology, tenuous as it is, and when Jim glances at him McCoy pulls him away by the shoulders before cupping his face to wipe at his wet eyes. They're a lighter shade when they're like this, highlighted by his tears, though with no less depth than they typically have. "Christ, Jim, if I kept track of everyone I owe an apology..." he trails off, shaking his head. Every coworker or intern he's ever snapped at when he was in a sour mood or during a high-stress procedure. The family, friends of every patient that's died under his care - too many to count, after so many years. The numbers are an impossible weight, too large to be measured. And every person he's tried to love and loved poorly. He probably owes Jim the biggest apology of all, for that. Preemptively. Or every day for the rest of their lives, if he's lucky enough to not ruin it first. "You let that weigh you down and you'll drown with it. Sometimes all you can really do is take the things you wish you could say and..." a shrug. He looks out towards the view of the stars. "...Let them go. Everyone has to move forward eventually, to one place or another. It's a godawful way to live, punishing yourself for the rest of forever. I think you're the last person who deserves that."

The rise and fall of Bones' chest is what he focuses on , how that steady breathing is a constant — much like the man's presence in his life. Maybe “ love at first sight ” isn't the right way to put it , but it was something similar. The moment Jim laid eyes on him , something deep inside of him knew that they were fated to be together , in some way. It was a gut feeling , really. A voice in the back of his head saying that this man needs you as much as you need him. Which , is a lot to ask of a stranger. Looking back , he's glad he took that chance , reached out when he did — asked Starfleet to make them roommates when he had the chance. That feeling persisted through when Bones and Spock had met for the first time. When all three of them were in the same room , the same vicinity , it was like something had shifted deep inside of him. He wasn't sure what it was at the time , but now he's positive. The Universe , no matter how much it has wronged him , granted him one good thing. The two men he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

It's that gut feeling that sets his love for them apart from everyone else. He did love every single person he's had a connection with , but he knew it was never to last. That he would have to leave , and that forming a connection would do him more harm than good. But he did anyways. He loved , even though he knew it would destroy him. Because he had no other choice — not when his command granted him so little time to be anything other than Captain Kirk. No matter how close he got with someone , however , no matter how many times someone's lips graced his own — he never felt like he did when he was with Bones or Spock. At first , when he finally realized this , he shoved it down. He'd known them for years , this was how friends feel with each other , that's all. But then his breath would catch in his throat whenever McCoy would smile , and when Spock would gently put his hand on Jim's back , his heart would skip a beat. It was then when he delved deeper into his duties than before. He didn't deserve that , didn't deserve them. He had already given himself to the Enterprise. She had all of him , she's who he had to live for. Her and her crew needed him at his best. And he was willing to sacrifice the truest , purest love he felt in order to keep them all happy. Keep them all alive. He almost didn't even tell Bones — the thought that merely minutes ago he was thinking of turning around and walking out of this room , never to look him in the eye again. To him , though , that would have been the same as death. No , it would've been worse.

Death is a universal constant , one that weighs upon each and every officer that has ever served in the ranks of Starfleet. Every single person on the Enterprise knows this , and serves every day like it could be their last. Maybe it is because of him that they continue to serve -- that they entrust their lives to this ship under his command. They know , and he knows , that he would die for them just as quickly as they would die for him. No matter how fleeting an interaction is , even if he's known someone for only a moment , his unyielding compassion and care for life makes him willing to die for them. To put everything he's built on the line , just because he deeply feels a bond with someone he may never meet again. And even when he has sacrificed himself time and time again , he's convinced himself that nothing will ever be enough. Nothing he can do now will undo the lives he couldn't save. Even though there was nothing he could have done to save them — Tarsus , the USS Farragut . . every time he puts his life on the line for someone , he remembers those he was too late to save. It pains him the most in moments like these , where he truly gets to be happy. Because he knows just how many people he watched die young. He knows how many people that should be alive right now , feeling the way he does. Happy. And he blames himself for things he could not and still cannot control.

A soft chuckle leaves his lips , tense shoulders rising and falling as he shakes his head. He never said it would be easy , he wants to say. With Spock , he knew it wasn't going to be easy. But now that he's halfway there , he can't just stop at one , can he ? ❛ This isn't the first time I've asked you to do something . . less than wise , Bones. You know that. ❜ That was certainly a way to put it , but he didn't know how else to put it. ❛ I think we'll fare just fine. ❜ Wishful thinking on his part , he knows. But if he dwells on it too long he's afraid he'll back out.

No matter how much he tries to convince himself of it , that he deserves this — both of them — and that allowing himself this one thing isn't the end of the world , there's always doubt. When you're a Starfleet officer , doubt is the last thing you want to indulge in. Doubt leads to anxiety , which leads to hesitation , which leads to 200 men being slaughtered right before your eyes. Though this isn't nearly as serious , and the arms around him and hand in his hair ground him — there will always be that inkling of doubt , that thought that he will never be anything but a commanding officer. That he can't have anything without having to put the ship first. The tears that stream down his face are ones he's held in for far too long — he cries in private , of course , but there was a deep catharsis that came from finally being able to express a feeling like this in front of someone. To put his pride and commanding presence aside to find solace and comfort in the arms of another person. He sniffles softly , breathing growing quiet as it finally steadies. Every apology that leaves his lips has some deeper meaning to it. It may seem like nothing to everyone else , but every “ I'm sorry “ , no matter who it's for , is also aimed towards the ones he never got to apologize to. He silently apologizes to the families that were broken in front of his eyes , to the sons that never got to return home , to the young ensigns that never got to live the lives that they deserved.

The cuff to his head brings him back to reality , the ghost of a smile curling onto his lips. He glances into Bones' eyes , his own still red and swollen with tears. His first instinct is to utter “I'm sorry” , but that would be counterintuitive. Instead , a shaking hand raises to wipe away some of the tears on his face , trying desperately to save face. Not that he needs his reputation when the doctor is involved — they've known each other for far too long for that to have any merit anymore. He just feels bad , he supposes , for leaning on him in such a way. The apology remains unspoken , but it hangs in the air nonetheless. ❛ Maybe not to you , ❜ He finally says , softly. ❛ But you know just as well as I do that there are people that deserve to hear that from me. ❜

#finalfronticr #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #LITERALLY WHO IS SHE #ic [ + ] tos #long post

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bcnes · 1 year ago

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continued from ( x ) with @aethramusings

"Yes, yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about. So until Captain James T. Kirk waltzes in here and tells me he gave you explicit permission to rearrange my sickbay, I'm not taking advice from a cat on the matter."

And that, as they say, is that, as far as Leonard's concerned. Or at least he tries to tell himself as much as he spins on a heel and goes back to the cabinet he's still in the middle of organizing.

But it just keeps nagging at him in the back of his mind. That thing the cat said when it first popped in here to pester him again. Even as he curses himself under his breath for his inability to resist the bait, shaking his head, he knows it'll drive him crazy if he doesn't make the damn thing explain itself.

"...What do you mean, my layout is inefficient? I've had it organized like this for almost four years! Not a single person on my staff has complained about it so far! Even Spock hasn't commented on it, and he's Spock."

You know. The guy who a) has a computer for a brain and b) considers bitching (at Leonard, specifically, in over half of the daily cases) to be a professional hobby.

#aethramusings ; sox #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #v [ + ] i signed aboard this ship to practice medicine

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bcnes-archived · 1 year ago

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@starfleetsxvulcan - continued from ( x )

If he didn't know Jim any better, it would've been a hell of a lot easier to assume he'd been lying about the whole thing back when he'd first told Leonard about it - not that it seemed fair to doubt anything at this point, after some of the shit they've seen, but still. Two Spocks. It's a bit of a nightmare to imagine. But nightmare or no, it's hard to deny the familiarity in the way this particular Vulcan carries himself, even if his posture is less rigid than Leonard has ever seen on Spock-the-younger, or the cadence to his words, softened by emotion they may often be. Even with the aged lines etched into his face, it's almost surprising how easy it is to pick him out of a crowd of other Vulcans. God, but it's weird as shit to see him smiling. He hopes he doesn't look as uncomfortable as he feels.

"Gave me hell, that's what you did. You know how hard it was to track you down?" He deliberately opts to ignore his slip-up - can only imagine the old man was about to call him bastard, or whatever the Vulcan equivalent might be, given the way McCoy tends to get on with the other Spock. They've been on New Vulcan for over a week now, with the Enterprise's crew lending their expertise to the colony, not for the first time nor the last; and while it's not necessarily true that Leonard was seeking him out, it would've been hard to miss the fact that nobody'd seen hide nor hair of Spock - this Spock, the older one - practically since they landed. And he knows full well both Jim and Spock were looking for him.

It would be unfair to assume he's been hiding - for as relatively small as New Vulcan is, it's still easy enough to get lost in - but... the thought does cross his mind. Doubly unfair given that Leonard doesn't really know the man, or at least this version of him, at all. Certainly not enough to make that judgment call.

"Jim's been dropping into the medical center every other day just to see if you've swung by so he can grill you on some nonsense or another. I'm getting sick of it. He didn't make that bad of a first impression, did he? Would it kill you to say hello?"

#ic [ + ] aos #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #starfleetsxvulcan #peepaw prime....#thats so valid. making up some bullshit but i can change around whatever

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bcnes · 1 year ago

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tag dump 001.

#sickbay to captain kirk [ + ] dash comm #i finally got the last word [ + ] banter #i didn't say that [ + ] crack #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #hell of a time to ask [ + ] answered #he's dead jim [ + ] ooc #funny you should put it that way [ + ] dash games #you're an old-fashioned boy mccoy [ + ] visage #who will understand the medical mind? [ + ] musings #i had to see it to believe it [ + ] visuals #all my old friends look like doctors [ + ] promos #number one on our list of things to do [ + ] memes

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bcnes · 7 months ago

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Leonard simply nods, gaze averted, eager to brush past the complete and utter weirdness of hearing such a thing from Spock. Of even being in a situation in which he has to chat with - well, it feels somehow rude to think of him as the wrong Spock. A different Spock, then. Of all the people to have a clone running around—

But somehow that's very low on the list of things demanding Leonard's immediate attention right now, not when he's moving on to non-critical surgeries in a matter of hours. The man's confidence in him make him uneasy, anyway, and the melancholy in his eyes speaks to something that he's not likely to want to dwell on, much less delve into, though every part of him is itching with curiosity. McCoy's not in the business of prying into shit he knows full well he'd not want to talk about either.

"You'd change your tune if you were on the surgery list, I'm sure," he jokes lightly with a shake of his head, and then glances over his shoulder. "Well, hey, listen... I'm about to get kicked out of here, anyway, if I know Jim. He's probably personally hired somebody just to make sure I get a couple of hours away. Can I... I don't know," he gestures vaguely. He's not sure what the old man is even doing here other than just taking it all in, all this misery - he seems too old, even considering Vulcan lifespans, to be participating in construction work or anything of the sort. Hell, maybe he's just doing his level best to avoid running into himself. He shifts his weight awkwardly.

"You want some company for a while? I could go for a drink. Non-alcoholic," he raises his hands to clarify. "Just tea."

He stays silent during all of it, simply allowing the situation to cycle through his mind. He looks calm while the other searches through his face, even if there is some distinct sadness in his eyes. Almost disheartened that he had to look at all. Not that he could truly expect any different, but it doesn't change how he feels. Which he does, strongly, and he only finds himself wishing he had more often with the others parallel self. His eyes follow the other as he circles him, although he doesn't move to follow his motions.

"I assure you, I trust you are perfectly capable of performing your duties. Even if you are not currently, you would still be capable of gaining such skills on your own merit. I am not sure of the exact version of events Jim has told you, but he was not.. dicking around. I am different from the Spock of this universe in age and.. most everything else. Our lived experiences vary by a rather vast margin."

#dearestblood #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #v [ + ] all i got left is my bones

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bcnes-archived · 1 year ago

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@gcldenratio, continued from ( x )

"You're really gonna lay that beautiful bait out there and not let me take it?" His sigh is genuinely morose. Like somehow this is the biggest disappointment of his life. "I had a list ready. Alphabetical!"

#gcldenratio #ic [ + ] aos #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #its equal testament to both the amnt of nonsense hes seen from jim over the years #and his ability to always be thinking of the worst most illogical possible outcome for everything ever #its a talent

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bcnes-archived · 2 years ago

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tag dump

#ic [ + ] aos #ic [ + ] tos #rel [ + ] don't destroy the one named kirk [ + ] jim #rel [ + ] i don't know if i could stand to lose you again [ + ] spock #there's no intelligent life here [ + ] crack #just an old country doctor [ + ] visage #you don't have to say it [ + ] dash comm #there goes paradise [ + ] promos #how poetic [ + ] musings #the only constant in the universe [ + ] visuals #tell me something i don't know [ + ] asks #you really want to head back out there? [ + ] memes #enough with the metaphors [ + ] dash games #to explore strange new worlds [ + ] threads #rel [ + ] mind ( heart ) && soul [ + ] triumvirate #all those arguments you lost [ + ] banter

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growthhyp · 1 month ago

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The Garage Sale V

Days had rolled by, and Aiden and Abe had become the heartthrobs of the college football team. "Dude" and "Bro" had woven themselves into Aiden's vocabulary like threads on a jock's sweat-soaked jersey. Meanwhile, Abe remained the more submissive of the two, his voice still gentle, almost shy in contrast to Aiden's boisterousness. Their shared dorm room looked like a tornado had swept through a sports gear store, with the scent of musky men and the faint hint of victory hanging in the air.

Their days were a whirlwind of practices, games, and stolen moments of passion. Aiden's newfound confidence on the field reflected in his interactions with Abe. They were like two magnets, drawn to each other's magnetic pull. The whispers of the college crowd grew louder, but the couple remained unfazed. The chemistry between them was palpable, a volatile mix of sweat, adrenaline, and desire that seemed to fuel their winning streak.

One evening, as they lay tangled in their mess of a bed, Aiden turned to Abe, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Bro," he said, his voice low and dominant, "we're hitting up that garage sale again tomorrow. Gonna grab some gear for my old coding buddies, Carlos and Tamil."

Abe, his eyes glazing over with the thought of another day spent in the throes of their newfound jock lifestyle, nodded submissively. "Whatever you say, Aiden." He knew that Aiden had a plan, and while he might not fully grasp the intricacies of it, he trusted that it would somehow make their bond even stronger. The scent of sweat and musk filled the room, a testament to their passionate escapades that seemed to only grow more frequent with each passing day.

Aiden lay there, flexing his biceps absently, watching the play of shadows on the ceiling. He thought of Carlos and Tamil, two nerdy figures from his past that seemed so distant now. They were like the forgotten toys of his childhood, relics of a time when he hadn't yet discovered the raw power of his body. But he didn't feel guilty about it. In the dog-eat-dog world of college football, friends like Carlos and Tamil were just… well, they were bros. They didn't need his help to survive; they had their own nerdy ways of getting by. But Aiden knew that deep down, they envied his new life, the one filled with the cheers of adoring fans and the warm embrace of victory.

He felt a strange mix of pity and superiority when he thought of them. They were the kind of guys that would still be playing Dungeons and Dragons in their mom's basement while he was out here, scoring touchdowns and breaking hearts. But even though they were so different, Aiden knew he owed them something.

He rolled over to face Abe, whose chest was rising and falling with the rhythm of deep, contented sleep. Aiden's thoughts drifted to the garage sale, and the plan that had been brewing in the back of his mind. "Gonna show those bros what real power is," he murmured to himself, a smug smile playing on his lips. He knew that bringing them into the fold would be a challenge, but it was one he was more than ready to tackle.

The sudden rise of horniness took Aiden by surprise, his cock swelling against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Abe's, feeling the warmth and softness of his mouth. Abe stirred, a sleepy moan escaping his throat as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, pulling him closer. They kissed passionately, Aiden's hands exploring the contours of Abe's body, tracing the lines of his abs and the swell of his ass.

Aiden's desires grew more urgent, and he sat up, tugging his shirt over his head. "You know what, babe?" he said, his voice thick with need. "Let's show each other just how much we've changed." Abe nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He slid down the bed, his mouth finding Aiden's cock. He took it in eagerly, his cheeks hollowing as he began to suck, his tongue swirling around the head. Aiden's grip tightened on the bedsheets, his hips bucking as pleasure shot through him like electricity. "Fuck, babe," he grunted, his voice gruff. "You're the best."

The air grew thick with the scent of lust as Aiden's breathing quickened. Abe's mouth was a warm, wet heaven, and Aiden couldn't help but thrust deeper. "Take it all, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Show me how much you love it." Abe's eyes watered, but he didn't stop, his throat working to accommodate Aiden's growing need. The sight of Abe's submission sent waves of desire crashing through Aiden's body. He knew that once he was done with Abe's mouth, he'd claim his ass.

Finally, with a roar of pleasure, Aiden came, filling Abe's mouth with his seed. Abe swallowed it all, his eyes never leaving Aiden's. Then, with a smirk, Aiden flipped him onto his stomach, his hands reaching for the lube they kept stashed under the bed. "My turn to show you who's boss," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. He slicked his cock, feeling the heat of Abe's ass pressing against him. He took a moment to appreciate the view: Abe's round cheeks, parted to reveal his tight, pink hole.

With one hand firmly on Abe's hip, Aiden guided his cock into him, feeling the initial resistance give way to the warm, welcoming embrace of his body. Abe let out a sharp gasp, his body tensing before he relaxed, allowing Aiden to fill him completely. "That's it," Aiden cooed, his voice thick with pleasure. "Take it all."

They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, Aiden's powerful thrusts setting the pace as Abe's moans grew louder. Aiden felt his climax building, the tension in his balls tightening. "You're gonna make me cum, baby," he grunted. "You're gonna make me fill you up."

And fill him up he did, his hot seed spilling into Abe as they both reached their peak. They lay there, panting, their bodies sticky with sweat and cum. It was a beautiful mess, a testament to their love and lust.

As their breathing evened out, Aiden leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Abe's shoulder. "You ready to show Carlos and Tamil what it's like to be on top?" he asked, his voice still heavy with arousal.

Abe nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Whatever you say, Aiden."

===

Morning had broken with the promise of a scorching day ahead. The sun had barely kissed the horizon as Aiden and Abe, both dressed in tight-fitting athletic gear that highlighted their newfound physiques, made their way to Jack's garage sale. The sight of Jack, still as muscular and mysterious as the first time they met, brought back a flood of memories. His heart raced at the thought of the transformation that awaited his friends.

Jack greeted them with a knowing smile, the same one that had sent a shiver down Aiden's spine months ago. "Back for more, boys?" he asked, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to resonate in Aiden's chest. Aiden stepped forward, his voice filled with the same confidence that now flowed through his veins. "Dude, I've got two more friends who could use a little… upgrade," he said, using air quotes to emphasize his point.

Jack's grin widened, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth that gleamed against his tanned skin. "Ah, spreading the love, I see," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He turned to a rack in the corner of his garage, where a rainbow of socks hung like a bizarre bounty. "Take a look," he said, tossing a few pairs in their direction. "I've got something that'll fit your friends to a T."

The socks looked like any other pair one might find in a gym bag, but Aiden knew better. He picked one up, feeling the warmth emanate from it, as if it were alive. "These will do," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He tossed the socks to Abe, who caught them with a look of wonder.

Jack nodded, his muscular arms folding over his chest. "Remember, each pair is unique. The transformation will be as random as the day you stepped into my life."

"Cool, man, no worries," Aiden said, his voice now as smooth and self-assured as a seasoned quarterback. "Bros are gonna love 'em."

Jack nodded, his gaze lingering on Aiden's body before he turned to Abe. "You sure you don't want a pair too, bud?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Nah, I'm good, man. These are for my old pals, Carlos and Tamil. They're the brainiacs who could use a little… extra oomph," Aiden said, slapping Abe on the back with a laugh.

Jack nodded, his expression serious. "You're sure?" he asked, his deep voice resonating through the garage. "These socks… they can be life-changing. In more ways than one."

Aiden looked at him with a cocky grin, his confidence brimming. "Yeah, bro, I'm positive. They're gonna thank me for this. And maybe, just maybe, they'll finally get a taste of the kind of life we're living now." Abe nodded in agreement, his eyes wide with excitement and a touch of envy.

Jack leaned against the counter, his massive arms folded over his chest. "I've got a proposition for you, Aiden," he said, his gaze intense. "You've got the charm and the new look to sell these clothes like hotcakes. Why don't you help me spread the word? Maybe turn this into something… big?"

"You mean, like, promote your garage sale?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement. "Dude, I'm in. Let's make this viral."

Jack's smile grew, his eyes lighting up. "Exactly. I've got the goods, you've got the charm. We could turn this into a full-on operation. Think of it as a… life makeover service," he said, winking.

Aiden's mind raced with possibilities. "Yeah, like a secret society for the uncool," he chuckled, his newfound confidence making him bold. "But instead of nerds, we turn 'em into… bros!"

Jack leaned in, his eyes gleaming. "Exactly," he said, his voice a low purr. "And who better to spread the word than the king of the jocks?"

Aiden's heart skipped a beat. He had never considered himself a leader, let alone a life-changing one. But Jack had a point. His transformation had been nothing short of miraculous, and if he could help others find their confidence, why not? "Alright, bro, count me in," he said, his voice firm. "We're gonna turn this place into a nerd-to-stud factory!"

Jack chuckled, his massive chest rumbling with the sound. "Good," he said, his eyes gleaming with a hint of something Aiden couldn't quite pinpoint. "I'll leave the details to you. Just remember, the clothes are the key. And don't be shy about it. Sometimes, a little… persuasion goes a long way."

With a nod, Aiden handed over the cash for the two pairs of socks. They felt heavier in his hand than their size suggested, as if they contained the weight of destiny. Abe watched the transaction, nodding submissively, his eyes never leaving Aiden's face. Aiden couldn't help but feel a pang of something, a mix of affection and power that was both thrilling and slightly disconcerting. He was the one in charge now, the one making the decisions.

"Thanks, Jack," Aiden said, pocketing the receipt. "These are gonna be the best gifts ever."

Jack's smile grew wider, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent garage light. "I know they will," he said, his voice a seductive whisper.

The next day, Aiden and Abe found themselves at the local post office, the two pairs of socks neatly packaged and addressed to their unsuspecting friends. Aiden felt a strange sense of excitement and power as he slapped the shipping labels onto the boxes. He couldn't wait to see the reactions of Carlos and Tamil, to watch as they too were transformed by the magical fabric that had changed his own life so dramatically.

Weeks had past since their last encounter with Jack, and Aiden had thrown himself into his role as the team's star player with reckless abandon. He had become the life of every party, the center of attention, and the envy of every man and woman on campus. His newfound physique and confidence had even earned him the title of 'Mr. Popular', a title that was once as unreachable to him as the stars in the sky.

===

Meanwhile, Carlos, still buried in his fat body, sat in front of his computer screen, his eyes scanning through endless lines of code. The office chair groaned under his weight as he sighed heavily. At 30 years old, he was the epitome of a successful computer nerd, but the shadow of his diabetes loomed over him like a dark cloud. He glanced down at his bulging belly, wishing that he could find the motivation to join a gym and shed his excess weight.

Carlos had always been drawn to Aiden's youthful spirit, even when they had first met online. Back then, Aiden had been just another college kid with a burning passion for coding, asking questions on a random forum. It had been Carlos's quick and knowledgeable responses that had sparked their friendship. And when he had found out Aiden was also gay, it had felt like a sign. He remembered his own college days, the struggle of hiding his true self, and he had vowed to be the mentor he never had.

Don, his loving husband of five years, was a different story. At 32, Don was a construction worker with a heart of gold and a body that defied the odds. Due to his rigorous job, standing tall in the center of a bustling construction site. His tanned, muscular body is a testament to the rigorous physical labor that has sculpted him over the years. Carlos was a fantastic cook, always whipping up delicious, comforting meals after a hard day's work. The scent of Carlos' favorite carne asada wafted through the apartment, making it almost impossible for him to resist the temptation of seconds and thirds which fueled his muscles after a hard day work.

Their dynamic was clear as day; Don was the dominant one, the top in their relationship. He was strong, both in body and spirit, and Carlos loved him for it. Don's gruffness was a stark contrast to Carlos's gentle nature, but it was that very contrast that made them work so well together. They had met during the construction of the new programming offices, where Carlos had been the brains behind the digital layout, and Don had been the brawn that brought it to life. It was love at first sight, or at least it was for Carlos. Don had taken a little longer to warm up to the idea of a programmer being his other half, but the way Carlos could make a computer sing had eventually won him over.

Their marriage had been a whirlwind, full of love and laughter. They had faced their share of challenges, of course. There were the stares and whispers from those who didn't understand their love, the family members who had taken years to accept them, and the never-ending battle against the stereotypes that painted them as an odd couple. But they had persevered, their love growing stronger with each hurdle they overcame. They had made a home filled with warmth and acceptance, a place where they could truly be themselves without fear of judgment.

One afternoon, as the sun painted the sky with a palette of oranges and pinks, Carlos pulled into their driveway, feeling the familiar ache in his body from another long day of coding. He stepped out of the car and noticed a package sitting on the welcome mat. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. The return address was unfamiliar, but the excitement that bubbled in his chest was undeniable. He couldn't remember ordering anything, but that was hardly unusual given his penchant for online shopping.

With the box tucked under his arm, he shuffled into the house, his heart fluttering like a schoolboy's on prom night. The scent of home hit him like a warm embrace - the faint aroma of old textbooks, the lingering scent of Don's cologne, and the ever-present smell of electronics. He tossed the box onto the couch and began his usual routine of changing out of his work clothes, trading his stiff business attire for a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. His phone buzzed with a notification from Don, the screen lighting up with a message that said he'd be working late.

Carlos sighed, feeling the weight of loneliness settle in his chest. He glanced at the box, his curiosity growing. He tore open the packaging, revealing a pair of vibrant blue athletic socks. They were snug, designed for athletes, not for someone who hadn't seen the inside of a gym in years. He held them up, the soft fabric whispering against his fingertips. A note fluttered to the floor, and he read it with a furrowed brow: "Thank you for everything - Aiden."

Aiden? Why would Aiden send him socks? The last he heard, Aiden had disappeared from their coding group chat without a trace. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. Had something happened to his friend?

But then he got a private chat from Aiden. The message was simple enough, but the content was… unexpected.

Aiden: Hey Carlos, hope you got my little gift.

Carlos stared at his phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of his office. The message was like a beacon of hope in the sea of code that had become his life. His heart skipped a beat. Aiden was alive, and apparently, into giving away random pairs of socks.

Carlos: Aiden! Oh my god, yes, I got the socks. They're… uh… very… blue. But why socks, man? We were worried about you.

He felt a bit like a teenage girl receiving a mysterious note from her crush, his thumbs hovering over the screen, waiting for the response.

Aiden: Haha, chill bro. Just thought you'd dig 'em. Football's been my jam lately. Crazy, right?

The revelation was indeed crazy. Aiden, the guy who used to live and breathe code, had turned into a jock? It was like finding out your favorite sci-fi writer had switched to romance novels.

Carlos: Seriously? Football? Since when did you start playing sports? Last I checked, you couldn't even do a push-up.

He couldn't hide the shock, but there was also a hint of concern. Aiden had always been the kind of person who liked his comfort zone, and this was a leap into the stratosphere.

Aiden: Oh, you know, bro. Life's full of surprises. Anyway, gotta bounce. The party's starting. Will hit you up later, okay? Tell Tamil I'm cool. And, by the way, make sure to rock those socks today. Let me know how they work out for ya.

Carlos nodded, even though Aiden couldn't see him. The conversation was strange, but at least Aiden was okay. And apparently, he was now into sports. Weird.

He turned his thoughts to Tamil, their third musketeer. Tamil, a man of intellect and wit, was the heart of their coding trio. His brain was a supercomputer, his fingers a blur over the keyboard. At 35, he had the body of a man who had never stepped foot inside a gym, his 300lbs frame a testament to his love for fast food and lack of physical activity. Despite his unassuming exterior, Tamil was a genius, his mind a maze of algorithms and coding languages that even the most seasoned hackers would find intimidating.

Their bond had grown strong over the years, especially since Tamil had met and married the love of his life, Kamala. A beautiful woman with a heart as vast as the universe, she had been the one constant in Tamil's life, the one who had accepted him for who he was despite his inability to give her the one thing she wanted most: a child. They had found joy in their travels, exploring the globe with the money their successful careers afforded them.

Carlos typed out a quick message to Tamil, his fingers flying over the keyboard with the agility that had once made him a coding legend. "Tamil, you're not gonna believe this. Aiden hit me up and sent me some weird socks. Says he's into football now." He hit send, and the message shot off into the digital ether, leaving him with a sense of unease.

With the house clean and the aroma of simmering chili filling the air, Carlos decided to take a break. The shower washed away the sweat and stress of the day, the hot water pummeling his body like a masseuse's skilled hands. He stepped out, feeling rejuvenated, and pulled on the t-shirt that clung to his curves like a loving embrace. The pajama pants were next, swaddling him in comfort as he made his way to the bedroom.

The bed looked like a cloud, inviting him to sink into its plush embrace. He grabbed the remote and turned on Netflix, scrolling through the endless sea of content. But as he settled in, his eyes fell upon the box of socks again. With a shrug, he decided to give them a try. They were indeed too large for his feet, but as he slid them on, they felt surprisingly comfortable, almost like a warm hand holding his ankles.

He laid back and let the cool air of the AC wash over him, but the comfort was short-lived. A strange sensation began to creep up from his toes, a warmth that was unmistakable. He glanced down, his eyes widening in shock as the blue fabric of the socks began to stretch and conform to his swelling feet. The heat grew, spreading up his legs like wildfire, and suddenly, he could feel his calves bulging, the fat melting away to reveal muscles that hadn't seen the light of day.

The transformation was relentless, marching upwards like a tide that wouldn't be held back. His thighs grew thick with power, the fabric of his pajamas straining against the unyielding pressure. He watched in amazement as his legs began to resemble the Greek statues he had admired during a trip to the museum with Don. The muscles grew more defined, each one a work of art that rippled and flexed with every movement.

The heat grew more intense as it reached his stomach. He could feel his fat cells screaming in protest as they were consumed by the fiery transformation. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart racing like it was about to burst from his chest. His shirt felt like it was made of lead, so he peeled it off, gasping at the sight of his new abs, the beginnings of an eight-pack poking through the sheen of perspiration. It was as if he was watching someone else's body, not his own.

The transformation continued upwards, his shoulders broadening and his back muscles expanding like wings unfurling. He reached behind to feel the new contours, his fingers tracing the powerful landscape of his new physique. It was a surreal, almost out-of-body experience. His skin tingled as his body rewrote its own destiny, sculpted by the very fabric of the socks that clung to him like a second skin.

His t-shirt was now a prison, stretched to the limits of its fabric. The seams groaned in protest as his chest grew, his pecs swelling like boulders and his abs tightening into a washboard. The warmth spread to his arms, and he watched as his biceps bulged, veins popping out like rivers on a map. The transformation was a symphony of sensations, a mix of pain and pleasure that had him gasping for air. His forearms thickened, his fingers lengthening slightly, each digit now wrapped in a layer of power that he hadn't known existed.

The room was a haze of heat, his breaths coming in ragged pants. The socks were like a living entity, molding him into a new form.

As the warmth climbed his neck, his face felt as if it was being reshaped by an invisible sculptor. His cheekbones grew more defined, his nose more aquiline, and his jaw squared off into a sharp, dominant line. His eyes grew wider, a blue so bright it seemed almost unnatural, and his teeth… oh, his teeth, they were straight and white, gleaming like polished marble.

Carlos felt his personality shift, a newfound confidence coursing through his mind like a river after a storm. The shy, insecure nerd he had been moments ago was now a distant memory. He strutted over to the mirror, flexing his new biceps, watching the way they bulged and danced with power. The cockiness grew with each flex, a sense of dominance filling him like a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning.

The thoughts in his head were no longer of coding algorithms and video games; they were of muscular men, their eyes wide with a mix of lust and submission. He pictured them on their knees, begging for his touch, his guidance. The images grew clearer, more vivid, and the heat between his legs grew with each passing second. The socks had not only transformed his body but had also rewritten the very essence of who he was, turning him into the top he never knew he could be.

The warmth grew more intense, focusing on his cock, which began to swell like a balloon filling with helium. He felt the fabric of his pajamas strain against the obscene girth, the seams popping like a string of fireworks. The bulge grew so large that his pajamas couldn't contain it anymore, tearing away to reveal his blue briefs. The head of his cock pushed against the elastic band, the fabric straining to hold back the tide of his newfound power.

Carlos was in a daze, his hand moving almost of its own accord to cup the heavy, thick shaft. The sensation was overwhelming, his new body demanding attention, and his mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. He slid his hand inside the waistband, his palm fitting around the base of his cock like it was made just for that purpose. He began to stroke, the sensation of his own hand against the velvety skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. The transformation had not just given him the body of a muscular man; it had also unlocked a deep, primal urge that had been buried deep within.

As he stroked himself, his thoughts drifted to Don. The way his eyes used to light up when Carlos would cook his favorite meal, the gentle way he'd caress his stomach before they'd make love. But now, those thoughts took a darker turn. He saw himself not as the submissive partner he had always been but as the dominant force, the one in control. His hand moved faster, his strokes becoming more vigorous as he pictured Don beneath him, eyes wide with shock and lust as he took charge in the bedroom. The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of his arousal.

His cock grew so hard it was almost painful, the veins pulsing with the intensity of his desire. He could feel the testosterone flooding his system, turning him into a creature of pure, unbridled lust. The need to claim, to conquer, washed over him like a wave, and he knew he had to act on it. He couldn't wait for Don to come home; he needed to feel that power now. The socks had not only changed his body but had also unlocked a primal instinct that had been buried under layers of shyness and inadequacy.

With a final, powerful stroke, Carlos let out a roar that echoed through the house. The cum shot from his cock like a geyser, painting the walls with ropes of white hot pleasure. It splattered against the ceiling, leaving a Jackson Pollock-esque masterpiece of desire. The force of his orgasm was so intense that the cum continued to flow, creating a river that pooled on his chest and abs, then trickled down his sides to form a puddle on the bedroom floor.

As the last drops fell from him, exhaustion set in. His body, so used to sloth and inactivity, was now a battlefield of sensation, and it demanded rest. His eyelids grew heavy, the weight of his transformation pressing down on him like a warm, comforting blanket. He stumbled back to the bed, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him, and collapsed onto the cool, inviting mattress. The smell of sex and sweat mingled with the fading aroma of chili, a potent reminder of the power that now surged through his veins.

#muscle growth stories #jockification #personality change #male transformation #jock tf #nerd to jock #ai generated

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