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justbelievinginmagic · 18 days ago

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like a waltz⎯ part 6: enveloppé. (pt.1)

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader series summary: when 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal to be prima ballerina or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession? glimpse: you wake alone in the mansion; you fall asleep in an spider's embrace. warnings/tags: inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in tech advancements (i.e rule of cool), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, fxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, sugar daddy themes, unequal power dynamics, polyamory, intimacy, Korean honorifics, controlling & obsessive tendencies, maybe some stockholm syndrome?, embarrassment, anxiety, flirting, infatuation, mafia things, alcohol, smoking, mafia things, kissing, possessiveness, jealousy, stalking, sexual themes but no explicit smut, pain, medical drug usage, traumatic injury, injuries, food/eating, period typical gender roles/expectations, period typical thoughts on sex work, reader discretion advised & 18+ readers only! Let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 28.2k previous chapter <- enveloppé (pt. 2) -> next chapter series masterlist read on ao3! important note:hi! this part was too long for tumblr’s word count rules, so it has been split! please check out the rest of this part after reading this post, here! or you can read it uninterrupted via the ao3 link ;)

enveloppé ; meaning “enveloped” or the action of wrapping around the supporting leg inward from an open position.

When she woke up that morning, YN was not in her familiar bed.

No, instead of the well-loved lumpy bed that she had inherited from her mother, everything was too soft. Softened cushions and too-gentle duvets cocooned her in a dreamland. So gentle, it made the ache in her feet triple somehow as if the lack of roughness highlighted the pain. Her body hurt the way it did after dancing a busy weekend or when she skipped icing her legs after a long multi-show day. Flexing them, she sighed as the cramping ceased. Her body felt too warm; the day-dress was stifling with the many layers of duvets and sheets. Her hips felt stiff from her corset, too.

Wait a minute, she had slept in her corset!?

Blinking her eyes open, she squinted blearily. There was so much light - natural light that streamed into the room gently felt like knives to her delicate, sleepy mind. Its brightness made her bury her face into one of the many goose-feathered pillows that supported her (admittedly, aching) head. God, her head hurt so much. How much champagne did she drink last night?

A soft groan tumbled from her throat as she mustered the strength to push herself up and examined her unfamiliar surroundings. Her face scrunched and pouted as she looked up from her couch over the space. It wasn’t long until she realized it wasn’t so unfamiliar.

This was no bedroom, but one of Ateez House’s many living rooms. The same one she waited in when she arrived early to her dates - the same one she played chess with Mingi in over and over, the same one she napped with Wooyoung in. She was not in a bed but a comfortable settee, elegant and scented in a tropical aroma she was distantly aware of. But despite the familiarness, it was somehow different. The room was softer – gentler than she had remembered.

White drapery had been added to the nearby windows that looked out into the late-winter gardens, hiding the outside world with the gauzy fine-lace curtains only the most-wealthy could afford. They looked brand-new with how pearly white they were. New floral wallpaper had been installed, somehow looking like it had been there all alone with the fine mirrors and paintings unmoved. A fire had been lit in the nearby firepit, keeping the place warmer than she was used to on these dreary days. Flowers were everywhere, in every corner of the room and on every surface, it almost looked like a florist shop. With the fire’s warmth, the blooming nectar of blossoms pungently scented the air.

Amongst the fluff and florals, there was a dark speck against the soft white. It was a figure of a man, haloed in the diffused natural light of the window. His long legs outstretched – the dark, almost spiderlike limbs contrasted with the white surroundings. He placed some papers aside; the simple rustling irritated her head. The long waistcoat cinched his waist in tight as he leaned forward.

Black eyes met hers.

She blinked at him owlishly, surprised to say the least.

“Yun--ho?” it was said confusedly, syncopated with sleep, as she tilted her head.

Yunho chuckled, and it didn’t seem threatening. In fact, he sounded boyish for a moment. Pushing himself up to stand, he smirked a smile her way.

“Hello, sleepy head,” he greeted, grabbing a nearby decanter of clear liquid. “Sleep well?”

Sleep well? Her eyes blink, blink, blinked before flashing to the nearby window. Its view was partially obscured by prettied lace curtains but even she could see the bright sun high above. How long had she been asleep? How did she even get here?

Yunho poured the liquid into a glass cup as she quickly sat up. Her corset creaked, the metal squeaking, as she shot up from her spot; the blankets tumbled to the ground as she tried to stand. Her bare feet (Wooyoung had made sure to slip her heels off last night) slipped on the floor as the fabric tangled and twisted in between her legs.

“Woah,” Yunho exclaimed.

There was a clatter of the crystalline glass to a nearby side-table as he heaved forward. His arm wrapped around her waist with ease. He took her weight easily as he caught her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she insisted, face to face with his chest. A wave of his cologne, something fruity and fresh, something the complimented the tropical breeze that seemed to swallow up the room, engulfed her just as his arms tugged her close.

“I’m sorry!” she babbled.

Was she apologizing for tripping or for staying the evening, he wondered for a moment before realizing it was probably both. Her face was a pleasant pink and he couldn’t help but find the panic in her eyes charming. She was so cute.

“I-I stayed the night --- How did I even get here? Please don’t say I insisted or did something forward—”

Her words stumbled to stop as she tried to remember the night before. It was a blur of champagne kisses and swirling whirling dancing. The last memory she really could recall was twirling in a promenade with…with Yunho. Her eyes flashed up to him. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but see him as the man sat intimidatingly at the end of a banquet table, eying her like a prey. Even now in his arms, she felt akin to a fly in a spider’s soft web. While she wasn’t exactly unsafe, she felt caught; she knew he was strong and powerful. Her inhibitions had been dulled last night; she was surprised she let herself dance with him so closely. His breath was hot, not a smidgen of alcohol on it from what she could remember. His arms were strong, sturdy in a different way than San’s. Confident and daring.

Just like now, his arms flexed around her and she felt her stomach dance with butterflies.

“Shh, darling doll,” he hummed out as if sensing her budding anxieties. (He was always so in tune with Mingi’s anxieties; it’d only make sense he’d be cognizant of hers, too.)

His grip loosened and his hands trailed to both arms. Soothingly, he stroked up and down her arms as he guided her to sit once more on the settee that she had made her bed sometime last night…or this early morning she supposed. She realized then she was still in her day-dress from yesterday; the clothes sticking to her with a day-old warmth and hours-old sweat. Her hair probably looked a mess too, she realized. Her hand was quick to raise up to push and prod at it.

Yunho couldn’t care less. He enjoyed seeing the ruffled feathers of their swan. After all, it meant she was comfortable – well rested. That’s all he liked to see. Those he cared for comfortable. The slight panic in her eyes made him chuckle again. Turning, he grabbed the glass to present it to her.

“Drink.” he insisted. It was not a question and, by the look on his face, he wouldn’t let her refuse.

It was then she realized how parched she was. Her mouth was all dry like a desert. Lips cracked with day-old lipstick (half of which had been kissed off last night). She nodded, taking it eagerly with both hands. In her eagerness, YN didn’t even wonder if it was something else as she took large gulps of it.

Water poured down her throat, trickling unlady-like down her chin in her haste. His dark eyes gleamed gently as he hummed once more, soft and gentle.

“Good girl…” he cooed.

His fingers, long and ringed, rose to wipe at the trails of water on her chin. It made her flush even more.

YN felt the embarrassment rise and twist in her stomach at his actions. The fondness in his eyes reminded her of San’s gentle gaze while she prepared in the boudoir. Heavy with care – she knew Yunho wasn’t teasing her. It made her throat somehow dryer – despite finishing the water and placing it aside.

Her eyes looked up at Yunho pleadingly. “What happened?” she asked, smally.

“Nothing happened.” His tone was securely final.

His hands fell to his knees as he sat on the coffee-table in front of her. His arms pressed into his knees as he leaned forward, ducking his head just enough to lower himself to her eye-level.

“We insisted you stay with us. As your patrons,” he included himself with that title – himself, Jongho, and Mingi she noted. “You’re our responsibility. And you were exhausted last night,” he told her. He lowered his tone. “And a smidge drunk.”

His smile was sparkling, smoldering delightfully as if sharing a joke. Oh, the embarrassment. She never got drunk. Her cheeks warmed to a ruby red, and he couldn’t help himself. The back of his silver-ringed hand stroked the burning hot skin, smirking contentedly.

“Cute,” he commented breathily before swallowing down his desire.

“You didn’t do anything unusual – just danced a lot, YN, and then you were falling asleep on your feet. We didn’t want you wandering home like that – we made sure you were safe and comfortable here. You slept like you haven’t slept in decades.”

Her cheeks remained sizzling hot, his eyes focusing on the hue for a moment longer before he smiled at her gently. She was precious. A gentle thing, a doll worth protecting as Mingi had said before.

“I’m so sorry.” She spoke again, still choked with embarrassment.

She couldn’t believe she let loose so much. She never drank at these parties but Wooyoung and San… and well, all of the men who were their friends (and hers she thought delayed) made her feel safe. Secure. Even now, with Yunho’s teasing words, she believed him. Just as she took the glass of water from him moments ago without a thought of ill-will, she trusted him. They did care for her and protected her.

She could imagine San insisting on having her return home with them or Wooyoung not letting her free from his embrace… maybe Yeosang’s careful hand on her back, guiding her to a car. Or Mingi taking her arm in his and whispering he’d make sure she arrived safely just like when he drove her to and from work. Jongho’s arms thick and muscular, safe, swooping her up.

Yunho stroked her cheek with the back of her fingers once more before tapping her nose playfully, drawing her back into the present. He was certainly more familiar and casual with her than he had been before last night. His smile almost boyish rather than sharp and dangerous. It made her blink at him doe-eyed, whiplashed. Was she hung over?

“It’s alright. Lunch is being prepared; join us for it, and all will be repaid.” The tallest man stepped back from her orbit to walk over to the chair he had occupied. His suit jacket rested of the chair’s arm alongside a portfolio of something in a leather booklet.

She nodded softly, swallowing down her pride as she tried to smooth down her skirt and shake away her surprise and sleepiness. Her dress was horribly wrinkled and, for a moment, she worried she stunk (she couldn’t tell with the near-florist level of floral bouquets scattered about the sitting room… her flowers she remembered finally! They had even taken care of transporting them!) Her eyes widened in wonder at the thought. They were so considerate… and here she was so sloppy. YN’s hand rose to shift her hair again, behind her ear at first before attempting to untangle what she could. She tried to smell her dress’ fabric discreetly with a tilt of her head.

Yunho watched her from the corner of his eye as he slid his jacket back on. Glancing aside to give her a moment of discretion, he spoke once more.

“A dress has been left for you in the bathing room,” he nodded his chin towards the bathroom nearby. “If you wish to wear it – I’ll give you some privacy.” He grabbed his portfolio of papers and raised his brows at her. “I’ll be outside.”

The idea of privacy was a blessing.

Once the door shut behind Yunho, she groaned into her hands. Oh, how improper! She had stayed the night. Gotten so drunk they had to take her to their home. Her stomach was in knots thinking of everything. Her mother must be worried sick! Oh, they must think her so lazy! Its lunch-time! Her thoughts tennis-balled back and forth in her head. Irresponsible, unkempt, indecent, she worried as she rushed into the bathroom to change and hopefully reclaim some of her decency.

The decency didn’t come easily. The borrowed dress was intricate and smelled of a different type of soap, a perfume that wasn’t like the sweet pineapple of the comforter she awoke with but instead a warm vanilla. Sweet as sugar with a burnt coffee tinge. The dress itself was something pastel, all ruffled lace and softness. It made her feel like she matched the curtains and drapery in her the sitting room. The fabric was so soft and expensive. Perhaps one of the finest dresses she’s ever worn – and it was just a day-dress. One thing that was clear was that it was created with the idea of someone fastening the lady into it rather than the lady herself putting on the clothes. She needed someone to lace her up. The bodice remained untied in the back, pooling around her chest.

Opening the door of the bath room, she called out.

“Yunho? Can you help?”

Silence. She waited a few moments before YN shuffled with the dress, holding it close to her chest to hide her basic corset and underthings. She poked her head out of the grand double-doors of the sitting room. Shockingly, she came face-to-face with a suited chest, a fabric rose nearly poking her eye out.

There was a soft gasp of surprise from both of them.

After all, it wasn’t Yunho standing in wait, but Yeosang.

YN let out an embarrassed squeak, tucking back into the room slightly.

“Hello sweetheart,” Yeosang replied, smiling at her. His intense eyes softened as it jumped from her disheveled hair to the loosened bodice of the dress that she held close to her chest with both hands. “Do you need assistance?”

YN felt like her cheeks would permanently be blushed at this point as she shifted the fabric of her bodice closer to her. While it wasn’t showing too much skin, the looseness of the unlaced dress was nerve racking. Inappropriate despite the fact she knew they’d been close to her as she was close-to-bare (even if they averted their eyes often) in the boudoir. Even if the intense eyes of Yeosang were always kind when it came to her, her nerves were like a live-wire today. (She wondered distantly if it was due to the fact the ballet was done for the season.) She was no longer their patron; she was simply YN.

Yeosang’s gaze remained on her face now. Soft features patient.

“If you don’t mind?” she managed to get out.

“Never,” Yeosang promised as he shouldered his way into the sitting room. His eyes flashed to look at the nearby butlers outside (as if checking if they were looking at his YN or not) as the door shut with a thud.

Shifting to present her back to Yeosang, his fingers flexed as her bared skin revealed itself; her corset despite its simplicity tempted him. A flash of a daydream flickered before his eyes:

His hands went to slide off a gown, silky soft. Her corset would be whale-boned with intricately designed lace that would feel like butter over his fingertips. Before he tore it open (and he could with his bulging muscles). Expenses be damned. Gooseflesh would decorate her skin and he’d press kisses to each one. He’d shower her body in kisses. One after another as he trailed up her bare back to her shoulders to her neck ‘til he’d turn her around and-

He swallowed as she shifted the fabric over her shoulders more, helping him as if he couldn’t see the loosened fabric hanging.

The dress had its own makeshift corset, criss-crossing ribbons of silk, to cinch her in even more. With careful hands, he began to lace her up, slowly. Wooyoung had more experience with this. Yeosang took his time as he maneuvered the corset backing.

“Where did Yunho go?” she queried after a moment.

“He was called away to work,” he told her. “He’d been working on some paperwork while you were resting.”

Her ears burned pink.

“No need to blush,” Yeosang soothed, his thumbs brushed over the now just slightly bared remaining skin of her back as he tied the dress up with a delicate bow. He shifted the modesty panel to hide her skin. “He called dibs to keep an eye on you today. He wanted you to rest well; he was the first to ask if you wished to go home last night, too.”

Yunho… wanted to see her? Took care of her? Wanted to keep an eye on her? He was the one to sweep her away in her drowsiness. Instead of the others, images of him came to mind. Fantasies of his long fingers going to cup her face as her head lolled sleepily came to mind; his fingertips stroking her cheek gently. His tall form sweeping her into his arms, easily keeping her steady. It didn’t lessen the blush on her cheeks.

“All done.” Yeosang assured her, pressing a daring kiss to the back of her neck. It smelt of soap; YN had quickly wrung a wash-cloth over her skin in the wash room moments ago.

His kiss made her shimmy – a shudder of delight or surprise she couldn’t decipher the feeling. Yeosang was so bold with her. Yeosang smiled, pleased. His smile grew to a grin as she turned to face him.

She was an angel in lace. He liked these cute things – he imagined her in a wedding dress and couldn’t help but awe. YN saw how his eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re beautiful,” Yeosang complimented before offering her his arm. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Together, they walked to the dining room. His guidance felt almost like a dance she realized. He moved with such grace as he delicately led her around butlers. Sometimes he had her arm through his; other times, he’d shift and his hands would graze over the small of her back as he led her this way and that. She noticed the way a butler visibly flinched when he passed. Huh… It was almost frightening to see how the man’s statuesque stoicism faltered. YN glanced down the row of butlers and observed as Yeosang led. Most of their gazes remained straight ahead, but some visibly sweated or trembled as they passed their vision. One let out a breath.

Her brow quirked.

“What are your plans while the ballet company deliberates over a new show?” Yeosang asked her.

Ah yes, her break. It was something most ballerinas looked forward to – either to continue to grow their skills or to relax. And she was looking forward to it, too! In fact, she was more excited than she had been in a long while. She wanted to relax and help her mother, but she also knew the boys wanted to go on adventures. San had planned many dates already.

“I’ll continue to practice in a few weeks or so,” she admitted. “We all continue to practice in a nearby dance studio, this warehouse of sorts. But it’ll be a nice break. Maybe I’ll take up extra hours sewing with my mother in the meantime- if they need extra hands.”

Yeosang frowned at that. He didn’t want to imagine her breaking her back in a stuffy warehouse by the port. He knew how horrid they were getting. His free hand twitched; he curled it into a fist.

“I struggle with taking breaks, so I hope you are better than I am and truly try to rest,” he said. “I know if you need a place to nap the day away, our home is available.”

It was a light tease, and she groaned a bit into his shoulder. He smiled and laughed.

The dining hall’s doors were opened for them by two butlers.

Inside was not the feast she had been greeted with before. No, instead it was more modest. There were a few plates bearing cured meats and fine cheeses; some were decorated elaborately with fruits. There was a steaming soup in an expensive-looking cauldron, steaming as it roiled and boiled a light broth, tumbling vegetables around. Each place mat bore polished utensils and porcelain plates as well as a small bowl full of steaming rice. Some had another bowl placed atop it, keeping it warm. Others were empty with only a few grains of rice clinging to the ceramic. (Some of the men had already eaten, she wondered who.)

Mingi and Jongho were the only members present. Sat side by side, their conversation was quiet as they spoke between bites of food and drinking from their cups.

“-in the port. As if they have a chance of changing anything.”

YN caught the last few words of Mingi’s rumbling lament before he took a large bite of his rice, cheeks puffing out as he chewed. Jongho slapped at his arm, eyes zeroing in on the doors opening.

“You bastard,” Mingi’s voice came out in a muffled splutter, rice splattering a bit from his pursed lips. Offense was on his masculine face.

Jongho’s eyes bugged.

“Hyung!” he gritted out before his chin jolted towards the entry way.

Yeosang’s head tilted at the others, greeting them with his eyes rather than any action. YN smiled softly; the rosy flush was still clear on her cheeks. She wondered if they had fun last night or if it was just a drunk disaster.

Jongho grinned at her.

“Babydoll!” Mingi jolted in his spot, half-choking on his food at the sight. “Hi!”

Yeosang shoo’ed a butler who tried to pull out a chair for her and went to tug the chair out instead. YN sat across from the equally-embarrassed Mingi. His cheeks had gone bright red, matching his ears as he struggled to swallow down his food, half-choking. Jongho patted his back, not quite helpfully as the older jolted from the harsh slaps to his spine.

“Hi,” YN greeted. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

She didn’t clock Yeosang’s hand brushing over her back as he sat beside her, his bare hand grazing the visible skin there reassuringly. He hated her apologizing for something they welcomed.

“No intrusion,” Jongho denied easily, leaning his elbow on the table to look over at her.

His food had quickly been ignored at the sight of her. His gaze was gentlemanly, remaining on her eyes. Only when she glanced towards the servants who piled food upon her plate, some at the request of Yeosang or Mingi, did Jongho take in her appearance.

She looked lovely. Soft and angelic. He wanted to keep her in the safety of their House, their arms, especially after seeing the evils of men in the ballet last night. He’d seen how the Madame was no protector before. She deserved better. The gentle soul of the youngest swooned over her even if he remained stern and stoic on the outside. There was only a gentle quirk of his lips even now.

“Yeah, how’d you sleep, doll?” Mingi chimed out once he swallowed down his rice without choking.

“She was out like a light,” Yeosang noted.

Did Yeosang also watch over her? Her face was a dewy red as she nodded, saying she slept well.

“Good,” Jongho murmured, pleased.

“I’m sorry that I –“

Mingi made a tsk in the back of his throat. “No, no,” he scolded, in that deep voice of his. “No more apologies.”

“Sor-“

Mingi pouted at her, his plump lips looking oh so enticing despite the squint of his eyes. Disapproval. Instead of finishing her words, YN went to take a bite of her meal.

“No sorry’s.” He insisted. “Are you busy today?”

Their intentional acceptance of her was hard to swallow, now especially. Her eyes flickered away from him to the nearby windows haloing them in afternoon light. Afternoon… she couldn’t help but burn with shame. It was afternoon already! YN hesitated. Yeosang stroked the back of her hand soothingly. Mingi and Yeosang’s gaze met.

The taller cleared his throat, fumbling a bit.

“You don’t have to join me, but I was going to go for a ride in my newest automobile,” Mingi clarified.

He wanted her to join so badly but he could practically feel the embarrassed heat of her rosy cheeks from here. He didn’t want her to feel pressured. She should never feel frightened. But Mingi also wasn’t used to being told no.

He wanted to push and reassure and hold her close. Yeosang stroked her hand once more reassuringly. Mingi shifted in his seat.

“Maybe,” she replied softly.

“Was that the custom order from Aurora? Another car?” Jongho queried from beside Mingi. He took a sip of his drink as he glanced away from YN for the first time to look at Mingi.

There was a bashful grin that came to Mingi’s face, a bit boyish and care-free. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck.

“Ahhh,” he nearly moaned. “Maybe.” He admitted before raising a brow and pointing at Yeosang. “But he ordered custom tennis rackets. Diamond-incrusted!”

The idea of diamond-incrusted rackets was almost laughable. The amount of wealth these men had surprised her constantly. She cracked a smile as Yeosang cooly defused the accusation, the performance of a socialite on like a mask.

“You’re mistaken, Mingi,” he said, shaking his hand politely towards the others. “I’d never splurge like that. I’m not our youngest.” He directed the ire towards Jongho.

Jongho spluttered, losing his stoic-charm to fall into his youth. “I don’t splurge.” He defended. “I search for treasures – and I find them.”

His eyes flashed from Yeosang to YN. They looked big and boba-like, soft and squishy.

“Treasures such as custom-golden game sets?” Mingi teased. “I saw the orders!”

“Entertainment treasure!”

“Transportation treasure!” Mingi argued back.

The men’s laughter made YN relax and lighten up gently. It was interesting how these intimidating men lightened up around one another and especially with her. They treated her equal to them, sometimes even better than them. Like she was something to be treasured.

YN reached for an apple in a silver chalice, but Jongho grabbed it before she could. Her eyes flashed to his. His cheeks puffed into a small smile as he began to cut at it with precise knife skills, his attention shifted to the task at hand, adorably.

“Let me,” he murmured.

“Ooooh,” Mingi ooo’ed and aaa’ed at Jongho’s apple-cutting skills. He raised a ring-clad hand up to cup his mouth as if to prevent the others from listening as he told YN across the table. “Jongho could break that apple by hand if he wanted to, you know?”

His eyes flickered up, glancing at Mingi with a glare. The older laughed.

“I’m a gentleman, Mingi.”

“Oh yeah,” Mingi teased back. “You’d do it if she wasn’t here.”

Her eyes lit up just enough at the idea. Images of Jongho, safe and secure and strong, with his arms flexing deliciously as he cracked an apple easily in half. In this fantasy, he wasn’t in his long sleeves and tight-button shirts, but nothing too revealing. Just a simple rolled up sleeve… almost like Yunho from earlier.

Their fantasied versions blurred together. Lean imagined arms flexing, Yunho’s long delicate veiny hands gripping the apple.

Yeosang chuckled nearby as he watched her fall into a day dream. She must’ve been still sleepy he assumed because YN only came back to herself when Jongho presented an apple slice on a fork outstretched for her to take.

“Thank you, Jongho.”

Her fork reached out and pierced the piece before bringing it to her mouth.

It was a pleasure to see his ears ripen to a red that could rival the apple he continued to slice up.

The lunch continued with the soft laughter and company of Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang.

A clock tolled two times.

“That’s my cue,” Yeosang commented. “I practice at 2:15 daily,” he admitted to YN.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head, surprising her still. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” her voice was small, surprised, but pleased none the less.

Each kiss from Yeosang was so innocent and yet made her heart beat wild. A part of her wondered when he’d kiss her lips and it made her cheeks flush at the thought.

Mingi and Jongho said their goodbyes to him as well as they finished up their meals.

“Perhaps I should head out soon; I’m sure you’re busy,” she said to them as the door shut.

Groaning, Mingi leaned back in his seat, stretching like a cat. Her eyes were guided up his slim torso, his button up shirt barely buttoned up she noted as she got a flash of his toned, tanned stomach. Her eyes flashed away quick. Jongho chuckled, catching her.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jongho said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at her. His fingers fixed his jacket’s cufflinks. “The sitting room is yours. You are welcome to stay there – I know Wooyoung-hyung and Sannie-hyung will be back soon.”

“I’m here,” Mingi argued.

It was clear Mingi and Jongho teased back and forth easily. Jongho’s pleased grin was a tell-tale sign of their playfulness. It made her smile.

“Let me take you out for a ride, doll,” Mingi pleaded again. “This car is faster than fast.”

“Is it safe?” Jongho countered as he rose from his seat. A nearby butler immediately went to clean up Jongho’s placemat, sweeping the plates and silver-wear into their arms quietly.

“I’m the best driver in all of Cromer,” Mingi crowed out, placing his napkin down

“Bold,” Jongho teased, his eyes smiling as they met YN’s. His hands went to fix his suit jacket’s buttons next.

“I can prove it.” Mingi said, standing next. The butlers repeated their actions with Mingi’s dishes now.

Jongho circled the table and scooted YN’s seat out to help her stand.

“I’m not sure, Mingi.” She admitted. “Maybe not today.”

She couldn’t imagine explaining to her mother that not only did she stay the night but she went for a joyride! Oh, the scandal.

“Are you sure?” Mingi whined.

She nodded bashfully, hands clasping in front of herself. “Another day, I promise.”

“She’s still tired,” Jongho added as if to help soften the blow more. He turned to glance at her, leaning in a smidge closer. “I see the stars in her eyes.”

He flirted… her stomach whirled. He smiled pleased as if he could tell he made her flustered despite her silence. It felt like after last night everyone was teasing her. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was overwhelming. The contrast of the polite hand that rested on her back tingled as the trio began to walk out of the dining room.

What had happened to make everyone so bold? Was she bold last night? She’d have to ask San or Wooyoung.

“Next time for sure, then. I can drive you home still,” Mingi insisted. “In a tamer automobile,” he reassured Jongho.

“Better be,” Jongho commented as they continued through the halls. “YN’s precious.” It was a softer admittance as he glanced aside to nod at a butler.

Her cheeks burned now. Her hero spoke about her like she was some princess.

“I know,” Mingi huffed.

He turned to flash her a smirk, seemingly suave despite the fact she had seen and loved his gummy smile. “I’ll be back, babydoll. I’ll bring the car around.”

He took off down a different hall before the foyer, leaving her and Jongho alone.

“And then, there were two,” Jongho commented. He smiled at her. His hand didn’t squeeze or pat her back as they walked along.

She nodded; the pair walked in silence for a moment until they came to a stop in the entry-way of the mansion. New bouquets sat on nearby side tables made of marble and aged wood. Their blooms flavored the air into a rose-tinted aroma.

“I—” Jongho began. “I had fun last night.”

“You did?” she asked. A flood of nerves tingled at her fingertips.

He nodded firmly; his hair bounced cutely.

“I’m not a party person like that,” he admitted. “I’ve prepared parties for Hongjoong-hyung, but I don’t go to parties much.”

“You’re a party planner?” YN queried surprised.

“I’m a planner,” he clarified. “I manage the entire mansion, some of Ateez’ businesses and estates as well. When they need things planned, I handle it.”

She remembered San explaining that Jongho handled a lot of things around the mansion. It made sense that he organized everything. Almost as if to prove that, Jongho fiddled with a nearby rose in the floral arrangements.

“That’s a lot of work.” She said, glancing around the foyer. “And it’s just you?”

Jongho was the youngest; it surprised her that he held such responsibility within the group of men. It made her realize that earlier when he discussed deliveries that he probably arranged them.

“I’m… efficient,” he said.

“You’re smart.” She added.

He smiled at her before he licked his lips. He glanced away at the rose again, plucking it out of the bouquet. He fiddled with it, plucking at stray thorns and fluffing the petals to full bloom. She was surprised by how he did so quickly without slicing his own fingers.

“Seonghwa used to manage everything by himself; Hongjoong wanted someone to help him. I’m naturally… good at what I do, because--.”

He twirled the rose in his hands before his dark eyes lifted to meet hers. In the distance, she could hear a car rumble out front, but with his eyes locked on hers the world seemed to fade away into a watercolor blur.

“--I care for them. So, I want to make sure everything is in place, secure, and perfect for those I care for.” Jongho said. He outstretched the perfect rose her way.

YN took the rose carefully, holding it delicately.

“I see,” she said softly.

Jongho grinned at her. So sweet and full of sunshine that it made her heart flutter.

“Good.” he hummed before glancing behind him. That grin faded like clouds covering a beautiful sky. He was once more the put-together-man she had met that late-night. Her hero, her savior, her perfect gentleman.

“Mingi’s here to take you home. Please visit soon.” He insisted softly, turning to look back at her.

The moment she returned home it was like a bomb had gone off.

“Where were you?” Her mother exclaimed, hands on her hips.

Her mother paced as YN changed from the fine gown she had borrowed from the men and shimmied into something far less opulent. She brushed off invisible dust as she folded it neatly. She’d return it as soon as she could.

Her eyes flickered to the nearby single rose on her vanity – she had left the other bushels and bushels of roses at the Mansion. She knew she’d see them soon.

“I was--- San and Wooyoung had insisted I go to the mansion.”

“Did you and them—”

“No!” she exclaimed, head snapping to look at her mother. “No, Mama!”

Her mother sighed out, her hands going to rub at her face.

“Everyone saw you leave with them; I heard it from Catalina who heard it from Hanuel!” her mother scolded. “You were drunk. Now, you return in different clothes….”

YN’s face felt hot; her stomach churned at the scolding.

“I was just a little drunk but –”

“Its indecent, YN! It makes you look bad… and they’ll not want to be around you if you taint their reputation!” The words were harsh despite their truth. Societal standing was everything in Cromer.

“Apologize to them immediately. How indecent of you!” her mother worried. “This is not how you win a man! You inconvenienced them!”

She had been so hopeful with these men but now… did they only see her daughter as a harlot?

YN huffed as her mother slammed the door to her bedroom, frustration coming off her in waves. Was she right? They had acted so nonchalant but perhaps it was just… their kindness. And now they’d never want anything to do with her – especially with the closing the show. There was no reason to pay her dues, no set responsibility to see them (even if she wished she was with them now…). It felt like her body was hot and cold, a clash of thoughts rang out in her head.

Glancing at her dressing table and the rose once more, she took a deep breath before going to pick up her pen and her paper. Carefully, she began to write.

YN was sitting waiting for Wooyoung, tucked away in their favorite spot of a local café. She thanked a server as they delivered some tea and treats to the table – something Wooyoung had insisted upon whenever they dined there. The waiters knew them by face that it was near immediate perfect service.

Wooyoung was a tornado as he rushed into the café; everything hyperfocused on her. His hair was wild; his eyes sharp. His lips were a firm scowl.

“Indecency?” Wooyoung exclaimed; tossing the paper down onto the table. The opened letter spun onto the table slowly as he glared at her. “You think that was indecent? That you are indecent? Letting us take you somewhere safe? Sleeping in?” he scoffed.

His offense was palpable. If it had been a stranger and not his swanette that said this, he would’ve spiraled into a rant. Instead, he levied her with a scolding look as he plopped down in his seat. “Oh, my sweet innocent swanette.”

“It was… wrong of me, Wooyoung,” she mumbled out, glancing away from his intense eyes. “I should’ve been more careful, less … drunk.” It was bashfully said. “I inconvenienced you and the others.”

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes, scooting his chair towards her with screech against the polished floor. Some bystanders in the sea-side café glanced at him. His arm slid around her waist, his other hand rose to cup her cheek, and crowded closer to steal a kiss to her lips, silencing her.

She squeaked into it, her hands falling to rest on his white button up, sleek fabric soft against her fingertips. His roughened fingertips teased the softness of her blushed cheek.

“Never think you are an inconvenience – ever.” He warned. “You were welcomed – are welcomed at Ateez House.”

“It wasn’t proper,” she whispered into his air, glancing up at him.

“Who cares about proper?” he mumbled, leaning closer to press his forehead to hers. “I’m not a proper gentleman, am I?”

There was low chuckle in his throat as if he had said a joke.

“Yes, you are!” she argued, pushing at his chest in defense.

He was more gentle of a gentleman than any of the other men in the boudoir. All of her patrons were good and proper. San was respectful. Yeosang was a proper socialite. Yunho was intimidating but never violent (towards her). Mingi made sure she was safe. Jongho too! They always gave her a choice and didn’t push.

The smile he gave her was swoon-worthy; his grin was full of pearly whites. Wooyoung leaned forward once more to press a kiss to her lips; more smiling that it was a purse of his lips.

“Then, we must’ve made the proper decision if you believe us to be proper,” he laughed, pulling away from their embrace. “Trust us. You had your fun; we watched over you – as gentlemen do. Nothing you did was indecent… ever, YN.”

He steadied a serious look towards her. Their eyes locked and she couldn’t help but bend at his insistence. It was Wooyoung she was talking to. She hummed out an agreement reluctantly before she leaned forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.

He cooed out, his frustration melting as she came to him for comfort. He immediately wrapped her up in a hug, tugging her off of her own chair and into his lap. A squeak left her in surprise but she didn’t wriggle away. Settled in his lap, engulfed in him, he whispered, “My lovie.”

Love. Her heart fluttered. “Lovie,” she repeated into his chest.

His heart thu-thumped faster.

“Yeah, don’t you remember confessing your love for me, for Sannie, and Yeosangie?” Wooyoung teased even as he tilted his chin to lean in closer. His minty breath fanned over her face, hot and heady. “Or that I love you in return, swanette?”

Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she could hear his thudding just as fast beneath her own ear.

“Hm?” he murmured in question, nose pressing against her hairline.

She lifted her head to be sucked into his orbit. They were closer than socially acceptable.

Her eyes met his. Her eyes were starry eyed as she watched his gaze grow deeper and darker like the seas. She licked her lips as she nodded. YN didn’t remember, but she knew in her heart it was true. She’s known for some time – and even with how she went to him for reassurance made her realize. She looked to him, looked for him in everything now. Same with San, Yeosang… all of the Ateez bachelors.

It was still said with reverence; with importance.

“I do love you, Wooyoung,” she confessed, quietly.

Wooyoung’s chest ached as he chuckled and hugged her closer. Arms overlapped as he hugged her tight. There was no intense locking of lips; it was just a heart-warming embrace. Like if he let her go, she’d fly away.

“I love you, YN.”

No nicknames, just her.

Wooyoung held her closer. He knew … he knew that the others did too. Everything was falling into place. Over her shoulder, he watched as a shadow passed in the window. His grin was like a wolf who had bitten a lamb.

YN received a letter in return a day later, hand delivered by a faceless butler. Firm lipped and eyes averted; he presented the letter with grandiose.

The paper was thick and expensive with an embossed ‘A’ signa that was now familiar and made a fond smile come to her lips (even if her stomach whirled nervously.) The comfort of yesterday’s reassurances soothed it into a low rumble. The envelope was heavy as she lifted it from the leather-gloved fingers of the butler, making her brow crease.

Without a moment’s pause, the butler offered a blade with a bow of his waist. She flinched back at the glint of the letter opener’s blade. Her eyes flickered between it and the man. He remained silent, waiting.

Apparently, whatever this letter spoke of was urgent.

“Thank… you,” she said delayed before taking the blade and slicing through the edge of the letter.

Inside was folded piece of paper and a key.

“Never doubt that you welcomed in our House.” The letter read.

It wasn’t signed, but she felt like she could hear the echoes of multiple men’s voices in the handwriting.

The key was opulent, custom-made with its intricate patterning at the key’s bow. It formed the initial of her the first letter of her name. Delicate but ornate in a way that screamed fancy and money. On its tip, there was a tag attached that read ‘For Our Eternal Star YN’.

Despite having a key to their mansion, YN had yet to meet the elusive Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Whenever she arrived, she was often guided by a butler who day after day would deliver her to the familiar sitting room that had become hers.

More often than not, there would be tea ready or light snacks in her favorite flavors. Like they anticipated her to visit more than they didn’t. It was sweet.

Sometimes she’s catch sight of Hongjoong and Seonghwa – or what she thought was them. A tall figure next to a shorter counterpart passing in the high windows of the mansion as she arrived. Like ghosts, they’d disappear into the darkness of the house. She wondered who was who. Was Hongjoong the tall one who stormed pass with the heeled boots? Or was he the shorter who seemed to swagger along beside the taller?

One day, she discovered which was which.

She had arrived later in the evening – when the sun had begun to set and the butlers were oddly absent from their typical spots. Unlocking the door, she entered without much fanfare. It was quiet.

YN was no snoop. She knew by now there were places she wasn’t meant to be and things perhaps would be better not to be privy to. Jongho’s gentle warnings when she had snuck away after Z left an impression after all. Instead, she began the familiar trek through the mansion to her sitting room. She passed under the grand stair-well as she headed towards what she had come to realize was the path to her ‘domain’ of the mansion.

It was then, half-way underneath the stairwell, she heard his voice.

“Mingi!” the voice called out. Melodic almost despite its sharpness. “Where’s my Mingi?”

She paused. There were heavied footsteps above her as the man walked past on the upper floor.

Creeping out from underneath the stairs, she peered around some nearby palm fronds and up through the stair’s balusters to catch sight of a lithe form, walking through the upstairs like a comet. His strides were quick and long despite his shorter form. His hair tickled the back of his neck, longer but not like Wooyoung’s. It was clean-cut, styled nicely, slick. She couldn’t catch sight of his face. YN held her breath as she leaned closer to the baluster, pressing her face into the wood.

Maybe… Maybe she’ll see his face.

“Seonghwa! Find Mingi.” the voice called out. Firm and commanding. “Both of you - my office!”

There was a long moment where she stayed frozen at her spot, watching as he walked off with steady footsteps.

“Sneaky swanette.” A voice taunted in a whisper.

YN nearly let out a shriek, her hands going to cover her mouth to muffle anything that tumbled out as she turned to look at her surpriser.

Wooyoung grinned at her.

“Did you catch a glance?” He teased, his eyes flashing upstairs where she had been looking.

She shoved at his chest lighthearted, casual, despite her blush.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Ah, the cry of the innocent,” Wooyoung teased as he reached out for her hand. “Come along. Tea’s ready.”

It was like he knew she was going to visit somehow.

“Where is everyone?” she queried. It was strange to see the halls vacant of their statuesque butlers.

“Helping Jongho with something.” Wooyoung answered.

Wooyoung led her to the – her - study and grinned as he spotted San and Yeosang sat about. Steaming cups of tea in delicate china sat undrank on the woodened tea-table by the window. Their conversation cut short as the doors were flung open by Wooyoung.

“Our swanette was sneaking about – looking after Hongjoong-ah.” Wooyoung said so, in a singsong.

“Oh, really?” San exclaimed, glancing up from his newspaper. He placed it aside as he spotted her.

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” she argued.

San smirked a catty leer as he opened an arm out for her to approach him. Squeezing her into an embrace, one where she nearly was sitting on one of his strong thighs, he rumbled, placating. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“She did. She was hiding behind a palm tree,” Wooyoung snorted, grabbing a cookie from the platter beside the tea pot.

Yeosang chuckled out his signature chortle at that. San was half-distracted, cupping her cheeks to bring YN into a reverent kiss. In the privacy of their home, San was easily affectionate. His kisses grew more frenzied quicker. Even now, his nose pressed harsher into hers as he kissed her, as if he could get lost in her.

“Hello.” He breathed as he pulled away.

“Hi.” She smiled.

Wooyoung scooted two chairs nearby to the table.

“I’m surprised that Hongjoong hasn’t insisted on meeting you yet,” Yeosang commented as he tugged a placed chair closer to him.

Glancing over at Yeosang, blearily eyed from kisses, she made a ‘hm’ sound. The socialite chuckled before his chin tipped to point towards the seat beside him. His commanding magnetic gaze gestured for YN to join him, inviting her to sit next to him instead of San’s lap.

She heard San rumble a whine as she stood and sat down in the seat. Wooyoung pouted about how he wanted to sit next to Yeosang.

“Hello sweetheart,” Yeosang hummed, lifting a cup of tea to her lips for her to take a sip. Before she could purse her lips, he blew on it; his minty breath fanned across her face. His eyes locked onto hers intimately as he urged her to take a drink now.

YN sipped on it and hummed pleasantly before greeting him.

“Yeosangie,” she beamed after swallowing.

He smiled pleasantly before placing the cup of tea down in front of her.

“I’m surprised he’s stayed away for so long, too,” San commented. “Hongjoong is jealousy incarnate.”

“He is?” YN wondered aloud as she nibbled on a tea-cookie.

Wooyoung scoffed, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Yes. He only saw me because of my closeness to Yeosangie.”

“Not true,” Yeosang rebutted.

“It is,” Wooyoung commented before glancing at YN with a wink. “And because of how devilishly handsome I am and clever and -.”

San slapped at Wooyoung’s thigh to stop his ramble.

“Is he jealous of me spending time with you?” she commented softly.

Hongjoong seemed like a kind soul. He helped all of the men she considered to be close to her heart. His wealth was theirs; their wealth was his she assumed. Was that… not true? Her dubious expression flickered from Wooyoung to San to finally Yeosang.

The socialite chuckled into his tea before shifting to lower his tea cup. “Oh, honey,” he cooed softly. His fingers curled around YN’s knee, thumb brushing over the bone soothingly.

“It’s the opposite.” San said.

“He wants to spend time with you.”

“Me?” YN exclaimed.

“Who wouldn’t want to be in your orbit? You’ve managed to capture all of our hearts,” Wooyoung commented cooly, too casual for the implications.

“That’s no easy feat,” Yeosang admitted.

San hummed softly as he and YN laid back in the couch, enraptured in his embrace. Soften linen and furs surrounded them. The inkling of it being improper trickled through her head but… this was San they were talking about. Sweet, perfect gentleman San.

The way he laid back and hummed was almost catlike. Like a kitten purring, he continued his melody.

It wasn’t one that she had heard before. And she felt like she had heard all sorts of songs in the ballet. The orchestra loved to stay up to date; the penny arcade always had a piano player with the latest tunes. This was something softer. Something homely. Special.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, honey?” he replied, raspy toned.

It made her shiver as she turned to look up at him. His smile was slow, sleepy, and calm.

“What are you humming?” she asked.

His smile grew, a nostalgic gleam came to his eyes. “Something we sang back home.”

“Tell me about Aurora?” she whispered, curling towards his chest. Her cheek pressed against his warmth. His heart thudded beneath her ear.

His hand, bare of any rings for once, trailed up and down her spine.

“It was home. Golden skies, golden sands. I’m not used to your winters, honeybee,” he admitted, shifting her to wrap them both tighter in the soft fur coat.

“Summers will be warm,” she said, almost like she was reassuring him.

(She didn’t want them to leave.)

“I grew up in the port. On the beach nearly. I never wore my shoes always wanting to feel the sand between my toes. It wasn’t like here. Here it’s so… much – layered upon layered docks and mixed buildings and barely visible coastlines. Foggy and grey in the mornings. Back home, it was just an open dock and sunshine and sand. One or two ships could come and go as a kid – it wasn’t until Hongjoong that..” He trailed off sighing deeply. A hand rose to rub his face. “It became so different.”

There was a tiredness to his voice that YN hadnt noticed before.

“Do you miss it?”

San’s intake of breath was sharper than she anticipated. Her head turned to glance up at him. Her chin pressed to his chest.

His eyes were on her, dark as midnight. It almost startled her.

“No.” he admitted genuinely. His fingers spread over her back as he slid her up with ease. “No, I don’t. Not one bit.”

He nuzzled her jaw softly. “One day, I’ll tell you why, okay?”

“I promise.” He swore.

Another day of no practice left her uneasy. She was used to her schedule and, without it, she felt like worms wriggled in her stomach nonstop. Without the opera, she worried faintly if her patrons’ attention would waver but it grew. In her worries, she always tried to cling to that. Wooyoung’s love, San’s embraces, Yeosang’s attention, Mingi’s protectiveness Jongho’s eagerness. When she offered to help her mother at the factory, one of the men conveniently swooped in to distract her. Without fail.

Lately, it was Yeosang. The socialite had grown bolder just like the other Ateez bachelors. He insisted on dates about town and dinners and cinema visits. Their publicity brought scrutiny that YN was unfamiliar with. Because, after all, the ballet was on hiatus. San and Wooyoung were not her patrons as of late, and Yeosang was never truly one either. It was scandalous for her – so low-class to be with the peak of society Kim Yeosang.

He could not care one bit.

Through the downtown, they’d stroll leisurely with no final place in mind. It was a promenade, a statement to society that the Kim Yeosang was with a ballerina of the Cromer Opera House. He had her on his arm proudly. His smile was sweet.

Some folk whispered as they passed (“Isn’t that YN? Wasn’t she seen with Mr. Kim San?” “I saw her on an outing with Mr. Kim Wooyoung!” “What a who-“) Yeosang’s direct glare was something that could melt ice. Intense and full of hatred as he overheard the nastiness of high-society. He held YN closer as if that’d prove something. As if that’d protect her.

He wished he could shelter her from high society’s stupidity. Despite being the socialite, he didn’t like the people in it. It was just his duty. He was to ease the press not alight them. That wasn’t his role here. So he bit his tongue.

He simmered in his anger silently. So much so, that YN clocked the change in his demeanor.

YN squeezed his arm softly. “Want to head back?” she asked softly.

Yeosang weighed whether it was because she worried he was ashamed or if she was embarrassed. He couldn’t tell. He wished he could read her better. He was still learning.

YN knew that these things would appear unsavory. Many still saw ballerinas as nothing but harlots. But the Ateez men were different. She wasn’t some whore to them. She knew it. Yeosang’s reverent gaze proved that.

“Only if you are ready, sweetheart?” he asked, tentatively. His voice was dulcet and sweet, intimately said just for her. He hoped the way he whispered, his closeness, would speak enough.

She nodded lightly. “I want to head back home.”

Yeosang felt his body buzz at the thought of her considering the Ateez Mansion home. Even if it was just a turn of phrase, he took it and ran with it. He already couldn’t wait to tell Jongho all his hard work with the sitting room paid off.

The socialite simply hummed and turned towards the path that would take them homeward. Not without taking a final look at those who insulted his own. He noted their facial features, the letters embroidered on their handkerchiefs, the way they dressed. Yunho would know what to do with the information.

“Don’t listen to them,” he encouraged a few moments later as they went down an isolated path. The ground beneath their feet was muddied, the snowfall melting in the dirt.

“I didn’t… I won’t.” YN replied.

She shifted to lift the hem of her dress, simplistic as it was to make sure it didn’t get too dirty. Wash day was some days away.

“I know what I look like to them,” she admitted. “It’s not true though.”

“What you look like?” Yeosang interrupted, brows furrowing. “You don’t look like anything your tone is implying, my sweetheart.”

She chuckled a bit. “Because they’re wrong,” she agreed. “But come now, Yeosang. Our relationship is odd.”

He hissed in through his teeth, shaking his head disapprovingly. “What kind of man do you take me for? I think we are a perfect fit.”

Perhaps they’re all delusional. Wooyoung had claimed time and time again he didn’t mind what she looked like beside their wealth. Did they not know?

“You’re a perfect man,” she admitted. “But there are rumors about ballerinas. You know that. You’re clever and well-made in society.”

“You’re you,” he said, stopping them in their promenade. “Not some ballerina.”

YN turned to look at him, brows upturn.

Yeosang’s eyes were gentle as he leaned forward. “I am not some haughty socialite – like them. I like you, YN. I am proud of you. Of your achievements in your craft. Your endurance.”

His words were intimately said. Warm and gentle as he raised a hand to her cheek. “Like San and Wooyoung, I am proud to be with you. I… care so immensely for you – if you feel lesser let me ease that pain.”

He pleaded with her wholeheartedly and she couldn’t help but to urge him to relax. Her hand raised to cup his.

“I am not lesser. I just know what they think when they see me - dressed the way I’m dressed and occupied in ballet – with someone like you. Any of you. Especially multiple of you. It’s simply the way it is.”

“Let me change it,” he whispered. “I will change it. We all will.”

His nose was nearly brushing hers and the air was tense. His promise was said with such vigor and force that YN chuckled only to soften the atmosphere.

“Okay,” she relented. “I appreciate the sentiment, Yeo.”

He smiled softly at her nickname, at her gentleness, and her naivety. Because here she thought he couldn’t? They would lasso the moon if she wished for it.

His other hand tugged her closer before it shifted from her waist to brush aside a non-existent hair from her cheek. His hypnotizing eyes captured her whole.

“May I kiss you, Miss YN?” he asked.

Her heart jumped and her eyes flashed to his lips. He chuckled at the blush. He thought he was clear but perhaps she needed more urging.

Wooyoung had said she had admitted her love to Yeosang in a drunken stupor… If he disliked it, she was sure he wouldn’t be so bold. YN knew he favored her.

YN remembered San and Wooyoung’s encouragements – their eagerness as she reported her moments alone with Yeosang. Wooyoung cooing about how cute they were together and how San nearly purred in satisfaction at the idea of his two favorite people being so close.

They knew everything they said once upon a time. They shared everything with one another. Yeosang was included in that when she spotted their eyes lingering on one another too long or when San stole a kiss quickly. Yunho even squeezed the man’s arm tenderly, intimately. They saw how Yeosang kissed her pulse like she was something worth cherishing and had simply stared adoringly.

It didn’t feel like cheating when she knew the lips she’d kiss had kissed San and Wooyoung. It was just their dynamic – they were special. Her and them. The ballerina nodded breathlessly. Her heart beat out of her chest as he leaned in close, a wave of his warm woodsy scent crashed over her as he leaned closer still.

“You’re ours,” he whispered softly. His lips brushed hers. “You deserve the best.”

His words were kissed into her lips; reverent, sincere. His mouth was hot, fierce, and strong – like how he played on the court. If his arms hadn’t wrapped around her waist to support her, she was sure she’d faint from his intensity. Everything he did, he did with such power.

He giggled softly as he pulled away, taking in her dazed expression. “Oh, sweetheart.” He ate up her sweetness, true to her nickname.

“Give me a moment, Sangie,” she chuckled, her hand raising to grasp his arm. Oh, his muscles rippled underneath her grasp. Her heart rate only increased. Her other hand rose to press against her hummingbird heart.

He preened at her reaction, leaning in to nuzzle at her cheek. His waterfall of reddish hair brushed over her skin in a tickle.

She giggled at the action. He was so bold, bold as he was gentlemanly. She said so.

“You’re so bold.”

“That’s what you like, hm?” Yeosang replied with a curled smile. He rocked them side to side playfully. “What do you think of me?” Yeosang prompted suddenly.

If she liked confident, he could be that. He could be anything.

“Oh, Yeosang,” she stuttered out. Not prepared to say something so honest to his face. Talking about someone while they werent there was easy.

“I can be confident,” he told her. “Cruel… on the court. Soft to you. Different sorts of boldness, hm?” he offered, tilting his head like a puppy dog.

“You are all those things,” she replied immediately. “I love your boldness and your softness.”

His intimacy felt special. His intense gaze different than when he was on the court. Same but different. When he was on the court, he looked like he was ready to destroy and take, take, take. When he looked at her here in the country-side, he was ready to dedicate everything to her. It was intoxicating as it was familiar. Sometimes she felt like she was drowning when she was with San and Wooyoung – and now Yeosang. Each one of the Ateez men felt so encompassing it was hard to ignore her feelings and their affections.

“I… love you. I feel like we are kindred souls.” She admitted. “All of us.”

Kindred souls, soulmates, he liked that. He smiled, a he-het laugh tumbling from his before he leaned in to press another kiss to her lips, sweet as sugar.

“I agree, beautiful.” He replied.

YN smiled up at him and he mirrored her sweet grin, lovesick.

“Let’s head home and watch Wooyoung lose his mind over our developments, love.” He teased as he shifted from embracing her to holding her arm once more.

It made her laugh.

“I’m starting to think you can read my mind,” YN told San as he met her that morning as she stepped onto the front porch of her flat.

He smiled at her coyly.

“How so, YNie?” he asked.

“Every time I want to go to the factory with my ma, one of you turn up,” she teased.

“Must be fate, honeybee,” he retorted, a hand outstretched to her. “May I steal you away?”

“You may, Mr. San,” her mother’s voice chimed out as she came walking out alongside YN. “She doesn’t deserve to be shuttered up in there with me.”

“Mother,” YN scolded.

The older woman shrugged.

“Neither do you, ma’am,” San said charmingly.

Her mother waved him off. “It’s a living.”

He gave a soft scolding look, kind at heart. “Still,” he hummed.

“Steal her away all you want,” her mother continued waving them off again as she passed them. “Be home before dark, YN.”

“Yes, ma’.”

Jongho was always at home she noticed. While there were moments where Mingi was out with his car or San was away on business or Wooyoung caught up in a meeting, she had noted that Jongho was almost always available to some extent. Even if she had to wait some time, he’d visit her within the hour.

“Am I disturbing you?” she queried one day as Jongho entered the sitting room – the House according to a butler was ‘vacant of all except Mr. Jongho’. Her fingers scratched over Z’s furry head. The kitten had begun to follow her around once she arrived to the mansion. Sometimes she’d be asleep where YN tended to sit.

“Never,” he told her.

Unlike the others where they looked comfortable in their home, donning silken robes or open button tunics, Jongho always looked sharp. Fully buttoned suits, ties perfectly laid, and a pocket watch sparkling in his breast pocket, he was class and charm wrapped up with a pretty bow. Yet when he was in her presence, she could see his shoulders sag just a bit. His face grew warm with a smile. He joined her on the couch, his hand going to stroke down Z’s back fondly.

“Z likes you,” he chuckled cutely.

Z meowed – almost like she was agreeing as she turned and butted her head against Jongho’s hand. Her tail wiggled, pleased.

“She likes you,” YN giggled in return. “Is she yours? I never see her approach the others.”

Jongho hummed as he petted the black cat sweetly. “She’s mine. I found her on the streets in Aurora. She just needed someone.” The cat purred loudly. “The others care for her – especially Seonghwa-hyung and Sannie-hyung.”

“But you’re her daddy,” YN commented, watching the pair fondly.

He grinned at that, cheeks warm. “Yeah. We’ve been through a lot – weeks of ship travel. I bet she wouldn’t survive out in Cromer if she got out.”

He frowned, adjusting Z’s collar. It was diamond incrusted she noted.

“Well, who would want to leave here?” YN chuckled glancing around. “She’s a little princess here.”

“Yeah…” Jongho sighed, watching as Z grew tired of the attention and hoping off the couch to go attack a pet toy mouse she had dragged in some time ago.

“Want to play a game?” he offered after a moment.

“What sort of game, Jongho?” YN chuckled.

Jongho flashed a smile. “Nothing too complicated. How about we start with tic-tac-toe? Maybe a word game? Cards?”

It was sweet the way he offered with a lilt in his voice, tentative and almost vulnerable. She wondered if she played these sorts of games with the others or if he was too shy.

“Okay! But no cards! I remember what Mingi said about you being the best. I don’t want to get beat so quickly.”

“We’ll see!” he grinned.

So, there they sat in the afternoon sunlight. The warm sun beginning to set over a slowly awakening garden beside the window of the study. Flowers bloomed as they crossed ‘x’s and ‘o’s on scrap pieces of fancied paper.

Each time Jongho won, he’d wiggle and peacock about how he won, he won, he won. But it wasn’t bold or extravagant, it was as if he was stating a fact as he smiled at her. It was youthful.

“You’re too good at these games,” YN complained as she lost again. “You must be an expert!”

“I’ve never played these games growing up,” he admitted with a laugh. “I’m just that good.”

She chuckled, even if it surprised her. Never played kid’s games like this. Even she did growing up. The ballerinas and her would scratch lines and circles and crosses on chalkboard tablets in between lessons – even if theyd get scolded by the teacher or Madame.

It made her wonder about Aurora and their childhood… if he came from Aurora like the others – she assumed he did. What was it like for Jongho? Sweet, smiling Jongho.

“Aegi-ya!” There was a shout.

Jongho almost became statue stiff, arm outstretched frozen mid-marking of their game.

“Aegi,” it was more sing-song of a melody, impatient in its tone.

“I’ll be right back,” Jongho promised YN, standing quick. He almost looked panicked as he fixed his suit and his hair in a nearby mirror. He strode out the doors, the butlers nearby shutting them quickly.

Huh. Her head tilted as she heard Jongho call back.

“Hyung-ah!” he shouted. “I’m coming.”

His voice entered back into a familiar cadence of responsibility. Stern and a bit stoic. It was funny even as they called him baby, he tried to be more adult than them. He really did change when it came to the others.

Just how fast did he have to grow up?

Out of all the Ateez bachelors, Mingi didn’t belong here, wandering the market beside her. There was a sort of softness to him that only a silver spoon could give him. He didn’t have the edge like San and Wooyoung to blend into whatever surroundings they found themselves in. Mingi instead insisted on being seen.

It was clear by the way he walked, the way he dressed, the way his aura radiated off of him. Even if he wasn’t wearing his finest linens this morning, he still wore expensive leathers that had a polished sheen to them (something no one’s leathers around here had). His button up was loose, unbuttoned too low on his chest to enjoy the warmth that had begun to climb into Cromer. Spring was just starting to leak through the ports with a humid fog and sunny afternoons. Her own winter day-dresses were exchanged for a more breathable alternative – even if the air was colder in the morning and the evenings.

His neck bore layer after layer of jewelry, opulent in the eyes of the port-goers as it sparkled in the sun. His face wasn’t exactly stern, but there was a sort of scowl on his poutful lips. Serious despite the fact he was walking beside YN while holding her grocery basket (something he insisted upon the moment he saw her step out with the thing.)

Despite the pout, his cunning eyes were sharp as they took in the passing customers as she bartered with a grocer. Mingi’s fingers flexed over her basket, flashes of light reflecting off of his many rings. He followed a man’s gaze as he passed by, looking over YN for too long for Mingi’s liking.

She wondered why he even wanted to join her. YN doubted any of the bachelors had to go to the market on their own in quite some time considering the banquets they held. They must have personal shoppers ready at the direction of Jongho. Yet here Mingi was.

“I’ll have a few of those apples, too,” YN stated pointing to a crate full of fresh apples.

The trader nodded and handed them over. While she placed them in the basket, Mingi shifted one hand aside to dig through his pockets. Before she could even argue, he placed the proper coins into the trader’s hand with a curt look.

“Thank you, sir!” the grocer beamed.

Mingi didn’t smile here; in fact, YN was almost certain if she hadnt seen his bright smile before she’d think he’d never smiled before in his life. His face was just so blank, so held-high. Haughty almost. His hand went to her back to urge her on her way to the next stall.

“Do you need bread, baby?” he rumbled out.

“Mingi, you don’t have to pay,” she argued softly.

His gaze shifted to look at her, almost down his perfect nose. “We’ve had this conversation before.” His lips almost smiled, but it wasn’t quite there. His tone however was playful. “You don’t need to feel like I’m doing anything out of politeness, doll. I want to buy things for you.”

We all do, remained unspoken by Mingi.

Her face tightened in uncomfortableness. It was one thing them paying for her ballet career but this… it was intimate. They were shopping for groceries together.

His hand raised to pinch her chin fondly, as if it’d make her soft pout disappear. “C’mon.”

It was funny to watch him walk so confidently… but in the wrong direction of the next item on her list. She giggled and grabbed after his hand.

“This way, Mingi,” she laughed. His bashfulness only flickered to the front. His eyes widening boyishly, cutely, before he covered it up by swagger.

Together, her arms wrapped around one of his, they strolled through the port. One thing she liked about spending time with Mingi, that was special compared to the others, was sometimes all they needed was silence together – driving in silence, walking in silence. It felt safe with him.

The ebbing winter had left its mark. Some new rust bit up and down metal railings and riggings. The broken cobblestone in the road revealed mud where the snow and frost melted to rain and sludge, slowly drying in the sun.

But there was one thing that stood out among it all. An older warehouse that she could barely remember what it once was covered in burlap coverings. YN’s footsteps slowed as she took it in.

There was some scaffolding still there, making the coverings bulge oddly but it seemed like most of the work was now in the interior as men rushed in and out of the warehouse. The smell of fresh paint and a metallic zing of electrical work whooshed out with each worker.

Inside, it was still dark, only lit by the partially covered windows or stray candles, but her eye caught glimpse of what looked like a skeleton of a metal chandelier sitting in the freshly laid wooden planks.

“What’s going on here?” she wondered aloud.

A small whimpered ‘hm’ escaped him. It made her smile. He wasn’t paying attention she thought as she glanced back at him, only for him to be glancing aside. Running from her gaze. He had been staring at her, not the streets. She grinned. He was cute. Mingi’s lips flattened as he glanced at the warehouse. He shrugged.

“I wonder what’s being put in. I’ll have to ask Ma or one of the ladies at the factory.” YN concluded. She sighed out. “Things keep changing around here.”

“Change is good.” he said to her, leading her down another path. Their strolling had become more lackadaisical than goal-oriented. Her basket was heavy on his arm, but he barely could feel its weight with her on his other arm. “New is good.”

“I suppose. After all, you and the others are new and I adore you,” she teased.

Mingi did crack a smile at that – the type of smile she loved where his teeth flashed more than just a millisecond. The diamonds on his incisors gleamed. They rounded a corner of the port, passing some folk on the street.

“Whore.” A man mumbled as he passed.

YN’s eyes widened in surprise.

The lower class was not like the upper class. There was no need to dance around thoughts and whisper them behind fans. In the port, people called it how they saw it. And they, too, thought lowly of ballerinas. They were after all the petit rats of society in everyone’s eyes.

Mingi could feel how her fingers curled around his jacket just a bit tighter. He clocked how she had jolted. He felt everything. He stopped in his tracks, making YN stumble to a stop.

“Min-“

“Apologize.” Mingi’s voice was deep as the ocean and loud as a roaring rumbling automobile.

There was the sound of feet scraping against cobblestone. The other man stopped. A laugh tumbled out of the stranger’s throat, gravely and scratchy.

“What’d you say?” he croaked out.

Mingi’s hand flexed around the basket. Teeth gritted. His head snapped to the side in one motion, glancing over his shoulder at the worthless speck of a man.

“Apologize to the lady before I make you.” Mingi warned.

The man fell into a crackle of laughter; the idea was hilarious. Mingi licked over his teeth before glancing at YN. Her fingers tugged at his jacket, a smidge helpless as she watched him hand over the basket. She sagged under the weight, scrambling to hold it tight and steady.

Mingi turned with efficiency, a controlled storm in his body as he approached the man quickly. The man didn’t even clock him coming, his belly laughs consuming him so.

There was the sound of clothes tearing as Mingi grasped the front of the man’s shirt and yanked. The stranger’s feet dangled as he wriggled like a fish. Mingi’s head tilted as he stared, his nose twitched. He could distantly hear YN’s exclamations of shock.

“Apologize. Now.”

“I’m sorry!” The man spluttered.

People paused nearby; their gaze enraptured.

“To her,” Mingi growled, head nudging towards YN who stood flabbergasted. “Not to me, dipshit.”

“I’m sorry, miss. I’m sorry. You’re no wh-“

He doesn’t get to finish his words as Mingi dropped him. He crumbled to the ground, knees hitting the cobblestone hard. Mingi held in the urge to kick him. YN was right there. He breathed through his nose.

“Fucking trash.” He instead muttered as he turned to return to his lady.

With ease, he swept the basket back into his hands and returned his arm beneath hers. And they began to walk again… as if nothing had happened. It was baffling. YN couldn’t help but stutter a bit.

“Mingi, you didn’t need to do that!” she exclaimed. “You could’ve—”

“What?” he growled out. It wasn’t threatening like before, but his voice had taken on a near rumble like a fire’s spluttering. His eyes softened as he took in her appearance.

There was no fear there like a part of his vicious anxiety had whispered. Instead, he saw disbelief and… surprise. He flashed a flicker of a smirk.

“I would do anything for you and your honor,” he declared. “Demand respect always, baby. I’ll ensure you get it.”

It was a rare moment when their practice was shifted from the familiar warehouse the Cromer Ballet Company rented to the Opera House stage in the offseason. Usually, it was scheduled for other activities – bands, parties, sometimes speakings. But today, it was their rehearsal room.

Its tilted stage which was a pain to perform on was great for moments like this. Practice always started, paused, and ended with stretching. Stretching at angle allowed them to rest inconspicuously. Most girls laid back on the slant, eyes shut and hoping to get a moment of rest while they continued their stretches.

YN’s eyes were shut as she continued to slide into a splits’ stretch. The tendons in her legs ached; her thighs trembled.

“Did you hear? There’s going to be a new theatre!” Tiny was the one to come tumbling down the stage in a sort-of-controlled somersault.

YN fell deeper into her stretch, her leg straightening to stop the younger ballerina from tumbling off the stage with a flex of her calf.

“What are you going on about?” another younger girl giggled nearby.

Tiny’s head flopped back up and she turned to look at her friend. “The new theatre! In the port!”

“The port?” a few of the girls murmured.

The port wasn’t the place of high-class, not like the downtown. It was a strange place for a new theatre – even YN could admit that.

“I’ve never been to the port,” Tiny exclaimed, outraged in the way only a child could be. “A traveling group is visiting to perform!”

“What group?” an older ballerina asked.

“There will be no talk of other companies here,” the sharp interruption of the Madame made their head snap towards her. Mouths shut promptly.

The older woman’s heels clicked; her cane heavied against the worn floor-boards of the stage. Click, clack, click, clack. “I don’t want to hear of this new theatre.” She warned. “If so much as any of you humor jumping ship, I will have you banned from here to Twilight Town.”

The women glanced away from the Madame, avoiding her gaze.

“Understood?”

There was a scattering of replies. “Yes, ma’am.”

A long heavy pause weighed over them before the Madame slammed the tip of her cane to the ground, solidly. Before turning her back to the girls, she commanded.

“Stretching is over. To first position.”

Luckily, the ballerinas held in their groans at the cut-short break as they rose to their feet. YN stood, flexing her feet. Her gaze rose to follow the Madame as she prowled about the stage. She couldn’t help but realize that the woman was frightened.

Only the scared threatened others.

This new traveling company must be something grand – if the Madame was frightened by them.

With the ice melting on the ground, Ateez House boomed with activity. New shipments came in and out of the house daily, sometimes hourly– large wooden containers rolled in from large vans that reeked of the seaside.

Gardeners were knee deep in damp dirt. Their rainboots were slick with cold mud as they shoveled and dug into the grassy knoll beside the greenhouse. Large holes splattered the lawn; most had rose bushes (the ones carefully nurtured throughout winter in the greenhouse) ready to be planted; others were nothing but human-sized maws in the greenery. Waiting for something.

YN sat inside her sitting room, glancing out the window. Her fingers held aside the lacy curtains as she watched the flowers being placed into the ground.

“Pretty.” A voice chimed.

YN’s fingers faltered, closing the curtains a bit as she turned to look at doorway.

Yeosang smiled at her.

“The flowers?” YN chuckled, eyes flickering toward the window.

“You.”

Yeosang’s reply was as if he was discussing something common sense – like the sky was blue. It was clear she was pretty. It was written in stone; it was the world’s way.

She smirked at him, her hand reaching out for his.

Yeosang’s grin was fond as he came to her side. He squeezed her hand softly as he raised her hand to his lips. He pressed a sincere smooch on her knuckles. His gaze was steady as he pressed another kiss to her wrist to her arm to her shoulder until he was bending down to press a kiss to her lips.

His kisses weren’t one of heat. Instead, it felt like sugar. Sweet and intense on her tongue as he leaned in to deepen their embrace. She leaned back into the chair as he nearly straddled her lap, his other hand raising to cup her jaw.

“Let’s go look at them outside,” Yeosang offered even though he continued his sweet pecks over her lips, her cheeks, her ear. His breath was hotter than the fire that burned nearby.

“In a bit, Yeo.” She pleaded leaning up to kiss him again.

He gave into her like a flower leaning up to the sunshine. Naturally.

Yeosang had lured her away from the sitting room soon after to take a walk throughout the gardens. YN had thought it was sweet the way he had splayed a soft blanket on the dewy ground underneath a slowly budding cherry blossom tree.

But, soon enough, their conversation fell into soft kisses and embraces. Yeosang’s intensity extended to his affections. He was thorough with how he showered her with pecks. It felt like the moment their lips locked he couldn’t get enough of her taste, her scent, her. It was distracting for both of them.

As the shadow of the mansion covered them, they realized how much time had passed lost in their fantasy. YN blinked blearily up at Yeosang, her back pressed into the blanket firmly as he hovered over her.

Over his shoulder, she could just make out a curtain shifting close. A tall shadow walked the upper floors.

Watching them.

“Spent some time with Yeosang I see?” Yunho was the first one to say anything as she entered her sitting room again after sunset.

The sitting room had platters of food resting on the tables scattered about, a light dinner it seemed awaiting her in cured meats, cheeses, and breads. Fruits and vegetables that weren’t in season yet somehow perfectly ripe sat cut and diced on serving plates.

Yunho turned to glance at her from his spot on the loveseat settee. Mingi was perched beside him, one of Yunho’s long arms slung low around his hips to keep him steady on the armrest. The hand, covered in intricate rings, sprawled over Mingi’s stomach, firm. A thumb stroked slowly.

Yeosang beamed a smile at them, one that was more cunning than sweet as he led YN back into her sanctuary.

“We were checking the progress of the gardens,” Yeosang said, voice huskier than usual.

Yunho laughed at that, shaking his head at the other.

“Also known as making out in broad-daylight,” Mingi commented. The hand on his stomach squeezed.

YN’s cheeks flushed at the comment.

“I’m s-“

“Don’t apologize, baby doll,” Mingi interrupted before she could even finish her words. It wasn’t scolding or cruel; in fact, it was chuckling rumble.

“Mingi’s just jealous,” Yeosang commented. “Must want a kiss from me.”

It was coy and off-handedly casual as the tennis player flirted with the car enthusiast. Yeosang squeezed her hip as he left her side and went to pick at a plate full of food. Yunho smiled at the sight. YN tentatively walked towards the couch, past Mingi and Yunho.

“I can kiss you whenever I like,” Mingi countered lowly to the man.

It made YN’s eyes widened. She had seen San and Wooyoung kiss by now, faint and fleeting in the public eye. San and Yeosang had an energy that it wouldn’t surprise her if they kissed. And now with how close Mingi and Yunho were… Hearing about their intertwined relations was interesting but not too surprising for her. Their boldness was more surprising.

Especially when she realized that… if he didn’t want to kiss Yeosang… did Mingi want to kiss her?

Mingi was tugged down with a quick firmness by Yunho’s arm. He now was perched on Yunho’s lap, embraced tightly.

“Easy, princess,” Yunho’s words were murmured and low into Mingi’s ear but YN still caught them.

Her breath caught at the display of affectionate dominance. Mingi’s cheeks dusted red as Yunho squeezed him again. Her gaze shifted as if to give them privacy.

But as she passed them, Mingi’s hand caught her waist. Strong and secure but nothing harsh. Her eyes flashed to Yunho’s eyes first, oddly. He was already watching her with a small smile, pleased and calmer than she’s seen him despite the momentary tension between him and Mingi. There was no ill will as he wrapped his arms around Mingi’s waist pleasantly. His eyes shifted to Mingi, taking her attention towards him instead.

“YN,” the younger murmured.

It was soft and rumbly. Desperate for her attention in someways as his doe eyes enraptured her.

“Hi Ming.”

His fingers left her waist to intertwined with her hand. He squeezed and she felt like there was something more here that she just didn’t know. She squeezed it back reassuringly, a bit questioning. Her brow quirked in curiosity.

Yunho chuckled low, turning his face to bury into Mingi’s shoulder. “Cute,” she could hear him mumble into the fabric.

Her or him?

His ringed fingers were pleasantly cool against her warm skin. He fiddled with her hand gently, tongue licking over his bottom lip. Mingi hesitated before he smiled his gummy smile.

“Go eat, baby.” He said but she doubted that was what he really wanted to share. “You worked up an appetite, I’m sure.”

Yeosang nearby shook his head fondly.

They’d have to face the music one day, he thought.

The warehouse had begun to have its coverings ripped away. Folk walked past it with curious eyes. It’s exterior sparkled and shined.

A new emblem was high on its wall in pretty wrought iron and incandescent lightbulbs.

Hala Opera House.

“I win!” she chimed out in a cheer as she hopped the last of San’s checker pieces to collect it.

His grin was genuine even if his brow raised questioningly. It wasn’t as if he doubted her or thought she was cheating; no, San knew he wasn’t any good at these sorts of games. Not like Mingi was at chess or Jongho at… well, any game. If anything, his own raised brow was towards himself.

“No way,” he exclaimed before pouting. “Let’s play something different,” he nearly whined.

In all their closeness, YN was finally allowed to see another side of him here. The gentle giant was more than that. He was someone who loved to babied, his head tilting and whining at Wooyoung or Yeosang at times. And now, her. It felt like an even playing ground – there was a lack of roles here. It was just him and her. No patron or protégé.

“But I’m winning,” she teased him in return as she reset the game board.

Her boldness was addicting. He loved seeing the passion he could clearly see on stage leak out here – her personality was something fierce.

His face scrunched into mock displeasure as he flopped back, boyishly against the couch.

“No fair,” he complained.

YN was graced with the view of his lean waist, the muscles there rippling as he took in a deep breath. His pout was adorable and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She giggled and he swore it was angel’s music. His own face scrunched into a grin easily. His eyes fell shut pleasantly, slowly blinking almost like a cat when calm.

“Dramatic,” she hummed as she continued to reorganize the game board.

The low rumble from his chest was her only reply.

“It’s your turn, Sannie,” she called lightheartedly as she moved her own checker piece to start the game.

“No,” he defied, turning away from her. The large man curled into the couch, almost in a fetal position. Vulnerable. “I’m not getting beat again.”

Her laughter continued. Stretching from her spot on the ground, she leaned in to tickle his waist playfully. It was more a stroke against his ribs than anything. He didn’t squirm or react. Her fingers made his skin tingle. He wished it was on his bare skin.

“Sannie,” she cooed again. “You’re such a sore loser.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just… a great winner,” San argued, still facing away from her.

He was used to winning most things – card games, boxing matches, bets…

“Uh, huh, sore loser,” she teased again as she stood and her hand patted his arm playfully. In a flash, he had grabbed her by the waist, manhandling her into his embrace.

“Sore loser,” he repeated with a chuckle as he tickled her now. His large limbs wrapped around her easily, like an octopus. YN squirmed in his grasp, a caught bird in an iron cage. “Sore winner is more like it for you.” He laughed.

“San,” she managed to giggle out as he continued to dance his fingers over her waist, her tummy, her arms. He grinned even when she got her own revenge with her own tickles.

Their giggles rang out through the mansion loudly. The sound was something more innocent than the walls were used to. A few butlers even glanced at one another – surprised to hear these giggles from the Enforcer. Even Jongho who was approaching the sitting room’s shut doors paused at the sound.

A strange relief flooded the youngest at the sounds of joy. Perhaps moving here was the right choice after all. Because it led to this. Led to Her. San never would’ve laughed this freely before. He hadnt know that peace – none of them did. It was all because of her.

It made him slow to open the door. It made him delay the inevitable just a moment longer. Because he knew he was going to be the one ruining that peace today.

“San-hyung,” Jongho called as he opened the door.

He couldn’t even see them at first. The room looked abandoned. But then, YN’s head popped up from the couch. Her hair was mussed from their tickle attack; her cheeks just a bit flushed. As Jongho stepped further in, he could just barely make out San beneath her. San’s face was nearly buried in her bosom.

“Jongho!” Her voice peaked, and she tried to wriggle away. Something that San didn’t want. His arms wrapped around her waist tighter, his cheek pressed into collarbone now.

“Jongho,” San droned out. “What do you want?”

His tone was full of lament, poutful as he made eye contact with the younger.

“Sorry to impose,” the younger coughed, a bit bashful as he glanced aside at the sight of YN’s dress pooling around her ankles, her knees on either side of San’s lithe waist. It wasn’t crude – he knew San wasn’t going to steal her innocence so crudely. Not with how romantic of a soul the man had when it came to his lovers. But still…

“I need your expertise.”

That was all he said. And that was all San needed to hear.

His hands paused over her back and he leaned into her body just a moment longer. His breath tickled her skin as he inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Okay.” It was all San said, after a long pause.

Glancing up at her, reverently, his fingers smoothed her dress over her form.

“Work calls, honeybee.”

With ease, he stood, cradling her close as he rose from the couch. Placing her on her feet, he let out a hum, low and almost mournful. He held her close for a moment longer before pulling away with a regretful smile.

“Sorry, hyung.” Jongho said aside.

The younger’s hands flexed and curled into fists repeatedly. Awkwardly. He watched as San fiddled to fix their ballerina’s hair and clothes. His strong hands were tender when it came to her. He cupped her cheek and pressed a far-well kiss to her pout.

“See you soon.” He turned to meet Jongho’s gaze. “Seonghwa or Yunho?”

The question was said with such ease; it was second nature almost.

“Seonghwa-hyung,” Jongho confirmed.

San’s neck tilted, stretching with a crack. A curious ‘hm’ left rumbled in his throat as he passed the younger.

“YN wants to play games. You have time, Hongjo?”

Despite its disguised question, Jongho knew it was no request. And despite their hierarchy, he knew the delicate position YN was in. No one would fault him for entertaining her as San went off to the deeper parts of the mansion.

Jongho’s gaze shifted from the serious look on San’s mug to the lightly-flustered YN and the checkers’ board beside her. Almost like a puppy-dog, his head tilted. His hair flopped cutely.

“Since when did we have checkers?”

“Since Mingi bought all the games he could think of,” San called before the doors shut with a clank.

The faint thought of ‘was it for me?’ flickered through Jongho’s head before he was enamored by YN. She cleared her throat.

“Want to play?” she asked kneeling again. “You don’t have to if you are busy.”

Oh, how could he deny her…

“Your winning streak is about to be beat, love.”

Another afternoon came and, instead of Yeosang or Jongho waiting for her in the sitting room, it was Yunho and Mingi.

“Oh hello,” she chirped out.

Her face had a faint glow about it, her hands holding tight to a ballet bag. Her pointe shoes peaked out from the tote.

She had just gone to a practice from early morning to afternoon. There had been little to no new information about the upcoming show. It was frustrating considering itd had been weeks now. Weeks of scattered practices but mostly days of spending time with the men.

Yeosang and her had gone on multiple dates a week where they often got lost in one another. If there were no dates, she’d come to her sitting room in the morning – driven by Mingi at times if she heard his car rumbling for her in her front yard. Jongho would check upon her, bringing a different fruit that she would imagine again and again being broken by his bare hands. They sit and talk or play games. Yeosang would join at times, usually a hint sweaty from his morning work-outs. San would prowl out of bed with messy hair and a puffy face. His lips pouted for her to kiss. He’d whimper a bit if she refused; nothing like the bold man she saw at the boudoir. Here he was oh so soft. If she didn’t smooch him fast enough, sometimes Yeosang would lean in a press a teasing kiss instead – the image was enough to make her entire body hot. Wooyoung visited at her sitting room mid-day where he’d insist on a mid-day nap. It was peaceful… but lazy.

Finally, being able to practice made her feel productive. She loved performing; she loved dancing. Without it, her entire body felt restless. Incomplete.

Mingi and Yunho were only around occasionally, and it felt like each time it was a culture shock. They’ve grown more daring with her. Mingi’s eyes burned; Yunho smiled at her so sweetly she could almost forget the way he had a warrant out for his arrest when he came to town.

“Hi baby doll.”

“Hi darling.”

They spoke over each other; their nicknames for her chimed melodically.

“What’s going on?” she tentatively asked.

It was funny how she paused in her step they thought. Her caution was cute; her observation was valuable.

“We wanted to see you,” Mingi pouted. He stood from his spot to approach her, fast with his long limbs.

“I see that,” she chuckled.

He liked that she didn’t flinch away from him – so many did. His lankiness was seen as dangerous. Yunho never flinched from him; she didn’t now, too.

“They’ve said you haven’t been in the mansion as of late?” YN asked.

There was a whisper of modesty around them. She didn’t know them as closely as Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang. She was shy and Yunho ate it up from his spot on the couch. Mingi grinned as he stood in front of her.

“We’ve been busy,” Yunho commented from afar. “We almost forgot about your beautiful blush.”

As if summoning it, YN did blush.

His lips quirked.

“How are you? Did you have a nice practice?” Mingi asked warmly. His hands went to take the bag from her and place it on a nearby hook (one that Yunho had asked for Jongho to install once he spotted her bags on the ground before.)

“How’d you know I came from practice?” she asked. She pushed hair aside, hoping she didn’t smell. It wasn’t a too rigorous of a rehearsal.

“Your shoes,” Mingi claimed.

“Yeosangie.” Yunho countered from his spot.

It was funny how they kept speaking nearly over one another. The pair seemed so instep when together that their befuddlement was strange. Out of character.

“Yeosangie?” she questioned. Her head tilted. Perhaps she did tell him a while ago. It was hard to pinpoint conversations now when so many of their dates were consumed by sweet words and kissing. She was always distracted.

“He mentioned it.” Mingi confirmed.

There was a hum that escaped YN as she approached the settee.

“How are you two?” she asked in return.

“Things are well,” Yunho said.

“Falling into place!” Mingi chimed, his arm slung over her shoulder as he caught up with her.

“Business?” she clarified as he let him guide her and himself towards the couch. “Is that why I haven’t seen you two as often?”

“You want to see us?” the arm around her froze.

Mingi, despite his obvious swagger, was not confident like Yunho. In fact, more often than not, she saw his warm-hearted ways tumble into bashfulness at her requests. His icy-cool façade melted easily around her. He stuttered a bit as he joined her on the couch, caging her in between him and Yunho.

“Of course,” YN reassured. “I want to get to know you both as I know the others.”

It made both men burn. They wanted to know her that way, too. Yearned for it. Their jealousy burned when they spotted her in the embrace of their lovers.

“Like them?” Yunho murmured, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

It was a question and she felt like she was diving into a pool as she answered with a soft nod.

“Of course,” she admitted. “Do you think I’m like this with everyone and anyone?”

It was bold – perhaps Yeosang was rubbing off on her. But with her words, there was an electric zing in the air. A shift as Yunho leaned closer. She could feel Mingi’s heat from here.

They were different. They had known this. Mingi had watched her so carefully he knew she had no other but for her to say it… He burned for her. He wanted to swallow her whole, keep her safe in his ribs, safe in his embrace.

Yunho was more subtle in his yearning.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling,” Yunho murmured, his hand went to graze over her fingers delicate and longing. “Let us make it up to you. Go on a date with us, hm?”

The ‘us’ was solid. Not him, not just Mingi. Them. A double date… with Yunho and Mingi made her stomach tumble in her body. Butterfly wings brushed at her ribs, making her nerves jitter.

There was a cleared throat.

“It may need to wait,” Mingi admitted softly to Yunho, his gaze pointed.

Yunho’s eyes widened before sighing out in agreement. “You’re right. In due time then.”

The silent conversations they were able to have sometimes made YN feel out of the loop, but in the same breath, she knew if she needed to know they’d include her. It was a bittersweet pill to swallow – to know they didn’t do so to disrespect her but perhaps… to protect.

YN wasn’t foolish to believe that everything happening her was perfect. The butlers, the deals, the secrecy of Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It all felt… not quite dangerous but something to handle carefully. And the way each man handled her was oh so careful that she assumed they knew that too.

“Soon?” she instead asked.

Mingi smiled at her and leaned forward to bump his head against her temple, almost cat-like, all fond.

“Soon. You’ve got a lot headed your way in terms of dates.”

“What?” she giggled. “Is Yeosangie planning something?”

“Oh, you think Yeosangie, hm?” Yunho cooed. “No, no, no; it’s a surprise, YN. Trust me, we are full of surprises.”

That Thursday she received a letter, delivered once more by a butler with a stoney expression. His eyes were deep and dark, shadowed. He didn’t look at her. Just held out the letter with gloved fingers.

“Dearest Angel,

Please join us for an extravagant night out in honor of your Six Month Anniversary this Friday at golden hour. Our Mingi shall be there to deliver you to us. It’ll be quite the event.”

There was no signature once more, simply a red seal with Ateez’s symbol.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

“Do you accept?” the man’s voice was gravely, almost like a corpse. Like he hadnt spoken in years.

“Yes, of course,” she exclaimed.

He simply nodded once before he turned like some sort of automaton. It didn’t strike her as odd anymore, she realized. There must be a reason they acted like this for the men.

The men that seemed enraptured with her more and more…

(continue this chapter here!)

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #atz x reader #written by haley

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fatkish · 1 year ago

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Aizawa x Autistic cat-quirk Reader 3/3 NSFW

Part 2:

Part 1:

(Art not mine again, I found it on Pinterest)

As you and Aizawa got further into your relationship eventually you moved into his apartment. Aizawa was more than happy to be able to come home to you and be able to spend his time with you without having to worry about meeting up or making time to go anywhere. Since you moved in with Aizawa there are things you did specifically to help accommodate your needs. Aizawa gave you full support and permission to do whatever you needed to make his home yours as well.

A few of the changes you made were installing various hide boxes that you placed around your’s and Shouta’s house/apartment, they have little cat beds inside and a curtain covering the entrance to them.

The boxes are actually color coded based on how you’re feeling and how one should interact with you.

Green means you’re feeling good and are happy to interact, yellow means you’re a little anxious but are up for snuggles, red means you’re overwhelmed and leave you alone.

Aizawa’s other cats liked the hide boxes so you made bigger ones and helped him create an exercise course for his cats to use that runs along the walls

There is also a small water fountain that you placed in Aizawa’s apartment for his cats to drink from, you replace the water every day and wipes it down to clean it

You’ve also put brushes on the sides of certain furniture, walls, and on the cat’s towers. These brushes help you as well as Aizawa’s cats with grooming and helps reduce the amount of hair on everything and the amount of hairballs. The brushes are easy to clean and remove hair from. The cats just have to rub themselves against it and it brushes their fur collecting any loose hair.

As you both began sleeping in the same house/apartment Aizawa has gotten to see a lot more of your unfiltered self.

Sometimes when you’re completely in the Autistic zone you’ll just lay on his chest and lick Aizawa’s stubble whenever he’s laying down. You’ve explained to him that sometimes you just have an unstoppable urge to lick him and that you enjoy the feeling of his stubble. You apologized for it but he doesn’t mind it and lets you just follow your instincts.

While he was asleep you had played with his scarf and got tangled in it only for him to wake up to you yowling and angry, he laughed as he untangled you

Sometimes you’ll use cat behaviors to express yourself without words. One of the ways is when you make biscuits: you’ll do this whenever you’re happy in both cat and human form. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

another thing is Bunting: (y/n)’ll rub on Aizawa and leaves their scent on him every time he leaves the house (hound dog thought an intruder got inside UA and tracked the scent only to find Aizawa. He explained that a cat quirked friend rubbed their scent on him and that’s what inui is smelling)

Eventually Aizawa had to introduce you to his friends. At first when you met Hizashi you were spooked by his loud voice and even puffed up your fur with your back arched hissing at him.

After a bit you got used to his presence and carefully approached him. The moment he started scratching your head and giving you pets you folded and that’s when you both became friends.

After having known him for awhile you and Hizashi worked together to create a cat music playlist for his radio station. They created “cat radio: the 9 to 5 station for your feline friend” the station plays music for cats created by various artists and plays Monday to Saturday from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm.

You gave him a list of sounds that cats enjoy and he mixed them together and created a rhythm that sounded almost like human music.

Whenever they hang out he plays his newest pieces for them and they tell him what they think and if it could be improved.

Sometimes on Sundays, Hizashi and reader will accept calls to the studio or will open emails/letters from the listeners of the cat radio channel and reader will answer the listener’s questions about their cats and give advice as well as help the listeners understand their cats and somewhat translate for the cat(s) using their quirk’s ability to communicate with cats. Sometimes they have special guests such as veterinarians to answer questions and discuss cat things.

After some time (y/n) eventually met Nemuri as well. Nemuri immediately fell in love with (y/n) and quickly became their relationship coach. Whenever you’re having issues or need help with anything you call Nemuri for advice. She’s the one who helped Aizawa with the more intimate aspects of your relationship.

One time as a joke, Hizashi gave (y/n) catnip just to see what they’d do, only for them to get really horny and tackle Aizawa when he got home.

They kept biting him and eventually he had to lock them in a room to relieve their urges with the help of some ‘toys’ and needless to say, Aizawa was extremely exhausted afterwards but enjoyed tying his little kitten up.

However after that he never allowed catnip near them again unless (y/n) agreed beforehand due to how it makes them feel

When they get frisky in bed Aizawa will often bite the back of their neck where they have a human scruff, the skin there is just more loose and stretchy.

He will also make sounds like a seductive growl or rumbling when he bites it. This causes reader to become completely relaxed and intensifies their physical sensitivities as well as their 5 senses when they’re having sex.

You also experiences heats instead of periods(for you girls). (Boys experience heats too)

During this time you become especially sensitive and horny. Aizawa will mark and track the days leading to your heat so he can prepare for it.

He has bought various toys that he can control from his phone as well as a teddy bear that he recorded messages on for you to listen to his voice when he isn’t home and you need to relieve yourself

A lot of the messages are dirty talking telling you what he’s going to do to you when he gets home, praises and compliments or just him telling you how much he loves you

“Who’s my pretty little kitty? That feel good? I can’t wait to get home, you’d better prep yourself, because I’m not going give you any time to prepare.”

“Look at you, you’re so wet, such a naughty little kitten, making a mess.”

“You’re such a pretty little kitty, making such cute little noises, I just can’t wait to get home and sink my teeth into you and fuck you all night”

“Face down, ass in the air kitten, you know how I like it”

“Look at this cute little ass, maybe I should tie you up, make you beg for me as I spank you”

“I’m going to make you scream so loud you’re gonna give Hizashi a run for his money.”

“That’s it, good (girl, boy, kitty) go on and purr for me baby let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“You’re so tight, I love you so much.”

When he does get home during their heats, he’s always happy to help them.

During your heats he’ll give you catnip on occasion as an aphrodisiac to help you when he’s especially tired since it makes you even more sensitive.

After your heats Aizawa will happily snuggle you and help you get around since you’re sore afterwards more often than not.

All in all, your relationship with Aizawa is purrfect, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #x autistic reader #aizawa smut #eraserhead #x neko reader #aizawa x y/n #Aizawa x reader smut

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 6 months ago

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jingle all the bidet

(a wolfstar holiday au.

happy christmas eve. this is simply nonsense. enjoy xoxo)

Remus practically ran to the front door once he heard the knock, socks sliding on the hardwood floors, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows though that wasn't particularly helpful. The cuffs were soaking, and the extra fabric drooped down to his forearms, small droplets splattering as he twisted the knob in a hurry, flinging the door of the house open.

"Hello, sir. I'm with Potter's Plumbing, we got a call about--"

"Yes! Yes! That's me," Remus said, gesturing wildly for the man to step through the doorway.

"I didn't finish--"

"As long as you're a plumber, I don't much care what call you were supposed to be on. You're here, you're helping me. Remus, hi, so nice to meet you--"

"Sirius." Sirius seemed to get the hint, stepping into the house and Remus was able to firmly shut the door behind him, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"On a different day, I'd make a comment about our names and how we should join some sort of support group for parents with odd senses of humor but--" Remus didn't bother to look behind him as he walked quickly down the hallway, to see if Sirius was following him, just blindly hoping Sirius had these sort of emergency calls all the time. As a plumber does. No time for small talk and pleasantries and other superfluous information.

Just quick. Down to business. Before a house flooded. Or maybe that was unique to Remus.

"Not today?" Sirius remarked from behind, a touch of laughter in his voice.

"Absolutely not today. You see, I'm in a bit of a plumbing crisis--on the Eve before Christmas Eve nonetheless. Festivus!-- so you can imagine my stress, I simply do not have the time to pencil in a good joke, because there are bigger issues at hand and I'm hoping you'll know exactly what to do, because I am at a loss and well....ta da!" Remus stopped just in front of the bathroom door, a weak smile on his face as he glanced between the mess of the master bathroom, and Sirius.

It was a scene from a film. Except instead of the bathroom being booby-trapped and finagled to catch robbers from killing him, Remus had made an entire crime scene attempting to install a bidet himself.

How hard could it be?

Remus should’ve known when he was required to use a wrench that it would end poorly, but he had a modicum of faith, and a stubborn streak a mile long.

There was an elbow-sized hole in the wall behind the toilet.

The tile flooded. Remus’s house slippers soggy on the bottom and cast aside outside the bathroom door.

Remus had put a bucket behind the piping, but that didn’t catch much water at all when it all shot up like a geyser into the air, drops now falling from the ceiling. Remus had somehow managed to take down the shower curtain as well, and if he was brave enough later, he thought he might ask Sirius for help putting that back up.

The top toilet cover had a handsome chip missing from it.

The toilet seat off its hinges.

And the bidet proudly on the floor.

Sirius tilted his head to the side slowly, surveying the scene wordlessly and inhaling deeply. Sirius took a pencil from out of his back pocket, scribbling a few notes on a notepad before turning to Remus and opening his mouth.

“We—”

“I know, I know. You’re probably wondering what the bloody hell happened,” Remus chuckled nervously, “And if I’m being honest, I’m wondering the same thing. I-I-I read the instructions before attempting to do this and I have always been a good student. A great one even!” Remus started and then stopped, “Okay, no, that was a lie. I’ve always been an okay student, but I know how to read. And in theory, I had it down pat. Flawlessly executed in my mind. But damn are toilet’s a lot harder to maneuver than the bloody instructions made it seem and one thing leads to another, I’m squatting down, elbow-deep in drywall. Literally,” Remus gestured to the hole behind the toilet, “I guess the only thing is I’m glad the water was clean and flushed and, and, well, you know what I mean don’t you?”

“I was going to say,” Sirius started, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement, “I hope you have another bathroom to use in the meantime.”

“Thank god we do.”

“Alright,” Sirius nodded, hitching up the knees of his jeans and squatting down to get a closer look at the damage. The band of his underwear poked over the top of his jeans.

“A-alright, then. I’ll. Just..stay out of your hair and uh, let you get to work.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you need anything? I think there’s a wrench down there somewhere,” Remus pointed to the broken ceramic behind the toilet. Sirius stood back up and turned around to face Remus, who, at that moment, realized he was standing much too close, now standing nearly nose to nose with a stranger-plumber and he flushed. “Ah! Sorry, sorry, I’ll just—”

“I’ve got to get some supplies from my truck, but otherwise I should be all set. The beauty of calling a plumber is they take care of it for you, and you can just relax, Mr….?”

“Remus! No, I mean not Mr. Remus. Remus Lupin. Mr. Remus Lupin.”

“Alright, Mr. Remus Lupin, rest easy,” Sirius said, with a quick smirk, walking past Remus down the hallway again toward the front door. Remus felt like he was chasing after him Sirius’s stride was so long and certain.

“No, I mean, you don’t need to call me Mr. Remus Lupin. Or Mr. at all. It’s just Remus.” Sirius nodded again and exited the house.

Remus wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do while a maintenance person was in his home. He recalled vaguely as a child hiding in his room until they left, pretending he did not exist--there were absolutely no children in this home, and if there were they certainly were not present at the time they were there, no sir! And typically, Gideon was the one who handled service requests. Remus making it a point to be uncharacteristically busy the moment something needed a repair. A light not working? Suddenly Remus needed to leave and return a package that had been sitting there for two weeks already. But Gideon was away, finishing up work for the holiday season, which was the perfect time for Remus to surprise him with a gift.

A shame it ended in absolute disaster.

And now Remus didn’t know what to do.

With his hands, with his time, with his anything. And opted to pace back and forth down the hallway as Sirius started working in the bathroom.

“Hello!” Remus poked his head into the bathroom, hands on the door frame. “Just checking in.”

“Checked,” Sirius told him, not moving from his position on the floor of the bathroom. Sirius’s work boots were damp on the bottom, uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the long curly hair that had previously been down and dusting the man's shoulders, pulled up and out of the way.

“Can I get you anything? Water, or a snack, surely you must be hungry or--”

“I’m all set, Remus.”

“Or, maybe I could--”

Sirius cleared his throat and sat up to look at Remus, elbows resting on the top of his knees, “Though I know it perhaps feels odd, as usually, I assume, when you have guests over, you entertain them in some capacity. But in this situation, it is quite okay to ignore me.”

“I…people really just ignore you?”

“Most of the time. Spare a few odd moments of chatter, but I believe you said this was an emergency and there simply wasn’t time for that today.”

“Well you don’t seem too concerned about all this.”

“I’ve seen so much worse.”

“That’s comforting. Perhaps I could make time for a joke or two then.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, uhm,” Remus’s eyes went wide, “I-I didn’t mean an actual joke, I don’t think I have any of those, though I really should. I’m a teacher, you see. Kids love jokes, but I think most of the time, I’m the joke and don’t necessarily need to come up with something with a punchline. So, I might be fresh out, but if you give me an hour I could look one up.”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the barber?”

“What?”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the doctor?” Sirius repeated, soft smile on his face as he waited Remus to answer.

“Uh…I dunno. Why?”

“It was looking a little green,” Sirius finished, slapping the top of his knee for effect and Remus snorted.

“That was pretty good.”

“My godson is seven and is in his joke telling phase. I had to find a few of my own. You know, just to make sure I didn’t lose the cool godfather credibility.”

“Of course,” Remus said, and nodded, “Sorry…I’ll let you work.”

“If you would prefer…you don’t have to ignore me.”

“Really?” Remus asked, but was already inside the bathroom yet again, “Because I am winded walking up and down that hallway, between this botched installation and the pacing and the everything, this is the highest my heart rate has been in years. I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.” Remus took a seat on the edge of the bathtub letting out a sigh of relief as Sirius lowered himself to the floor once again.

It turns out, it was probably a good thing that Remus had never been home previously when a repair person had entered, because he could not simply pretend to not be there any longer. He was there. And Remus did not do well with silence.

“....so anyway, when we moved in, and I think Gideon--my partner, did I say that already? Oh, I did, I know I did-- wants to repaint the walls next year, to add some life into the place. But I dunno, I think it’s pretty lively. Do you think so? You go in a lot of homes, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And does mine, breathe life?”

“The snowflake hand towels are a nice touch,” Sirius commented, as he twisted something on the side of the toilet.

“That's what I thought! Why do we need to paint and redo everything, when we can…spruce it up, with towels and…other decorations? Other..less permanent things,” Remus finished and Sirius hummed. “Not that I know much, or anything really, about designing and homes. This is my first one. Well, after the one I lived in before, but there isn’t exactly a book about how to…home. You know?”

“I get what you mean,” Sirius confirmed, “Are you French?”

“Pardon?”

“The bidet,” Sirius said from his position on the bathroom floor, back on the ground and doing something to the piping. The number of tools Sirius had brought with him was evidence enough that Remus had no business installing the bidet in the first place, the wrench he had sworn would be enough Sirius hadn’t even touched. Though he probably had nicer wrenches. Fancier wrenches. Did wrenches have levels of class? Just as well Remus would use a poor man's wrench.

“Uh. No, no, I’m not French. Not really. Sort of? My father is. Or…was. Is? He died, so he’s not…currently French and walking around saying Bonjour, or mon petit chou anymore, not that…that wasn’t all he said but he is French but just French as in dead in a cemetery. But his body-you know what I mean, don’t you? Anyway, he was—is—French, I am not. Well not, not. I grew up in Wales with my Mum. We barely had plumbing, sometimes we just went out back and dug a hole in the ground! Never had this problem with holes, I’ll tell you that much, no, no problems like this,” Remus trailed off and Sirius made another hum of acknowledgement as he worked, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. People get weird when I do. Like oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I can’t say, It’s fine I barely knew him! Without sounding like a complete arsehole so, I usually just make it weird and awkward and uh…well, you have a front-row seat to that,” Remus said, slapping his hands on his thighs, the thwack against his jeans echoing through the bathroom.

“You’re not an arsehole.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“You’re not an arsehole for not knowing your parent,” Sirius clarified. “Wales is nice.”

“It is. It was.”

“So you’re not French, why the bidet?”

Remus sighed standing up from the ledge of the tub, pacing the floor for the bathroom as he spoke, "Well, you see, I got it as a gift for my partner. Gideon, remember? They're away on business, and I told myself this was the perfect time to get ahead on Christmas shopping. If you knew me...which you don't, not really, but maybe by the end of this whole mess we'll be fast friends! I already told you about my dead Dad, and that's usually something I hold off on…it’s a bit of a downer. Anyway, if you knew me..know me, I'm terrible at planning ahead. I mean, who wants to go to the shops during the hols? Nobody. I don't care how much you love your mother--and I love mine, I promise I do, really--all the people running around, it's just too much. So I put it off and put it off, and suddenly it's Christmas Eve and--"

"That's about the worst time to go..." Sirius said, shifting his position so he was crouching instead, lifting the toilet seat off in one smooth piece.

"Precisely, so sometimes I don't even bother going at all, which I suppose might make me a bad person. I'm not! Occasionally an arsehole, but not a bad person! I recycle and, and, and I’m a good friend, I-I-I just...planning and gifts and the whole bit of it...isn't my strongest suit,” Remus said. “So I was so proud of myself! Because Gideon had mentioned wanting a bidet for the bathroom, the breathing life and the personal touches and all that--”

“I’m noticing a theme…”

“Yes! Life, carpe fucking diem! So he mentioned it, and I remembered--which is another thing I am not the greatest at-- and I went out and bought the bidet! Hid it in my office at work for a month knowing he’d be out of town today, and it would be the perfect opportunity to install it. He’d come back from his trip, go to the bath to wash up and he would be overjoyed, elated, delighted even, to see the bidet there, and I would be there shouting Happy Christmas! and for once feel like I really nailed the Christmas gift. Because the thing is, he is so thoughtful and so good at gift giving, and I…just come up short. And I thought not this year! But instead of coming home to a beautifully installed bidet, he’ll come home to…a plumbing bill and peeling up linoleum tile and a patched up hole and…a shower curtain. And-and- who knows if he’ll even like it! He’ll probably hate it.”

“Why would he hate it?”

“He never usually likes my gifts.”

“Who…doesn’t just say thank you for a gift?” Sirius asked, pausing his work to look at Remus. “That’s kind of the rule isn’t it? Even if it's an itchy sweater, or something you don’t particularly like, you say thank you and then later return it and pretend it didn’t fit. It’s not about the gift.”

“Well, I don’t know if there’s rules exactly,” Remus countered, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought of birthdays and holidays gone by where Gideon had remarked "oh, this isn’t exactly what i wanted, or you tried, Re in response to Remus’s efforts.

“Secret rules, as my godson would say.”

“I mean, sure, there’s secret…rules, I guess, but remember? were you not listening to the whole bad at gift giving part?”

“I listened. Were you gifting rotten eggs?”

“Well no. It’s just that, he, and-and-I we’re just never on the same page, and his gifts are--and well, mine are--”

“Ah.”

“And, and, and who the fuck gets their partner a bidet for Christmas?”

“Well…maybe someone who has a partner who asked for one?” Sirius said, smirking a little before getting back to his work.

“Well you’re a bit arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Or just…right.”

“No. Because he didn’t explicitly ask for one he more mentioned it in passing…he’s mentioned countless things in passing, why not just by one of those and not a major home renovation…this was a terrible idea. This was stupid! Why didn’t you tell me that? Going on about the gift rules and secrets, and the real issue here is that this was a bad idea!”

“I’m in the business of fixing up baths, not sharing my opinions on Christmas gifts.”

“Except you just did.”

“Very unprofessional of me, I admit.”

Remus said, stopping his pacing to run a hand over his face, “This is very unprofessional of me. Arguing with my plumber! About presents. And, it’s my fault, really. I should’ve told you in the call! That’s what I should’ve done, straight out the gate, just let you know the real situation, and I should’ve said that I bought this stupid bidet, and made a mess of my bathroom, and a million other wrong things--”

Sirius grabbed the bidet from the floor and placed it on top of the toilet. Pieces falling perfectly into place.

“It’s not a bad gift,” Sirius told him, “Odd perhaps, but thoughtful. Plumbers honor.”

“Really…?”

“Really.”

“You’re right!” Remus said, and as Sirius made some final adjustments before pressing a button on the bidet. A jingle played.

“And, for what it's worth, you bought a good bidet. Nicer bidets tend to be more finicky to install so…really, this mess showcases heaps of effort.”

“Thank you!” Remus responded, somewhat indignantly, throwing his arms into the air. Someone understood.

“That’s exactly what he should say. Your partner. When he walks into this room and notices--”

“The bidet.”

“The spectacular bidet.”

“What…if he doesn’t?” Remus asked quietly after a long silence, two men standing and admiring the bidet sitting proudly on a toilet with a broken top, singing its little song to prove it was functioning.

“Would you like my professional opinion?”

“...Yes.”

“If he doesn’t say thank you and kiss you full on the mouth for this very thoughtful gift…then at least you can enjoy this bidet and you throw a massive party with all of your friends and tell them to use this bathroom.” Remus snorted, thinking about walking guests into the master bedroom and bathroom during a party--coworkers and neighbors and friends, stepping on the carpet in their shoes just to get to the bidet.

“What’s your unprofessional one?”

“Find someone who will say thank you.”

“So I should find a liar.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for the effort it took to find this gift, isn’t a lie in my book. It’s not about the bidet.”

“It could be.”

“Yeah but it's not.”

“But it is, kind of.”

“No.”

Remus opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say, Sirius grinning smugly at Remus, daring him to disagree again. This man might have had the same stubborn streak Remus had. His stomach fluttered for a moment, almost laughing, almost joyful at the silly, naive thought of spending a lifetime with a man, this man, who argued without the malice behind the words.

“It’s not that simple anyway,” Remus said, “Just…leaving.”

“Never said it was, but either way…this is yours,” Sirius gestured to the bidet, “And someone should use it.

It had only been a few hours, but the bathroom looked good as new. Bidet installed, hole patched up and water was mopped up. The only sign that something had gone awry was the toilet top with the chunk missing.

“We’ll have to get you a new one,” Sirius told him, writing up the invoice as they walked to Remus’s front door, toolbox in hand

“Will that take weeks?”

“No, a few days just because of the holidays. I’ll bring it by the 26th, and it’ll be all set.”

“You are truly a life saver, I don’t know what I would’ve done, and….thanks for listening to me talk…all day. I know you probably didn’t sign up for that exactly when you took this call, and probably had better things to be doing, and--”

“This was one of the more enjoyable calls I’ve had actually,” Sirius told him, pausing in front of the front door. “I had a good time.”

Remus laughed awkwardly, reaching for the doorknob to open the door for Sirius, “This feels like the end of some sort of date…do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Very kind, but I promise I’ll make it.” Sirius nodded, sticking out his hand. Definitely not a date. “Pleasure working with you Mr. Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Remus,” Sirius said, “I’ll see you in a few days. My numbers on the invoice, should anything come up before then. Just…call.”

Christmas music was playing loudly in his living room, Sirius’s godson testing out his new dance moves learned at school on the rug, his best friends clapping along and joining in with their own dance moves alongside their child. Sirius had just pulled the roast chicken out of the oven--the shining star for the Christmas Eve feast-- when the phone rang. Oven mitts still on, he hurried to grab the land line, tossing a stray curl out of his face as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Potter’s Plumbing?” the voice on the other end said and Sirius couldn’t help but bite back a smile. He had been in Remus’s home for only a few hours, but had heard the other man talk enough that Sirius was certain he’d be able to identify who was speaking with his eyes closed. It was refreshing. Sirius returned home that day and recounted the emergency call to his best friend, leaving out no details about the frazzled, freckled, and messy man who attempted to install a bidet.

You put your personal number on the invoice? Sirius, that’s too bold.

Sirius was thinking he wouldn’t call.

He hadn’t expected any bidet related emergencies.

“This is Sirius Black,” Sirius said, “But I am part of Potter’s Plumbing.”

“Oh, good, Sirius, it’s you. Hello, it’s Remus Lupin, remember, you serviced my bidet a few days ago and there's a toilet top that needs to be repaired, and we hung up a shower curtain together and I almost fell to my death off the bathtub ledge?”

“Ah yes,” Sirius teased, “Thanks for those details to jog my memory, without them I would’ve definitely forgotten. Did you run into some trouble?”

“Uh…No.”

“Oh…then, how can I help you, Mr. Lupin?”

“Remus.”

“I…” Sirius heard Remus click his tongue a few times, “I…decided to…not…I mean, I don’t need a new toilet top. Can I cancel that? I think it looks better this way.”

“With the missing part?” Sirius asked, feeling a touch disappointed at the nature of the call.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go ahead and cancel that for you, Remus. No problem at all. Was that it?”

“No,” Remus said and paused again, “I’m having a sort of party.”

“Sort of?”

“A party, on New Year's Eve. I decided. To celebrate the new year and new beginnings and all that, glad tidings, you know, the things people usually celebrate. And…also to celebrate the bidet that's in the bathroom because I’ve been told it's a good bidet, like a nice one even! A professional told me that, and it…uh should be appreciated by someone. So I'm having a party and I’m wondering if…you like bidets?”

“Did I not tell you I’m French? I love bidets.”

#jingle all the bidet #soft christmas drabbles #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #happy holidays from my home to yours #but also this was very fun to write and such a ridiculous idea #may 2025 be the year of more ridiculous ideas

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infini-tree · 3 months ago

Text

episodic - part 5

< back | next >

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Summary: The show’s about to start– it's time for the marathon.

A/N: april fools. the real 'joke' to this is that this will be the cliffhanger for a long while.

i’m most likely going to drift back to working on the comic or other projects, fanwork or otherwise in the meantime before the next installment. most installments going forward... are probably going to be multichapter? there are a few plots in the backburner for years at this point, and if i want to actually get to them there’s most likely going to be less one-shot type fics going forward.

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

Benjamin Krupp let out a choking noise as he hit the ground. Feeling his own heart in the middle of a quickened beat was bad enough, but it was narrowly beaten out by the pain of impact. It felt like skipping a step on the stairs.

Speaking of– he had been at the center stairs of the school, and now–

He had almost thought he was back in his own house, because where else would he be lying face down in sticky notes? But, no– that was wrong. Most of them were blank, and those that weren’t were written in a hand that was neither his or the other guy’s chicken scratch. Stranger than that, they were deliberately attached to the floor in a way they never were in his house.

He tried getting up. Or rather, thrashed, as his arms couldn’t support him on account of being tied up. All he accomplished was crumpling the sticky notes under him. Between the strain and embarrassment, his face must be as red as the stupid curtain the other guy insisted on wearing.

“Did you–” His jaw clenched harder than it already was. He was breathing heavily. “Did you skip class for this?!”

Every surface of his office was covered in sticky notes. The walls, the ceilings, the lights.

George shrugged. “Hey now, anyone could have done this– this is a classic prank. Plenty of kids are mad at you.”

He let out a deep huff. Another sticky note fluttered away from him. He glanced towards his desk– even from this angle, he could see even the underside was covered in the thing.

They were thorough, he’d give them that.

“You think plausible deniability is going to save you?” He shook his still-bound arms to emphasize his point. “What’s this really about?”

Harold shot an incredulous look. “Take a wild guess.”

“I’ll show you a– a wild guess!–”

He started flailing again towards the direction of the door. He could barely see the light coming through the glass. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do next, only that he needed to get out of here now, now, now.

Shouldn’t Anthrope have come in? Surely she should have heard this. Then again knowing her, she ‘stepped out’ again–

The room was dimmer than it should be, making it look more unnerving– more flatter, more vast than it should be. It was hard to tell where the edges of the floor and wall met. It was all that same pale yellow.

Meanwhile, the boys made no real effort to stop him. He didn’t know whether that was better or worse.

“Ugh, can you stop freaking out?” George said in a bland tone. It was reminiscent of the kind of voice kids had whenever they were bargaining to have five more minutes. “All of this can go away if you take everything back.”

That stopped his mad crawl to the door. “What.”

It made him think of how ridiculous the past month has been.

“All of us had enough of you!” Harold said. “So consider this a taste of your own medicine.”

How everything he had worked towards had been uprooted with the carelessness of– of– two brats who didn’t know when enough was enough–

“Are you kidding me?!” He slammed his body against– it must be the cabinet, from the handle now poking him at his side– and forced himself to stand with the help of extra support. “You hogtie me and you think you have the right to demand anything from me, you little–”

Snap.

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

Coming back mid-yell was always strange for Captain. He could feel the word in his mouth, could vaguely remember the vague shape and meaning of the word if he were fast enough. But the thing about that was that it was like dreaming: it faded and you were wondering why you woke up scared in the first place.

It may be the closest thing to direct contact he’d ever have with Principal.

More than that, he felt off. Like when the ink on the page is slightly misaligned, leaving everything to look shakier than it should be.

“Oh! Did it work?” he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Did we Free The Children?”

His sidekicks, still crouched back from fear, looked up at him with disappointed expressions.

His smile strained at the edges. “…Is that a maybe?”

George shook his head.

“Oh.”

He kicked his feet and peeled a few sticky notes off the ground in the process. The blue-grey tiles underneath felt like a breath of fresh air after seeing all this yellow.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry– we got plenty of ideas,” he reassured.

They left the room behind. His sidekicks led the way down the still-empty hallway, with the superhero following in a low hover.

“Everyone’s still in class,” George said.

Captain looked through the glass of one of the doors. It was a class for littler kids, and all of them were bored out of their minds.

One of them looked at… something above the door before their gaze locked on him. They gave a shy wave. He waved back– or, tried to, considering his tied-up arms.

This made the kid frown.

He jolted back slightly before Harold dragged him from the window by the cape. He gave a similar sort of frown at the jump rope he had tied to him.

“You could just rip it apart if you wanted,” he said.

“I could, but it’d be rude.” He wiggled his arms some more and just barely made the loops of rope loosen.

After the third attempt, Harold pulled at one end of the rope and all of it fell to the ground with little fanfare. Captain nursed one of his wrists in his other hand, as the rope feeling gave way to a pokey feeling. Super strength can get you pretty far, but it couldn’t save you from pins-and-needles.

They turned a corner and were met with a hallway-turned-obstacle course. Part of one, anyway.

“What do you think, Captain?”

He lit up, the brief moment from before put aside for now. “It reminds me of something I saw while channel surfing. Though, it was more jungle-y.”

“Well, consider this the concrete jungle,” George quipped before cracking open a nearby storage room. “Now, come on– we gotta do the finishing touches.”

He poked his head in. The room was filled with old unused or broken supplies. Blackboards on wheels, excess desks and chairs, broken rulers– the works. It almost reminded him of the Closet back at Principal’s Lair.

“Catch!” George yelled.

The thing in question flew into Captain’s face before falling into his hands.

“Chalk?” He blinked the dust out of his eyes.

“Yeah!” Harold wheeled out one of the chalkboards. “Now come on, we gotta place ‘em before we start drawing all over them.”

Preparing the hallway was easy work when you had a superhero on your side. The hallway looked like a makeshift obstacle course. The boys explained how it would have three distinct areas: the winding blackboard path, the slippery middle, and the maze with Mystery Cups.

“It’ll be a laugh riot seeing Krupp navigate this–”

“It’ll be like the ones on TV!” Captain marvelled at their handiwork, putting the last touches on his drawing. “I’ve even decorated like you said to. I’ve drawn something to scare the pants off him!”

The boys looked at the drawing in question. It was supposed to be the Thing he remembered from the first time he slept, since he was sure that it was a nightmare.

“Uh– is this like… abstract art?” Harold asked, tilting his head. “The– what even are these scribbles and squares?”

“How many blackboards have you drawn this on?” George questioned, his expression unsure.

“Abs-what?” The Waistband Warrior tilted his head in kind. “No, no. It’s like… I guess you had to be there. It's scary!”

“If you say so.” George replied. “Maybe we should lean more into stuff that’d get under his nerves, instead of stuff that makes him nervous.”

Captain nodded slowly and took their lead as they went further in to decorate.

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

“What–”

Krupp let go of the chalk he was holding in both hands and the clench in his jaw, feeling immediately drained.

He was stuck in the middle of a tight square of rolling chalkboards. On it was a familiar chicken scratch. Scribbles and spirals and squares of different sizes were on most of the makeshift walls.

The last one had a crude drawing of himself sitting on the toilet.

He rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t get any new material, huh?”

A squirt gun retreated from underneath the rolling chalkboard in front of him and started laughing in a Harold-like way before it too disappeared.

Have it their way then.

He shoved the blackboard in front of him aside, only to be met with more blackboard walls funneling him through a winding path. All of them had similarly insipid chalk drawings, some more coherent than others.

Crude drawing, squares.

Some even had words. It looked like an attempt at mocking him or the concept of writing lines on blackboards. It would have been effective, had the sentences not awkwardly wrap at the edge because they ran out of room.

Crude drawing, scribble, ‘I will not write to–’, spiral, spiral, spiral–

The path opened up at a relatively unpartitioned part of the hallway. The path of blackboards forked into two narrower paths.

He stepped forward… only for his feet to slip out from under him. He fell on his back, his breath knocked out of him on impact. Now that he was closer to the floor, he could smell the scent of vaguely floral soap around him.

This day could not get any worse.

With the strength of a newborn calf, he managed to get himself upright with minimal faceplants. A part of him hoped that the soap he could feel cooling off the back of his head counted as water.

With as much force as he could muster without falling over, he shoved one of the blackboards in front of him down the hall. It started a chain reaction causing the rest of the maze blackboards to topple like dominoes. A cloud of chalk dust billowed in its wake.

“Oh, come on, that took like a million years to set up!” George yelled incredulously.

The day proceeded to get worse as several of the classrooms’ doors opened. Kids slowly peeked out into the hallway. He instinctively held the curtain up to hide himself.

“C– Captain Underpants–” a kid stuttered. “Are you alright–”

“Get back!”

The kids startled and stepped back. That, at least he was familiar with. He averted his eyes from their concerned expressions; he didn’t know if he hated the fact that they saw him like this or hated seeing how they looked at the other guy.

The boys were running away. Everyone continued to look at him. Even the teachers, in the middle of bringing the kids back in line, were looking at him. He knew he was heaving too loudly. The fluorescent lights were too bright in this hallway.

The bell rang, and no force on earth could keep a kid in a classroom for any longer than they needed to.

“I– ugh!”

Not the time, he forced himself to repeat. The school board would have his head if they heard about the whole thing with the soapy hallway.

Step, step, left, right, stop– he was at the nearest supply closet. He pulled out a WET FLOOR sign, and stomped onto the pile of fallen blackboards.

Krupp refused to make eye contact with the other kids.

He could barely see whatever thing with cups they planned for the last third of the hallway maze, now demolished under the blackboards he was using as a bridge.

Left, right, left, right. Turn. George and Harold were there, waiting for him.

“We can do this all day,” George said.

“Every day, actually, until you take everything back,” Harold added.

There were more kids in this part of the hallway now. They began murmuring, and he could vaguely hear the words ‘fight’ and ‘promotional stunt’ and ‘next issue’ in confused whispers.

He hastily took the curtain off and put it around himself like a towel. That elicited a smattering of laughs. But most of it was still murmuring. ‘Promotional stunt’ was slowly being overpowered by concerned whispers of ‘forreal’.

In lieu of a response, he narrowed his eyes at the both of them.

Snap.

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

(The singular sticky note placed at eye level felt like a challenge. He never put up that kind of effort before. It reminded him of a narration bubble, panelled against the wall.

Revenge? How unbecoming of a hero.

“It’s not revenge.” Captain shook his head. “Excessive, maybe.”

Hate is a strong word for what he was feeling, but Captain did not enjoy being questioned by this man. And while he knows he shouldn’t listen, Principal had a way of picking apart his genre that made him pause. It would be one thing if he was using Principal Logic, but this– right now– nearly makes sense. And he didn’t like it.

“I’m a superhero, helping those who can’t help themselves is what I do. That’s just how these plots work,” he continued.

Speaking of plots, this plot– the one he’s been in– had long spiraled out of control. He had wanted to stop Principal from terrorizing his sidekicks and the local children, but at this point he was no closer to his goal after everything he had gone through.

He pointed a glance in the general direction of The Closet At The End Of The Hallway. It added a snag to everything, adding a backstory to this whole mess. And not even a complete one.

Splash. Snap.

The note was in his hand. He waved his hand quickly like a bee had landed on it. They were both yellow with black inky stripes.

Then what do you call whatever the boys are doing? the note said. You said so yourself. It's excessive.

“I did say that,” he mumbled to himself. The foreign feeling of irritation gave way to another feeling just as foreign, but at least Captain knew it was coming from himself.

Caution was not an innate skill to him. These conversations had forced him to learn. It felt like how a robotic ruffian from issues ago pulled his arm and twisted it behind his back; when it finally let go, he could feel the fading strain where back and shoulder met. But now, he was both himself and the robot– he could feel himself strain against something deeply ingrained in him.

More often than not, it led to him tripping on the execution. Not that he was aware of it, or doing it on purpose. But it was simply How Things Were Meant To Be. Like how a fight must happen before a defeat. Or how a set-up must include a punchline.

It took a lot of work not to invoke a punchline.

“They don’t even have powers,” he said finally. “And they’re doing it to help free the children, you– you… villain.”

Captain winced. Splash.)

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

It would be approximately ten minutes until Ms. Ribble and Mr. Rected would walk around and mark everyone’s projects in alphabetical order by surname. For this impromptu assessment, both teachers have agreed to combine the class times together to maximize efficiency with marking the students. The cafeteria was abuzz with the sound of chatter, and in some cases, panicked murmuring at their malfunctioning projects.

Melvin expected there to be a high frequency of certain science projects:

Demonstrations with static electricity. These were the easiest to implement with limited supplies and time, though half the projects he saw picked out materials that wouldn’t be conducive to demonstrating the point of the experiment.

Model solar systems. This had a bit more production, with having to paint ping pong balls or whatever material was accessible. In many cases, they looked more like baby mobiles than any proper scientific model– with just as much scientific content, to boot.

Baking soda volcanoes. The actual creation of the volcano itself statistically took the most time, which was ultimately the undoing for some students. Several projects started and ended with the spectacle, and was left floundering on trying to explain what it was meant to demonstrate– plate tectonics or chemistry.

As he made his way to the Warp-Weft-O-Tron 2000, he saw a taller figure hovering near the controls. His brain immediately panicked, as that meant that it was an adult, which meant it was a teacher, and he dashed off. As he came closer, he sped up despite his lung’s protests– he’d rather not have the lunch lady mess with it before the teachers had a chance to see the demonstration.

“Don’t–” It took everything in him to not double over. Once he caught his breath, he caught his own words; he was still talking to school staff, even if said school staff wasn't a teacher who could impact his grade. “Please refrain from touching it.”

Ms. Edith Schunn blinked– and thankfully took a step back. Her gloved hands were up. There was no noticeable grease or any evidence of her tampering.

“Oh, of course, I just–” She looked around the table. “What’s this doohickey plugged up to? I don’t see any wires.”

Strange. He was expecting a question of what it is before specific particulars.

“The Warp-Weft-O-Tron 2000 has its own power supply,” he explained, knocking on the side of its chassis as he opened it. “The demonstration won’t be too long, so I doubt that it would deplete in any significant percentage.”

He scanned the hardware and took out a screwdriver. He had thought about using leftovers again– whether through the generator or infused in the fibres it used– but even he had to admit it would be overkill. He didn’t need the textile simulations to last.

Ms. Schunn was still there, from the sound of her contemplative hum. “What’s this stuff scrolling up on screen?” she asked.

“Programming code.”

“I figured as much but–” A pause. “It just seems like a lot of code for just– I dunno, picking out the stitch you wanna use.”

Under the cover of his head still buried in machinery checking the motherboards, Melvin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It wasn’t just simple coding for a basic sewing machine. It had to process different kinds of input, have an internal database of objects, and each object had to have its own internal programming to act–

He twisted a pair of connecting wires with a bit more force than necessary.

He poked his head back out and closed the port. “This should be a conversation I should be having with the teachers who are supposed to be marking this assessment.”

“Oh.” After a long pause, she seemed to realize something. “Oh, of– of course. Uh– I guess I’ll be goin’.”

Melvin didn’t respond.

“Good luck! Seems like they’re startin’ their rounds.” And the lunch lady was gone.

True enough, both teachers were already at the far side of the cafeteria and quickly zipping through the redundant projects. He couldn’t help but let out a groan. Even with a conservative estimate, he’d only have enough time to do a check of either the sewing machine or program modules– not both. And even then, it wouldn’t be as thorough as he’d like.

The conversation, however brief, threw him off from his planned maintenance.

Speaking of plans: he gave a brief scan to the swaths of students. None of them met his gaze, but that was fine. They weren’t the ones he was looking for.

While he wasn’t expecting much from George and Harold, he was still… curious about what they had in store, considering they suggested this whole assessment in the first place. Why they haven’t showed up yet didn’t make sense, with that in mind.

It would be easy enough to translate a few of their little pranks to something more scientifically minded. Paper airplane tests, egg drop experiments, slime– if they used about a third of their creativity in this project, they’d certainly scrape by with a passing grade, that he was sure of.

At the very least, it would have been different. This was something he was just as sure of.

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

Krupp was upside down. That’s different.

The novelty quickly wore out as he realized what was close to his head. If soap didn’t count as water, then he doubted slime was any different.

He unclenched his jaw. This may literally be the dumbest thing he had to think about.

Speaking of which: with the way they were ramping things up, the amount of prep time they needed only grew. It was… difficult, trying to grasp how long this prank-torture marathon was supposed to be. It could be anywhere from five minutes to five hours, and he’d be none the wiser. Between certain parts needing to have been planned in advance and the other guy helping them, it only muddied the waters.

It may as well be a few seconds ago these two miscreants were at least making an attempt to sound justified. It might be the fatigue or the blood rushing to his head, but he couldn’t help but let out a sharp cackle.

“Are you two having fun?” When their expressions grew more guarded, he couldn’t help but lean back into old lecture standby phrases. “I’m expecting an answer from you two.”

Harold looked him dead in the eye. “By the time this is done, Captain’s got no reason to be scared of you and whatever stuff you’re making him go through.”

He blinked. He had to look up at them at this angle, and this close he was reminded of the fact that these were just ten year olds. Ones that ruined his life on a whim, but ten year olds all the same. It was difficult to be fully cowed by what they’re saying.

Krupp couldn’t help but let out a sharp cackle. And another. His chest tightened. A wave of unpleasant heat flushed through his body and nearly made his eyes water.

“He’s finally snapped,” George mumbled in disbelief.

“Is that what he told you?” The words come out more choked than he’d like.

“He doesn’t need to–” Harold narrowed his eyes. “We’ve heard that recording, making him feel like he’s– he’s not a real person.”

“So you think this will help him?”

“He’ll be happier.”

He narrowed his eyes in kind. “You don’t sound sure.”

The feeling of joy was few and far between in his line of work, but even he knew what the other guy felt wasn’t that. It was moreso a ragged sort of energy to move forward than anything else, and it had the familiar undercurrent of something else.

Something that made the other guy clench his jaw for most of this.

“W– well, how would you know?” Harold shot back.

George, quicker on the draw, blurted out: “He’s still talking to you isn’t he? Willingly?”

“He’s a grown man-child,” he said derisively. It was a small relief that they didn’t know about the emotional bleedover. “He can make his own decisions.”

“Clearly not, if he keeps talking to you.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that he says it's to ‘Free The Children’.” His voice went up a mocking octave at the term.

George looked shocked for a moment. “Which it is.”

“No, what you said now was that this may be for the other guy.”

“First of all: it is. Second: it's both,” Harold cut in.

“At this rate, I think it’s neither.”

“O– oh yeah? Who cares what you think?” The words come out of Harold’s mouth unpracticed. From the kids that had the gall to say that they wanted him gone, it was pitiful seeing him fumble the most mundane jabs.

“You do, clearly.” His chest was tight. “I think you’re just mad your favorite plaything isn’t working like he’s supposed to.”

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Or we’ll– we’ll keep doing this!”

“You have to explain a bit better than that.” His grimace turned to something more smug. “Clearly, you needed those extra English assignments–”

Snap.

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

George pulled the superhero into an unused classroom. When the superhero peered out to wave at whoever he waved to earlier, Harold pulled down the hand in question.

“Oh! Is this the next prank a– a quiet one?” He looked around, trying to find where the preemptive punchline was. “I’m afraid I don’t understand this one.”

“No, no–” George shook his head. “Just… sit tight, alright? We need to take five before the next wave of pranks.”

Captain let out a loud exhale before kicking himself up into a floating position. It looked like he was reclining on an invisible beach chair. Meanwhile, Harold was further in the classroom, pacing between the desks.

“What do you think?” George said quietly.

The other boy gave a strained smile… before dropping his face in his hands and letting out the most exasperated sigh. He gave a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Between being accused of suggesting the fourth grade pop science fair and being seen ‘fighting’ ‘Captain Underpants’ earlier, the other kids were getting uneasy.

“What do we do?” he shook his head. “If we don’t run out of pranks, we'll definitely run out of supplies eventually. And what if Krupp doesn’t back down by then? What if he just keeps saying that we gave the suggestions to make the school worse for kids and adding onto it? What if–”

“Harold–” George began shaking him by the shoulders gently. When he was just as frazzled as the other boy, it was still rapid. “That won’t happen. Between me and you and Captain, we’re going to ride this out and beat him at his own game.”

The other boy stared at him before slowly nodding. “Yeah– yeah, OK. But–”

The both of them took a quick glance towards Captain. Neither of them exchanged a word. The fact that not only was he still talking to the principal– he talked about their plans with him, it was the nightmare scenario. One of them, anyway.

“I don’t think he knows too much, but–” George gave one shake of his head.

Harold nodded in response.

“Sidekicks, um–”

The Waistband Warrior floated over to them. He still had the same look as before everything started. If anything, the frown deepened.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Are you… alright?” It looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “You don’t seem to be having fun these last few pranks.”

“Whaaaat?” Harold drawled out, propping an arm onto a nearby desk to lean on it. “Of course we’re having fun!”

“Oh! OK, then. I was just… checking.” He flipped himself into an upside-down floating position. “I thought– well, the other kids have a similar–” He waved a hand in their direction, circling their heads. “– So does that mean they’re also having fun?”

The room was silent. In the distance, they could hear the quiet din of kids outside. But here they were: in a little classroom, wiling away the hours trying to escalate the bit.

“After these next few pranks… yeah, definitely.”

“And if nothing else, the school’s going to get better.”

“Well, there’s nowhere to go but up.”

The boys laughed. Their fit of giggles were dampened as Captain glanced back to the sliver of glass looking out into the hallway.

“That’s good,” he replied. He was distant and contemplative again. It was still weird that it was happening. “Then, it’ll be worth it, if the school becomes more fun for everyone.”

Harold made a big show of stretching his arms to break the silence, as abrupt as it was. The silence, he decided, was overstaying its welcome. It reminded him of not-so-great days. Of the reason why he drew up the first iteration of Captain.

“Well! I think I’m fully rested. How about you?”

“Harold,” George gave him an uneasy glance. If you’re sure, the Look appended at the end.

In return, he gave the equally stubborn, yes I’m sure Look. The other boy nodded and matched it in kind.

“Come on, Captain,” George ushered them out the door.

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

(He knew how to get down to someone’s level. Explain concepts in smaller chunks. Use simpler words. Use something they were familiar with to help. It was something he was taught how to do back when he was a teacher. That being said, he also knew that stooping down to someone’s level wasn’t ideal. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

And as much as Benjamin hated to do it, leaning into comic logic was the most efficient way to get that idiot to listen to him.

Would you hesitate taking a villain out? He wrote, resisting the urge to cross it out immediately. If you had the opportunity to get rid of me and never use it, what would that mean?

Snap. Splash. His furrowed brows relaxed.

“You didn’t deny being the villain that time,” the cassette player crackled.

Benjamin let out a soft exhale. He took the last note and circled the second half. The underlying message was unmistakable: answer the question.

Snap. Splash. The headache in his temples slowly dissipated.

“‘Get rid of’ sounds so… dastardly,” the other guy hedged. “I stop villains. There is a difference.”

I doubt it, he goaded, appending the comment on the original note.

Benjamin shouldn’t care about the semantics, but he could still feel the headache in his temple. A cynical part of him thought the other guy had thought himself into short circuiting their temporarily shared brain. That was the troublesome part about feeling the other guy’s emotions, even if it eventually faded.

He was stupidly larger than life that way.

Snap. Splash. Benjamin couldn’t help but touch his own throat, feeling the dwindling strain left there.

“Villains are– they stay only for a span of an issue. Two, if it's a big event. I stop them. And then they’re gone.”

He was expecting more, but there was something uncomfortable in how final it was. He allowed himself to think back to previous issues he definitely never read, and the other guy had a point. It was either jail, or ‘defeat’ with all its nebulous sidestepping.

But there were no loose ends. At most, a cliffhanger those two never bothered to follow up on.

“But you–” The so-called superhero made an uncanny-sounding noise. “You’re… recurring. You keep doing things I've never seen any other villain do, and these long-form plots are beyond me. B– but my sidekicks know this! They have to!”

He sucked a breath through his teeth.

“And I need to trust them.”

Click.

He shouldn’t care. He didn’t. Still though. There was something there. The headache, the frenzied feeling the other guy put under his skin, heck, even the specific word choice–

Desperate, Benjamin thought to himself, ignoring how achingly similar the other guy dug his heels. He’s desperate.

‘Truth, justice, and all things pre-shrunk and cottony’ was a half-baked parody. Anyone could tell it was a half-baked reference. But to the other guy, it must be everything. Something foundational, maybe. And here were his 'dearest sidekicks', shaking at its foundations.

Then, in writing: You still haven’t answered the question. If you had the power to get rid of– scratch the last three words– If you had the power to do it, would you? What kind of hero would you be if you didn’t?

Scratch the last sentence. Too much.

Benjamin’s hand shook. His fingers were ready to snap, but he had never switched over to ask properly. He wasn’t sure what would be worse to hear.)

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

He came back to his heart thrumming so so fast. And left just as quickly. He wanted to ask his sidekicks what was happening. Their answers were shorter now. His help became less and less.–

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

– The sensation made his skin prickle. He wanted to twist himself away from what was coming, he–

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

– could feel it, the colors misaligning in him, he could feel it–

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

– spiral and on and on–

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

– it goes, until–

Captain Underpants came back to a cold feeling in his chest and a burning feeling everywhere else. If he was steaming, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Sidekicks–” He stopped; he wasn’t expecting his voice to come out so gravelly. Whatever burning thing that was in his throat fizzled to ashes and choked him. “What did you do?”

“Don’t worry about it!” George chirped, pulling him up to his feet. “Now come on.”

Captain brought himself up to a low hover. He had been through enough to know that the latest ones needed papers to keep track of. He had also been through enough of them to realize that his sidekicks were not telling him their plans anymore.

“What, um–” A cough. “Is it this time, sidekicks?”

“Well let’s just say, the next few will be a super-hot streak of pranks,” George replied.

On cue, Harold pulled out a tubberware and opened it. In it were spicy red peppers and onions. He could feel his throat close up at the mere sight of them.

“I think we’re getting close, though, I can feel it!”

Captain glanced away. The actual feeling from The Man In His Head was… messy. It was like someone printed every page of a comic on one page– it was unreadable and so full of ink it would tear apart at the slightest pressure.

He must have made a face, because both of them frowned. They pushed the cases of veggies off to the side.

“Captain, we gotta ask–”

“Not to worry, I’m still in well enough shape for the next few pranks.” He gave a little wave. It was not a lie. Unless the next few pranks involved him speaking a lot, in which case it was inconvenient.

“No, it's…” Harold hedged.

“...What did you tell Krupp?” George narrowed his eyes.

A pause.

“What?”

“We know you told him about Free The Children,” Harold looked stricken. “What else did you talk about?”

His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Another attempt. Finally, he settled on: “It's not something I feel… OK telling.”

Not a lie. He felt like jumping out of his own skin.

“And why’s that?” George’s face scrunched up.

“I don’t know.” Also not a lie. He knows telling them should be alright, but something stopped him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?!” Harold yelled.

“Because it's not my story to tell.” Captain began to shake his head.

“This is–” George sighed. His next words come out slower. “You know how important this is, right?”

Captain nodded.

“Which is why we need to know what you said to him.”

He thought back to previous conversations. The swaths of little papers surrounding him like hard borders, or gutters. To the Closet At The End Of The Hallway. To the quick flashes of bleedover whenever he came in.

And at the center of all these disparate panels was a specific scene: his sidekicks holding the cassette player.

“Don’t…” He hesitated for a moment. “Please don’t make me tell.”

He felt close to… something, but he didn’t have the exact words for it.

The closest he could come to was that he did not like this scene. It felt wrong. Superheroes did not argue with their sidekicks. And even if they did, it was always for the greater good.

And this? It–

“Are you still mad about the whole thing with the cassette?”

The careless tone made something terrible in him flare up. He must have landed at some point because he could feel something crunch under his heel.

“Yes!” His face was hot. He was– this was just so–

“What does this have to do with Free The Children, anyway? Who is this even for?”

“It's for all of us,” George hedged.

“Then where’s everyone else?” He spread his arms so wide he could feel the strain on his shoulders. “We’ve barely seen any kids all day. We ran from the ones we did.”

“You don’t get it–”

“Of course I don’t!” He could feel a headache pulse behind his eyes, in time to his heartbeat. “Nothing about anything makes sense, and I have to stop and think about–”

“That’s the problem!” Harold yelled. “You keep thinking too hard!”

Everything stopped. It felt like time stretched on so far he could see the panel in his mind’s eye taking up pages worth of silence.

His voice felt small in that expanse. A single word on a splash page. A single sticky note on a blue wall.

“What?”

“You keep thinking and thinking and– changing,” Harold managed. “Things used to be so much easier when you weren’t so miserable all the time! Superheroes have to– you're supposed to be there when we need you, and you can’t even give us this one small thing! What kind of superhero are you? You’re not supposed to be like this!”

This world didn’t seem to get something Important was going on here. There was still the sound of distant footfalls of other kids thundering in the hallways.

“Oh.”

This feeling was worse than wearing Principal’s dreaded clothes. It was the latest in a long string of Bad Feelings that he didn’t know where it started or ended. It just was, all squished in grawlixes so dense it may as well be solid rock.

(Haha, rocks, his mind not-so-helpfully added as a horrid little brick joke.)

He tried taking a deep breath. The grawlixes stopped him. His chest hurt. “I– I’m sorry.”

The word felt off. It seemed right in his head, but it felt like raw onions sitting in his mouth. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. But a small part felt like he should be.

(The large part, however– never mind that one.)

His sidekicks stepped back.

“Captain–”

“I’m–” He turned away, trying to grasp at the right words. And failed. “I will fix this. I promise.”

Not a lie. He knew what was wrong. His sidekicks told him that much. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

The entire school shook. Kids screamed.

“Whoa, what was that?!”

Finally, something he can grasp. And maybe throw it to the wall, exploding into smithereens.

“I will fix it after this,” he amended.

He came up to a proper hover and zoomed off. Faster than a speeding waistband was still faster than either of their legs could take them at a full sprint.

His sidekicks’ cries became a distant thing. The world was a waterlogged blur as he went to the source of the chaos.

There was a nagging part of his brain that wanted him to stop. To wait. To joke. To make himself a punchline. But before anything else, he was a superhero.

And what kind of superhero was he if he couldn’t fix this?

#mellsian fanfics #captain underpants #sticky notes au #mirror will update later in the day so for now [gestures]

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 4 months ago

Text

Headcanon because its hilarious in my head

The Vees at the hotel, attempting to smarm their way in with promises of modern support after the battle. To replace their defective outdated overlord, especially now they'd dropped The Footage of him being taken down by Adam.

They'd strategically dropped that a few minutes before they arrived. Vox assumes they'll be able to charm Charlie, the sparkly eyes naive princess, see if they can push Al out naturally.

Or better yet, magnanimously offer for him to join the Vees, maybe as Venison, hmmm?

--------

Only to run face first into Lucifer.

The monarch had sensed their approach from halfway across Pride. His protect charlie radar going haywire because someone somewhere was having devious thoughts about his baby girl.

Alastor, for his part, also met them at the foyer. About two feet in to stop their ingress any further into his establishment... jointly owned, but undeniably his. Alastor was a crackling ball of barely contained power and fury.

They were tresspassing, naturally, in the rudest way possible.

Sovereigns should be invited into one another's territories, unless they were under attack or hurrying to protect an ally. Rare as that was. This? This was a declaration of war, of ill intent, a mockery and insult that they didn't respect Alastor as an equal, that they were disdainful and confident in their ability to sweep him aside.

It was the equivalent of pissing on another person's shoes and daring to pretend it was rain.

He's clearly bristling at the direct and pointed insult, but only Husk seems concerned.

Lucifer doesn't spare the deer a backward glance as his eyes flicker red.

Niffty is vibrating in place, halfway up a curtain and holding a sharp looking needle about the length of her arm - where the heck had she obtained that from?!

Vaggie manifests her spear and moves instinctively in front of Charlie. And Angel is frozen at the bar, confused and anxious that Val is now in his safe space.

Vox turns the convivial patter up to twenty as he fast talks around the King, who seems moments away from turning into a pillar of fire, speaking only to Charlie. Mentioning their goal is to help the little hotel, especially given the shortcomings of their currently installed overlord. It's about then that those with phones notice that social media is going ballistic.

Husk's ears go flat against his skull, and the hat falls off comically, as he glances at his phone. Shit. That ain't good, and boss was lucky to not be double-dead. He'd sensed something was off, especially given the staff was missing... but that put this confrontation in a whole new light.

And for once, the cat wasn't certain the Boss could win here in an all out brawl. Even he was feeling a tad too rusty to step in of called on. If given access to his powers again. Been too long.

Charlie looks distressed, staring at Alastor's too straight spine, noticing the stiff way he held himself, and tightened her jaw. She should have looked. She would do better in the future. You can't chase the past or you just wallowed in misery that held you down and helped no one.

Lucifer dislikes the daughter stealing deer but... these three exude something evil. Its a corporate evil. Worse than most in an undefinable way.

Something he doesn't want near his daughter or her ideals. It was oily and slick and suffocating.

"And as you can see, the benefits of working with us would include the support of all forms of media, upgraded tech support, three actually powerful Overlords, and the removal of your... broken, defective one. Who knows? He might just disappear again on you without warning, and then where would you be?"

"Mr Vox, I appreciate the offer, but-" she's aiming for diplomatic even as her fists curl tightly at her sides.

Lucifer steps in. "No, get out of this hotel before I make you regret coming here, Sinners." He has inadvertently stepped forwards and it looks, for all the world, like he is deliberately between Alastor and the Vees.

Vox buffers for a fraction of a second as Valentino's eyes rove over the situation. Vel is doing something with her phone and grinning like a predator cornering a mouse.

"Oooh, fiery... maybe you were right, Voxxy. I think this little act means that His Majesty might just be the deer's sugar daddy after all, if he's willing to go to bat for him like this..." Val purrs, draping himself over Vox to see the small king.

Who splutters and goes incandescent with rage as his horns appear in a flush of hellfire. "Absolutely not!"

Alastor, for his part, makes a confused radio warble accompanied by a clipped, "A What-now?"

Vox pauses, his enjoyment ruined by the joke falling flat. "The-... " He casts about for a comparison, and the sharklike grin returns. "Oh, hmmm... well, do you recall the whole... situation that dear Mimzy had going with the Dinosaur overlord in the seventies? Got everything she wanted for a little... reciprocity? That."

Ah, there's the aggravated static in response, Alastor's expression twisting in disgust. "How dare you imply something so ludicrous..."

The King is frowning now. "Excuse you, sinner, you could only be so lucky to draw my gaze."

"And if I did, you're navel-height, so how does that benefit anyone here?" Alastor tosses back, green magic twined about the chandelier over the king.

"Do NOT try that a second time, deer boy, I will smite you!"

"Dad, Al, stop!" Charlie yells, horns flaring up. "We have unwelcome guests, let's deal with them before I mediate whatever the hells this is about. Okay? Okay."

She exhales deeply, centering herself before turning a sharp grin on the gathered overlords. Alastor and Lucifer feel their hearts swell with pride as they see trace influences in that stance. That easy misdirection and too bright smile hiding her true feelings.

"Mr Vox, and assorted Vees... the Hazbin Hotel has an overlord in residence and while I'm certain a negotiated and Very specific contract, that is double-checked by one of the Goetia legal team dad has on retainer, can be arranged around tech... I really don't appreciate you barging in here and attacking my people. Okay? Okay. And your little slander attack? Well, if you try that again towards anyone here, I'm going to jam someone's skull so far up inside someone else that you'll feel like conjoined twins. Okay? Okay."

It was the chirpy therapist tone that really sells how fucking terrifying the Devil's Daughter actually is. She's smiling... and Vaggie is looking at her like she hung the moon. Alastor feels an odd sensation in his chest that's either burgeoning paternal pride, schadenfreude, or poison taking effect. He's relatively certain it's the first option.

Velvette snaps out of it fastest. Appearing faintly flushed and bothered by it all.

"Okay, the pretty bint's got bite, I can appreciate that. Still ain't gonna save you when the others come along to start something with a Sovereign Overlord who's injured... there's plenty of wannabees out there who'd love to get even a sniff at the power the hazbin himself holds, all those deals and contracts... and whatever inherted power they'll get from offing him. And then what? You gonna fight em all yourself, luv? Don't fucking think so, see... that's where we come in, right? You need us, you need an alliance with us and we can keep you all safe. No one crosses VoxTech."

"Exactly! See, we even wanted to extend the opportunity to Alastor to join the Vees... even if in name only for now, as part of our deal or contract with the hotel." Vox adds, grinning, polite and charming.

Shadows writhed on the wall as microphone feedback rent the air. "The answer remains No. It would not kill you to learn it, but should you continue to fail to observe ettiquette, I just might!" Alastor cackles, and green fire bursts to life around the television. "Careful, don't want to overheat your circuits now..."

"Aw, you do care... and cut the shit, I know you can't keep this up with a chest full of grace. You know what Hell would say if threats come here and you're not the one facing them, hmm? How much worse it will be if the King is the one protecting it, not you..."

There was a tension there that the non-overlords present didn't really conceptualise, but they could understand the vague optics of the matter. People would Assume. And that meant others would come to Check In, to Test, the downed overlord. Until someone walked away with the prize or the Overlord showed his strength.

"Wait, what? What did Box mean?" Lucifer asks, glancing at Alastor, and noticing that the smile was far too tight now, there was a clammy edge to that skin up close. Perhaps the television wasn't lying.

"Yes, little ciervo... how will you cope when all of hell assumes you're too weak to take them on? Or, perhaps, that you're too infatuated with the little King to bother defending the hotel." Valentino blew smoke right at him, grunting as something small and patchwork sunk teeth into his wing. He swore and hurled it from him. "Funny, I recall Vox complaining you refused his advances, and yet here you are, whoring yourself out for protection from the Devil himself..."

If 'microphone being hurled down a very long mineshaft' was a noise then that's what rent the air. And then, with a soft click, it stopped. That should have been the first warning.

Bending forwards, nearly over the top of his little Majesty, as he made eye contact with the moth.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't the pot calling the kettle a slut!" Alastor grins, tone conversationally jovial.

At the bar, Angel nearly chokes on his cocktail. Husk pounds him on the back to dislodge the decorative candy eyeball that'd gone the wrong way.

"What the FUCK, who taught him to say that?!" he wheezes, and Husk just rolled his eyes. He'd gotten used to the random bouts of profanity from Alastor, it was why the overlord held it in reserve usually. Getting a backhanded statement from Alastor was like walking into a dark room and being set on by homicidal clowns.

"Now, get out of the hotel... apparently there will be rather overstimulated guests arriving anytime soon and we shall need to set up an appropriate... Welcome Party." He growled the latter, shifting into an elongated form as he loomed over the Vees.

Vox stood his ground, electricity crackling around his hands, but the doll and moth stepped back. Not so cocky now, hmmm?

Vox had some weird pass that never extended their way... best not risk it.

"In fact... I think some reparation is due... for your blatant insult to myself, the crown, and this hotel. Don't you agree Vox? Are you willing to lose an arm? Would you part with something of value for once in your afterlife? How about allowing me to broadcast the moth's screams, hmmm?"

"No, nooooo, nope, please no!" Charlie interjects, and the large radio dial eyes flicker towards her.

Vox seemed... a little too interested in this change of pace. As long as no one looked down, one could just assume it was the thrill of being on the edge of destruction when an infuriated overlord was ready to kill you. Or worse.

"Does he have a-... are you KIDDING ME?!" Vaggie groans, not sure where to look or point her spear. She's worried it would make him... worse.

"Vox... are you willing to part with a soul, to ensure you don't end up on the radiowaves?" Alastor snarls, black ichor dripping from his enlarged maw, and ruining Lucifer's suit. The King looks ready to explode, but Vox only has eyes for the massive deer.

He blinks. "Not mine, Val's or Vel's." he counters, automatically.

"No... I have no use for yours."

"And why should I give you anything? I bet you can't hold this form much longer, how it drains your reserves... and you don't have much in the tank, huh Al?" Vox appeared confident, too confident for just a casual observation. He crossed his arms over the broad chest and waited.

A pale hand waved to get his attention.

"Uh, hi... King of Hell here. And I'd like to reiterate what Bambi here said... you come into my daughter's hotel, you threaten her people, and you expect to insult me as well and what? Walk out of here in one piece?" His exhalations were all fire. "And when Clifford the big red deer here gives you an out... you decide to play tough guy? Well newsflash movietone boy, you're looking at the wrong threat in the room... so either hand over the forfeit and leave, or I start pulling you three apart on the atomic level."

Vox, visibly shaken, finds himself bracketed by Valentino and Velvette. Their haughty confidence wavering.

"Ugh, fine, just give him whichever intern caught his fancy... we got heaps, who cares if your old crush eats it?" Velvette tried for nonchalant, but the tone was a tad high and pitchy for that.

"Give me Angel Dust." Alastor said, staring down at Vox, ignoring the furious sound of Valentino. Lucifer's flicking tail reminded the moth to play nice. "Or someone mentions to the Devil what Valentino did to Charlotte at his little studio..."

"Wait, how do you know?" Charlie blinks.

Husk chuckles. "Did you check your shadow, Princess? He sent his along inside yours to make sure you had a quick exit, just in case..."

Lucifer has stilled in a way that made you feel like a volcano could erupt any second. Red eyes laser focused on Valentino, who was sweating buckets.

"B-But that's MY Whore, you fucking bastard!" He manages to stutter out, staring at Alastor but not for one second forgetting the piercing gaze that burned him. " What will you even do to him? You're not interested... except in the mini monarch apparently, so it's a waste of talent! I'm not handing over my Angel to have you turn him to some fucked up meal!" Valentino was clutching at straws.

Vox was still for a moment, before he raised a hand to Val. "Just... give it over. You have other whores, Val. Promise that we'll find a better one. Something new for Hell's entertainment... let Al collect the washed up rejects, like he always does."

Valentino said something in a haze of fury that startled the multilingual Husk, but eventually handed over the contract to Vox, who passed it to Alastor in turn.

And, to add to the deliciousness of the moment, Alastor tore the contract in two as Val watched in disgusted fury.

"You'll pay for this, ciervo, I'll make you pay..."

"Oh please, on my worst day I'm three of you, moth. Now get the fuck out of my territory before I invoke my right of combat."

"You couldn't take me if you tried..." Val snarls, then grins.

Alastor frowns. "I feel that this is a cleverly worded pun of the sexual variety. Angel, you're the resident smut professional... is there any way to answer that without falling for whatever he inferred?"

"...not unless you wanna go with 'that's what I said to ya mother' joke. It's dated, but good."

"Out. Now." Snarled Vaggie, setting forwards with her spear.

"Fine, we'll go... but I look forwards to seeing you torn apart by the ones that're coming, Al. You know I enjoy it when your smug face is ground into the dirt. Wonder what new material I can get to add to my private collection."

Electricity crackled around the trio of overlords and he hurled them into a nearby light. The bulb exploded.

After a pause, something invisible but tangible pulsed through the room and several small metallic things went pop! and died. Ah, bugs. Niffty delightedly scooped them up.

Lucifer is craning his head back to admonish the Radio Demon for bringing his bullshit to the hotel, when the form sways and shrinks, dropping to the carpet in a puddle of red attire and half-clinging shadows. "Well... fuck, Charlie, I think we'll have to get you a new pet Overlord after all."

Angel, for his part, was halfway to them in an instant even if his expression was still a confused, tearful crumple at the sudden freedom. At owning his own soul.

"Alright, back up everyone, I'm pretty damn good at this... lotta first aid needed on set and all." He checks for a pulse and with the help of Husk, gets the other in his lower arms. "Let's go somewhere no new folks coming in can see, ya know?"

Charlie appeared shell-shocked. That had been... a lot.

"Dad...?"

"It's fine, duckling, I'll fix him up. Can't be too bad if he's still breathing. Adam never left them alive otherwise." He shrugs, he doesn't particularly care either way but his baby was upset.

"Er... might need some angelic help in here... if you got a minute, majesty?" Angel calls from the staff lounge, slightly frantic.

"Dad, I didn't realise he was hurt... how bad is it? Can I fix it?"

"Hmmm, if he was hit with a grace-based weapon, it's an issue, but nothing I can't resolve. Promise honey!" Lucifer grins. And then speeds up his steps when he hears the unwelcome addition from Angel's assessment of the sinner:

"What the fuck, is that glowing?"

Ah fuck, the bellhop must've copped a full strike then. He could fix it though. Pretty sure. Last person he'd healed was a Goetia and they were some Tough Old Birds.

Sinners were oddly flimsy and foolhardedly resilient in comparison. An unusual and hard to reconcile combination.

"Alright, show me the boo-boo... I'm not going to kiss it better, but I might be able to muster up a contemptuous wad of spit for it that'll fix the issue." Lucifer jokes, pausing in the doorway to note the two sinners are trying to stay out of the light radiating from the deer's chest. "Ohhhh-kaaaaaaay, welp, that's fucked. I can fix it though."

Striding closer, he gently brushes Angel and Husk out of the way with his wings, creating a bit of a shield between them and the angelic light.

"How did this happen, again?" His phone was dinging rapidly from the Sins' chat group, but he wasn't willing to check in on that just now because if they saw a Read receipt and no response, someone would storm up to Pride to check in. Today had been weird enough, thanks.

A phone appeared over the back of the couch, held by trembling hands, as Niffty showed off the Video. One with millions of views after only a few minutes' upload. Something to do with the technology based sinners they just faced down, Lucifer would bet.

He watched with cold detatchment.

"Okay, so Adam landed two strikes... where's the staff thingy? It being broken is likely why this hasn't even attempted to heal, I know your overlords get precious about them."

"Oooh, it's in his bayou! I'll get it!" Niffty chirped and the phone disappeared.

"Why would his little microphone help? He mostly just twirls it about like he's leaading a parade?" Angel asks, genuinely confused, but Husk appears to understand.

"Legs... Overlords got a lotta power, more than I think anyone who hasn't been one can imagine, and to start out with it can be real hard to manage. Especially if you take in a massive influx of contracts or souls all at once, like... like if you overthrow an Overlord who was at the height of their power. Hurts like a bitch, too." Husk shuddered.

"Only happened once or twice to me, when some rising brat wanted attention and forced my hand... paw... whatever the fuck this is. When you can't deescalate, sometimes to prevent people getting hurt and stuff getting destroyed, you just gotta fight. And that... sucks. It's like thousands of tiny needles, one for each soul and contract, suddenly slamming into you. The power attached comes in a moment later, soothing the feeling, but you gotta hold on for that moment. No idea how or why anyone went around picking fights for that... anyway, there's a good way to manage that.

Most overlords, you mighta noticed, have a staff or a foci. I had these cufflinks, enchanted and able to hold onto any excess power til I needed it. Rosie and Al, they got staffs. Carmilla has those shoes of hers. Zestial's is either his hat or his cloak, never worked it out, wasn't 'round him too often. Vox has his hat, not sure about the other two.

Either way, it's a thing you can create to help, but in order for that it has to be part of you. And that means sacrifice. Why? Because it needs to be able to move with you, be attached at all times moving in and out of phase to protect it if needed.

Think some of the older overlords had like enchanted swods and guns, and there was this one crazy blue bitch with a flamethrower foci. She took a bit to kill, and the scent of charred fur hung about for weeks. Anyway... like I said, it holds your power, but it costs something you don't get back. Something that won't regenerate.

You mighta noticed Rosie's lot don't have eyes. She plucked hers out for her Foci, and grew the black orbs through magic. Her people decided to follow suit, to her delight and horror... and she gave them new eyes instead. Whatever the foci is for Valentino, he gave up an antennae. Carmilla carved her horns out and now puts her hair up, I gave up a second pair of wings, and Alastor-... well, he can't yank my chain right now, so I'm gonna say it. He gave up his tail.

Wasn't much of a sacrifice because he hated the thing, but it was the fluffiest thing you'd ever seen and Vox was obssessed with the idea of touching it. Probably why he didn't hesitate to carve it off. In anycase, it's You, to an extent, and now it can hold the excess or whatever you need to store in it.

Especially if, say, you were limited by a deal or something around your innate powers or soemthing was blocking them. You'd rely n the foci. The fact it's you also makes it harder to steal, it can always be called back to you, and you know if someone touches it. Used to freak me out if someone was touching my cufflinks, it's like stranger's running their fingertips over your organs."

He shudders deeply. "So when it breaks... you're supposed to break with it. Ain't ever seen an overlord live past the breaking, they either fade or it siphons their powers. Reckon its only cause his are bound that-..." His ears flatten, eyes wide in horror and fear. "Fuck, I wasn't meant to say that."

Angel was curious now, "Smiles is in a deal? With who? I mean, he's got thousands of deals... who cpould convince him to bind his powers?" And then it hits him, the spider gasps so sharply Lucifer turns to check he isn't dying. "NO. Smiles is in a soul deal?! Who the FUCK could do that to this guy?"

Husk's tail is flicking anxiously. "Dunno, but they must be powerful, he'd never agree to it unless there was literally no other choice between that and something worse than death."

"Oh that's an easy mystery to solve..." Lucifer hums, not surprised inthe least. He taps at the air about the Overlord's throat, and suppresses a scream of shock. The air feels like its been punched out of his chest. "No. No that's-... No."

Charlie come hurtling into the room, eyes wide. "Dad? I can feel mum's magic, is she here?"

Husk sucks in air through his teeth. "No, no she ain't... but that might explain why, and who."

"Duckling, deep breaths, but... no, mum isn't here. But it seems your little bellhop here has some insight into where she is." He moves aside to show the purple collar in all its unholy glory.

Unfortunately, this also revealled the wound. Charlie gasped in horror. "Ohmygoshthat'snotgoodisit?!" she exhales.

"I can fix it... but I think we need answers, and soon. If she-... if your mother has something to do with why he's here? It could be... a problem."

"Well, we'll deal with it when he's healed and awake, okay? Please... help him, that's-... I didn't know. I didn't know he was hurt and it's been a whole week, I should have known!"

"Darling, if I missed the glaring ball of holy energy feet from me in the foyer until these two uncovered it? You get a pass for missing it." he smiles wanly. Then cracks his knuckles. "Alrighty then, let's deal with this mess..."

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

Forgot where i was going its 3am.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #vees #lucifer #charlie #angel dust #husk #phoenixwrites

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rainforestakiie · 11 months ago

Text

Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 03

The Imp

hi everyone! i am back with the third instalment of @inubaki’s request! ahhh i really love this haha thank you for all the artwork you and your friend made inubaki! I truly hope you will like the new part!

‘A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

Steve was so pretty.

At the age of fifthteen, Adam’s thoughts still swirled endlessly, drawing him deeper into an almost hypnotic trance. His apple-green eyes gleamed like rare gems, their light reflected in the dim room as he watched the older boy from his shadowed perch. He knew he shouldn’t be this close to the window—shouldn’t let the sun’s deadly rays creep too near—but he couldn’t help himself. Kneeling just beyond the reach of the light, shrouded by heavy, dark curtains, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Steve was... exquisite. The sun kissed his skin in a way that made him glow, the soft light rendering his freckles as constellations across his cheeks. Adam wanted so badly to trace them all, to memorise their patterns like secret codes only he could decipher.

A breathy, wistful sigh escaped Adam’s lips, his heart all but melting as he watched Steve helping a younger child to their feet after a clumsy tumble. The older boy’s kindness was as radiant as the sun that bathed him, bending to the child's level, his voice low and gentle, like a lullaby meant to soothe all fears. Adam’s chest fluttered, warm and tender.

"Steve would make a wonderful father," Adam murmured dreamily, his cheeks flushing as the thought wrapped itself around his mind like a delicate vine.

It was a bit childish, Adam thought, a flicker of embarrassment settling in his chest. After all, he was nearly sixteen—too old, perhaps, for such whims of fancy. And yet, here he was, allowing himself to drift into a world of impossible dreams. He let out a quiet sigh, tearing his gaze from the fogged window and curling himself tighter behind the heavy drapes, as if their shadowy folds could cloak him from the outside world.

In his lap, a few worn sheets of paper rested, supported by the weight of an old textbook. Though Adam had never been particularly skilled at drawing, he found comfort in it. Sister Emily had once taught him how, before her sight had been stolen by the creeping darkness that now clouded her eyes. It was one of the few things they had shared before the world dimmed for her.

His fingers brushed softly over the rough paper as he sketched, his strokes delicate, almost reverent. Tonight, his heart betrayed him, and he found himself sketching an image that lived only in the recesses of his mind—a portrait of him and Steve, their faces softened by affection, surrounded by the ghostly outlines of two, maybe three children.

Steve was beautiful in a way that made Adam’s heart ache. The way he smiled, so effortlessly sweet, like a secret whispered in the dead of night. Adam couldn’t help but give in to the tender pull of his imagination. He let it wrap around him like a blanket, warm and bittersweet.

Oh, how he would love for that dream to be real. To be a family. To belong somewhere, with Steve by his side, and the laughter of children filling the empty spaces around them.

He shifted slightly, leaning against the wall where it curved into the window, and returned his eyes to Steve. His thoughts began to wander, drawing up images and possibilities that made his body tense with a peculiar mix of yearning and nervous excitement. A dreamy smile tugged at his lips, a deep sigh spilling from his chest like a whisper meant only for the shadows.

Would Steve ever even consider...with him?

“To get married and have children…” he whispered shyly, a touch of a dreamer smile lighting up his lips. “With Ste-”

The sudden, jarring crash of a door slamming behind him made Adam jolt, his heart leaping into his throat. He whirled around, eyes narrowing as they tried to pierce through the dim room. Has someone crept in behind him? Was this another prank from the church kids, trying to frighten him with their mischievous tricks? His pulse raced, but the room appeared empty, still cloaked in its usual shadowy stillness.

Adam pouted, shrugging off the unease as he let the thick curtain slip from his fingers. He turned back to the window, his heart instantly skipping a beat as his gaze locked, wide-eyed, with Steve’s. Heat flooded his face, a small, startled sound—almost a squeak—escaping his lips as Steve grinned and waved at him. Adam’s first instinct was to return the gesture, to raise his hand in a shy, almost desperate wave. But when he tried, he couldn’t.

Something was holding his hand down.

His breath hitched as his brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to his hand. There was nothing there, no visible force pinning him in place, yet he could feel it—the unmistakable pressure of fingers intertwined with his own. Cold. Unseen. His pulse quickened as he bit down on his bottom lip, his skin crawling with a mixture of fear and something darker, something strangely sweet.

But the invisible hand did not let go.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat as his wide eyes darted back to Steve. He wanted to scream, to beg the older boy to come to his rescue, to tear him away from the unseen force that gripped him in its cold, spectral hold. But his voice refused to come. He could only watch as Steve smiled at him through the glass, so warm and gentle, blissfully unaware of the creeping dread filling the air. The older boy waved again, the gesture as sweet and kind as ever, a picture of innocence framed by the sun.

But then the window shuddered, an unnatural tremor that sent a chill racing down Adam’s spine. Before he could process it, a sharp, echoing crack erupted across the glass. The sound was so loud, so sudden, it tore a startled cry from Adam’s lips. He shot backward in a blind panic, his legs slipping out from under him as he scrambled away from the window, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

The cracks multiplied with terrifying speed, crawling outward like the limbs of a great spider, their jagged lines stretching not just across the window, but creeping up the walls around it, spreading like a dark web of shattered reality. The light from the outside seemed to warp, bending unnaturally as the fractures claimed more of the wall, pulling shadows into their depths.

Adam’s pulse raced, every fibre of his being screaming for him to run, to hide, to escape the sinister web that seemed to tighten around him. Yet, amidst the chaos, his gaze flickered back to Steve, still standing there, still smiling, still so impossibly unaware of the nightmare unravelling before them.

It was as if the world had splintered around Adam, yet Steve remained untouched, suspended in a moment of sunlit perfection while Adam was dragged himself deeper into the darkness.

Powerful rumbles coursed through the room, the sound reverberating like the growl of a hidden beast. The cracks clawed their way further, creeping up the walls and spreading like dark veins overhead. Adam’s body trembled, his muscles locking in place as dread settled deep in his gut. He hunched over, pulling his knees tightly to his chest, his arms folding protectively over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable—the ceiling giving way, burying him beneath a rain of jagged debris.

But instead of the crushing weight of collapse, he felt something else—a hand. Solid. Firm. Resting on his shoulder.

Adam’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest as a sharp yelp escaped his lips. His mind spun with confusion, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He jerked around, expecting to see the worst. Yet, there crouched beside him was... Steve.

The older boy’s soft, warm gaze met Adam’s wide, frantic eyes, his concern palpable as his hand rested gently on Adam’s trembling shoulder. Steve’s voice was as soothing as a breeze in the summer sun.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his tone filled with care, like he was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding.

Adam’s breath came in shallow, wheezing gasps as he blinked away the confusion clouding his vision. His gaze darted around the room, expecting the cracks to still be there, the walls to be crumbling, the chaos to remain. But everything was as it had been before. The window was whole, the air calm, the floor solid beneath him. No cracks. No dust. No falling ceiling. Just the quiet, dimly lit room and Steve's comforting presence.

A soft whimper escaped Adam’s throat, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as his bottom lip trembled. It had all felt so real—so terrifyingly real. He could still feel the echo of the rumbling in his bones, still see the image of the fractured walls crawling across his mind.

“Adam?” Steve’s voice was more urgent now, filled with worry as he rubbed comforting circles on Adam’s back.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to... You looked so frightened. I got worried and came to find you."

Steve’s words washed over him like a balm, but Adam’s mind couldn’t fully grasp them, not yet. The confusion, the fear—it still lingered, lurking in the shadows of his mind. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, wasn’t sure if it had been a trick of his mind or something darker, something otherworldly that had toyed with him. All he knew was that Steve was here now, real and solid, grounding him in this strange and eerie moment.

Adam's eyes flickered nervously toward the window, the remnants of terror still coursing through him. His throat tightened as he swallowed, his whole body trembling as if it could collapse at any moment. The crack remained etched into the glass, jagged and unnatural, exactly where Steve had been standing just moments ago. It hadn’t vanished like the others. It was real.

"Come on, Adam," Steve’s voice was a gentle murmur in his ear, steady and warm. Adam felt Steve’s arms slip beneath his own, lifting him up with ease. Under any other circumstance, Adam might have grumbled, his pride wounded by needing to be held like this. But now, he didn’t resist. Not with the lingering fear still clutching at his chest. Steve held him close, his presence as comforting as it was grounding.

"I think you need to lay down," Steve continued softly, his voice a soft tether pulling Adam back from the edge of panic. "Sister Sera told me about your condition with the sun. You weren't standing in the sunlight too long, were you?"

Adam’s mind raced as Steve’s words cut through the haze. No... there were no burns. His skin wasn’t blistered, his flesh wasn’t melting under the relentless burn of the sun’s touch. But... had he been in the sun’s light longer than he thought? His condition made him sick, left his skin raw and ruined if he was exposed too long... but this wasn’t that. Or was it? The crack in the window... could he have caused it?

No. No, that wasn’t possible. His hand still tingled from something else, from the cold, inhuman touch that had bound him. The pressure, the weight of those unseen fingers—he hadn’t imagined that. Had he?

"It’ll be alright, Adam," Steve chirped, his tone almost too bright, a beacon in the darkness of Adam’s confusion. Steve led him out of the classroom, the halls of the old building feeling even darker now, colder. "It’ll be alright."

Adam continued to stare back over his shoulder as they left the room, his gaze fixed on the spot where the crack had shattered his world. Even when the window disappeared from sight, his eyes remained glued to the void behind him, waiting—hoping—to catch a glimpse of something. He always saw something, didn’t he? The strange, the inexplicable, the things that lurked just beyond the edges of reality.

But this time... there was nothing.

The silence in his mind was louder than any crackling glass, more oppressive than any shadow. He felt safer with Steve’s hand holding his…

His drawings had mysteriously disappeared…

~#~

“There,” Steve exhaled with satisfaction, stepping back from the wardrobe with his hands on his hips. “Now nothing can get out during the night.”

Adam’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles as he lay curled on his side, tightly cocooned within his blankets. His gaze lingered on the old pink skipping rope Steve had used to tie the wardrobe doors shut, a flimsy but sweet attempt at protection.

“Don’t tell Eve I swiped her skipping rope,” Steve added with a playful grin, spinning on his toes with a lightness that made Adam’s heart flutter. He practically skipped to his bed, his clear blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “But seriously, if you can’t sleep or have another nightmare, just crawl into my bed. You don’t have to wake me up.”

Adam gave a meek nod, feeling a strange warmth bloom in his chest. His heart did a tiny, giddy dance at Steve’s words. The kindness made his face burn with embarrassment, and he quickly pulled the quilt up over his head, hiding from the older boy’s clear gaze. His cheeks were flaming, and he was sure his blush was as obvious as the daylight he dreaded.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve asked softly, his tone growing quieter, laced with concern. “You’ve been shaky ever since this morning.”

Adam hesitated before poking a hand out from beneath the covers, offering a weak thumbs up. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard Steve chuckle in response. That sound—so light and free—was like a balm for his anxious soul. He peeked out from his blanket fortress, watching Steve’s blue eyes sparkle with amusement. The grin that tugged at Steve’s cherry-red lips only deepened, his dimples carving into his cheeks in the most charming way.

Ah, Steve was just so... cute.

“Well, if you say so~” Steve whistled cheerfully, tossing himself onto his bed with a dramatic flop.

Adam bit his lip, holding back the laugh that bubbled up inside him. He wasn’t sure how to let it out, how to release that strange mix of joy and unease swirling inside him. Instead, his gaze drifted back to the wardrobe. His heart quickened as his eyes locked onto the pink skipping rope, tightly wrapped around the handles. Would it really hold? Could something as fragile as a skipping rope keep that... thing... inside?

His stomach twisted in fear as he recalled the black silhouette that always lurked within the wardrobe’s depths, emerging only at night. It was there every time the room fell into shadow, a dark figure that terrified him to his core. It growled and writhed behind the doors, furious when Adam would crawl into Steve’s bed for safety, as if it resented the comfort he found there. Steve had never seen it. Steve never heard the growling, never felt the cold presence hovering just beyond the threshold of that fragile pink rope.

Adam’s heart trembled with fear, even as he lay curled beneath the safety of his blankets. He hoped, desperately, that tonight would be different—that the rope would hold, that the silhouette would remain locked away, where it couldn’t reach him. But in the silence that followed Steve’s soft breathing, Adam’s gaze lingered on the wardrobe, waiting, fearing, knowing deep down that it was only a matter of time before the thing inside stirred once more.

Adam couldn’t recall when he drifted into sleep, but as swiftly as a rubber band snaps, his eyes jerked open. His vision was a foggy swirl of shadows, distorting reality and sending an aching pulse through the bridge of his nose. Slowly, cautiously, he sat up, pressing his palms hard into his eyes as if to wipe away the heaviness lingering in them.

Everything felt...off again. Uncanny. Wrong. An uneasy whine rose from his throat, and he forced his tired gaze to the cross above his bed. It was upside down, mocking him in its eerie defiance, because of course it was. He groaned softly as his sore legs protested when he stood, reaching up to set the cross right again.

His body sagged against the wall, feeling the coolness seeping into him like a whispered warning. His head lolled slightly as he glanced toward the wardrobe—it was still tied shut, securely bound, as if whatever lurked within hadn't stirred. Relief washed over him, and he let his forehead rest against the cold plaster, the contrast to his own feverish warmth almost comforting.

He stood there, unmoving, the chill of the wall seeping deeper into his skin. His eyelids began to grow heavy again, dragging him toward that perilous edge of sleep. But no, he wouldn’t let himself succumb. Not standing like this, not in this place. He was about to surrender to the blankets, retreat into their cocoon, when something caught his attention—a slight draft or perhaps just a shift in the darkness.

He blinked. The bedroom door was open.

Had Steve left it ajar? Adam turned his head, eyes searching for the older boy who slept soundly in the bed across the room, blissfully unaware of the creeping darkness that surrounded them. The church felt hollow, its silence heavier than it should be. Adam’s gaze returned to the doorway, his throat tightening as a sharp taste of fear swirled in his mouth. He bit his bottom lip until it stung.

There, directly in the centre of the threshold, sat a candle. A solitary, ominous candle that sent an icy tremor skittering down his spine. He inhaled sharply, his lips thinning as a shiver locked his muscles in place. He knew that candle. He had seen it before—years ago, in a memory that clawed at the corners of his mind like something too dark to fully remember.

A black candle with a flame that flickers white and purple. The sight of it tightened his chest, dredging up old, buried nightmares. His fingers curled into the blankets, knuckles white with tension, his nose twitching as fear gripped him. He could hardly tear his eyes from the flame, watching it dance inside its ancient silver holder. If he looked closer, he could make out delicate carvings—small apple-like shapes etched into the tarnished metal, winding around the base where the handle twisted upward in an elegant curve.

But Adam didn't dare step closer. The past was too close now, breathing down his neck, reminding him of that time...the time he was placed on that altar...

Adam’s breath hitched, a jagged edge catching in his throat. He pulled his knees tightly to his chest, curling inward as his eyes darted around the room. Everything seemed the same, yet an invisible tension lingered in the air, whispering of something unseen but waiting. Nothing appeared out of place... but that feeling of wrongness clung to him like a shadow, refusing to be shaken off.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pushed the heavy quilts away, their warmth slipping from his skin as he moved to stand. His knees buckled beneath him, nearly sending him to the floor. He steadied himself with a shaky hand, the tremors in his body growing more pronounced as he crept toward the candle. It sat there so innocently, yet the flickering of the white and purple flame was anything but comforting. It seemed to beckon him, to draw him closer with its strange and hypnotic glow.

Adam poked his head out into the hallway, his heart racing as his eyes scanned the shadows that stretched out on either side. There was nothing. Just the emptiness of the night and the eerie quiet of the old church. His lips pressed into a thin line, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulled his head back inside and returned his gaze to the candle.

Its flame flickered softly, casting strange, dancing shadows against the walls. Adam hesitated, a cold sweat gathering at the nape of his neck as he bent down toward the strange light. His hands shook violently, but he forced them forward, fingers curling around the handle of the silver holder. The metal was cool to the touch, the carvings beneath his fingertips smooth and strange. As he straightened up, lifting the candle from the floor, his eyes remained locked on the flame—unable to look away, as though something deeper than fear compelled him to keep watching it.

The flame danced as if it knew something he didn’t. Something dark and ancient.

Adam inhaled deeply, his breath shaky, his hand trembling as he gripped the cool handle of the candle holder. His eyes were locked on the flickering flame, its white and purple light swirling hypnotically, refusing to release him from its spell. It danced with an almost mischievous life of its own, teasing the edges of his thoughts.

What should he do? Where had this candle even come from? A cold unease twisted inside him. Maybe… maybe he should wake Steve. Steve would know what to do; Steve always knew what to do. Over the past year, Steve had been endlessly patient with him, a constant source of warmth in Adam’s otherwise haunted nights. That thought sent a flutter through his chest—sweet and soft, a rare comfort in this place of shadows. Steve had stayed by his side, soothing him through the long, sleepless nights, even allowing him to slip into his bed when the thing in the wardrobe refused to let Adam rest. Those moments meant more than Adam could ever express.

But then, out of nowhere, a sound—a faint, childish giggle—broke through the silence from somewhere to his left. Adam’s breath hitched sharply. His body stiffened, and he whipped around, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of something small and fast darting past the end of the corridor. His eyes widened in alarm. The figure was too quick, too blurry to make out which child it was. But his heart raced at the thought—if Sister Sera caught them, they’d be sent to the Bobo Box.

Adam’s face scrunched in worry, torn between waking Steve and following the mysterious figure. He cast one last glance toward Steve’s sleeping form, then, with his heart pounding in his chest, cautiously started down the corridor.

The air inside the church clung with an unnatural chill, far colder than it should have been. Adam shivered violently, his lips tinged a deep blue. He hunched his small frame, clutching at the oversized sweater draped over him. It was Steve’s, a gift surrendered when Adam had been caught admiring it. Though it hung baggy and awkward on him, it offered a peculiar comfort. He slowed to a halt, lifting his gaze to the towering grandfather clock looming above. Its hands jittered and spun as though they were caught in some unseen frenzy, their movements unsettlingly erratic. Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion. He had never seen the clock behave like this before. Sister Sera had mentioned Father Michael had crafted it many years ago. It was a relic, ancient and cherished by the church.

A lump formed in Adam’s throat as he squinted at the clock's glass, straining to focus on the reflection staring back at him. A shadowy figure loomed there, silently watching from the doorway that led into the parlor. Adam’s heart thundered, freezing for a beat before surging into a frantic rhythm. He spun around, his breath catching as the dim light flickered unnervingly. A soft, eerie giggle echoed through the still air—a sound that sent a shiver racing down Adam’s spine.

The figure was small and childlike, but there was something wrong about it. Another eerie laugh escaped its lips before it turned abruptly and bolted deeper into the church, its form darting far too fast for Adam to truly make out its features. Despite the icy dread coiling in his chest, Adam’s feet betrayed him, propelling him forward in pursuit of the mysterious child.

His lips twitched as if trying to call out, but no sound came. His voice was trapped in his throat, silenced by fear. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat so strong it echoed in his ears. Adam gasped for breath, a stifled sob escaping him as he pressed on. His legs trembled, heavy with exhaustion, yet he couldn't stop running. He had never raced through the church like this before, knowing full well that such disobedience would earn him sharp strikes to the hands.

The ancient floorboards groaned beneath his feet as if whispering secrets long forgotten. Above him, the ceiling creaked with the sound of countless tiny footsteps, as though an army of unseen children scampered about. The flickering light bulbs overhead swayed back and forth, casting ominous shadows that danced mockingly around him.

Adam turned in a frantic circle, his eyes locked on the trembling ceiling above him, where the sound of countless small feet scurried in a maddening loop. It was as if unseen children were racing overhead, encircling him in an eerie dance. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp, panicked whimper escaping his lips as he twisted on his bare feet. He stumbled, nearly collapsing to the ground but managed to catch himself just in time.

He bolted into the dining room, the largest and most foreboding space in the church. The walls loomed with cold, grey stone bricks, their rough surfaces jagged and unkind. Adam hated the floor, sharp-edged stone that had cut more than one careless child’s foot. The arched windows, small and narrow, were lined with black, prison-like bars of iron. They cast dark shadows on the room’s interior, making the space feel more like a dungeon than a place for gathering.

The room was ancient, older than anything else in the church, and its age seemed to seep into the very air, thick and heavy with forgotten time. A single long, weathered wooden table stretched across the centre, rarely filled despite the church being crammed with orphans, nuns, and priests. When Adam stepped inside, his skin crawled with a sudden, visceral dread.

He froze, his bare feet pressing painfully into the unforgiving stone. A sharp sting radiated from his left foot, but he barely noticed. His wide, apple-green eyes stretched in shock as the breath caught in his chest, his heart squeezing so tightly it felt like his ribs might snap under the pressure.

The dining room had transformed into something out of a nightmare. Red candles covered every surface, their twisted wax forms flickering with strange black flames that burned coldly against the darkness. The table was draped in a deep crimson cloth, rich and velvety. But what made Adam's blood run cold were the children. Every stool at the table was occupied by pale, porcelain-faced children, their eyes impossibly large and glossy, black as endless voids. They weren’t human eyes. They gleamed with a soulless, alien shine. Their skin was smooth and polished like fine china, unnervingly perfect, and Adam felt a shiver skitter down his spine as he heard soft clicks and whirs when they tilted their heads in unison, just like fragile, wind-up dolls.

They were pristine, flawless in every detail. Their hair, ranging from golden blonde to deep brown, was meticulously groomed, and they wore clothing of finely tailored black, white, and red. Every movement was deliberate, too precise, as if they were posed, waiting for something. The air hung thick with tension as Adam took a hesitant step forward, and in that instant, the doors behind him slammed shut with a thunderous bang.

Adam let out a scream, spinning on his heel to face the doors. He lunged for the handles, yanking with all his strength, but they refused to budge, as though sealed by some invisible force. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he turned back to the room, sweat beading on his forehead.

The sound of laughter—a chorus of eerie, high-pitched giggles—filled the air, but it was far from playful. It was ghostly, distorted, as if thousands of children were laughing in some dark, twisted harmony. Adam’s stomach churned violently. His eyes darted back to the children, their painted lips now curled into sweet, yet sinister smiles.

His gaze drifted to the chair at the head of the table, the one closest to him. It was newer than the rest, the wood a deep, blood-red hue with plush black cushions sewn into it. It didn’t belong here—certainly not where Sister Sera usually sat. As Adam stared at it, he felt an icy tingle creep across his skin, a dark shadow pooling in the farthest corner of the room where the light refused to reach.

The porcelain children never broke their gaze, their smiles never faltering. Suddenly, a little china girl sitting at the far end of the table rose to her feet with a soft clink of her joints, bowing deeply, her red-tinted cheeks gleaming like polished glass. Across from her, a china boy stood up with a sharp, mechanical movement, his bow so deep his head nearly brushed the floor. They moved with a strange fluidity, their limbs clicking like clockwork dolls, each motion accompanied by that unnerving sound.

Together, they tugged the chair out from the table, their eyes never leaving Adam as they gestured for him to sit. He hesitated, his gaze flicking between the two doll-like figures. Their painted smiles stretched wider as they gestured again, more insistent this time, urging him closer.

With a racing heart and no other choice, Adam inched toward the chair. His foot throbbed from the cut, but the pain felt distant, swallowed by the suffocating fear that gripped him. His wide eyes darted between the children, unable to comprehend how they moved so fluidly, as if alive. He lowered himself into the chair, the cushion soft beneath him.

The moment he sat, the two doll-children pressed their small hands to the back of the chair, pushing him in closer to the table before silently returning to their seats. Adam’s heart raced, his breath shallow and quick, as the room seemed to close in around him. And still, those wide, black eyes watched him, unblinking, waiting.

Nervously, Adam gnawed at his bottom lip until the sting of pain shot through him. His shoulders hunched in tight, a small tremor running through his fingers as he crossed them protectively over his stomach. His gaze flickered meekly over the children seated around the table. They appeared no older than four or five, but there was something deeply unsettling in the way their glassy eyes tracked his every movement.

Without warning, the silence shattered. The children erupted into joyful cheers, their voices shrill and almost too sweet. Party poppers exploded in their tiny hands, sending colourful streams of confetti spiralling through the air. Adam's eyes widened in shock, watching as the dining room was suddenly bathed in a warm, golden glow. It seemed almost festive now, but despite the change, Adam instinctively shrank back, his mind swirling with confusion and unease.

Across the table, a pair of red and golden eyes gleamed through the shifting light, pinning him in place. Adam gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he straightened, startled. There, seated casually at the far end of the table, was Luci, his sharp grin cutting through the room like a blade. Its arrow-tipped tail swished lazily behind it, the movement almost hypnotic. A crisp white top hat perched atop its head, casting shadows over its face, but leaving those unnaturally beautiful eyes to glow vividly in the dimness.

"Mama’s home!" the china children chorused in unison, their mechanical voices high-pitched and eerie as they bounced excitedly on their stools. Their arms flailed in a strange imitation of joy, and above the Imp, a banner unfurled with a soft flutter.

It was stained a deep, rusty red, the words scrawled across it reading, "Mummy’s come home!"

Adam’s breath hitched painfully in his chest, each inhale trembling as his lungs struggled to keep pace with his panic.

"M-Mummy?" he stammered, the word barely escaping his lips, as if his voice had been trapped somewhere deep inside.

The Imp’s grin widened—impossibly wide—its cheeks flushed a deep crimson that seemed to glow against the pale skin. Its gleaming eyes never left Adam, staring straight into him, through him, as if the creature could read every desperate thought racing through his mind. But Adam’s attention was abruptly diverted by movement at his side.

One of the china children had waddled up to him, its porcelain limbs clicking softly as it carried a large, rolled-up piece of paper. It released the scroll with a careful flick, allowing it to unfurl in front of Adam. His heart nearly stopped as the image was revealed. It was a sketch, eerily familiar, but larger and far more detailed than the one Adam had once drawn in secret. Only now, Steve was gone, completely erased, and in his place stood Luci, looming proudly. They were surrounded by children—each one smiling with wide, jagged grins that mirrored the Imp’s sinister expression.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tightening painfully as his gaze lingered on the twisted smiles. They stared back at him from the paper, their sharp teeth gleaming like tiny, hungry blades. A sickening chill crawled up his spine, making his stomach churn. His pulse raced, pounding in his ears as he fought to tear his eyes away from the unnerving scene.

Luci’s voice echoed softly in the back of his mind, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made Adam’s blood run cold.

"Y-Y-You..." Adam stammered, licking his dry lips as his gaze flickered nervously to the Imp’s piercing eyes. He swallowed hard, barely able to form the words as they trembled on the edge of his tongue. "You... built... me a family?"

The Imp, Luci, responded with a slow, prideful nod, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. His lips curled into a sharp, knowing grin as Adam hesitantly pointed a trembling finger toward himself.

"And..." Adam’s voice shook, barely audible as he struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding around him. "...I’m the M-M... Mama?"

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of eerie giggles, the china children kicking their feet with uncontainable glee. Their glassy eyes never wavered from Adam, their joy unsettling in its falseness. Luci tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming brighter as he gave a deliberate, luring nod, his grin widening as if this revelation was a game he had long been waiting for Adam to understand.

Adam inhaled deeply, his lips twitching involuntarily as his mind wrestled with the horror before him. He looked back at Luci, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. A family. A make-believe family, created from some twisted fantasy. It was terrifying—every child seated around the table had an unsettling, doll-like quality that sent shivers down his spine. Yet... there was something else. A strange, warped sense of being touched. Luci, his Imp, had pieced together a family for him. A grotesque, chilling gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

"And... and..." Adam struggled to find his voice, his thoughts spiralling as he grasped for clarity.

Before he could finish, Luci leaned forward, his movements fluid and predatory. He propped his elbows on the table, his long claws threading together like pieces of a delicate puzzle. His sharp teeth glittered in the dim light, and his eyes... they swirled with an enchanting, dangerous allure that made Adam’s pulse quicken. He couldn't tear his gaze away, as if Luci’s eyes had woven some dark spell around his mind.

"I’m the Mama... and you’re the Papa?" Adam finally whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, trembling with both fear and an unsettling sense of acceptance.

The china doll children erupted into another round of gleeful squeals, their delicate bodies shaking with excitement as they bounced on their stools. The sound was unnerving, yet Adam couldn't look away from Luci’s intense gaze, his heart pounding faster in his chest with each passing second.

Suddenly, Luci rose to his feet, his movements swift and effortless. He climbed onto the table with an unsettling grace, his clawed feet clicking against the wood as he revealed a lavish red and gold throne behind him. It had been there all along, hidden in plain sight, and Adam felt a chill run down his spine as he realised the throne had been the Imp’s rightful seat.

His eyes fell to Luci’s goat-like hooves as the Imp began to walk slowly down the centre of the table, the candles flickering in his wake. Luci's figure loomed larger and larger until he stood directly over Adam, casting a dark shadow that enveloped him entirely. Adam’s heart raced wildly, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts as Luci’s glowing eyes bore into his very soul.

This was no ordinary family. It was a nightmare wrapped in velvet, a macabre creation crafted from the darkest parts of his imagination. And yet, Luci stood before him, offering it all with a grin that promised so much more than Adam could ever understand.

….but…Adam smiled.

Luci held out a black claw and Adam took it.

#fanfic #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #au #guitarduck #fanficiton #horror #horrible story

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starcursedluvrs · 1 year ago

Text

Part II of “TALK”:

“REFINED”

I suguru x pregnant!reader

“So I’ll try to talk

Refined

for fear that you’d find out…”

summary: read part I here! a continuation of the first part of Talk! this installment focuses more on the development of suguru and reader’s relationship, as well as some cute little plot complications that are thrown in their way (sorry not sorry for the angst) <3

A/N: heyyy!! guys i’m so sorry for how delayed this is. i just started a new job and life has been ✨hectic✨ to say the least. there will be a part III and IV, and at least part III will (hopefully) be ready by the time i have to move back to uni. regardless, i’m still very excited to share this and i hope y’all enjoy. (again, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated <3).

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

warnings!: SPOILERS FOR GOJO’S PAST ARC. THIS IS A PREGNANCY FIC! 18+. nsfw. f!reader. suguru and reader are over the age of 18. explicit sexual content. unprotected sex/oral (f!receiving). breeding kink. fingering. creampie. pregnancy. unplanned pregnancy. lactation kink. lots of angst (and comfort). there’s some more blood in this. gore (it isn’t too in depth). mentions of child abuse. the twins make a few appearances. cute domestic fluff hehe.

wc: 12k

tag list: @username23345 @chilichopsticks @pjofics @tazuduck @sakui1

“Now, cup your hands and support his head,” cooed your mother,” Yes, just like that.”

You were 11, and it was your first time holding a baby. You were afraid to hold something so small and so fragile in your hands. But, what you didn’t expect was the intense, overwhelming feeling of love that engulfed you. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, and caught a whiff of that precious newborn scent. It smelled like heaven.

From then on, you were basically Norotoshi’s second mother. You loved that kid - he made your dark world brighter.

You loved to play with him, kiss his boo boos better. It was your job as the older sibling; you had to protect him. So, you gave him the love and adoration of which you wish you had as a child.

Sure, your mother was attentive, but the moment it was found that you possessed Blood Manipulation, your time with her was restricted. She was seen as a distraction, which is why you greatly appreciated the arrival of your baby brother.

One of your favorite memories of him was when you tried to teach him to play hide and seek. As a 2 year old, he didn’t really understand the concept, so every time finished counting and pretended like you couldn’t see his chubby little legs peeking out from behind a curtain, he would run out from the window and tackle you in the tiniest, but strongest, bear hug.

He's the reason you wanted children so badly. Surely, if they’re all like your sweet Norotoshi, they can’t be that bad for the world.

…

January, 2008 (30 weeks)

Norotoshi stood in the doorway of you and Suguru’s shared suite, drenched in a scarlet substance. Suguru immediately excused himself to make sure there’d was no other lurking threat in the house.

“Norotoshi, sweetheart, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is this your blood? Where’s Kaachan? Why are you here al-”

“NEE-CHAN,” your little brother cut you off and ran to your leg, blood dripping all over the floor as he went.

The emotions of the moment overwhelmed you, and tears began to flow down your face. You slowly sunk to the ground to reach his level. You and your brother sobbed into each other's arms for a moment.

As you did when he was a baby, you pressed kisses into his forehead, not caring whether or not you got blood on your lips. Even if you did, you would be able to use your technique to wipe it away.

“Toshi, look at me for a second, are you hurt?” You asked as you finally collected yourself.

“Deep breaths, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“T-they said you,” Norotoshi took a deep sniffle, snot starting to drip down his nose, “They said you were bad. And I said no my nee-chan isn’t bad. But they told me something bad would happen if I didn’t talk to you.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” You asked, a little more panicked. “What exactly did they tell you?”

“The clan leader. And Oto-San. They told me about a deal, and if you say yes, you can come back home.”

It had been years since you had been home, before your time at Jujutsu Tech. You didn’t even consider that place your home. It’s just the shell that houses you and Norotoshi, the person you actually thought of as home. However, your home was with Suguru now.

“They also said you can see Kaachan again. She can move back home if you come!” Norotoshi looked quite hopeful.

It had also been years since you had seen your mother. Four to be exact. She was sent away on Norotoshi’s third birthday - something about getting in the way of training.

Norotoshi was a very intelligent boy. As soon as he was born, you knew he was going to be the next heir and clan leader. After all, your father’s actual wife hadn’t produced any children with the family technique. Your mother was a concubine, there to preoccupy your father and fulfill his need for an heir. Sure, you and Norotoshi had other half-siblings, but they despised you, as you and your brother were the only ones born with the blood manipulation technique.

When you were four, you found yourself with a deep cut on your knees following an unsuccessful attempt to climb a tree. When you went to the infirmary on the campus of the Kamo estate, you willed your leg to stop the bleeding. And it did. The blood on your knee cap hardened, and it was declared that you possessed blood manipulation.

That was the first interaction with your father that you could remember. But, you knew you would never be allowed to be a clan head, regardless of the power you posessed. You were female. Deep down, you knew they would never let a woman run the clan. Besides, you were already a disgrace to your family.

What did they want now?

“Norotoshi, what did they say?” you pressed.

“You’re having a baby right?” Norotoshi asked, pointing to your belly.

“Sweetheart, first of all, I taught you that it’s rude to point. Second, yes, me and Suguru are having a baby,” you said with a soft smile, taking Norotoshi’s tiny hand and placing it on your belly.

“Oto-san told me to tell you that if you come home, you and Sugu will be protected by the clan. All of the charges will be dropped against you two, and you can live in peace,”

Suspicious. You knew it was bogus that the charges would be dropped against you. Your clan was powerful, but not that powerful.

“Oto-san also said that if you come home, we can see Kaachan again! She can move back and help you with the baby. The only thing is…” Norotoshi got quiet again and his cheeks went a little red, and not from the blood staining his cheeks.

“What’s the only thing?”

“Oto-san wants to be the baby’s dad and adopt it. And the baby’s family name will be Kamo, so that if it gets Sugu’s technique…”

“… it will become a hereditary Kamo technique,” you finished, realization dawning upon you.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.

You knew your father was a power-drunk misogynistic scumbag who thinks all you were good for was passing Blood Manipulation down to offspring, but you never thought he would actually go this far. He wanted to take your child from you. He was probably planning on killing Suguru the moment you stepped foot on the estate, and kept you prisoner somewhere until the baby was born. Then, he would turn you over and get the reward money.

However, more questions arose.

How did he know you were pregnant?

How did he know where you lived?

Did he come here alone?”

He knew the risk of sending his heir into the vipers den with a special grade.

“DOLL, IT'S A TRAP,” Suguru screamed from somewhere down the hall.

“I’m sorry, nee-chan. They threatened to out right kill you if I didn’t do it,” Norotoshi started crying again. You didn’t know what to do, so you just wrapped him in your arms again.

“Shhh, Toshi, I know. It’s okay, that must have been so scary, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left.”

“Toshi, I have your nee-chan, it’s going to be okay. They won’t try anything while you’re in here, you’re too precious to them,” Suguru sounded exhausted as his frame appeared in the doorway, blood soaking through his socks and zori. “I need you to do something if you want to save your sister. Can you go to the bathroom for me and freshen up? There’s some hair products and face wash if you want to take a shower, okay?” Suguru continued, his smooth tone not at all matching his appearance.

Nototoshi shook in your arms before slowly nodding as you led him to the bathroom, telling him everything was going to be okay. Once you put him in the bathroom and showed him where all of the fancy bath salts were, you whispered, “I love you,” into his ear and wrapped him into a final bear hug before closing the door softly.

“We need to move,” Suguru whispered, “I found the sorcerer who put up a veil,” One of my followers undercover. That's how they knew. We have to move fast.”

“Where are the girls?”

“Larue left with them already, they’re at one of the safe houses. I sent them out as soon as I killed the barricade of sorcerers outside. And my ex-follower. It’s only a matter of time before they realize what happened.”

Suguru then summoned that pink curse again, the very one you used the last time you had to make a quick getaway. Suguru helped you on, leading your arm as you sat down and immediately took off, leaving one of your homes behind.

Guilt gnawed through your brain as you remembered that you had two homes; one with Suguru, and your old one, with Norotoshi. The same Norotoshi who you practically raised. The same Norotoshi who was so innocent and sweet, now tainted with the poison that is clan politics. It’s your fault he was going to become clan leader. It’s your fault he had to go through all of this. If only you had taken him with you that night.

Because you only had two people in your life to call home, the loss of one felt like someone was pressing on your chest, squeezing the air out of you. You sobbed so hard, nothing came out. Your shallow breaths filled the night sky, Suguru whispering apologies into your ear, wrapping his warm, safe arms around you.

…

By the time you got to the new safe house, a villa in Okinawa, you had cried yourself to sleep against Suguru. Suguru gently lifted you off of the pink alien-looking curse and carried you into the tiny safe house.

It was a cute two bedroom house, secluded behind a canopy of trees, fog from the sea, and the far off mountains of Okinawa. It was modern in style, but luxurious nonetheless.

Suguru opened the western-style carved wooden door to the cozy house and carried you inside, bridal style. His soft steps echoed up the sleek white stairs as he brought you upstairs to your new shared room.

Suguru turned left down the small hallway and opened the door to your room.

“Hey doll, we’re home. Can I help you get changed? You’ll feel better in the morning if we get you cleaned up right now.”

You slowly stirred from your slumber, the baby grounding you back to reality by giving your stomach a strong kick.

“Gimme a sec, your baby is trying to bruise my ribs it seems.” You took Suguru’s hand and placed it over your dirty robes where the baby was moving.

A tired smile crossed his face as little kicks pressed into his large, heavy hands. It was truly amazing how such a strong, powerful, and dangerous man was reduced to nothing but a dopey, wonder-filled expression from such a tiny, unborn human.

“Wait, love. Mimi, Nana, we have to check on them, they don’t like sleeping in new place-”

“My love, they’re safe and okay. They’re sleeping soundly at the other end of the hall. There’s a veil around us, so only us four are allowed in the house. We can go check on them after we get the both of us clean, okay?”

“Okay.”

He helped you up, which was becoming increasingly more difficult with your growing belly. After pressing a kiss to the top of your hand, he led you into the cramped, but cozy bathroom.

Suguru had you sit on the toilet cover as he turned the faucet on and pressed his fingers into the stream of liquid to check the temperature. He started humming a soft, melodic tune as he went about his business. He seemed to be deep in thought about something else.

You almost fell asleep, until you felt his strong, warm hands going to unzip your coat and get you out of your blood-stained clothes. He did the same for himself, and helped you into the tub. His mind still seemed to be elsewhere.

The water felt like a warm embrace against your back and aching hips. You let out a sigh as Suguru entered the tub behind you, causing the water to splash and ripple around you. The bathroom already seemed to be fully stocked with all of your favorite products. Suguru picked up a pink loofah, squeezed some body soap onto it, and began to rub small circles at your back. The only sound in the room was the water dripping down from the loofah into the water below.

“Doll?” Suguru spoke after a while. You knew that face; he needed a question answered.

“Yes, love?” You responded.

“Do you remember that western myth Yaga taught us as second years? Eurydice and Orpheus?”

Yes. You remembered very well. Yaga was attempting to teach a lesson in death and humility; how sometimes, you have to let your partners go no matter how painful it was. That was just the life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer. You always had to prepare yourself for death.

After Yaga taught that lesson, You, Suguru, and Satoru got into an argument over whether or not Orpheus was stupid for turning around to see if Eurydice was really there. You did not think he was an idiot. Satoru and Suguru did.

“Yes, why? That’s such a random memory to bring up now,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Well, today scared me a lot. I’ve been having a lot of anxiety and fear about if something happened to you. Or the girls. I don’t care about anyone else; you’re my world. I just want to keep you safe.”

More silence followed as you took in his words. Suguru continued on to cleaning your arms.

“I’m sorry about today, Sugu. I-,”

“Why are you apologizing? That’s not what I wanted out of telling you that.”

“Then what did you want?”

“Do you remember the argument me, you, and Satoru had after?” He continued.

“Of course.”

“If anything ever happened to you, or baby, I think I would become that dumbass Orpheus,” Suguru stated. He sounded so distraught.

“Love, what do you mean?” You turned your body as best you could and smiled at him, shaking you head.

“If I ever lost you or baby, I don’t know if I would be able to pull myself together. I would turn around. I would crawl into a hole like the night we defected. Except, that night, I only stopped after killing a few people. Bad people, who deserved to die. There was reason, and logic, and a point to that too. But still, if something happened I would probably claw my way darker into a hole where I wouldn’t be able to see the light anymore. I’m scared I would hurt myself and other people. Without reason. That’s what I mean by turning around.”

It took a moment but you turned your body around awkwardly in the tub to face him. It was the first time you really got a clear look at his face in the light that day. Suguru seemed to be on the verge of tears. His eye bags were back, and he looked pale.

You took one of your hands to cup his face, and he snuggled into it.

“Love, as long as you’re protecting me and I still have my technique, we’re not going anywhere. I’m sorry today scared you, it scared me too.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, forehead, and then rested the top of your head against his.

“But I don’t believe you would go that far. There is good in you Suguru, even if you don’t believe in it. I believe it. Sure, we both do questionable things sometimes, but you have a good heart.”

“Thank you for listening, doll. I’m sorry if this got dark.”

“No, stop apologiz-“

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing first.”

You playfully splashed Suguru with some of the water and kissed him.

“How about for a change, you let me take care of you, and I will make the four of us a crepe feast tomorrow morning. How does that sound?”

“That sounds delicious,” he responded, in between sweet kisses.

You sat like that for a while; intertwined in each other's arms, kissing, soaking in what little moments of normalcy your new life had to offer.

…

February 3rd, 2008 (32 weeks)

“Suguru, she’s not late yet.”

You were standing in the kitchen, helping Suguru to clean up the nice brunch you had for Suguru’s 20th birthday. Suguru was scrubbing dishes, while you were drying them and putting them away. Mimiko and Nanako were in the living room, painting with a new water color set Suguru had bought for them.

“But this is her birthday present to me, don’t you think she should be on time? You know what, maybe I shouldn’t have given her the exact location. What if she sold us out?” Suguru handed you a plate.

“Love, I don’t think Shoko would tell anyone. She’s my best friend, we’re safe. I don’t trust anyone else to deliver the baby right now.” You punctuated your point by setting the plate down in its correct cabinet.

“Maybe an actual doctor?” Suguru said under his breath. If looks could kill, Suguru would be a dead man. You shot that idea down immediately with your sour expression.

“Yes, sure, let me just have my magical child in a place that’s known to be a madhouse for attracting cursed spirits, not to mention, Jujutsu Sorcerers along with it.” You grabbed another plate from his hand, and set it down as gently as you could, given your heightened emotions. This was a constant subject of bickering in your household. You understood where Suguru was coming from, but after what happened with Norotoshi at the Monastery, you were scared of someone coming to hurt your family.

You had told Shoko the location of the new safe house and asked her to come and check on the baby, as you were too afraid to ask anyone else. You still had the portable ultrasound machine that she had given you in Shinjuku, but you wanted someone that knew more about this than you. Besides, if anything was wrong, Shoko could just heal it with her reverse curse technique.

“Are you sure you altered the veil to let Shoko inside?”

“I think so, but I can check quickly,” Suguru replied, handing you the last dish and heading toward the entrance of your home.

Suguru opened the impeccably crafted door to see Shoko, standing where the veil met the rest of the world. Even from 50 feet away, you could see she was pissed. When Suguru recast the spell to allow Shoko inside, she ran full force at Suguru, knocking him over, and began hitting him with her purse.

“YOU. PROMISED. TO. TAKE. CARE. OF. HER. YOU. BIRTHDAY. BITCH. AND. THIS. IS. WHAT. HAPPENS,” Shoko screamed as she punctuated every word with a flick of her brown handbag. “SUGURU, THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE.”

“KOKO STOP, ITS OKAY, I’M OKAY,” you yelled back at her, waddling down the steps as best you could.

Shoko quickly healed the marks on Suguru’s face and ran to embrace you in a hug.

“Ha, I know, I just wanted to mess with him. I am a little mad though. What happened with Noritoshi shouldn’t have happened. I missed you.” And she wrapped you in a tight bear hug.

“Hey, doll, can we maybe find a doctor that doesn’t punch the father-to-be to death?” Suguru retorted, rubbing his neck as he walked up to the both of you.

“It was totally in my right to beat you up like that. I never got to punch you before for getting her pregnant. That payment was overdue, with accumulated interest. But, hi, I guess. And happy birthday too.”

The two didn’t hug. In fact, Shoko kept her distance from Suguru, and they shared a curious head nod. Something was up. You’d bother her about it later.

“Ok, I don’t have a ton of time, I got permission to leave campus for a few hours, but I have to be back by tonight. Let’s get inside.”

With that, Suguru helped you up the stairs to the door and led Shoko into the house. You entered the living room, and immediately the girls had questions. You hadn’t let anyone into your house in a few weeks, so Shoko was a rare treat for them.

“Mama Geto, who’s that lady?” Nanako said a little too loudly.

“What- did- did you have 2 more babies in the 4 or so months I haven’t seen you?” Shoko whispered into your ear.

“I’ll explain later, just play along. Me and Sugu are fostering them.”

Shoko rolled her eyes a little and shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Mimiko, Nanako. This is Auntie Shoko. She’s one of my best friends, and she’s just here to check up on the baby,” You told them.

“Woah, can I watch?” Mimiko asked.

“Can I watch too?” Nanako spoke over her sister.

“Yes, girls, but you have to give Mama and Auntie Shoko some space, okay? Remember when we talked about the importance of personal space?” Suguru cut in.

“Okay,” Nanako responded. She looked a little sad as she said it.

The five of you all sat in the small living room, you on the couch, and Shoko on the coffee table. There was one other chair in the room, which was set to the left of the coffee table, next to the couch, which the twins shared. Suguru positioned himself next to you, holding your thigh for comfort.

Shoko produced another portable ultrasound out of her bag, complete with a bulky screen. Next, she took out some of the cold, clear gel.

“Can you lift your shirt so I can put the gel on?” Shoko asked.

You did so wordlessly as Shoko spread the cool substance over your protruding belly.

Suguru’s hold on your thigh grew tighter, his breaths less frequent.

Anxiety pooled in your gut alongside your unborn, somersaulting child, who thought it was a spectacular time to showcase their gymnastic feats.

You took a deep breath and braced for the scanning instrument to make contact with your taut skin, placing your hand atop of Suguru’s in reassurance.

“You drank water before, right?” Shoko questioned.

“Suguru made me chug at least 3 cups before you showed up,” you giggled.

“Well, at least he’s good for something,” Shoko joked right back, easing some of the thick tension in the room.

“Ok, I’m gonna go ahead and scan you now,” Shoko confirmed. The doctor-in-training gently pressed the instrument to the cold gel, and a loud thumping sound began to play back on the screen.

An image also appeared. Cloudy, gray, and black at first, but it slowly shifted into a picture of your baby.

Holy shit.

These past few weeks haven’t felt real; your clan using your sweet brother against you, moving to a new place away from the life you knew.

But this.

This small, pulsing little thing on the camera screen made it all worth it. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Shoko hummed and scanned around your stomach for a few minutes, and the tension resumed its build.

All was quiet until Shoko cracked one of her rare smiles and asked, “Do you want to know the sex?”

“You can tell?” Nanako piped up.

“Yes,” Shoko had to fight back a giggle of excitement.

“Do you want to find out?” Suguru whispered softly.

“Well, it’s your birthday,” you responded, your voice barely coming out of your throat.

“Then, yes, please.” You’d never seen your fiancé look so timid.

“Well…you have a healthy baby girl!”

“You were right, Sugu,” you smiled brightly as tears trickled down your face.

“I usually am,” he joked, a smoldering grin plastered across his mouth.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him, deeply.

“Ewwww,” Nanako made a disgusted face.

“The kids’ right, get a room,” Shoko snorted.

“Can we dress her up?” Mimiko got right to asking the important questions.

“Oooh Mama Geto, you have makeup, right?” Her blonde twin added, jumping up from the chair in excitement.

“Hey, I want in too. As Auntie, it’s my duty to teach her to chug a beer, or light a cig-“

“OKAYyyyy that’s enough Auntie Shoko,” you said as you fake smiled through your teeth.

“Hahaha the Auntie lady said doo-ty” Nanako toppled over in a fit of laughter.

“Nanako, that’s not even funny. What’s a beer Mama?” Mimiko asked without skipping a beat.

You sighed. “It’s a grown-up drink, Mimi.”

“Girls, I have an idea. Why don’t you start gathering all the ingredients for the birthday cake, and we can all bake together! Just give me, Mama, and Auntie Shoko a few minutes, okay?” Suguru was born to be a parent. He was so good at making every little task for the girls into a game - a happy, go lucky childhood that you desperately wished for your child. And Suguru was there to deliver.

The girls ventured off to the kitchen, leaving the three of you alone to talk.

“So, it’s a healthy girl,” Shoko spoke, breaking the silence.

“But I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.”

“Why?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Suguru’s face was grave.

“Nothing’s wrong right now, per say. But your blood pressure is a little high for my taste. I’m going to give you some labetalol to help with that. But, you need to take it easy. Nothing exciting for the next few weeks. I’ll come back and check on you again soon. Right now, we should make a plan for when the baby comes,” Shoko explained.

“Shoko’s right, doll. We need a birth plan,” Suguru chimed in.

“And we should figure out who should come and stand guard outside. I suggest Mei Mei, she won’t care as long as you pa-“

“Stop. Talking. Everyone. Please.” You took a deep breath. “This is just… a lot.”

You were so overstimulated.

“Please, can we talk about this later? I just want to bake the cake and celebrate Suguru’s birthday. This isn’t helping to lower my blood pressure at all,” you exhaled.

Lip trembling, you felt yourself on the verge of tears.

“Oh, no sweetie, I’m sorry,” Shoko cooed

“Doll, we didn’t mean to overwhelm you-“

“I know you didn’t mean to, but it’s still a lot. My life is just so different than it was seven, eight months ago. Sometimes I just wish we were back at school. It was just so… simple. I- I try to be strong for you, Sugu, and the girls, but I- just- I-“ you buried your face in your hands and sobbed.

Norotoshi. That first night with the girls. You and Suguru laying in the soft grass by Jujutsu High.

You felt like you were watching your life through a screen. For a moment, you looked outside the window. It was a little hard to tell with the veil, but it appeared as if it was pouring rain, making mud out of the earthy ground below.

“Hey, Suguru, can you give us a minute? I think the girls will burn down the house if they don’t have adult supervision soon,” Shoko half joked.

Suguru looked a bit pained at the suggestion. He wanted to be with you, especially in a stressful moment like this. Shoko pulled Suguru aside, closer towards the shoji door separating the living room from the kitchen.

Shoko didn’t get emotional very often, she was rather accomplished at hiding what she was feeling behind a mask of sarcasm and attitude. But, for a moment, Suguru could read her. She was upset. More than upset. She was angry.

“Look, I haven’t had a conversation with her that wasn’t about the baby since before you took her away,” Shoko snapped.

Suguru’s eyes got wide in offense to Shoko’s comment.

“She came with me of her own will, Shoko. No one made her do anything, or took her anywhere-”

“No, you did. You did. Your selfish, dumbass didn’t use protection. Do you think she would actually still be attached to you if she wasn’t carrying your child?”

“Aren’t you sick of being used as a tool by the Jujutsu elders?”

“Save your bullshit for your cultish followers. We’re not friends anymore, Geto. I’m not friends with murderers. I’m here for her and that is all.”

“Yet, you’re still friends with Satoru. How many people has he murdered?”

Shoko swallowed, pondering Suguru’s comment.

“He has done it for the greater good.”

“Oh, really? What’s the greater good? I just got word that there’s a child who was born with a powerful curse technique. However, he has a heavenly restriction that paralyzes him from the neck down. He is allergic to sunlight, even moonlight can burn his skin. Yet, the elders keep him alive and have him suffer because his technique is ‘too valuable to lose.’ Is that the greater good that Satoru kills for? The greater good that I kill for is one where my children do not have to live in fear of being controlled or used as a weapon. People have already tried to come for Y/N and our child because they see her as a weapon. She’s not even born yet. And all they see is a weapon. I will not allow any of my daughters to be used like we were.” A vein was sticking out Suguru’s forehead

Shoko took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts.

“We were the strongest. You, me, Y/N, and Satoru. No one hates the elders more than me and Satoru. But you’re going about it the wrong way. This isn’t the answer, and I hope both of you see that.”

Shoko turned on her heel to walk out through the kitchen. You and Suguru both followed her to the door. Suguru walked with the intention of escorting her out; you with the intention of keeping her close to you.

“Shoko, please don’t leave yet, we- we have cake…” you begged.

Shoko faced you once more, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m not leaving you; it’s your house I’m leaving. I’ll send you a secure location to meet in the next few weeks. I’ll bring Mei Mei for muscle, just in case. Tell Geto he is not allowed. Goodbye, Y/N,” she said, stepping out under the veil surrounding the building.

As soon as she reached the edge of the veil, she was drenched by the thick droplets that fell from the sky.

Shoko was just thankful that you wouldn’t be able to make out the tears falling down her face alone with the rain.

…

Beginning of March, 2008 (35 weeks)

35 weeks had come and gone, and you felt absolutely disgusting. You heard a rumor that pregnancy was supposed to have you glowing, but you think whoever said that was just trying to come up with some wild propaganda to help the aging population of Japan.

Nothing fit you anymore, not even the nice robes Suguru bought for you. You sat on the floor of your closet, inspecting yourself in front of the mirror in nothing but a clean pair of underwear. Stretch marks decorated the sides of your tummy and breasts, the little tiger stripes making a pattern down your body. Your hips had them as well, and you couldn’t even see past your belly anymore. It had been a week since you and Suguru had found some time for sex and intimacy; you were both so exhausted.

So, you just cried, pushing your head into your hands, mourning for your changing body. Muffled footsteps started up the stairs, alerting you that your boyfriend was home.

“Doll, I ended the meeting early today, I was thinking we could do something just the two of us. Maybe dinner? A movie? You name it.”

You could feel Suguru searching for your through your shared room. He was going to find you here pathetically crying to yourself eventually, so, you cleaned yourself up as best you could, but you were unsuccessful in hiding your sniffles. Suguru opened the door to your closet to you, crying, wearing nothing but your panties.

“My love, what are you doing down there?”

You don’t know what came over you, but that made you sob even harder.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. What’s up, do you just need to cry?”

You nodded your head as you attempted to cover your body in embarrassment. Taking note of your body language, Suguru took a step back from you. However, his eyes were on you as he realized you were wearing nothing but your underwear.

He thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes on. Sure you were absolutely gorgeous before he got you pregnant, but now, gods, he didn’t have words to describe your beauty. Suguru Geto was rarely speechless, and your beauty rendered him as such.

He loved how your body had grown and changed to accommodate your child, physical proof of your love. He didn’t think it was possible, but he was even more attracted to you than ever before. The last week had been hard on him, and no sex had been even harder. Nothing offered him the same emotional release than when you were sobbing on his cock, telling you how much he loved you and would always protect you.

After a few minutes of you sobbing, and Suguru staring, you finally opened up.

“I feel disgusting,”

“Doll, no, you’re so beau-“

“-You’re just saying that because you have to,” you looked up and away from him in an attempt to keep more tears from spilling. “I’m so huge, none of my clothes fit. My skin is ruined. And you haven’t touched me in a week. Is that what it’s attributed to?” You squeaked out, your voice hardly above a whisper.

“Doll, look at me,” Suguru crouched down to your level and took your face in his hands, holding on to your chin.

“Even if you were 100 years old and your face was lined with wrinkles, I would think you were the most beautiful woman I had ever set my eyes on. You know why?”

“No.” You just wanted him to make you feel better already.

“Because these lines and marks are all reminders that you are alive and safe, and what is more beautiful than that? Aging is a privilege; having this child with you is a privilege, as is getting to watch you two grow. And, honestly, I’ve never been more sexually attracted to you than I am right now. Your skin isn’t ruined; it’s fine art to me. Like someone took a magical brush and painted proof of our love for each other on your body. I haven’t touched you in a week because you seemed exhausted and I didn’t want to stress you or baby.“

Suguru began to kiss your tears away, making his way to your mouth.

He captured your lips in a sweet, salty kiss.

“And I love your belly. It means the baby is healthy,” he whispered, continuing down to your breasts. “It also means you’re full of me. Everyone knows we belong to each other because I fucked my baby into you.”

You knew he wasn’t lying; you could see the very obvious tent in his pants. You could also feel yourself dampening your panties. Gods, you needed this so badly.

Suguru took one of your full, heavy tits into his hand, and brushed against your nipple, making you whine. He moved in back of you so you could see the two of you in the mirror.

“Look at these. So sensitive. So pretty.” Suguru latched himself to your neck, leaving a little love bite, and smoothing it over with his tongue when he was done. “Can’t wait till these start dripping milk,” he admitted, moving to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. You were absolutely drenched at this point.

“Let’s move to the bed, I don’t want to ruin the carpet-“ you panicked.

“-So? If it gets ruined, it gets ruined. I’ll buy a new one. Right now, I need to show you how much I love and adore you. The only thing you need to worry about is the number of times you’re gonna fall apart on my mouth, fingers, and cock tonight.”

You let a whimper escape your throat as his hands moved to the inside of your thighs, rubbing tantalizingly close to your core.

“Also, I forgot one thing, doll,” Suguru continued.

“Whaaa,” you half asked, half moaned.

“If you don’t follow my instructions exactly, you don’t get to cum. Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” His fingers ghosted over your clit and swiveled over your dripping entrance instead, making you shiver.

You nodded your head in response.

“Need a verbal answer, doll,” Suguru cooed, a sly grin forming on his lips.

“Yes, I ca-AHHH-“ as soon as the word “yes,” left your mouth, Suguru sunk one of his thick fingers into your waiting cunt, his thumb slowly rubbing your clit. The stimulation was so intense, you had to close your eyes.

“Be a good girl and open your eyes for me. I need you to see how absolutely breathtaking you look right now, spread open on my fingers, taking me so well.”

You complied and opened your eyes, taking in the state of you. Your legs were thrown to either side of you and placed over Suguru’s thighs to allow him easier access. Your pussy was so wet that your arousal started to drip on the carpet beneath you. Your hair was disheveled, your pupils blown with lust. Your cheeks had the softest touch of pink added to them. The image in front of you looked so lewd, as were the accompanying squelches coming from your core. You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Just as you tilted your head down in shame, Suguru took the hand that was not currently buried inside your cunt and grabbed your chin to tilt upwards.

“None of that, or you won’t get to cum. Look how beautiful you come apart f’me,” you opened your eyes again and noticed that his breathing started getting more shallow. “Now, I know your fingers aren’t as long as mine, so I’ll keep them where they are. I need you to start rubbing here,” he took the hand on your chin to cup your breast and tweak your nipple. You gasped at the contact.

You did as he said, and began to rub small, soft circles into your nipples. You thought you were going to cum right then and there. “Good Girl. Wish I could keep you all stuffed and round like that forever.”

“Sugu- I’m gonna- please,”

“How could I say no to that? Let go, doll,” and with that, you reached your high for the first time that night, juices leaking everywhere.

Suguru helped you through your orgasm, then slipped his fingers out and sucked them clean.

“Look at your little hole, clenching around nothing. Tell me, did you try to get yourself off at all this week when I wasn’t there? Be honest.” Suguru said in a condescending tone.

“I. I…tried too, but my fingers aren’t big enough. And I get so tired so easily,” you replied breathlessly, still recuperating from your climax.

“What a dirty girl,” Suguru smirked into your shoulder. “I had no time to, but the past few hours, all I could think about was your body wrapped around mine, sucking me dry-“

“I can’t believe how pent up we both are after just one week,” You cut in.

“I can. Like I said, I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now. Now, on your hands and knees, my love. I’m gonna fill you right up. That's it, what a good girl. My girl.”

You struggled a bit, but eventually got yourself on all fours. You looked a mess. Stray baby hairs were sticking to your face from the sweat. You watched in the mirror as Suguru stripped his crew neck and sweats as fast as he possibly could.

No matter how many times you had seen it and had it inside of you, his thick cock both impressed and intimidated you. Suguru put on a little show, and gave his dick a few pumps before disappearing behind you to line up with your pussy. When he sunk in, you both gritted your teeth and gasped at the contact.

“I’m- I’m gonna scoop you up and put you on my lap, okay? I’ll swing your legs over mine once we get settled to make it easier for you.” Suguru was already breathless, and he had barely done anything.

“Ahhh- Sugu-“

“Shhh, I got you. You don’t have to do anything, just let me do the work for right now, and you watch yourself in the mirror.”

He pulled you up and back on to his lap, allowing him to bottom out in one fell swoop.

“Sugu-“

“Hold on, don't move, I-I might cum if you do.”

You felt delirious. So full. You missed him so much.

“You feel how hard I am inside of you? This is all you, love,” Suguru moaned, cupping your lower belly gently. He parted your legs more, so that they went over his muscular thighs. The new position pushed him even deeper. Suguru kept his hands at the apex of your thighs, both to restrain and tease you some more.

“Suguru ple- please move or I wuhhh-“

Suguru’s hands tensed where they were, effectively keeping you in place. Then, Suguru lost control and bucked up into your warmth, hitting your sweet spot with precision, as if he had memorized it. You started circling your hips, allowing his dick to continue to kiss that area that brought you immense pleasure.

“That’s it baby, use me for your own pleasure. Doing so- uh- so good,” he grunted. “My girl,” Suguru said, moving one of his hands on your thigh to your throat.

“Eyes up here,” he commanded. “Look so good with this necklace, huh? You’re all mine, love. All mine, and everyone knows because I fucked my baby into you.”

You whined, drool starting to slip out of the corner of your mouth. You looked ruined, body covered in a mix of sweat, spit, and cum. “Whenever you’re ready, give it to me,” Suguru purred, dizzy with his own pleasure.

“Clit-“ you choked out. Suguru brought down the other large hand that was on your thigh to play with the swollen nub. “Gonna cum, Sugu, Gon-“ you chanted like a prayer as you came for the second time. Suguru kept rubbing through your high, occasionally bucking up into you.

“Shhh, I got you. My girl. My beautiful, lovely girl. I love you so much.” Your orgasm hit you hard. It was glorious, exhilarating even, but exhausting all in one.

When you came to, you realized that Suguru still hadn’t cum.

“My love, use me to cum,” you pleaded to the inky haired man in back of you.

“I can take care of myself if you’re too tir-“

“Suguru. Get. Inside me. Now,”

“Are you sure?”

“Suguru. Geto.”

“Fine. You asked for it.”

Suguru went back into the main bedroom quickly and returned with pillows in hand.

“For your arms and knees, love. I wanna go slow and deep.”

You climbed on top of the soft pillows, placing them beneath you like a makeshift mattress. Suguru gave himself a few pumps again and rubbed at the fat of your ass.

“Look at you. So beautiful.”

You peaked in the mirror at the state of yourself once again, as if to see if Suguru was bluffing. Yet, Suguru looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

One of his hands moved to rub the underside of your stomach. The other lined his cock up to your hold and entered with no resistance. Suguru released a pitiful whimper. You were so immersed in the pleasure, a soundless moan was ripped from your body.

“I told you this cute tummy would be full of my babies one day,” he purred, voice straining as he began to plunge deep inside of you.

Each thrust of his hips was calculated, yet frantic. Your walls felt heavenly around his thick length, fluttering and threatening to swallow him whole. He was going to cum soon.

“You’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/N,” he spat, guiding his hand to lightly wrap your throat.

“Y-Yours. All yours. I love you.” As if you were standing with your back to the ocean and the ferocious waves that flowed through them, your orgasm snuck up on you and pulled you under the riptide that was your climax. Your pussy milked Suguru for all he was worth, coaxing him to finish as well.

“And I’m all yours. Yours,” he chanted a few times before bucking up deep inside of you and finding his release. The familiar warm feeling spread throughout your insides, allowing you to feel light, calm even. Suguru caught you before your legs gave out and hit the floor, manhandling you to lean back on him as he pressed kisses into your collarbone.

You stayed like that on the floor of the closet for a while, taking in the presence of one another. Feeling possessive, Suguru held you in his arms, as if to protect you from the self destructive and self loathing thoughts that attacked you from your own mind.

After a few moments, Suguru peered deep into your eyes, appearing puzzled.

“What’s wrong, love?” you questioned.

“I never officially asked the question, did I?”

“No, you didn’t.” You smile sweetly.

“Okay…

Marry me?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, teasing him. Suddenly, you felt very uncomfortable. The wet, cold fluids that covered your body did not make for a very pleasant afterglow experience.

“Maybe if you draw me a bath with that lavender salt, I’ll be persuaded,” you added.

“Anything for you, Mrs. Geto,” he smirked, slowly moving his body off of the floor.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Suguru.”

“And I, you.”

He arose and turned to the closet door, looking back at you as he held himself against the door frame.

“Doll, if you ever have those thoughts again, please tell me so I can fuck them out of you,” he bent down, placed a quick kiss on your cheek and ran away before you could move your swollen body to turn and protest.

A tired, blissful smile creeped over your lips.

And then you remembered his promise.

“I’d end the world for you.”

…

February, 2008 (36 and a half weeks)

Suguru tried to spend as much time with you and the girls, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold on to his followers without his dangerous presence to encourage cooperation.

So, more often than not, you found yourself alone with the girls.

It was an overcast, gloomy, and overall, miserable February day.

This also happened to be the best time to venture out to the beaches, as there weren’t many people about.

You fed the girls breakfast, dressed them in matching blue and yellow long sleeve swimsuits, and left the safety of your home in lieu of not going completely stir crazy. You adorned yourself in a simple navy sundress with gold buttons. It reminded you of your old life, all of those months ago at school. Before leaving the house, you recast a veil to assure no one would be able to find your safe haven. In case your fiancé came home early, you left a note explaining your whereabouts on the kitchen counter. Mimiko stood on your left, and Nanako to your right. You took their adorable 6 year old hands and led them out into the fresh air.

The girls were ecstatic to leave the house, as this was a rare treat for them. Suguru probably wouldn’t condone you having an outing, but you felt yourself starting to lose your sanity after 4 continuous weeks inside. You needed this just as much as the girls.

Besides, your blood was literally poison to others. If anything happened to you, you had your technique to keep you safe.

The three of you made your way through the mile of thick trees, frequently stopping for you to rest. The twins collected sticks, made mud potions, and discovered little ant kingdoms. They were having the time of their lives, just as normal children should. You couldn’t wait to give your unborn daughter a childhood too, something you or Suguru never really got the chance to experience. Giggles and singing filled the air as you walked, leaving your heart lighter than when you had awoken that morning.

Eventually, you reached the small main road that led to the beachfront. The street featured a small strip of shops and restaurants, one of these establishments being a convenience store.

“Mama, do you remember when we first met you and you tooked us to 7/11?” Nanako asked, bright eyes looking up at you.

“Nanako, it’s took. Tooked isn’t a word.” Mimiko snorted at her sister.

“How do you know? You’re also 6.” Nanako retorted.

“Yeah but I’m older by a minute, so I know mor-“

“Mimiko.” You gave her a knowing glance. Mimiko intended to push every button of her sister until she broke.

“Sorry, Nanako.” Mimiko grumbled.

“Nanako, what were you saying about the 7/11?”

“Remember when you took us there and you got us snacks and ice cream?” Nanako asked sweetly.

“Yes, I’ll buy you two ice cream,” you chuckled.

“REALLY?!” the twins shouted in delight.

“Of course, it’s a special day. We rarely get to go outside,” you beamed at the girls.

“Can the baby have ice cream too?” Mimiko asked.

“I guess the baby could have some ice cream,” you laughed. You loved those girls like they were your own. You couldn’t wait for your daughter to join them.

You led the two of them into the small convenience store. Actually, it was more like the twins led you inside and made a b-line for the ice cream section.

Once their treats were chosen, you allowed them to pick out a few snacks for the beach as well.

You approached the cashier with the goodies as the girls trailed happily behind.

“Are you three having a picnic? It’s honestly an awesome day to have one, not many people out on the beach today,” the cashier smiled at the three of you.

“No, we’re having a princess tea party, actually,” Nanako explained to the friendly man.

The kind man at the counter couldn’t have been much older than yourself. He probably had a normal life. Went to university, had a stable group of friends. Didn’t become a fugitive at the ripe age of 19…

Mimiko’s insistent tugging on your purse is what dragged your mind away from such thoughts.

“Mama, you have to pay,” Mimiko reminded you, her tugging only stopping when you responded.

“Oh, sorry, let me grab my card.” You reached into your wallet, grabbing for the hefty black card hidden inside.

You handed the cashier the card with two hands, nodding your head in apology for the wait.

He simply smiled at you, and took the card from your hands.

“Would you like a bag?” He glanced down at your protruding belly and reconsidered his offer. “Actually, I can help you ladies carry the snacks to the beach if you would like. It’s not far, and I go on break in a minute,” the cashier offered.

“That would be so wonderful and helpful! Thank you,” You bowed your head in appreciation.

“It’s the least I could do,” the man responded.

So, you took the girls by the hands again and led them out of the store, the man trailing behind you with your snacks.

After walking through a small clearing of trees, the four of you made it to the beachfront. You settled down in front of a tree, so that you would have the support of the bark against you tired, aching back. The cashier then set the bag of food down next to you.

“Thank you so much again, sir. What is your name by the way? I never asked, I apologize.”

“You can call me Heibara,” he responded.

Like Haibara, you thought.

Haibara was such a sweet boy, much like the cashier helping you out. You hadn’t thought about him in a good minute.

“Thank you, Haibara-san. My name is Geto-san, and these two are my daughters,” you beamed at the girls, who had started building a sand castle and were immediately arguing over who was going to be the princess.

“Daughters? I thought they were your little sisters!” He joked. You let out a small laugh, feeling at ease talking to someone so, normal.

“Well, enjoy your beach day with your girls,” Heibara responded.

“You enjoy your day too! Your kindness has made my week. Thank you, Heibara-san.”

You bowed again as he left.

You sat in the lukewarm sand as the girls continued to play and laugh, relishing in the small bit of freedom you afforded yourself.

You felt like a normal mother with her normal daughters. You absentmindedly rubbed your bump, letting out a peaceful sigh. This was how you wanted to live your life and raise your family.

About an hour or so of this heavenly normalcy passed before Heibara returned.

“Hey!” He yelled from the thick canopy of trees. “You forgot your credit card! I totally forgot to give it t-“

Your peace was short lived as a curse shot out from behind the poor cashier, decapitating him in an instant.

Your first instinct was to gather the girls and run, but something stopped you from this fight or flight response.

Your fiancé’s gojo-kesa flowed in the back of where the decapitated man once stood.

Suguru ran towards you, relief flashing over his face. He pulled you in for a hug as he spoke. You didn’t hug him back.

“Doll, thank goodness, I thought I was going to lose you agai-“

“Suguru. What the actual fuck.”

The last time you had seen someone killed, point-blank in front of you, you were 16 years old. And you were standing in front of Reiko Amanai.

You clutched your stomach protectively, backing up from Suguru.

You knew what he did to put food on your table and a roof over your head. You knew what he did to his followers if they disobeyed. You didn’t need to see his actions to believe that it was happening.

Yet, you didn’t put two and two together until that moment.

Suguru was a murderer. But he didn’t just kill Heibara. He had brutally ended the lives of hundreds of people at this point.

Whether it was deserved or not, Suguru had still taken those lives away.

“What?” Suguru looked so genuinely confused.

The girls ran from their sandcastle, excited to see their father figure.

“Papa!!!” Nanako shouted.

“Hi girls!! Did you have fun with Mama today?”

“Yes, so much!” Mimiko answered.

“I think it’s time to go home. Don’t you Suguru? Girls, please go pick up your toys, maybe there will be some extra ice cream after dinner tonight,” you put on the fakest smile you could muster.

“Whoever picks up more stuff doesn't have to do chores tonight,” Suguru added.

“Out of my way Mimi,” Nanako ran to the spot they were playing at.

You turned to your fiancé, face grim and full of anger.

“You have 2 minutes to explain what the fuck just happened, Suguru.”

“What happened with me, darling? You are 36 and a half weeks pregnant. You can barely walk down the stairs without help. What do you think you were doing, bringing the girls out here by yourself?”

“You just killed an innocent man. For no reason. In front of your children.”

“They didn’t even see. Besides, I had a curse devour the remnants,” he responded, as if it would make the situation any better.

“I don’t want to talk about this in front of the girls. Take us home. We’ll talk there,” you finished as the twins came rushing up to you, their hands full of toys.

“MAMA I PICKED UP MORE TOYS THAN NANA,” Mimiko squealed with delight.

“Since you girls picked up so many toys, I don’t think either of you need to help with dishes tonight! Great job!” Suguru beamed at the girls.

“Yeah! We’re gonna go home and eat dinner now.” You added, still out of it.

The four of you boarded that same pink curse you used for transportation. If you were a typical family, in another life, perhaps that curse would have been traded for a minivan.

“Don’t think we’re done talking,” you whispered in Suguru’s ear.

Once you got home, you ushered the girls upstairs into your room to let them watch a movie while you and Suguru made dinner.

You breaded the chicken, as Suguru set up the rice cooker and started to wash the white grains.

Silently, you popped the chicken in the oven to cook just as Suguru finished with the rice.

The tension between you two was so thick, you weren’t even sure a cursed tool would cut through it.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence.

“Y/N.” Suguru spoke sternly. He hadn’t ever taken this tone with you before.

“Wh-What if something had happened? What if that man was a non-sorcerer combatant? You know about Toji Zen’in. You know about Q and the Star Religious Group. How could you be so careless?”

“But what if he wasn’t Suguru. You had NO proof and NO right. You had no right to take his life. He was kind to me and the girls. He helped me carry things because I’m pregnan-“

“Or because you’re vulnerab-“

“Let me finish my thought. What if he had a family? I think I left my card at the store. Does no good deed go unpunished? I understand that you kill when there is a point, but WHAT was the point of that?”

“The point, darling, was that he was a non-sorcerer monkey who got too close to you. He could have been a real threat. What if I had come there and found the three of you dead like Amanai.”

“YOU ARE OUT OF LINE,”

“AND YOU ARE NOT USING LOGIC. Did you forget that your own brother turned on you? You can’t trust anyone.”

“Suguru. He’s seven. He had NO choice.”

Your eyes met his. The normal soft, lilac of his eyes was nowhere to be seen. At first glance, they were a more sinister purple. But you knew him better than that.

He was afraid.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore, Suguru. I turn a blind eye to what you do with your followers because you say it has a point. And I trusted you to keep us safe. But this fear has driven you mad.”

“What fear?”

“Your fear of losing me like you lost Amanai, and Haibara, and even Shoko and Gojo’s friendship.”

Silence.

“How many people did you kill in that village Suguru?” You never actually asked him. You had just assumed he had killed the man and woman holding the twins hostage in that horrible house.

“I- how is that relevant right now?”

“You know exactly why it is relevant, Geto Suguru. Or is that even who you are anymore?”

“Y/N. This is the only way I can keep you safe. A world free of non-sorcerers. So our daughter can grow up in a world better than the one we did.”

“But how exactly will the world be better if you killed people to get there?”

“Please, love. I just need to keep you safe. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I can’t. I feel like I’m losing you here. My Eurydice. I’ve become Orpheus, following you. Help me. Please.”

Your usually unshakable, charming fiancé was reduced to a puddle, weeping into your arms. He stood and cried into your shoulder for a good five minutes before calming down enough to explain more.

“I killed 112 people. I started with the ones that hurt Mimiko and Nanako the most. Then I moved to the bystanders, which just happened to be the rest of the village. I remember every single one of their names. How could you knowingly let a child, much less two, suffer the way they did?”

You took a deep breath as tears filled your eyes.

The scary thing was that you still loved him so very much.

“Please say something, love,” Suguru pleaded.

“I honestly don’t even know what to say.”

“Anything. Yell at me again, or tell me to fuck off. Something.”

“I would never use those words towards you, Suguru. You are the love of my life. I’m sorry I raised my voice. This is just…”

A lot, you thought.

More silence.

“I love you so much, Suguru. I don’t think any part of me can ever stop loving you. But, I’m scared. I don’t know if I’m scared for or of you,” you explained, not meeting his violet eyes.

“I would never, ever intentionally hurt or lay a finger on you, love. But I also understand why you would be scared of a monster like me.”

For a moment, all you saw was that scared shitless, 16-year-old boy who was used for nothing more than his abilities. Who tried so hard to be a friend to others. The strongest, who protected the weak. Suguru who always put on a confident, charming face to the outside world, but you knew him better than that. Your run in with Toji Zen’in really messed with both of your minds.

“I’ve become the monsters I consume.”

“You had no other choice. So many of the things in our lives we did not get to choose. We didn’t choose to become weapons for a power-hungry conglomerate. We didn’t choose to watch the pointless cycle of suffering that is the Jujutsu world. We did what we had to do to survive. For both of us, for our future. The one choice I have made that I will always stick by is you. I will always stand by you. I will always love you. And I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re just someone who cares so deeply for his family. Does saving two little girls from an abusive situation and then raising and loving them like your own sound like something a monster would do? No. No it does not. The world is not and does not have to be black and white, Suguru.”

You pressed your forehead to his as you took a few deep breaths together.

Eventually, Suguru pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You stayed like that for a moment, locked in each other's embrace. It felt warm. It felt like home.

A small fluttering feeling sparked to life in your stomach, and you immediately grabbed Suguru’s hand and placed it there.

You stared into each other’s eyes and smiled. Suguru’s eyes lingered in yours longer than the baby’s kicks lasted.

“Suguru, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re just so… wise. And intelligent. And kind. And beautiful,” he stated, matter-of-factly.

“It’s only because I’m so in love with you,” you teased, a smirk on your face.

“No,” he chuckled, “It’s only because I’m so in love with you,” he joked back.

“So,” you began, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Your love for me has blinded you?”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” responded Suguru, smiling and playfully rolling his eyes.

“But it’s probably true,” you giggled as Suguru began to slowly kiss down your neck.“Then what do you mean?” Suguru lifted you up and placed you on the counter, as if you were as delicate as a butterfly wing.

“Let me show you. Let me show you how much I love you”

“Suguru, we can’t - the girls-“

He shushed you with a chaste kiss to your lips.

“The girls are watching a movie. In all honesty, they’re probably passed out from today.”

“I’ll be fast…” he continued, his hands beginning to slide up your thighs.

Gods, he’s so persistent.

“Suguru, be so honest with yourself right now. Your insatiable sexual appetite cannot be sated by one mere quickie.”

“It’s not my sexual appetite I’m concerned with. I’ll get just as much pleasure from eating you out as I would being inside of you. I just wanna make you feel good, doll.”

His fingers ventured further, ghosting over your now drenched pussy.

His face was less than an inch away from yours, sweet, hot breath fanning your face.

The hands you were using to hold yourself upright on the counter, suddenly wrapping themselves in inky hair, pulling Suguru closer to you.

When he kissed you, it was messy, but full of passion.

“Please, baby,” he whispered as both of your breaths picked up in pace.

Your core burned with need. It was borderline painful.

“You’ve left me with such a problem now, Suguru. You better take care of it,” you slurred.

“Yes, love.”

Suguru obediently complied with your demand, bunching up the long skirt of your dress to your hips, revealing your large bump and comfy panties. Your underwear was one you frequently used to wear when you were on your period. They were cotton hipsters, decorated with cherries and a little bow on top.

“Sorry I dressed for comfort, not you eating me out,” you joked, making fun of yourself before Suguru had the chance to.

“Why are you embarrassed about that? I think they’re adorable.”

He kissed you again, slowly making his way from your mouth, to your jaw, to your tummy.

“I love this sweet belly,” Suguru smiled into your stomach before inching lower, towards your cherry covered panties.

He mouthed over your warmth, pressing open mouthed kisses to the wet patch that had dispersed throughout the material.

You let out a soft moan, unashamed of how sensitive your pussy had become.

Then, Suguru bit on the top of the underwear, right where the little bow was. He slowly pulled your panties down with his teeth, nose skimming over your clit as he continued downward. You jumped in pleasure, covering your mouth with one of your hands as not to frighten the girls.

“Good boy, Sugu,” you’d never taken charge like that before, using more dominant language.

Apparently, you needed to do it more often, because Suguru let a deep moan escape from the depths of his chest, resulting in a vibrating sensation around your mound. He licked a long stripe from your core to your clit, circling around the numb a few times before diving into the area around your folds.

“Ah- Sugu- So good,” you moaned, giving into the pleasure.

Lewd sucks and squelches were left in Suguru’s wake, his face quickly becoming covered in your essence.

Slowly, a finger entered your weeping hole. You clenched greedily around it, glad to be fed something to help satisfy the hunger of your desire.

He slowly started rocking his finger back and forth, pistoning in and out of your pussy. You felt every callous, every knotty joint and muscle as he filled you. Soon, one finger became two, and he started scissoring you open, all while his mouth stayed glued to your clit.

The pleasure was immense. Suguru’s pleasure seemed to be immense as well. The man was so full of want and desire that he started rocking his hips into the cabinets just to get some friction.

“Feel so- so good baby. Just like that, I got you,” Suguru moaned after a particularly hard thrust into the cabinet. “Love, you look so good like this. All spread out above me,” he slurred through half lidded eyes. His legs were tense, body visibly shaking. All the tell-tale signs that an orgasam was approaching. That, and the fact that there was a dark stain accompanying the erection in his pants.

You reached down to his hair again, pulling on it so that he would be forced to look into your eyes.

“Suguru, are you going to cum?”

“Yes, doll,” he bit his lip and whined.

“You don’t get to c-cum until I do,” you stated, feeling your own climax approaching.

His fingers dove into your pussy again, this time landing on the little spongy spot inside that had you seeing stars. Suguru also continued to swirl his tongue and mouth around your clit as if your life depended on it.

“Cu-“ you didn’t even get the entire word out as your release coarsed through your body. You felt like you were flying, all of that tension and built up stress leaving your body as you came down from your high.

Suguru followed not very long after, cumming in his pants. He then shakily stood up and half collapsed in your arms, half against the cabinet again. He gently placed his head on your swollen belly.

You kissed his forehead, wiping away the sweat with your sleeve.

“I love you, Y/N.”

As a response, you pulled him into a sweet kiss. You could still taste yourself on his tongue.

“I love you more, Suguru.”

“I love you most. I’d end the world for you.”

You stared at each other for a moment, just basking in each other’s presence, and the afterglow of sex.

Then, your tummy started to complain with growling noises.

“Dinner should be ready in 5. Why don’t you go get the girls? I’ll freshen up,” Suguru suggested, matter of fact.

“Okay. I love you,” and with that, you placed a kiss on his still moist cheek before carefully walking up the stairs, cupping your belly as you walked. Suguru stood there like an idiot, as if he were dumbstruck by the fact that you actually existed.

The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled Suguru out of his trance.

He flipped open the phone. No caller ID. Weird.

He didn’t recognize the number on the tiny, pixelated screen.

Slowly, he pulled it up to his ear to answer.

“Hello,” he said.

“Suguru?” A voice called from the other line.

A voice he would know anywhere.

“Satoru?”

…

end of part II

dividers by @bunnysrph

#geto suguru x reader #jjk #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #suguru x you #geto suguru x you #jjk spoilers #shoko ieiri #fem reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jjk x reader