#reference to previous abuse

[oddsconvert]

Shattered #11 - One Small Step

Previous / Masterlist

CW: whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper, vampire caretaker, reference to vampire whumper, previous abuse torture & captivity, bloodbag whumpee, recovery & rescue, mention of death, paranoia, drugs/medication, medical examination, loss of speech, loss of autonomy, disability/immobility, broken bones (please let me know if I've missed any!)

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Declan doesn’t remember eating his last few meals. He doesn’t remember much of the past few days at all. It’s all a blur; flashes of movement, dull throbs of pain, voices murmuring through the fog. But the meals must have happened. The tray always comes and goes like clockwork: like the sun rising and setting, like the door creaking open and closed.

It’s always the human - Lucas. Thankfully.

Declan drifts in and out during those visits, but there are moments when he surfaces just long enough to see him. Lucas, perched on the edge of the bed, voice soft and steady. As if he’s afraid to startle a wild animal. While he coaxes spoonful's of food past cracked lips, he talks to Declan. Not at him, not down to him - but to him. Man to man. Even if Declan can’t talk back. Even when he’s away with the fairies.

It’s one of the only things that still makes him feel like a person, and not just a body rotting in a bed.

Lucas never rushes him. He doesn’t flinch when Declan chokes, nor sigh when food dribbles down his chin. He just wipes it away with care, not pity - trying to return a small piece of the dignity the world stole from him.

Declan hasn’t seen much of his new master lately. Not that he wants to. August has become more shadow than vampire - slipping in and out of the room, barely there, never lingering. The doctor (or whatever the hell the bloodsucker pretends to be) only skulks in once a day at best now. Always at odd hours, when the light outside is waning.

He moves with faux concern and hollow pity that boils Declan’s blood. Declan doesn’t need or want August’s pity. He needs humanity. Pity does nothing for him now but remind him how far he’s fallen.

The vampire is eerily quiet during his visits. He doesn’t quite meet Declan’s eyes the way he used to. He goes about his business in that maddeningly clinical silence: adjusting IV lines, checking vitals, swapping out fluid bags to keep Declan from crashing, tweaking the pain meds that dull the edge but never truly take it away.

There’s always this careful composure about him, like he’s trying to be harmless. Maybe the guilt is finally eating August alive. As it should. He thinks a downcast gaze and soft voice will make up for what he is.

It won’t. Nothing could ever make up for what August is putting Declan through.

Declan’s ears prick at the bedroom door groaning open, followed by the jarring squeak of patent leather shoes. His stomach knots so sharply it nearly makes him double over the side of the bed and vomit. Every muscle braces without his permission. Before his eyes even dart to the door, he already knows who is there… or what is there. The chill in the air always slips in with it. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Declan. I hope I haven’t woken you?” 

Oh, he’s sorry. Of course he is. Always so sorry, always so gentle. Declan half wishes August would hurry up and get it over with. Drop the act, stop dancing around, and sink his fangs into Declan’s throat. That would be mercy. Not this cruel charade of safety and freedom they keep peddling. At least then, Declan would know his place, and the rules he’d be bound to obey. Afterall, he knows how to be a good little blood bag. Vince made sure of that.

The leech comes closer, too close for comfort. He drags the chair out from its place at the window and settles by Declan’s bedside. Declan weakly jerks sideways in the bed, every movement igniting pain as he forces his wasted frame as far as the mattress will allow. 

Declan watches, wide-eyed and unblinking. He tracks any and every miniscule movement, from the twitch of a finger to the flare of a nostril. His heart slams against his ribs hard enough to hurt. This is the most attention he has had from the monster in days. So why now? What does August want from him now?

“How are you feeling? Are - Are you comfortable? You seem a little more alert today,” August notes, those beady-red eyes sweeping over him. “That’s good. That’s positive! You’re making steady progress.”

Declan doesn’t blink, doesn’t dare breathe. He’s trapped in the cold grip of fear. Fight is a far away thought. Flight? Impossible. So he freezes. Muscles locked, breath caught. Goggle-eyed and pupils blown to the size of the moon.

August sinks in his seat, fingers raking through his hair as a worn sigh escapes. His gaze lingers on Declan, something like concern flickering in his eyes, but Declan doesn’t believe it. Not even for a fraction of a second. He can’t feel it, and he sure as hell can’t trust it.

“I suppose it’s best if I just get on with it? ‘Rip the band-aid off,’ as Lucas says…”, August muses, rubbing the back of his neck.

Finally.

Relief floods Declan, but then devastation hits him just as fast. This is it. What Declan has been dreading and yet exactly what he’s been waiting for, since the second he was revived. August is going to drink him down to the marrow, wring him dry like a rag. Finish what Vince started. He’s not the human Lucas led him to believe he could be again, but the prey he was always meant to be. He squeezes his bloodshot eyes shut, tears pressing free and rolling down his gaunt cheeks. 

Declan knew it was all a matter of time, the truth would come out sooner or later. At least he can say he never fell for their lies or bought into their make-believe world. How could he? In what world would a vampire have business nursing food back from the dead? It was never out of altruism or empathy. It was always for greed and sustenance. 

His arm - the twig-like arm with cannulas still sticking out - viciously trembles as he lifts it, offering it outstretched to August. God help him, he can’t stop the tears spilling, hot and fast. But isn’t this exactly what he’s been asking for? For the vampire to make this make sense? To use Declan as he was always meant to be used? 

No. He’s never wanted any of this. All he’s ever hoped for, begged for, clung to - was survival. Declan isn’t offering his blood out of the goodness of his heart or out of freedom of choice…it’s surrender. It’s all he can do to accept the fate he can’t outrun. If only they had left him for dead. Let mother nature do her work. They didn’t save him, no matter how tightly they cling to that lie. They snatched Declan from the peace of a grave and forced his soul back into the cage of his broken body. 

Declan holds his breath hostage, bracing for the all too-familiar pain of the bite. The pierce of razor-sharp fangs, the dizzying sensation of blood whooshing from his veins, the rush of weakness that comes with it. His body tenses, every nerve wound tight as a wire. When fingers brush his arm, Declan jumps, a choked cry slipping free before he can gulp it down. 

But…there’s no bite. If anything, August’s touch is hesitant and featherlight.

Declan opens his eyes, brows twitched in confusion and blinking through the burn of tears. August isn’t pouncing on him with hunger, tearing him apart like a wild animal. He’s gently guiding Declan’s arm away, and back down. The vampire is so careful, like Declan’s made of glass and with one wrong move, will splinter in his palms.

None of this makes a lick of sense. It’s a nightmare Declan can’t wake up from.

“No-” the vampire’s voice cracks, feigning hurt, “Please don’t. Never that, Declan. I swear, I’ll never ask that of you. Not now, not ever. I’ll say it a thousand times more. Ten thousand times more. For forever. If that’s what you need.”

Declan’s brain is going to implode. It can’t make sense of this insanity. A vampire turning down blood? A lion sparing a zebra? The way August looks at Declan like he’s a small, helpless animal, but not prey snared in a trap?  It should be a relief. It should be comforting. But all Declan feels is deep confusion and disorientation, like the floor’s been pulled out from underneath him. 

He wants to believe it. God, some fractured part of Declan aches to believe August. It would be every prayer answered at once. He can’t. The damage runs far too deep, and the pain is all he has left to rely on. In his gut, a voice screams at him; don’t you dare fall in its trap.

“I - I was only going to ask if I could assess your range of motion today. Only if you’re okay with that, Declan. Just a few simple tests to see how your body’s healing.”

Declan frowns, his face etched with deep suspicion. ‘Assess’? ‘Test’? Like he’s some guinea pig in August’s mad experiment? 

“I’d like to determine where we should begin with your physical rehabilitation,” August clarifies. “What your body can handle, what it’s forgotten, what it can relearn. It will let us see where we need to work on building you back up.”

Ah. Of course. It all falls into place. Build him back up to break him back down again. That’s been the vampire’s motive all along.  It’s no fun breaking something that’s already broken, is it? No-one wants to play with broken toys. Declan remembers Vince telling him that terror sweetened his blood. Adrenaline made it somehow richer. It clicks. This leech only wants to bring the light back to his eyes, so he can watch as he snuffs it out all over again. As if Declan hasn’t endured enough cruelty for a million lifetimes. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to stay bedridden forever.”

No. You don’t want me to stay bedridden. Declan’s no fool, he can read between the lines. August wants Declan to be effortless. He doesn’t want the burden and mess that comes along as part of the deal with his new bloodbag. If Declan gets back on his feet, it will be a breeze from there on out. No complications and no need to pretend to ‘care’. Just a supply to feed from and nothing more - nothing for August to worry about beyond the next meal.

“This will help. We can help. We’ll take it slow, gentle, but we will get you back on your feet,”  August insists, as if willing the words to be true. 

A bitter laugh threatens to rise in Declan’s chest. The idea that August wants to help is so damn laughable it makes his insides twist. None of this is for Declan - it’s all for August’s own convenience. It’s manipulation wrapped in the promise of freedom.

But still... what if? 

The desire to move itches beneath Declan’s skin. He could be more than this shell lying in a bed, idly watching the world pass him by and waiting to be used and abused. What if there’s a chance he could regain his strength? Stand? Walk again? 

Declan nods his approval and August’s face lights up. Good. Let August think his plan is working, and the promise of healing is enough to win him over. Declan will get steadier and stronger, until the trembling stops and the fog lifts. Not because the leech wants him functional, not because he was told to, but because he needs to. Declan will be the one to drag himself out of this pit and no one else. 

He’ll fight his way back, not for August - but for his mum, his dad, Lacey, and finally, for himself.

August rises, knees cracking as he stands. “I’ll need to move the blanket. Is that alright?” he asks, already lowering his hands to pluck it away but waiting for an answer. Declan performs an uncertain nod, even as his skin breaks out in hives. There’s nothing that can prepare him for this vulnerability - to leave himself exposed to the vampire. This blanket has been his one line of defence, albeit a futile barrier between them. And now it’s being whisked from his hands.

August peels the blanket away, exposing Declan’s thin and trembling body to the cold air. Both of them gawk down at his body in horror. It’s a roadmap of all he’s survived. Bruises in every shade that don’t want to fade. Joints swollen and stiff, muscles withered away from disuse. Deep, jagged scars slashed all over. Skin shriveled over bone.

He sees it in August’s face. The moment of pause. The way his jaw tightens. Declan doesn’t need a mirror - he can see the damage written in the vampire’s unease.

“Alright,” August says after an unsteady breath. “We’ll begin small, okay? I’m going to ask you to lift your arms, one at a time.”

Declan’s mind is already spiraling, trepidation creeping in. He can’t help the way his body recoils when the vampire leans the slightest bit closer. Every instinct screams at him to pull away. Where there’s a vampire, there’s always pain. When August reaches out to touch his arm again, that instinct overpowers every ounce of his will. Declan lurches back, flinching like he’s been struck. 

“Hey, hey-” August gasps, pausing mid-reach to hold his hands up surrender style, “I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to startle you. I can… I can bring Lucas in, if it would help? Would that help you feel more at ease?”

Declan doesn’t want to admit how much the thought of seeing Lucas brings him comfort. For all he knows, Lucas is in on this cruel facade, or at the very least - deep under the vampire’s enthrallment. But it does comfort Declan. More than anything. More than these gentle touches and soft voices, all the apologies and promises he knows August has no plan to keep. Lucas brings the humanity and compassion to the table. He is the only one who could ever begin to understand Declan in ways August never will.

Declan nods ‘yes’, and this time eagerly. 

"Okay. Give me one moment”.  August shuffles to the door but not without casting a regretful glance back at Declan. A few hushed words exchange outside, then Lucas is there with him. And suddenly the room is warm again. Declan can breathe again. As little as he can afford to lend his trust, he trusts that Lucas will protect him. 

Lucas comes and perches on the edge of Declan’s bed, as he usually does. He pats Declan reassuringly on the shoulder, and it’s not lost on him how he doesn’t jump out of his skin at the slightest touch. Not with Lucas. Being this close to him doesn’t feel as suffocating as it does with the vampire. 

“It’s alright, mate. I’m here. You’re safe and sound. Promise”, Lucas vows.

Mate. Is Declan really that desperate for connection that his heart flutters at that word alone? And from a stranger? Despair and isolation is all he has known for a decade. Is it so terribly wrong to want someone to rely on? To believe that someone might be there to catch him when he falls, or as it seems, pick him up from where he’s fallen? 

August crouches slightly, bringing himself level with the bed. “Are you ready to start?”. Declan swallows hard, but nods his permission. “Let’s start with your right arm. Just see where you can raise it to. I’ll help you, but don’t push past any pain or discomfort, okay? Let me know if or when it hurts”. He offers a hand, palm up, open and waiting. Declan doesn’t take it. It just hangs between them. He glares at the vampire’s palm like it will burn him. Instinctively, he edges closer to Lucas, creating more distance between himself and August.

Lucas watches their silent standoff. “Declan? Declan? Do you want to hold my hand?”. He opens his hand, resting it gently on the bed between them. “Only if it helps,” he says, and then adds, with a lopsided cheeky smile, “Mine’s warm. Bit of a novelty, I reckon.”

And then - just barely - Declan’s lips twitch. A small, worn-out smile tugs at the corners. He lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, but it’s mostly just air and exhaustion. He thinks of the touch he’s grown used to; so cold and cruel. Those vicious words and callous hands that have been hellbent on melting his mind and breaking his will.

Slowly, Declan’s fingers unfurl. When his hand finally makes contact with Lucas’s, the world around him seems to pause. This is what he’s been craving. Breath and life, heart and soul. Lucas’s hands are warm - like touch should be. Not ice-cold like the vampire’s when they snatch him by the arm, or squeeze his throat. Declan’s eyes flutter closed, trying to hold onto this feeling. His fingers weakly grip Lucas’s hand, though he can’t make any words form, or voice the desperate longing in his chest. But it doesn’t matter. He knows Lucas doesn’t need him to speak. Lucas understands. It feels like a lifeline.

“You’ve got this. I’ve got you. It’s all gonna be okay,” Lucas reassures, “and please - trust me when I say you can trust August. We’re on your side, both of us are. ”

Now that can’t be true. Lucas can’t be on his side and August’s side at the same time. He’s either with him, or against him. Humans or vampires. There’s no inbetween, there can’t be.  If Lucas were truly on Declan’s side, he would have helped him escape by now. He’d be home, nursed in the comfort of his own bed, with his loved ones by his bedside and not this parasite. The dam breaks, the doubt seeps back in. His fingers twitch loose in Lucas’ hand. Not quite letting go, but not gripping for dear life anymore.

"Whenever you’re ready, Declan. Try to lift your arm slowly now, straight up towards the ceiling, as far as feels comfortable”, August instructs.

Declan grits his teeth and tries. It feels like dragging dead weight. His shoulder aches in protest, muscles fluttering and resisting the motion. The joint feels stiff and foreign. Through a surge of determination, he stretches his arm overhead, even as it trembles from the strain.

"Good job! You’re doing well!" August praises, though it lands wrong and comes off patronising. Like he’s talking to a pet. "No sharp pain shooting down your arm? No numbness?"August checks, watching carefully.

Declan shakes his head, his jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder his teeth don’t crack. Of course it hurts. Everything always hurts. But it's nothing new. Nothing he can't handle. Pain is baseline now.

August lightly supports Declan’s forearm, guiding the movement back down with a steadier hand. “Let’s try again, together this time. Follow my lead.”

They repeat the motion with each arm - once, twice, three times - August feeling for resistance, gauging Declan’s strength and coordination with each attempt.  Sweat beads along Declan’s brow, and his body shakes with effort, but he doesn’t quit. August bends and straightens Declan’s elbows, then moves to his wrists, turning his palms up and down, checking the stiff joints. Finally, he tests each finger, guiding them to flex and extend. 

Next, August shifts his support, one hand braced at Declan’s lower back, while the other slides around his waist to help lift him up in the bed slightly. “Alright, we’re going to sit up now. I’ve got you, you can lean on me for support.”

The weakness in his spine and slowness in his muscles make the simple act of lifting his chest feel like a monumental task, leaving August to compensate and haul him upwards. Sitting upright doesn’t feel nearly as unbearable as it once did. It’s almost... comfortable? No, not comfortable - he’s so used to agony, anything but feels like bliss. But not excruciating, either. His chest expands with air that doesn’t feel quite as suffocating as before. He’s not sure how long he’s been here in his new prison - days, weeks, maybe more? But he knows he’s not the same as when he first arrived. 

“Lean forward for me?”

He doesn’t really wait for Declan’s approval this time; August is already slowly guiding him through the motion. Declan’s back arches unwillingly, pulling at scarred, stiffened muscles. A flash of sharp pain tears through his abdomen, and he gasps out involuntarily.

August stops immediately, easing him back.

Declan feels more fragile with each passing second. Energy drains out of him like water through a sieve. Every inch of movement feels like an assault - joints grinding, muscles shrieking and bones threatening to shatter. His body is a wreck. But at least, it’s a wreck that still moves, even if only just. 

“May I examine your legs now, Declan?”  August asks. 

Declan steels himself, forcing his body to turn and attempting to swing his legs off the side of the bed. Every movement is sluggish, like wading through mud. His arms tremble under the weight of his own body. There’s not an ounce of strength left in them, no leverage to lift or balance himself. He falters, shoulders slumping, and before he can tip sideways, Lucas is there on one side, August on the other. Together, they maneuver him into place. Humiliation flushes Declan’s cheeks. 

“Can you try to bend your knee?” August asks, his voice soft as his hands guide Declan’s leg into a half-bent position. His muscles refuse to cooperate. It takes everything in him to move his leg at all, and when August applies the lightest pressure to coax it further, Declan’s body refuses. His muscles spasm without warning, shaking under the stress of such simple movements. His knees threaten to lock out, his feet twitch weakly. 

“I know,” August murmurs apologetically, sensing his resistance. “I know. I’m so sorry, I know this is a lot. You’re doing really well.”

There’s no trace of impatience or irritation but Declan knows it’s coming. The moment when his body completely fails him, when his weakness shows itself too plainly. And that’s when August will... what? Discard him? Hurt him? He doesn’t know. August hasn’t hurt him… yet. 

Declan’s breath hitches as August continues, carefully working his leg a little further with gentle manipulation. Every push is met with the same resistance, his muscles tremble in frustration, barely yielding. The ache in his thigh intensifies ten-fold.

“Just a little more, Declan. I know it’s hard,” August encourages, moving to the other leg to repeat.

But he doesn’t know. August couldn’t know. How could August ever begin to understand what Declan is going through, what his kind has put Declan through? What does he know about waking up in a body that barely feels like yours, about dragging yourself through the wreckage someone else left you in?

And with each movement, Declan feels bottomless frustration. He wants to push through it all, wants to prove to himself that he’s still capable, still him. But with every bend, every stretch, the body that was once his home feels so distant.

"Okay," August says, adjusting Declan’s posture with a steady hand at his back. "We’re nearly done. Now we’re going to try something a little harder, I’m afraid. I’m going to help you stand - just for a few seconds, to test your balance."

Stand?! Declan’s pulse spikes, panic flashing through him. He desperately shakes his head, eyes wide, pleading ‘please no’. There’s no way. Not yet.  His legs feel like jelly. He’ll collapse like a tonne of bricks. He looks to Lucas in search for an ally, for someone to defend him and put a stop to this madness.

Lucas steps up and moves to stand in front of Declan, gently taking his shaking hands. “I’ve got you. We won’t let you fall. We’ll do it together. Lean into me as much as you need. Even if you can only use your legs a little - I’ve got the rest.”

Slowly, painfully, with Lucas bearing more of his weight than Declan cares to admit, his body shifts. Every muscle screams in agonised protest. Before his feet even touch the floor, both Lucas and August are on him, hands steadying and lifting. It takes all three of them, working in sync, just to get him upright.

His feet find the ground. His knees buckle beneath him. His core shakes, chest heaving. But somehow, impossibly, he’s vertical. Assisted, swaying, gasping for breath…but miraculously, standing up. 

Then it happens. 

The second Declan tries to bear any weight on his right foot, white-hot pain shoots up his leg like a live wire. His body instantly crumples, the ankle twisting uselessly beneath him. A strangled noise; half gasp, half growl - tears from his throat as he collapses. August moves fast, dipping to catch him under his arms before he hits the ground hard.

“Easy, easy! Don’t try to move, Declan!” August frets, voice full of urgency, “Lucas, I think - I think it’s his ankle. Help me lift him back up, slow.”

Declan can barely breathe, each ragged inhale a struggle. The busted ankle pulses and throbs with fresh agony. Failure overwhelms him as Lucas and August haul him back onto the bed. The reality of it sinks in deeper - he’s not where he thought he’d be, not even close. He’s trapped in this broken body. He’ll never be whole again. He’ll never make it home. 

August doesn’t let go immediately. He keeps one steadying hand on Declan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. That’s why we test these things. Now we know.”

Declan squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to react, not to show how much it feels like he’s drowning. He used to stand without thought. Walk without hesitation. Run like the wind to catch the bus when he was late for his university lectures. He can barely remember what it feels like to be alive in his own body.

August kneels by the bed again, rolling up the loose fabric at Declan’s ankle. His fingers gently press against Declan’s foot, careful not to aggravate any injury. He seems to know exactly what he’s looking for. Feeling for crooked bones, how the scar tissue has thickened in places and how his ankle is slightly tilted. August’s fingers trace the uneven contours of poorly knitted bone. Even through gentle pressure, Declan winces and whimpers. 

His foot is too stiff, the tendons too tight. When August shifts his grip, Declan's ankle fights against him.

"Did you break your ankle quite a while back, Declan?" August questions. Declan doesn’t look at him. Only nods solemnly.

"It's not just weak," August mutters, half to himself, still feeling pressure points. "It’s completely misaligned. This was never treated. It hasn’t healed correctly-”

But Declan doesn’t hear the rest. He’s already gone. Dragged under by the memory that claws him down without warning.

Suddenly, he’s back down in that basement. The stench of mildew and iron infests his nostrils. He hears it again - the wet, splintering crack of bone shattering under his own impossible force, the sound that never really left him. All-consuming pain rips through him. His screams choked off by the cloth stuffed in his mouth, his wrists shredded raw against chains that wouldn’t give, no matter how hard he fought. The terror and the helplessness - it never left him.

Declan blinks hard, dragging himself back to the present. August is glaring into his soul. His brows are drawn tight, and his eyes are wide with a kind of dawning horror? Like pieces are falling into place, and he doesn’t like the shape they’re making.

“...Did…Did you? Declan, was it an accident? Before? Or…Or was it…was it him?”

The word lands hard. It’s not what August said, but how he said it. Spat it out like poison, like he won’t even dare speak his name. It seems so personal? Declan’s never heard that from him before. Contempt. Hatred, even. For Vince? What reason could he possibly have to hate Vince? Do they have history?

A tear slips down Declan’s cheek, the memory won’t stop playing over and over in his head. He quickly dabs his wet cheek with his sleeve.

“H-....H-im,” Declan croaks, his voice strained and Adam's apple fluttering.

August’s expression changes in stages. First, horror. Then it morphs to anger. He turns his face away for a second, breathing through it. When he looks back at Declan, the storm is still there although buried beneath a mask of calm. His posture straightens. His voice, when it comes, is quieter. Measured. But there’s a tension in it, a tightness in his throat that he can’t hide. 

“This injury, this kind of misalignment - over time, it ruins your balance, wears on the joint, builds pressure in the soft tissue. That will explain why it’s still so painful. Why it gave out on you. It can be corrected. But not easily. The bone would have to be re-broken, reset, and then bound and supported properly-”

August pauses. Declan’s eyes are already glassy with panic. He flinches at the word re-break. He already doesn’t trust August as far as he could throw him - less than that. He fears every word that leaves the vampire’s mouth, every slight movement could be the next time pain comes disguised as help.

And now August is standing there, calmly suggesting they break his already broken bone. Never. Never in a million years would he let August touch him like that. Let him hurt him under the guise of healing. Let him have that kind of power over him. Not again.

“But we won’t even think about touching it until you say so,” August continues, “And even if you never feel ready for that, that’s okay too. I just want you to know that it is an option. Down the line. Until then, we need to work around it - strengthen everything else. Protect it as best we can."

“I know it’s a lot to take in, mate,”  Lucas chimes in, “And we know how shit-scary this all is for you. But August is right. We’re not gonna force you into anything. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We’ll find ways to work with what you’ve got for now.”

Declan collapses, mentally and physically spent, the last of his strength seeping away.  He slumps back against the pillows. His entire body hums with exertion and exhaustion, as if he’s run a marathon while barely moving at all. The wreckage of his mind and body just feels neverending.

"We'll figure it out," August says simply. "One small step at a time."

“D- D - o…ne?” Declan rasps, voice scratching his throat on the way out. 

August nods, a small reassuring smile on his face. “All done. Thank you, Declan. Truly. I know how utterly exhausting and testing that must have been for you. But I have a clearer picture to work with now. We can begin working on some exercises together to build your strength and mobility. It’ll take time, but we’ll move at your pace. And we’ll get there.”

---

Declan will work with them. Not because they’ve earnt his trust, and certainly not because he wants to work with them. But because he has no choice. His survival demands and depends on it. He’ll bite down the pain, suffer whatever humiliation and put up with the vampire’s constant prodding and poking. He’ll let them test his limits, and then push him past them - if it means getting him closer to normality.

Because when he can walk, he’ll run - and he’ll never look back.

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[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle.

CLEARLY you all are desperate for an actual story on this blurb I quickly wrote up ♡

Part 1: (You are here!) , Part 2: Here! , Part 3: Here! , Part 4: Here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don’t have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this potential series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. reader is somewhat introverted and is describe loosely as attractive. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest. READER ALSO HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WAYNE FAMILY ARE SUPERHEROS (for now…)

TW: Abuse in the form of emotional neglect, Reader’s mom is dead, Pregnancy and rich people.

You weren’t a kid anymore. Part of you wonders if you ever got the chance to be one. Your mom died when you were pretty young, barely 6 at the time, you don’t remember much about her. She was pretty though, maybe that’s where you got your looks from?

You spent 4 years at an orphanage after her passing, until one day a car came and picked you up and took you to a big manor. Apparently Bruce Wayne was your father, but not just an adoptive one, your biological father. That was definitely shocking, You looked so much like your mother that you really couldn’t see the resemblance, maybe if you really focused you could see some aspects of the new father you suddenly gained.

You only met Bruce a handful of times, the first time was to greet you. He seemed particularly disinterested, you were only just a bit younger than Jason which he was currently focused on at the time. Bruce showed you to your room it was way bigger than your room in the orphanage then promptly disappeared, Alfred (who you came later to learn was the butler and NOT your new grandfather.) showed you around the rest of the Manor, claiming that Bruce had paperwork that needed more attention than his newly gained child, okay, he didn’t put it like that but that’s basically what he ment.

The Manor was big and rather empty, you wonder what the point of all this space was as a child. As you grew older you grew to understand and appreciate its big and emptiness, because then you couldn’t run into any of your other siblings. Whenever you meet them, it’s awkward, like you’re an outsider. Which you suppose you are, but it’s different because you later learn that all of your siblings were adopted, minus Damian but you only gained him as your sibling towards the end of your stay in the Manor. So why did they treat you like you were the odd when out, when they all should know perfectly how that feels since they were also outsiders at one point? To this day you have no clue.

You quickly grew adjusted to not being around your family. The first the phew years was difficult, you craved their attention like any normal child. You remember you used to cry at night as a kid wondering what you did wrong for them to barely even glance your way, to not even love you… but after the third birthday with the exact same gift you got on previous birthdays from Bruce, continually getting rejected by all your siblings on your offers to hang out and occasionally catching wholesome moments between your siblings and Bruce where they were chatting and laughing without you, You naturally gave up on trying.

You instead grew as a person without them, you made friends at school, developed your own personal fashion taste, you discovered your hobbies and your personality. You occasionally heard news about your family from Alfred (You never got used to only hearing news from him), like how Jason died, Tim was brought in, turns out Jason was alive and at some point Damian was also brought in. The timeline was messy. Honestly you didn’t think much about why Bruce adopted so many damn kids nor did you bother to concern yourself with their affairs.

Instead you discovered somethings more important. Number one is your huge allowance, you knew Bruce was a billionaire and filthy, disgustingly rich, but not to the point your allowance was in the MILLIONS. The second thing is nobody cares about you, to the point one time when you were around 17 you stayed at a friend’s house for two days without telling anyone, came back and apparently no one had any idea you even left when you asked Alfred.

Those two things got you to where you were now, a stunning and safe apartment with the most beautiful view in the whole of Gotham, a loving husband who would do practically anything for you, heavily pregnant in your 20s and currently surrounded by your shocked family.

You had a fight with your husband and you were livid at him deciding to spend some time at the Wayne Manor just to cool off (and to somewhat teach him a lesson), You honestly thought that nobody would care when you came waltzing back. Since nobody cared any other time.

However you were sorely mistaken. To the point you regret not just staying at a hotel or something. When you first walked through the door, Alfred greeted you. You were occasionally in contact with him, but you neglected to tell him about the pregnancy, let alone the fact you were married mainly because you knew he’d run and tell the entire family and you’d rather keep your life private from them. Which is probably why he stopped mid greeting to stare at your belly. It looked like he was buffering as he let you in and led you to the kitchen, you texted him on the ride there that you were a bit thirsty, so he prepared you some tea.

“My word, you’re really pregnant?” Alfred finally said once you sat down at one of the counters, which earned a chuckle from you as he slid your tea over to you.

“Last time I checked… which was in a mirror and when I felt the little gremlin kicking around in me on the drive here, I am.” You say with a smile before proceeding to chug your tea. “May I ask-” Alfred starts but before he can finish he’s interrupted by Damian, who entered the kitchen to grab some snacks at some point but instead noticed you.

“What on earth is that.” Damian hissed, he looked disturbed and disgusted as he pointed at your belly, like he just discovered a bug. Which ticked you off.

“An Alien, no use your head what does it look like?” You sarcastically reply. Normally Damian would’ve retorted however you quickly decide that you want to relax in the living room where you could continue your conversation with Alfred. As you and Alfred quickly leave, abandoning your empty tea cup, and finally settling in the living room. However you suddenly hear a STORM of footsteps from inside the house. You turn around and realize Damian followed you to the living room, phone in hand and clearly had texted the entire family about his new discovery.

“Fuck me…” you mutter softly, your peaceful days of being ignored were probably officially over. All thanks to your one dumb decision to come here. While you silently regretted your choices, almost the entire Wayne family had run into the living room, Tim was the first to run in shouting “WHO’S PREGNANT?”

You only really snap out of it when you notice the entire Wayne family staring at you, they got here faster than expected. Not all of them were here but most of them.

‘Maybe I really am carrying an Alien’ You ponder momentarily before you begin to speak, “Listen I’m only here momentarily because I had a small disagreement with my husband—” “HUSBAND?” Dick squeaks out his voice breaking in shock. “Yes— wait why are you all here anyways?” You say as it dawns on you how ridiculous this whole reaction was. Hell even BRUCE WAYNE, the supposed father you were under the care of, that you never saw for the majority of your life was even here.

“Well cause you know Bruce is always bringing home kids it’s the first time someone other than him is bringing home one, let alone an unborn one.” Cassandra pointed out, which you promptly agreed nodding your head. That explains it, to this damn family it must be pretty alien.

“Okay, well I’m pregnant. I get it shocking and stuff but there’s no need to—“ You say trying to calm down the situation when you are interrupted by Damian who’s pointing at your belly where your baby, as if sensing the crowd of spectators, decided to do its own acrobatic routine.

“Ew why is it moving….” Damian said, You’re starting to wonder why you even talk. “Don’t say ew. It’s just kicking, if you want you can touch my belly—” you regret those words instantly as around 20 hands immediately fly to touch your belly where the baby continues to kick. You’d almost find the whole situation adorable if it weren’t for the fact they were your family who previously didn’t give a flying fuck about you.

All of a sudden Bruce, noticing your uncomfort, clears his throat. When he does the 20 hands resend from touching your belly, “How far along are you?” He asks calmly but you can clearly hear his voice shake slightly. “7 months.” You reply calmly to which Damian opens his mouth again.

“Jesus when is it going to come out— wait how does it come out…” He still look horrified to which you suppressed a laugh. “Did no one teach you where babies come from?” You laugh and then pause when the room goes silent.

“Oh my god…” you mutter, no wonder he’s so disturbed. You hear Bruce quickly whisper to Selina “I thought you told him!” To which Selina fires back, “Me?! It’s your job!”

That’s your cue to leave before you have to witness a very uncomfortable conversation. “Okay, I’m going to go to my room, I’m tired.” To which everyone nods giving you space to leave.

Phew hours had gone by and you were relaxing in bed on your phone, when you heard a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You call, assuming it was Alfred but instead the one who came waltzing in was Damian. He looked awkward and you definitely felt that as well.

“Hello.” He said as he walked over to you staring at you where you were lying down.

“Uh… Hi Damian… how can I help you?” You ask praying he just going to briefly insult you and walk away like he did in the past. Instead he looks curious.

“I have been educated on where kids come from. It is very disturbing.” You chuckle at his statement and at his face full of regret while putting your phone away.

“It’s not too bad, at least you learned from your parents and not your friends half way into high school.” You say smiling reaching out and patting his small shoulder at your own memory of your shocked friends as they held your hand in the bathroom and slowly explained it to the poor naive you.

“Yes that sounds way worse.” He admits as you laugh at his sentiment, to which he scowls a bit before snapping out of it. “Anyways, like I said, I have been educated and although it’s very disturbing I commend your bravery for creating life.”

Damn it, he made it awkward again. You resend your hand awkwardly and place it back on your chest, Damian continues speaking though. “I also did some research and apparently the fetus can hear around the 5th month, and since you said it’s in the 7 month stage it can hear. Which means it heard me insulting it.”

You nod at his words, encouraging him to get whatever he’s planning on doing over with already. When he sees your nod, he removes his hands from behind his back, he’s holding a book.

“So to replace my negative words I have brought an educational book, normally I know perhaps the other parent my read so the baby gets used to both your voices, however since your a single parent—“

you give him an incredulous look “no… I have a husband.” To which he stares at you like your pants are on fire, that’s how much of a liar he thinks you are.

“Yes… right.. well since this supposed husband isn’t here to read to your child I shall.” He plops himself beside you, not accepting any protests from you about how you really do have a husband, he begins to read, you give in closing your eyes, clearly you’re going to be here awhile. “Law 1. Always make those above you feel comfortably superior…” you scrunch your face at his words as he reads. Half way into chapter one your eyes fly open and realize that he’s actually reading.

“Are you reading 48 laws of power right now?” You say staring at the book he’s holding as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He gives you a look like you just said the sky was blue.

“Yes of course? It needs to come out smart. Now please lie back down.” He says pushing you to lie back down. You give in once again, you’re too tired to protest against Damian anyways…

At some point both you and Damian passed out, the book could only hold both your interests long enough and the warmth of your room was just perfect for a nap. You stare down at the still sleeping Damian, whose head is currently resting on your belly, contemplatively. In someways you were jealous he fit in perfectly with the Wayne family and was actually treated like their sibling and child. However on the other hand you were honestly glad you were not loved like he was, because if you were you would’ve never met your husband (that you are now starting to miss…) and you also would’ve never been given the opportunity to create your own family, one that will love you truly.

You didn’t like the fact that Damian used to insult you occasionally in the past, but it’s not like you held it against him and you also don’t regret making fun of him back. Although he was a brat at times, he was still a child. A child in a huge messy family that just happened to be your little brother. Perhaps that was the gnawing feeling in your heart. The knowledge such a small kid like him will probably struggle in someways you used to is weighing heavy on you. He was earnest, and clearly tried his best from the fact alone he came to your room to read a book that he knew would help the baby… even if that book was the laws of power and was incredibly boring (in your opinion.)

He was just like you when you were smaller. That thought made you gently reach down and stroke his head. “I hope you’ll only make smart choices, but even if you don’t I’ll still love you, my dear. Just remember, don’t hold onto people who will never hold you gently and lovingly. After all, You are the most precious thing to me and you will be precious to so many others. You are worth your weight in gold.” You whisper to the sleeping boy, the same words your mother said at her passing. You feel yourself getting chocked up, after all this day was full of emotions for you. And you aren’t quite ready to face those emotions so you close your eyes.

After saying all those words and remembering the things you’d almost rather forget you find yourself pulled back into sleep. This time though, Damian had a small smile etched on his face as he slept..

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

        ↳ yep for almost two years now

       ↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew 

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay. 

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative. 

i bet she just did it for the child support 

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane. 

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken. 

And you still don’t know who took it. 

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family. 

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them. 

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway? 

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried.  “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

 You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right? 

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing. 

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn��t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

 So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him. 

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp. 

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best. 

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow. 

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing. 

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again. 

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.” 

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console. 

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal. 

Oh. 

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy. 

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru. 

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. 

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently. 

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed. 

 By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away. 

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice. 

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night. 

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side. 

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much 

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming. 

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!” 

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily. 

 "Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way. 

Finally, she scoffs out. 

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

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[justladders]

To everyone in the art community, please:

Tracing is effective. But only as a learning tool. Telling people "never trace" can be robbing them of methods that could have been effective to their learning process if they'd known about them.

The "art of using tracing" is a bit looked over, so I have five points:

(it's a long one)

1: AS A RULE OF THUMB, DO NOT POST/SHARE TRACED AND STOLEN ARTWORK. This is not only lying to anyone you show it to, if you're trying to come off as, "I'm so good, look at what I did," but most importantly, it's lying to yourself. You'll trick yourself into not needing to get any better, and you will stagnate if you start to rely on tracing as a form of stealing. If you come to realize that you are, you should stop using any tracing methods altogether to keep yourself from abusing it. It's a slippery slope for beginners, and a big reason why you’ll hear almost everyone echo that you just shouldn’t trace at all. The issue is that this ignores the ways that tracing can actually be good.

2: Tracing sets the stage for motor skills/hand-eye coordination. I've seen so many early-stage beginner artists get upset that the art that they make of their favorite character/oc is messy, or maybe they just don't even know what they want to draw and can’t "make themselves mindlessly doodle.” These early arists then become completely disheartened and upset, especially if they start to look at other people for comparison. Tracing over work or even over photos is a way to train your hand to hold and wield a pencil/stylus properly without you being worried about the finished product. Think of it like a way to dip your toe into learning the process of what making art feels like, without having to get overwhelmed with searching up pointers and people telling you, "10 quick tips to become a master artist!!!!!!!" (<- please ignore those) If you’re just beginning, your hand-eye coordination needs to be trained, and you shouldn't bog yourself down so much thinking about end products just yet, so if tracing is the way to get you started, go for it. If you're a bit more experienced, tracing and drawing over reference can also help you warm up without being committal or stressing your art brain too much.

3: Practice "mindful tracing." While I said the previous point was targeted more at beginners, this point is actually about something that experts in their field use. Doing "mindful tracing" over art means that you aren't worried about getting the lines "correct," you're studying why those lines are there. You're taking note of where the shadows meet the highlights based on the light source, how it shows off the forms, and how sharp or soft the lighting is; you're going over the lines of action in the piece to see how your eye is guided by the artist's intention and planning; you're seeing how characters may be stylized into shapes and the feeling that those shapes can give; you're noting how the artist uses line weight or weird blocks of color or stark breaks to split up the art or separate ideas within it; you're experiencing the flow of the poses within the artwork to grasp how that kind of thing feels; you're breaking down the overall composition like in a thumbnail sketch; and the list goes on.

"Mindful tracing" ends up looking like you've marked up an English essay: it should be messy, because the intent with it is not to copy or replicate, it's to notate. It's like how literally writing notes on things helps you remember better than if you only read it. You're acknowledging instead of just looking. And you can always learn, even from styles that you don't intend on actually using. As you get to be more experienced, you may come to realize that you can do "mindful tracing" analyses on artwork without having to literally write over top of the piece, which is great: that means you're improving your creative brain, and prepping it to be able to break down your own works in this way as you make them.

4: Trace for specific character or style studying. For this point, I want to especially stress that this is what makes everyone say, "don't trace," because this is what tracing is most commonly associated with: art theft. There's really no excusable reason to repost someone's art in this way.

I feel like you have to be a bit more experienced to properly use tracing specifically for style studies. The benefits that come with tracing a certain style is that it can quite literally teach your hand/brain to recognize the patterns that are present. You get a feel for how far apart a specific characters eyes are, how big their hands are, how the shapes of the body make up their form, how the exaggeration in the expressions feel, and when traced you know you have all of these proportions correct. This makes it so much easier to start drawing the specific character on your own if you know that you have a correct baseline (and of course you should still use reference from then on). When you study many different characters of the same style, you can start to grasp what actually makes up this style that you're studying, where -similar to point #3- you train your art brain to recognize the original artists' intentions and ideas. I would even argue that doing this is MORE IMPORTANT than using reference at the very beginning of a style study, because it makes you worry less about if you're pulling from the reference correctly and instead lets you focus on the original art by thinking through it during the process; this kind of thing is done by professionals. Although tracing can net you these benefits for studies, it is not a way to get around the rest of the learning process, which is the pitfall that normally ends up making tracing ineffective.

5: Lastly, I actually kind of lied about tracing "only being good as a learning tool." The other case where tracing gets used is within the process of making hand drawn animation, and I do mean the professional stuff. Model guides are constantly used in classic animation as reference to keep by the animator's side so that characters stay on model, but sometimes there are unnoticeable parts of a character that just get straight-up traced from either the model sheet or a different scene that's already animated. When used smartly and sparingly, this keeps the character on model, is unidentifiable to the audience, and takes up less time for the animators to work (and by "used smartly" I don't mean moments where characters blatantly have 5 seconds of reused animation). I can basically guarantee that this practice was done throughout the making of any 2D project you can think of.

In digital hand drawn art, key frames between points in an animation may get the "shift and trace" treatment, where the tween frame is just a smudged-around-version of the key frames until it looks about right, and then it get traced over. Backgrounds get traced all the time by artists in the professional field through modelling a 3D render of the space, going over it so they have the layout, and then painting on top of it. When drawing characters, people will take photos of themselves and trace the pose, then keep it to the side as reference. And this is all without even mentioning rotoscoping.

When people say, "don't trace," what they actually mean is, "don't trace as a substitute for experience."

The issue is that people blanketly state, "x thing is bad," because then people that aren't learned in the field go, "oh, okay, x thing is bad, it will always be bad, I shouldn't look into it or consider it any more, and I should correct/disgrace anyone that thinks otherwise or does x thing."

So please. Trace. Tell other people to trace. But remember: trace mindfully. :)

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Reunites With Grim and Their Friends While The Obey Me Brothers Go Feral

People were wanting this from the part one of this request by @sweetlicorice

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Boys About How Horribly They Were Treated In Twisted Wonderland: (Part 1: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor) And (Part 2: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

Specifically requested by @chaosisbliss

TW: Talk of Angry Demons (don't worry, they aren't mad at you), Reuniting with a pet, Reuniting with friends, Crying, Fear of an authority figure, Talk of being overworked, Talk of being burnt out, Talk of abuse of power, Talk of gaining weight (in Levi's, but it's very brief)

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters, and MC is gender neutral, but this is in second person point of view, so for the most part, you will be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters included are: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

I will do a part two of this for the Dateables + Luke

This will be long so story under the cut

This will be organized by character with some context beforehand.

Enjoy!!

It took a bit of time, but a determined sorcerer, a determined angel, and several infuriated demons can do pretty much anything they set their minds to. Solomon broke through dimensional travel quite easily upon realizing you'd been summoned from another world, despite originally being from the human realm in this world. It was narrowing down which dimension that was the issue.

But knowing that you were missing your friends and your cat, and the idea that they could possibly reunited with them made them work even harder. Not to mention pressure from both Lucifer and Diavolo, who wanted to 'exchange words' with your previous headmaster and his teaching tactics. They wanted to see the people you speak so highly of. And Satan and Solomon want to meet your cat.

They were trying their hardest to lessen your homesickness while they worked on finding a way there. And it worked. Until the portal opened, and you were the first to volunteer to go through. You couldn't wait! You were going to see your friends again, you were going to see Grim again! So you took your boys, and you went through the portal.

Lucifer:

"Grim!" You yelled, upon seeing the cat, being carried by your friends as they walked around campus.

They all turned upon hearing your voice, but Grim was the fastest to react. He flew over faster than anyone else could say 'MC' and threw his paws around your neck, hugging you as tight as he could. He wanted to make sure you weren't a hallucination. You hugged back, not as tight, for fear of hurting him, but still tight. He was crying, you were crying. Your friends rushed over not long after, gently dragging the pair of you away from Lucifer, who had been standing beside you.

They quickly piled onto the hug, until no one was really sure who was hugging who, but you were in the center, surrounded by warmth and love. Everyone was crying, at least a little bit, but they would never admit it in a million years. Lucifer looked on fondly, reminded that you had friends, a found family, outside of him and his brothers, as well as the others.

"Where is the headmaster's office?" He asked after everyone separated, but before they could ask you questions.

"Oh right, you wanted to talk to Crowley." You sniffled, wiping away the tears, and letting Grim crawl up to lay across your shoulders. "I can show you. You guys want to come with? We can catch up and you can get to know my new housewarden." You winked at Lucifer, who simply rolled his eyes in a manner more befitting of someone who was amused, than annoyed.

"We're never leaving your side again." Deuce deadpanned, looking you in the eyes. "You gave us all heart attacks when you just disappeared like that!"

"Yeah! We thought our housewardens were going to overblot, again!" Epel agreed.

"Sorry about that." You smiled, laughing awkwardly. "I didn't really have control over that, though."

"It's true. MC was summoned by Lord Diavolo, they had no say in the matter."

"I don't mind though." You beamed at Lucifer. "I live with Lucifer, and his brothers."

"Perhaps you can regale them with your tales of adventure while you show me to the headmasters office." Lucifer agreed, gesturing for you to lead the way. You nodded, and began to do so.

You told your friends of your adventures in the Devildom. About the Crown Prince, and his wonderful butler. About the insanely powerful wizard. You spoke rather highly of the seven demons you're staying with. You did conveniently "forget" to mention that one of them killed you, and more of them tried, but you're all cool now.

You talked extensively about how well you were treated, to make sure your friends knew that while you missed them, you were safe. And you were happy. You felt bad for making them worry, so you figured you should put their minds at ease about the time you spent away.

They didn't say it, but your friends took note of how people in the hallways practically dove out of the way as you and Lucifer walked through the halls. They knew Lucifer was powerful, hell, Deuce bet he could feel his magical ability from a mile away, maybe more. But they originally thought this would be similar to Malleus, and how people respected and got out of his way.

But oddly enough, they noticed that it wasn't necessarily intimidation, or respect, but outright fear that seemed to be driving these people away. As you smiled, and chattered on about how you couldn't wait to take Grim home and cuddle with him in a bed that isn't rotting, and have him meet your new roommates, and Lucifer walked mostly silently, his eyes forward, or on you, at all times, people were desperate to get out of the way. Epel swears he saw someone jump out of a window when they got close enough. And they didn't understand it. Malleus elicited a reaction similar, but this? This was on another level. And something about it made them doubt that Crowley would leave talking with Lucifer alive.

You spotted a familiar face, one that you really wanted Lucifer to meet. You figured that it would be best for him to meet one of the more competent members of staff before he met.... Crowley. You beamed, seeing Crewel.

"Professor Crewel!" You called out, breaking off from the group to rush up to him. "Lucifer come on!" You turned back before you reached him, gesturing for Lucifer to follow you. "I want you to meet Professor Crewel." He sighed, but agreed, walking forward, as you rushed to greet your old professor.

"Pup!" He called upon seeing you, briskly walking up to you, and grabbing your face, quickly inspecting for any bruises or signs of illness or anything else. "Are you ok? When I was informed you simply disappeared, I didn't know what happened. I was so worried!"

"I'm alright!" You promised. "I was brought back to my world, sort of. It's a little hard to explain." You laughed, deciding to leave out the part where you live in what is technically Hell. "I'm sorry to have worried you so much, I didn't really have any control over my leaving. But you can rest assured! I'm in good hands! See this is," You looked back to see Lucifer looking at something on one of the walls, "Lucifer! What's got your attention?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I just saw someone I thought I knew." He smiled fondly at the thought, walking over to you.

You didn't know it at the time, and you wouldn't for a long time. But the person he thought he saw was you, specifically you on a missing person poster. Your friends had plastered the school with them, along with the town nearby, and managed to even send some to Royal Sword Academy.

"Professor Crewel, this is Lucifer. He acts as the Housewarden for where I live now, but he does a lot more than just act as Housewarden. Lucifer, this is one of the more competent members of staff here at Night Raven, Professor Divus Crewel. He teaches potionology."

"So you're taking care of my pup?"

"MC is in my care, yes." Lucifer nodded. "Were you the one taking care of them while they were here?"

"Unfortunately not. Had I been allowed to act as their guardian, they would've been significantly better taken care of. However, I wasn't allowed to do much for them."

"Professor Crewel did all he could." You told Lucifer. "Professor Crewel," he looked to you, and you smiled, almost maliciously, a look he was curious to see on your face, "Lucifer is on his way to talk to Crowley. Do you happen to know if he's in his office?"

You and Crewel had a silent conversation, one where he realized your plan. You were going to let Lucifer tear Crowley a new one. Verbally is the intention, but no one would complain if it was physically as well. Especially not you, and definitely not Crewel.

His smile turned evil, matching your own in a way that people might swear make you look related. You both chuckled slightly, in an evil way before Crewel nodded, pleased with your unspoken plan. He cleared his throat in a belated attempt to cover his laughter. He looked between you and Lucifer.

"He is, in his office. He actually just got back." You groaned out of sympathy.

"Another vacation?"

"Yes." He nodded, sighing.

"Vacation? In the middle of the school year?" Lucifer questioned. Ace, with no sense of self-preservation, patted Lucifer on the shoulder casually.

"He does that a lot. And all his work used to get pinned on poor MC." You realized what he was doing, but didn't say anything.

"It's true, he used to give them all his work when he wanted to go on an impromptu vacation." Jack agreed.

"Crewel and Trein would take the work when they could, but they are full-time professors, after all." You sighed, shrugging. "Remember all those sleepless nights Grim?"

"Yeah." He yawned. "I'm tired just thinking about them."

"Well those are no more, Grim."

"That so?"

"Lucifer." You looked at him. "You get to keep Cerberus." You teased.

"Cerberus serves a purpose." He teased back, but in a tone that would make anyone that didn't know him think he was serious.

"I'll find a way to convince Satan to stop pranking you for a month if you let me bring Grim back."

"Deal." He agreed.

You both nodded, before following Crewel towards Crowley's office, your friends in tow. Walking the familiar path towards the office of the man who had been the source of so much anxiety for you for so long made you remember the bad times, and you instinctively leaned closer to Lucifer. He didn't move from his position, but also didn't tell you to lean away. There was a sense of pride within him, based on how safe you felt with him.

Once you reached his office door, Crewel looked back at you before knocking on the door. A voice sounded from within, telling Crewel to come in. Crowley. He opened the door, and you stood stone still, like a statue, seeing the inside of his office, knowing just how much stress had come from that place. Sebek was about to reach out, tell you that you didn't have to go in, when Lucifer gently nudged you forward. You steeled yourself, and entered the room.

Crowley stood from his previously extremely relaxed position upon seeing you. Beaming at you, like he had done no wrong. You stepped aside, not revealing Lucifer, as he was quite large, but drawing attention to him. You took a deep breath, before looking at Lucifer.

"Have at thee." You gestured at Crowley.

"Are you completely incompetent?" Lucifer started, and you smiled, gesturing for your friends to come in. Ace was recording it, to no one's shock, and telling you he would send it to you once they figured out inter-dimensional texting.

You all watched as Lucifer tore apart Crowley. From his teaching, to his work ethic, to his spending, to the state of his student body's mental health, not that you really thought he was able to speak on the matter. Eventually, and you never thought you'd see the day this happened, he simply stooped to insulting his appearance and intelligence.

Lucifer was pissed, and he was pissed on your behalf. He knew he was imposing, and scary, he knew if you really wanted to you could have the same effect. But he also knew you shouldn't have to. And that if he could do this for you, after all this man put you through, then it's the least he could do as a way to repay you for helping him and his brothers.

It was a satisfying experience. Though not nearly as satisfying as watching Lucifer straight up bitch-slap Crowley after he tried to insult you. You simply held Grim in front of you, stroking his fur in the same way a movie villain might. Taking pride in how much Lucifer cared about how badly you'd been treated, and rectifying this horrible experience, in his own way.

Mammon:

"I told ya didn't I?" Mammon boasted. "I told ya I'd getcha to your cat." He beamed.

You were positively vibrating with excitement. You were back in Twisted Wonderland, and you couldn't wait to see everyone again. You were excited to see your friends, sure, but you were overly excited to see Grim. You really wanted Mammon, and everyone else in the Devildom to meet him. But more than anything you want to be able to sleep again, with Grim right there beside you.

You could see it now, the arguing between Mammon and Grim about who was the favorite. Them calling you henchman and human. You really hoped they would get along, but you also know that bickering is their love language, so who knows how this will go?

"Trickster!" You turned at the familiar voice of the one, and only, Rook Hunt. "You have returned!"

"Rook!" You called, cheerfully. He swept you into an enormous hug, laughing as he did so.

"Oi!" You heard Mammon exclaim, so you separated from the eccentric archer.

"Rook, meet my friend Mammon. Mammon, this is Rook Hunt. He's an archer who goes to school here. Rook, I live with Mammon, now." You introduced, and they shook hands. Mammon was hesitant, But Rook was enthusiastic. "And we're actually on a mission, we're,"

"Looking for Monsieur Fuzzball?" Rook guessed, not looking away from Mammon, who he seemed to be studying.

"Yes!"

"I thought yer cats name was Grim?"

"It is. Rook gives everyone a nickname. Monsieur Fuzzball is just what he calls Grim." Mammon looked increasingly unnerved by Rooks staring, and the fact that he hadn't stopped shaking his hand yet.

"I believe you will find him in Headmaster Crowley's office." You grabbed Rooks hand, taking it off Mammons.

"Rook. Hunt. What in the whole of Twisted Wonderland, do you mean, Grim is in Headmaster Crowley's office?" You asked sternly.

"I simply mean that he's in there. I know not why, just that your friends, Monsieur Heart and Monsieur Spade were talking about it with Roi des Roses. They wanted to get him out, but Roi des Roses didn't let them." Rook explained in that ever-cheerful tone of his. You felt your eye twitch.

"Mammon," You turned, a strained smile painting your features, "I will tell you where Lucifer hid your three backup credit cards, and feed your raven familiars for two weeks, no complaints. If you help me get my cat out of Crowley's office."

"Do you not wish to see the others in your first year group?" Rook asked.

"I can catch up with them after, I don't trust Crowley with Grim." You snapped at Rook, before turning to Mammon. "If I direct you can you speed up the travel?"

"How am I s'posed to do that?"

"Dude, you can fly. And you love a dramatic entrance."

"You know which windows his though?"

"Course I do, I used to throw rocks at it when I was feeling particularly angry." You shrugged. "Come on, Mammon. Please!" You begged.

"Alright, alright. Just cuz you asked so nicely of the Great Mammon." He chuckled, smiling proudly.

"Mammon! Now!" You demanded, and he jumped, but nodded, and transformed into his demon form and picked you up.

He took off with ease, holding you like some sort of teddy bear. You guys have done this before, often enough for him to be confident in flying with you in his arms, but not often enough for you to be any less scared about this sensation. It wasn't exactly fun to be flying at high speeds with the only thing securing you being Mammons arms. Granted, he is insanely strong, so it's not that you think he'd drop you, it's just a scary feeling.

You can't exactly yell over the sound of the wind, it's very loud, and it gets hard to breathe when going at high speeds like this, so speaking is kind of inconvenient. Instead of talking to Mammon, to tell him where to go, you pointed. It's a rather effective system, you've found. You directed him through the large buildings on campus, and pointed at one specific window.

You'd seen the school from above before. Ace had always been rather fond of scaring you by doing this, Deuce hot on his trail. And Malleus was always very nice when it came to helping you experience the things the other first years get to do but you can't because of your lack of magic. Not to mention all those times Kalim kidnapped you on his magic carpet, much to Jamil's chagrin.

Mammon, without a moments hesitation, quickly moved one of his hands to cover your head, and rammed into the window of Crowley's office. He was careful in his landing, he always is, but he was extra careful with the glass being on the ground. You spotted Grim, sitting in a corner. You rushed over to hug him, as Mammon looked around the office. He narrowed his eyes, noting the distinct lack of anyone but Grim.

"Where's Crowley?" You asked Grim, voicing Mammon's question.

"He brought me in here and he left. He locked the door behind him. He was wearing his vacation shirt." Grim told you, hugging you back as tight as he could.

"He locked you in here?!" You asked, outraged. Grim nodded. "Dire Crowley, you will pay." You muttered, feeling Satan's influence overcome you. But you took some deep breaths and stood up, turning to Mammon. "Mammon, this is Grim. Grim, this is Mammon. If you want to come with us, we'll both be living with him, and his brothers."

"I'm never leaving you again."

"The feeling is mutual." You smiled at your beloved cat. "So, we've made our dramatic entrance, shall we use the door this time?"

"It's locked." Grim reminded.

"Not for the Great Mammon." You teased. "Right?"

"Right!" Mammon agreed, before ramming into the door. You blinked, looking at the shards of wood on the floor, looking through the hole he made at his proud smiling face.

"I meant, pick the lock." You laughed lightly.

"Oh. I knew that. Obviously. I just thought, I mean, obviously, this was just, quicker."

"Is he dumb?"

"You have no room to talk, Grim." You reminded, reaching through the hole and unlocked the door, pushing it open.

After stepping over the shards of wood, Grim migrated to be laying across your shoulders, and you linked arms with Mammon. You laughed at his request to avoid the strange man from earlier. You didn't say it to him, but you knew that if Rook really wanted to, there would be no stopping him from finding you. After all, he managed to follow Vil all the way to that island just to give him his skincare.

Instead, you figured you should head to find your friends and explain where the hell, pun intended, you've been. You hummed, trying to think about where they were, and how to get all of them together. Ace and Deuce should come first, they'll likely be together, and you know where they probably are. They can then text the others.

Though, the more you thought of it, the more you slightly dreaded the thought. You missed your friends, and you really wanted to see them! But you also knew they attracted trouble like no one else can, and Mammon would only intensify that. So as you silently debated the consequences of this course of action, you made your way to Heartslabyul.

"We have to sneak." You whispered, pulling Mammon behind a bush.

"Why?" Mammon whispered back.

"I don't remember all the rules of Heartslabyul, there's 810. I don't remember if there are any rules about visitors, whether that be times visitors can be here, how many, unannounced, I don't know. Riddle's great, but I don't want to get collared. Though," You looked at Mammon, "I am slightly curious about how his collar would affect you."

"Collar?"

"Yeah, it's his signature spell, it's called 'Off with your head'. It creates a collar around your neck, a rather obvious one," You pointed at a student walking away from the main building, dejected, with a collar around his neck, "that's one. They all look like that. And it seals your magic. But you're technically a magical being of demonic origin."

You shrugged as you looked around to see if you could spot Cater or Trey, or one of the others to bring you in without Riddle knowing. You wanted to see him, but you would like to confirm you wouldn't be breaking any rules first. You didn't, but you'd snuck into Heartslabyul enough to know how to sneak in without Riddle knowing. You gestured for Mammon to follow you, and he did, as you expertly weaved through the rosebushes, pausing every now and then as you saw students that might rat you out to Riddle. You made it into the building, Grim still laying across your shoulders, with Mammon in tow.

"Is this how yer so good at sneaking around the House of Lamentation ?" Mammon hissed as you headed to the kitchen.

"Yes, and also no. It's partly to blame, but not the entire reason." You hissed back.

"You both should shut up!" Grim hissed to both of us. You both looked at Grim before you sighed, nodded, and continued going to the kitchen.

Heartslabyul is a maze on a day that you're welcome, but as you dodged and weaved, avoiding all possible students, it felt like a labyrinth, and you were outrunning Riddle the Minotaur. Of course, this wasn't true. And you knew in the back of your mind that Riddle would likely welcome you, you didn't want to risk it.

You had debated bringing Mammon somewhere else and just asking another person to text your friends, but you knew that Mammon would cause trouble wherever, you'd rather have Trey on-hand than put that responsibility on anyone else. And also you wanted to talk to your friends in person before anyone got the chance to tell them you were back.

"Apparently, someone crashed into Crowley's office, stole Grim and left."

"And it wasn't the two of you?" Trey asked Deuce, who had been talking. You stopped Mammon from walking as you eavesdropped on the conversation in the kitchen.

"Do you see Grim? If we took him he'd be here." Ace reasoned, and you could practically see him rolling his eyes.

"Do you think it has something to do with that flying figure people were talking about earlier?"

"Riddle told you both to stop spreading rumors." Trey gently scolded.

"It's not a rumor! People saw it, there's photos." Deuce defended.

"It's probably just another student on a broom, that accidentally crashed into Headmaster Crowley's office window." Trey tried.

"Broom?" Mammon asked.

"It's a magical conduit, they use it to fly." You explained quietly.

Deciding it would be best to just get this over with, you sighed, and moved to stand in front of the kitchen door. You knocked lightly on the door, getting a quick response from Trey. Pushing the door open, you smiled at the familiar sight, noting how none of them were looking at you, or at Mammon. Trey was the first to notice, nearly dropping the bowl that was in his hands at the sight of you.

Seeing his reaction, both Ace and Deuce turned to the door, their jaws practically hitting the floor. They rushed over, nearly tackling you in the process, hitting each other, trying to hold you longer than the other. Trey just watched fondly as they fought, you in the middle, and all the nostalgia of having seen this interaction happen many times before.

It's likely that none of you would've separated on your own accord, had Mammon not yelped, jumping out from behind the wall, and drawing attention to himself. But, it wasn't him making a loud noise that caught your eye, but the new shiny collar around his neck, which made you laugh. You turned, smiling at Riddle, who had seen the unfamiliar man from afar.

"Yeah," you smiled, nodding to yourself as you looked around, not having seen all your friends yet, but happy nonetheless, "it's good to be back."

Leviathan:

It figures that you'd find Grim in Ignihyde. Idia always did like cats, and though you loved your friend group, you had secretly hoped that he would end up in Ignihyde. Not only because then he would surely be fed, he'd have Ortho, and Idia. And while he may have known more people in, say, Heartslabyul, the dorm Idia led tended to be much more to Grim's liking. This was likely because he's fed not only breakfast, but also second breakfast, lunch, supper, dinner, and snacks between all those, as well as fed at all the Heartslabyul events he's surely invited to. It's also dark, and quiet, which means he gets to sleep all he likes.

You were glad your companion was in a place that really would take good care of him, you trusted Idia with that, Ortho too. Speaking of Ortho, it was actually the technomatic humanoid that found you and Leviathan, almost immediately. You had the sneaking suspicion that Idia was watching the cameras again, and told him to go get you. But you also had no proof, and certainly weren't going to accuse the Ignihyde dormhead of doing that without it.

Ortho had given you a tight squeeze, and was chattering the whole way to Ignihyde as Levi trailed behind you. Once actually in Ignihyde, he clung to your arm, so as not to lose you as he marveled at all the technology in the labyrinth-like dorm. He was quiet as Ortho talked about all that you had missed, and where Grim was. Apparently, he was in Idia's room right now, but once Grim and you reunite, Ortho promised to message your other friends, the other first years. He didn't even question the man attached to your arm, though, to be fair, you acted like this was normal, so he likely didn't want to accidentally offend your new companion.

Upon reaching Idia's dorm door, Ortho knocked, still cheery as ever, and Idia didn't respond. Ah yes, the usual behavior, you thought, knowing he wouldn't want to interact with Leviathan unless he had to. However, when Idia didn't answer, and likely recognizing the knock, Grim did. The door was opened for you, and in you went, immediately, your eyes darted to your feline-like friend, laying on his own regal, and very expensive-looking, cat bed.

Without hesitating, you pulled out of Levi's grip, and dashed towards Grim in excitement, smooshing him into a tight, yet not painful for him, hug.

"Oi! What have I said about," He started to scold, but stopped upon his quick realization that it was you holding him, and not some random Ignihyde student with enough audacity to rival Crowley in Grim's mind. "MC." He said, fondness and excitement seeping into his tone as he hugged you back as tight as his little arms would allow.

"Have you gained weight?" You asked, to which he pushed you back, looking offended. "Not in a bad way, dummy, in like, I can't feel your ribs when I hug you anymore kind of way. In a good way." You reassured. "Hi Idia!" You called, looking at your flaming-haired friend in his gaming chair.

"Hey, MC." He greeted somewhat fondly.

"Is this the otaku friend you have that you told me about?" Levi asked. You nodded.

"Idia is one of the best gamers of both video and board variety in Night Raven College. He also has extensive anime and manga knowledge, as well as other things. His collections of merchandise, manga, video games, and anime is equally as impressive as yours are. He doesn't have a giant aquarium in his room, but his stuffs all state of the art." You explained in Idia's place.

This is something they're both passionate about, but Idia is far more introverted than Leviathan, who is very loud and proud of his interests. You do think that they might get along, of course, there's no guarantee. They're both highly competitive, and to be honest, you don't really want them to play competitive video games against each other, because you fear the consequences.

"As much as I would love for you two to be able to play video games and discuss anime and manga, I also know that Ortho texted the first years the moment I hugged Grim, and Idia does not want them in his room. You'll just have to talk later." You smiled, gently grabbing Levi, Grim still hugged to your chest. "Come on, Levi, I think you understand not wanting a bunch of rowdy freshman in your room, right?" He nodded.

"We need to play video games together later though." Levi was looking at you, but you knew he was talking about Idia.

"Maybe Lilia will let you use his PC to play against Idia until we figure out inter-dimensional communication." You offered, tugging lightly on Levi's sleeve. "Come on, Levi. Bye Idia!"

You smiled at him and he waved as you left, and you could tell he was grateful you were making Levi leave with you. And while he would never voice it, you could also tell he was a little annoyed that you had brought Levi into his dorm at all.

You let Ortho guide you back out, not being nearly familiar enough with the layout after so much time to make it out without getting lost first, and this time Levi was asking Ortho all kinds of questions. Not only about the technology in Ignihyde, but also about the kinds of video games and video game consoles this world has. You had warned Levi beforehand, when talking about Idia and Ortho, to not talk about Ortho being a technomatic humanoid, or an android that looks like a human. No matter how much he wants to.

Once out, you were greeted by the group of first years you consider family. Leviathan, upon seeing Jack and Sebek were taller than him, but the rest were noticeably shorter, almost asked what they were feeding the sixteen year olds in this world, and why did it make those two so tall. That being said, Leviathan couldn't help but be slightly envious when you dashed away from him towards the group, giving each of them a tight hug, Grim standing nearby as he watched you reunite with your friends, but you picked him up quickly after.

After making sure everyone was thoroughly greeted, you beckoned Leviathan closer, a smile on your face as you introduced him as your Lord of Shadows, and your favorite roommate, which quelled his envy quite a bit. You smiled, seeing him, admittedly awkwardly, interact with your friends, Grim even begrudgingly letting him pet him. However, there was one thing that stuck out to you.

"What's this I hear about me letting someone use my PC?" You shrieked as Lilia popped up behind you, startling everyone, with the exception of Sebek, who was used to Lilia's antics by now.

"Lilia!" You scolded, before laughing.

Asmodeus:

You were glad you'd picked Asmodeus to go with you, when you arrived only to immediately be pulled right back into the antics of your friends. It was like you had never left. However, you didn't get to see Grim right away, oh no, no. You saw everyone but Epel and Grim because Crewel had decided Grim should stay in Pomefiore while he was away trying to petition Crowley get removed. They barely noticed Asmodeus' presence, not even really acknowledging his existence, which pissed him off but you quietly begged him to just let it go.

He did, which actually worked in your favor.

The antics you were pulled into were your friends attempting to pull a rescue mission for Epel and Grim, as Vil was overseeing them right now. This means that they're not only dodging Vil, they're dodging Rook, and also half of Pomefiore. You glanced at Asmo as Vil was mentioned, watching his jaw clench.

Ever since you told Asmo what Vil had done in preparation for the VDC/SDC he's been rather keen on meeting him, if only to rip into him for the damage he could've done to you mentally, and the damage he did do financially. You would stop him if he went too far, he knew you would, so he wasn't too worried about getting in trouble. And if he did, he would simply charm his way out.

You all approached Pomefiore with as much stealth as you could muster, for a bunch of sixteen year old boys, plus you, and Asmo, who was wearing heels. You stayed close to your friends, but kept a close eye on Asmodeus.

You were all crouched below the window to the room where Epel and Grim were, as well as Vil, and you think maybe Rook, but you didn't see him. Then again, you rarely do if he doesn't want you to, scarily enough. You watched for a few moments as Vil gave both Epel and Grim a rigorous etiquette lesson, and once he deemed necessary, a break was taken. Once a break was taken, the window was pulled open a little, as it opened outward, and the plan commenced.

"Psst." Ace hissed quietly, which caught Epel's attention.

Epel glanced over and saw Ace, and then you, and nearly gave you all away with the way he almost gasped. He instead, clamped his mouth shut, gently grabbed Grim, and as nonchalantly as he could muster, walked over to the window.

He held Grim out the window and dropped him, right into your awaiting arms, before he hopped out, and closed the window behind him. Vil had not noticed, mission accomplished. Epel gave you an extremely tight hug, with his farm-boy strength nobody realizes he has, and made a quiet promise to catch up with you once you were away from the dorm.

However, none of you took into account the fact that Rook was just not in the room, and that's why you didn't see him, not that he just didn't want to be seen. An arrow, aimed to shoot right by your face, was quickly caught by Asmodeus, shocking everyone, and infuriating him. You simply sighed.

"Rook, you shouldn't shoot arrows on school grounds. It's dangerous." You scolded lightly, knowing the jig was up. He stepped out of the woods bordering Pomefiore, a smile plastered on his face, as it usually was.

"Trickster!"

"Rook." You smiled.

"And your incredibly athletic friend." Rook acknowledged Asmodeus, which he smiled in satisfaction, finally being noticed. You were also very impressed with Asmodeus's display of strength and speed.

You often forget, as you and him mostly gossip and do skincare, makeup, and hair, that Asmodeus is powerful in his own right. Not just in his ability to charm. He's one of the Seven Deadly Sins, one of the leaders of hell. He's strong, it's just easy to forget because he doesn't display it in the same way his brothers do.

You made a mental note to give him some of the skincare Mammon had gifted you from doing a modeling shoot for the company, but you don't use.

"Trying to escape your lessons, Epel?" You looked up at the sharp tone of Vil.

"Hi Vil." You greeted.

"That's Vil?" Asmo asked.

"Be nice, please." You gently asked Asmo, knowing he likely wouldn't.

"Inside, all of you. And don't think this won't be reported to your Housewardens." Vil threatened, and you sighed, holding your friend in your arms, as the group trudged around the building, and through the hallways to get back to the room Vil was in.

You stood between Vil and Asmodeus, being a slight barrier, a little bit of a buffer, for the argument you knew was to soon follow. Asmodeus was opinionated, he's strong-willed, and though he loathes to admit it, he can be just as stubborn as his brothers. You knew that if Asmodeus had his mind set on arguing with Vil, about something you already told him that you forgave Vil for, he would be arguing with Vil before he left.

You hoped he'd start the argument soon. Vil can hold his own against people who were critical against him, he's had to for most of his life. But you also didn't want them to argue in public, that wouldn't be good for anyone. Vil, though patient with most, and often firm in his sentiments, could be provoked if they knew how to push him. And Asmodeus would know how to push him.

"Asmo, this is Vil Schoenheit. Vil, this is Asmodeus. He's one of my current roommates, and the one accompanying me today." You introduced. "Asmo," you looked to your friend, who simply smiled, "don't go too far." You sighed, knowing this was inevitable.

Epel shared confused glances with the other first years as Asmodeus's smile and cheerful facade fell, and his eyes turned to glare at Vil, who looked almost taken aback at the sudden hostility. Though you were standing between them, and Asmodeus would be careful with his words since you were there, you still dreaded this interaction.

Vil raised an eyebrow, looking Asmodeus up and down, Asmodeus doing the same to him, but in a way that was searching for imperfections, more than an overall impression. You almost wanted to go find someone who was more qualified to handle this. Crewel, or maybe Trein if pushed. But, Crewel wasn't here, and Trein was busy. You considered, for a few moments, seeing if you could summon Lucifer, or maybe a different brother, but you knew that wouldn't really stop this, just delay it, so you decided against it.

Glancing slightly behind you, movement catching your eye in your peripherals, you did a double take, fully turning around and walking to the window. You looked at Ace.

"I thought you said Crowley was off-campus."

"He is. Went off on a vacation yesterday morning." Ace rolled his eyes.

"Then what is he doing here? And why is he wearing that?!" You asked, utter disgust seeping into your tone, not only at the sight of your previous tormentor, but also at the sight of what he was wearing.

Dire Crowley, though his usual attire was alright, perhaps it could even be called stylish, but it was professional, and it stood out. You could recognize him quite quickly from his clothes, anyone could. This seems to have put everyone, yourself included, under the false impression that he has a good sense of style. Clearly, that's not right.

He was wearing his usual hat and mask, but everything else was straight out of the "don't" section of one of Asmo's, or even Mammon's, fashion magazines. He wore a bright red, cropped, floral, button-up shirt, the kind you'd see dads wear in cartoons or movies, but it showed off his stomach, and rivaled the color of a fire truck. His shorts, which were extremely bright yellow, looked to be swim trunks, with a corn pattern on it. Below that, white mid-calf height socks, and bright neon green flip flops. The flip-flops practically glowed, nevermind the fact that he was wearing socks with them.

Ace and Deuce rushed up, always ready to mock the headmaster, but what they said didn't invite a stream of insults, simply loud cackling from them both as they nearly toppled over at the sight. Ace, wiping tears from his eyes, claimed he couldn't breathe as he devolved into laughs. Deuce couldn't stop clutching his stomach. Normally one to always respect authority, Deuce had a grudge against the headmaster after everything he'd done to you, so he had no more qualms with laughing at him.

Their laughter caused you to have to stifle your own giggles, but that didn't work when Epel soon joined the duo on the floor, wheezing with laughter, and even Rook let out a snicker. Asmodeus, wanting to not only see Crowley, but also his fashion disaster you'd pointed out, walked to the window at the same pace as Vil, and they reached it at the same time, both nearly gagging in disgust. Asmo didn't because he knew if you heard him, you'd tell his brothers, and he'd never live it down. Vil didn't because it was unbecoming. But the urge was there.

Leaning against Asmo as your laughter calmed down, you smiled at him.

"Save the argument for another day?" You asked gently, and he sighed, but hugged you.

"Oh, alright. But only because you asked so nicely." He teased, making you laugh.

"You're SQUISHING ME." You quickly separated from Asmodeus when Grim yelled out.

"Right! Grim, meet Asmodeus." You held the cat out from under his arms so he could be face-to-face with Asmo. "Asmo, this is Grim. And this is also the rest of my First Year friend group." You gestured around the room at the first years. "Jack and Sebek are the most well behaved." You added quietly, and he nodded.

"He looks like a stoplight!" Ace snorted, causing the other two, who had started to calm down, to descend into mad laughter once more, and the other two even started to chuckle a bit themselves.

"I think my brothers will fit right in here. The others will too." Asmo giggled. You smiled fondly at the thought.

Satan:

It was a pleasant surprise when you heard from some passing Diasomnia students, complaining about the favoritism, that Grim was taken in by Diasomnia. You smiled, realizing that your good friend Hornton had been kind enough to take care of your beloved companion. Sneaking through the halls with Satan was actually relatively easy. While some people did double takes upon seeing your familiar face, no one tried to stop you as you wandered through the halls and towards the Hall of Mirrors.

Upon getting there, beaming, you led Satan through the mirror, much to his apprehension, upon having never seen this means of transportation before. Once through, you beamed, looking up at the castle that was the Diasomnia dorm. You took note of the overcast weather, and the thunder rumbling in the distance, but didn't mention the cause to Satan, who looked at the castle with curiosity.

You talked with Satan, beaming about how excited you were to see Grim, and for them to meet. You also began to tell him about Diasomnia, as you walked up the winding road to the gate. You entered the building with little difficulty, no one questioning your presence, as they were enveloped in their own world. You hummed, trying to figure out where your cat would be in this large dormitory.

"Cakes!" You jumped as you heard someone running towards you, yelling. Satan gently touched your shoulder, ready to defend you at a moments notice, but you recognized the voice. "Cakes! Lilia's making cakes!"

"Oh no." You muttered, a cold chill going down your spine at the warning. Stopping once he reached the room, Sebek didn't look at you, simply yelling out the warning once more.

"Lilia's making cakes!" You laughed lightly, though it was nervous and forced. "MC!" Sebek yelled at a much louder volume, in a much happier tone. Never one for affection, he didn't hug you, but he did beam, and start to pull out his phone.

"Where's Grim? I heard he was here." You quickly asked.

"I believe he is with the Young Master, trying to study."

"Trying... to study? Grim?!" You asked, shocked at the claim.

"I know, I was shocked as well. But he's been very diligent in his studies since you went missing." Sebek told you. "I must text the others."

"Text Lilia too." You added. "Satan here, my escort, my roommate, the person with me today, he's super smart, and I'm sure he would love to learn everything there is to learn from Lilia." You explained.

"While that is true, don't throw me under the bus." Satan asked, sighing.

"You don't understand, Satan." You blinked, grabbing his sweater. "Lilia is just as bad at cooking as Solomon. If Lilia is in the kitchen, we are all in danger."

"I would love to learn everything from this, Lilia person." He quickly rectified.

"See? Ready and willing to learn!" You turned back to Sebek, who was already frantically typing on his phone. Moments later, a familiar voice rang out.

"So you want to learn, do you?" You flinched as Lilia popped up beside you, looking to Satan. Quickly giving you a tight hug, Lilia then turned his full attention to Satan. "Why?"

"Satan's a genius, and he's read basically every book on magic in all of existence where he's from. Who better to learn from than you?" You quickly intercepted, before the demon could tell the fae, that he's a demon.

"Fair enough." Lilia nodded, before turning. "I assume you want to see Grim, MC, so we'll take you there first, yes?" Sebek nodded, still typing on his phone, likely trying to tell Silver to clear out the kitchen and quick.

The small group that had formed, you, Satan, Lilia, and Sebek, walked through the halls of Diasomnia. Satan, ready to keep this man distracted from going back to the kitchen, had started asking Lilia questions. He remembered you mentioning that Lilia was very old, from a conversation a while back, but you didn't say how old, so he asked about history. Luckily, Lilia is that old, and history happens to be his best subject.

As Lilia told Satan of the past, you asked Sebek about what had happened since you left. Apparently, there's been a petition being passed not only around the student body, but around the staff, and the families of students as well, to get Crowley removed from his position as Headmaster. No one knows who started the petition, and no one knows where it is right now, but apparently, the last Sebek heard, it had over 2,000 signatures.

You reached the room in which Malleus and Grim were relatively quickly, and all of you remained silent, as you witnessed the interaction. Grim, struggling to answer the questions that Malleus asked, but Malleus, patient as ever, helped him find the answer, rather than just giving it to him. Based on the number of books around them, they had likely been at this for hours. You were the first to step forward, wrapping your arms around your cat, and lifting him up, giving him a hug.

He struggled for a second, but once he was able to turn around, and see you, he reciprocated the gesture, nearly crying in relief, but refusing to do so in public. Your sweet reunion was interrupted by the sound of a confetti popper popping. Everyone's attention was drawn to Lilia, who had a bright smile on his face. You laughed at his antics, before turning your attention to Malleus.

"Hello, Hornton." You smiled fondly, carefully hugging him and Grim at the same time. "It's good to see you again."

"Child of Man!"

He seemed to snap out of his shock, rising out of his seat, and pulling you into a tight hug. It took a moment, but Grim wormed his way out, gasping for air as he landed on the table, but, he wasn't free for long.

"So this is Grim." Satan asked, picking him up.

"The one and only." You confirmed, still being hugged by Malleus. "And this, tall, horned fellow, is my really good friend, Hornton, or, as he's formally known, Crown Prince Malleus of Briar Valley, or just Malleus." You explained, patting Malleus' back.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." Satan nodded, hugging Grim.

"I should also probably formally introduce everyone." You sighed, gently pushing Malleus off of you. "I'll get you some ice cream later, we can eat it together." You promised, still sticking close to the fae who had missed you dearly. "Satan, this is Sebek Zigvolt, knight of Malleus Draconia, and first year of Night Raven College. Silver is around here somewhere, I'm sure, he's another knight, and Lilia's son. Lilia is Malleus' caretaker, and also a royal guard. Everyone, this is Satan."

"What, no spectacular introduction for me?"

"Do you want one?" You asked, almost laughing at Satan's teasing tone. He hummed, shrugging. "Satan is one of my roommates where I live now, along with his six brothers. Satan and his brothers hold high-ranking positions in the government, and Satan himself is extremely knowledgeable on magic, with an extensive library, both physically and mentally." You smiled.

"Wonderful introduction, dear." Lilia clapped, making you laugh. "But with such an extensive library, it makes me wonder what Mc thinks you can learn from me." Lilia pondered aloud, winking at you.

"Well, Lilia, you're rather knowledgeable on many forms of magic and the history of magic in this world, a world Satan has never been to or read about before. Not to mention, you were there when most of it happened." You squinted, trying not to offend the fae. "To be fair though, Satan is much the same, in that regard." They both squinted at eachother.

"Vampire?" Satan asked, making Lilia snicker.

"Maybe." Lilia disappeared, only to reappear beside Satan, upside down. "Maybe not."

"Lilia is a fae." You quickly told Satan, trying not to cause any misunderstandings. "Satan is, an entity. Which is often considered evil. But he is not." You slowly explained, avoiding the word demon.

Demons get a bad rep, even in Twisted Wonderland, which makes you tread lightly. Not that it isn't deserved in a lot of cases, but you also knew that Satan didn't do those things, at least not here. Lilia has never spoke on the subject, so you don't know his opinions, hence why you are being careful.

"Interesting." Lilia smiled, almost eerily.

"Say, Sebek, didn't you text the other first years?" You asked, trying to divert the conversation, as you walked around the table, and gently took Grim from Satan, wary of a possibly argument.

"Ooh! More guests! I shall have to cook a great feast."

"That's not necessary!" Everyone shouted in unison as Lilia finished his sentence, causing his eyes to widen in slight shock, before everyone else started laughing at the sight.

Beelzebub:

"Grim!" You beamed, seeing the cat.

He looked up from his large plate of food, gulping down his bite before racing over, tripping multiple people in the process, which made you laugh. You opened your arms, kneeling down so he could jump into your arms. And the second he did, you closed your arms around him. Tears, happy tears, escaped your eyes, as you finally felt like your best friend was with you again.

No one approached you either, because they didn't want to interrupt such a lovely moment. That, and the massive red-head standing behind you protectively was scaring them off. However, it seemed like not everyone was affected by Beel's intimidating presence, not that the sunshine could really imagine the danger of the man he didn't know was a demon.

"Mc!" You looked up, laughing lightly as Kalim bounded over, quickly taking your hand and helping you up, squeezing you into a short hug, but quickly separating at Grims yowling at being squashed.

"It's good to see you too, Kalim. Oh, this is my roommate and escort for today, Beelzebub, but I just call him Beel." You explained, wiping your tears. "Beel, this is Kalim, and this..." You held Grim up, presenting him proudly. "Is Grim!"

"Hello." He greeted to both Kalim and Grim. "It's good to meet you both."

"Please! Help yourself, we're having a feast tonight!" Kalim invited.

"I don't know if Jamil will be able to keep up with Beel." You worried quietly, though no one seemed to hear as he ushered both of you to seats at the long table.

Never able to resist Jamil's delicious cooking, you did make yourself a plate, Grim bringing his own plate over to sit beside you. Beel, excited to taste the food that you had praised so much, dug right in with little apprehension. Once you finished your plate, you quickly separated from your friend you'd recently reunited with, to go greet Jamil. Grim followed you of his own volition, carrying his plate with him.

You entered the kitchen and stepped to the side, out of the way, as you watched Jamil work. He really did command the kitchen, it reminded you of Barbatos in a way. His efficiency, his calm demeanor, the way he's not afraid to direct people. The similarities were striking, at least in their efficiency. You made a mental note to introduce them. Jamil could use a friend who could relate to him.

You smiled as he turned, holding a soup pot, getting ready to put it in a serving dish when he saw you. His eyes widened, his jaw dropping, and the soup pot nearly going with it, but he regained his composure quickly, setting the soup pot aside. He rushed over, checking you over, making you laugh.

"Nice to see you too, Jamil."

"You can never disappear like that again. Kalim nearly lost his mind."

"I appreciate it." You nodded. "That being said, I came here to warn you, actually. The guest I'm here with, Kalim invited them to the feast,"

"Very Kalim-like. Why warn me?"

"Because he's essentially a bottomless pit, and I didn't want you to be surprised by the amount he can eat." You explained, slightly awkwardly.

"How much?"

"Can he eat? I'm not sure, to be honest. He's always eating. But he's also an athlete. I'd be surprised if you could feed him until he's full, I don't know that anyone's ever managed that."

"Let me put this into a serving dish, and then I'll come meet him."

"Alright. In the meantime, I'm gonna go ask Kalim to borrow his phone, I need to text the other first years before they realize I'm here and think I betrayed them by not immediately informing them." You told him, to which he waved you off, and watched you leave the kitchen.

You did exactly as you said you would, asking Kalim for his phone, which he happily gave and unlocked without a second thought, even without an explanation. You simply shook your head at his slight naivety, looking at Beel, who was eating at a reasonable pace, but an ungodly amount of food sat on his plate. You quickly sent a text to Ace, Deuce, and the others as well, telling them that it was you, you just had Kalim's phone, and you were in Scarabia.

The immediate response was to tell you that they were on their way. Which you said, meet you at Octavinelle instead, you have a bit of a plot. You gave them about fifteen minutes before they got there, if that long. You handed Kalim his phone back, watching as Jamil came out with the serving treys. You were always impressed with the amount he could cook.

Once he had set all the components down, he turned, looking for you, and walking over once he spotted you. You smiled at Beel who had looked up at you as this new person approached, glancing between the two of you, as if to see if he was going to do something.

"Beel, this is Jamil, the person who cooked all this food, and a good friend of mine. Jamil, this is Beelzebub," he raised an eyebrow at the name, seemingly the only person to notice, "and I call him Beel. He's one of my new roommates." He nodded.

"I've heard you eat a lot, Beel." He said cautiously. "How much?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Never feel full, so I'm always eating."

"Well don't fill up here. Jamil's food is top notch, no doubt about it, but, I have another place who's ingredient capacity I want you to test. And, I pulled a Mammon, so we don't have to worry about the price." You smiled at him, holding your cat to your chest still, as he contentedly purred.

"You talkin' 'bout Azul's place?" Grim asked sleepily.

"Yep." You beamed maliciously.

"What do you mean, you pulled a Mammon?" Jamil asked.

"I guess technically it's not a Mammon because I have permission to use his card, and Mammon often does not." You said thoughtfully. "But I have Lucifer's card, and Mammon and Levi managed to rig it so it'll work interdimensionally. Neato, huh?"

Yes, Mammon, the man who knows how money works better than anyone, and Leviathan, the most electronically adept demon you've ever met working together. It was a nightmare. But they get results, and the results are in your favor. Granted, you didn't ask them to do this, Lucifer did, but it was still to your benefit.

You didn't want to take Lucifer's card at first, knowing how tempted you would be to try to buy Night Raven College from Crowley, knowing everything has a price with that damned crow. However, the eldest demon brother insisted, telling you that he wanted you to have access to money while there, if only to prove that you didn't need to rely on Crowley anymore.

And, not to put this lightly, Lucifer is rich. Lucifer makes a lot of money doing what he does. He doesn't spend it all at once, and when he does, there's not much he wants. He's got a shit ton of money in his bank account. He insinuated that you could go wild with buying whatever you want, if you really wanted to, to prove your new status as a member of a high-ranking family like you are with them.

That being said, you did warn him that you intended to buy the entirety of Azul's menu, not only to eat as much of it as you could, but also because you wanted to embarrass him by letting Beel eat everything he has. And he seemed ok with this. As long as you were happy.

"His restaurant is decently expensive, do you really want to see just how much he can eat of Azul's food?" Jamil asked.

"I've got a jailbroken debit card that has essentially no limit. If I didn't have Beel here to convince me to only buy food, I'd be buying the school." You warned.

"I could do that." Kalim offered smiling. You gently patted his shoulder.

"Please do not." You asked gently. He frowned, but nodded. "You get a good taste of everything?" You asked Beel.

"It's really good." He complimented Jamil, as he nodded. "I like your blend of spices, and the different spice levels in each. The seasonings are really good, and the flavors are delicious. Everything is cooked really well, as well." Jamil was slightly taken aback by his review of the food, but nodded, and thanked him for his kind words.

"Time to go eat Azul out of house and home." You smiled at Beel. "It was lovely to see you both." You hugged Kalim and then Jamil, separately. "I will be stopping by once more, but," you glanced at the dent Beel had made in the food on the table, "likely with someone who has less of an appetite."

"You're welcome here anytime." Kalim assured. "Bring anyone you like, and please, do come back. It's good to see you." He beamed at you.

"Thanks Kalim, I will. I'll probably be bringing a few of my other friends. And this time," you looked to Jamil, "I promise to come after warning you." He nodded, thankful for your assurance. "Come on Beel, we gotta meet my friends and we have to get you to the Mostro Lounge in order to eat everything you can." You smiled as he rose from his seat, nodding.

"It was nice meeting you both." He nodded to Jamil and Kalim. Kalim, ever the sunshine, waved enthusiastically as you both left, whereas Jamil just watched you leave.

"You know, Grim. From here on out, you won't need to worry about other people feeding you. The House of Lamentation is almost always stocked with food. No more worrying about your next meal." You promised the cat, who was now resting across your shoulders. He laughed happily at the statement as you left Scarabia.

You quickly made your way from Scarabia, to Octavinelle, quickly met with your friend group, who physically tackled you to the ground, happy to be able to see you again. You introduced them to Beel, who intimidated most of them, but actually got into a nice conversation with Epel and Jack about sports, which Deuce quickly joined after catching up with you, as you walked into Octavinelle, before you were once again tackled, but this time by Floyd.

Floyd, who greeted you enthusiastically. You greeted him back, before quickly filling him in on your plan. Ever the chaotic entity, he merely smiled, in a scary ominous way, before bringing all of you to a table in the back, and went to fill Jade, who is in the kitchen of your plan.

You could practically see the terrified look on Azul's face now, which made you smile. Yeah, this is going to be good.

Belphegor:

"Leona!" You yelled as you entered Savanaclaw on a warpath.

You briefly stopped to politely greet Ruggie, who watched in shock as you, and your escort, marched to Leona's room. Your eye twitched as you watched Grim struggle against Leona's sleeping form. Having been in that position before, and knowing how strong his grip could get, you looked at Belphie.

"Can you go get him from whatever dreamscape he's in?"

"I can try."

"Can you wake him?"

"I most certainly can." He agreed, smiling at your insistence that this man must me woken, despite his usual insistence to just let people be when they sleep. He was more amused than anything, which is why he was going along with it.

You gestured for him to go ahead, and he transformed into his demon form with ease, walking over towards Leona. Grim, looking up at him, stopped moving in fear of the man. Belphegor, to his credit, didn't really pay any attention to your cat, more focused on the man holding the one thing you were more certain than anything that you wanted. He easily lifted his tail, and with quite a lot of force, smacked Leona's face with it. You winced in sympathy, but it woke up him up nonetheless.

The second he woke up, Belphegor transformed back to his normal form, before Leona could see him, and Leona easily released Grim, who jumped into your arms. Mission accomplished, Belphegor walked back over to you, draping himself over your shoulders. Once prompted, he gently pat Grim's head, Leona looking on incredulously.

"Um? Herbivore, what the fuck? How are you here? Why are you here? What did you do to me?"

"I don't know. Magic. To get Grim and wreak havoc. And I did nothing, ask Belphegor, he's great at causing damage to the human, or, in this case, beastman, body." You smile. "I mean, I should know better than anyone."

"Oi. You forgave me for that."

"I did." You nodded, acknowledging the statement. "Anyway, Belphie, this is Leona, prince of the Sunset Savanna. Leona, this is Belphegor, one of my new roommates."

"Is he like Diavolo?"

"Not in position or in personality, but he's still a prince." You denied. "Leona, if you come with me as I let Belphegor cause chaos at the dorm leader meeting, I will introduce you to a man who can actually pose a threat to you in chess."

"There's no one like that."

"Oh please. Don't make me drag you out of bed." You threatened, petting Grim as he tried to stifle his sobs in your shirt. You knew he wouldn't want to address it, so you didn't.

"Nah, I'd rather take a nap."

"Dude, if you just keep sleeping because you're depressed, you'll never really feel rested." Belphie warned.

"Take it from him, he's an expert." Belphie glared at you. "On sleep. Weirdo." He scoffed, but let it be. "Come on, Leona. You like to watch people's downfalls, why not watch Crowley's?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly thinking about it. "I'll let you eat some of the meat where I live now, which I know you've never tried before." You tried to bribe. He pondered. "What do you want, Leona?"

"To sleep." You sighed at his answer, used to his stubbornness.

"Fine then, you lazy lion. I'll just leave you here."

"Why are you getting on my case about this when he's dozing off on your shoulder?"

"He has a better excuse than you." You shrugged, not explaining any further. "Regardless, I'll send Satan your way when and if he comes here. You guys will get along."

"Don't bother."

"I don't really think you quite understand." You sighed, shrugging Belphie off and handing Grim to him. "This is Belphegor, he lives with us now, you're coming back with me. I need a moment." Grim nodded, turning to glare at Belphegor. You walked over to Leona. "Leona." You said in a stern tone, grabbing his wrist and making him look you in the eyes. "You have said before that you're in your older brother's shadow, and you want to get out of it. Hell, you want to get out of it so bad you came to NRC, rather than his school of RSA. You're insanely smart, and while you don't do your work now, you could easily graduate if you wanted to, but you don't because you like your position here. Satan was literally created out of his brothers rage, and wants nothing more than to escape who he was created to be, because he believes that if he's anything like what people think he'd be, he will never escape his brothers shadow. He is also, insanely smart. I've witnessed him beat the crown prince of the kingdom we live in in chess. He hates his older brother, and probably more than you hate yours." You explained. "You two would probably get along great, better than you and your brother, and him and his older brother at least."

"I doubt it."

"You'll see, Leona. I promise." You sighed, letting him go. "I can make no guarantees, but I bet you two will get along. What do you think Belphie? You've known your brother longer than I have."

"He's got cat ears."

"I'm a lion beastman! And a prince of the Sunset Savanna!" Leona growled, glaring at Belphie.

"It's true, he's not a cat." You agreed. "And he shouldn't be treated as such, because he's a person. I'll have to make sure Satan doesn't ask any uncomfortable questions about beastmen and beastman culture." You thought aloud before deciding to quickly explain to Leona. "While it's not uncommon in certain forms for people in the kingdom Belphie, his brothers, and I live in, to have similarities to beastmen, but the culture of beastmen, and beastmen in general, are kind of nonexistent. There are rules of etiquette similar, like don't pull the tails, don't touch the wings, or horns, or anything. They're usually very polite about it, actually." You hummed thoughtfully. "That's besides the point. Satan, while scarily perceptive and usually good about not crossing any uncomfortable boundaries, is more than willing to cross those boundaries in the name of getting answers when he's curious about something."

"It's true." Belphie agreed.

"He won't try to pet me, right?!" Grim yelled, looking at you.

"Mayhaps? I told him that you're a cat, which,"

"I'm not!" He vehemently denied.

"I'm aware!" You denied, walking back over to him and taking him from Belphie, allowing him to climb up to your shoulders. Once up there, you gave him head rubs as he started purring. "But the closest describing word to what you are is catlike, or feline, or whatever. If you tell him not to, he'll probably be tempted to still, but he knows better than to touch things without permission, I just went over that with Leona." You explained. "So!" You turned to Belphie. "Ready to cause chaos at the Dorm Leader meeting?"

"Isn't he supposed to be there?"

"Technically, yes, but he's been a dorm leader longer than the rest, so he knows what they're talking about, probably better than Crowley does. Let's leave him be." You sighed, walking out of Leona's room, only to be almost tackled, immediately, by Jack, who was ecstatic to see you.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Previous Chapter: Part 4 | Next Chapter: Part 6

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, lemon, hand job, vague references to Shoto being abused by family, reader experiences anxiety

Link to My Master List

Your alarm wakes you from a restless sleep. You blearily slap at your phone until it stops beeping and you sit up in bed.

Deep in your bones, you feel upset.

But why? Your fuzzy brain can’t seem to put all the pieces together from the night before. Then in a flash you remember – the text. The sweatshirt. YaMomo.

Oh, right. You had drifted off around 4 am after hours of agonizing and pacing around your tiny dorm room.

Maybe it was all just a weird dream? You reach out your hand and grope along your side table until you find it – Shoto’s phone. You scoop it into your arms and tap it to reveal his bland blue-sky screensaver. There are two texts on the screen – one from you, and one from Momo Yayarozo.

Momo: “Hey Shoto, you left your sweatshirt in my dorm room yesterday evening. Come pick it up tomorrow? Good night.”

Okay so this is really happening. For what feels like the billionth time, you review the facts in your head.

Fact #1: Shoto and Momo are friends. They have always been fairly close and supportive of each other.

Fact #2: Shoto left some clothing in Momo’s room. And it’s a sweatshirt – not a super strange piece of clothing to leave in a friend’s room, right? But regardless, the text indicates that Shoto has physically been in YaMomo’s room.

Fact #3: Momo is hot. That feels relevant to list out here. But you don’t know if Shoto personally finds Momo hot, which is an important detail in this investigation.

It’s probably nothing…but you can’t help the way that a nervous knot forms in your stomach as you re-read the text message for the umpteenth time. Momo and Shoto have always been…close? But how close?

An image forms in your mind of Momo, her beautiful curvy figure leaning over Shoto during a seemingly innocent study session….You shake your head. No! These are your friends! You can’t assume the worst of them. Also, didn’t you seduce Shoto during a “study session” just last night? It seems a bit hypocritical to look down on someone else for doing the same.

You resolve to confront Shoto about this in the morning, to ask him for an explanation as to why Momo is currently in possession of a Todoroki sweatshirt. As you get ready – putting on your uniform, doing a quick skincare regimen, and brushing your hair - your mind swirls with questions and more than a little doubt.

You open your closet and reach for a box of protein bars that you’ve stashed at the bottom, breaking open the box and grabbing a chocolate chip bar for your breakfast.  You toss the snack into your bag alongside Shoto’s phone. Your emotions are all twisted up in the worst way. You’re simultaneously anxious and angry. But what exactly you’re angry about, you can’t put your finger on – are you angry about the situation, about Shoto’s potential two timing? Or are you angry at yourself for agonizing over the whole thing? You’re not completely sure, but you know for a fact that your lack of sleep isn’t doing anything to help.

Scowling, you march out of your dorm room and through the common area, ignoring the various “good mornings” of your friends as you go.

“Damn what crawled up Y/N’s ass and died this morning?” you hear Sero say loudly to Mina and Ochaco as you trudge down the stairs and out onto the quad. You’re too sleep deprived and pissy to care.

As you walk, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and look at the screen where a barrage of texts alerts take up residence on your bright lock screen. It’s your group chat with Toru and Mina, appropriately labeled “Girlie Squad.”

Toru: Y/N! What’s the deal!?

Mina: Is everything okay?

Toru: So totally rude of you to ignore us!

Mina: You look like death.

You ignore them; you don’t have the wherewithal to make up an excuse for your sour mood. You make a mental note to respond before class so they don’t suspect that anything too crazy is going on with you. Your phone buzzes again, and you’re about to text the group to back off when you notice that – oh! It’s Honenuki this time.

You open the message and see that he’s linked you to a new song. You click through and it brings you to “This Must Be the Place” by the Talking Heads. You type out a quick text.

Y/N: You moved on to the 80s?                    

Honenuki: Ha. Yeah, 80s New Wave is the vibe this week. You like the Talking Heads?

Y/N: Yeah I’m a fan. “And She Was” is a favorite of mine.

Honenuki: A woman of taste! How’s you’re week going Y/N?

Y/N: Eh kinda crappy. Classes have been crazy, and I’m in a bad mood. You?

Honenuki: *typing*

Honenuki: Yeah the hero course has been tough lately. Maybe this will help.

He sends you another song, this time its “I’m Walking On Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves.

Honenuki: A serotonin boost. Don’t let a tough week take away your sunshine, ‘kay? Hope the day gets better!

Y/N: Thanks dude, hope you have a good one too.

You smile down at your phone. Huh, Honenuki’s actually kind of cool. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Class B isn’t as bad as Monoma’s immature behavior has lead you to believe. As it turns out, they’re all sort of normal. The anxiety is still bubbling around in the pit of your stomach, but having so many friends be concerned about you lessens it a tiny bit. Mina, Toru, Honenuki. It’s nice to have people looking out for you. You hope that after the conversation you’re about to have that Shoto can be a member of that list.

You have a feeling you know where Shoto is this morning, and you’re determined to confront him there.

You walk across campus in the early morning sun, dew sticking to your shoes as you plod across the damp, freshly mowed grass. You come to one of the training gymnasiums and let yourself inside. The ground floor is comprised of a gym entirely dedicated to the peers in your year. It has a ton of exercise equipment and training gear, and is open most hours of the day.

You push open the big double doors to the gym and find Todoroki in the far corner. It’s extremely early and it looks like Shoto is the only guy from your year who chose to get some reps in this morning.

He’s wearing athletic gear – basketball shorts and a tight fitting tank top – and he’s covered in sweat. He shines in the lowlight of the gym, skin glowing as he bicep curls a massive free weight in each arm. He looks like a Greek god, his physique is glorious and his muscles flex with practice skill. If you weren’t so upset, you’d worship at his feet.

He hears the door open and looks up with a start, uncurling his arms in a way that shows off his workout pump. Fuck his body should come with a warning label like: Caution: Extremely hot, do not approach unless you’re prepared to drop your panties.

“Y/N?” He says with wide-eyed surprise. He moves to put down the weights and reaches for a small white towel. He wipes the sweat off of his gorgeous brow and looks at you, confusion in his eyes. You don’t typically lift in the mornings, and you’re already in your school uniform.

You approach him briskly, your steps precise and sharp as you maneuver around various machines and pieces of workout equipment. Your steps echo in the expansive space.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like a dog. He’s so cute you almost forget that you’re mad at him. Wordlessly, you reach into your bag and pull out his cell phone.

“Oh, my phone.” He says blankly. “That’s right, I left it in your room, didn’t I?” He reaches out and accepts the cellular device from you. “Mr. Aizawa caught me on the staircase, so I couldn’t come back to get it. I got a detention, but I don’t think it will be too bad. Thank you for bringing this back to me.” He slides the phone into his short’s pocket without a second glance.

“Did you come to workout with me?” You see there’s a hint of eagerness in his face. He slowly turns around and looks to a pile of free weights in the corner. “What weight would you like to start with? I can go get some for you.”

Before he can turn to walk away, you reach out and grab his shoulder. You feel the definition in his muscles and it makes your knees weak for a moment. Goddamn, girl. Get yourself together here. Cut to the chase.

“Why is YaMomo texting you?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. “She said you left your sweatshirt in her room.”

Shoto doesn’t seem phased by this. He calmly removes his phone from his pocket and opens up his messages.

“Oh, she did text me. Thanks Y/N.” He types something back to Momo and hits send before pocketing the phone once more. You stand there in disbelief as he acts like nothing odd has happened.

“You’re in your uniform. Do you want to go and change? There’s still plenty of time before homeroom if you want to get a few reps in. I can spot you if you want to do some deadlifts.” He says helpfully, using the towel again to wipe off his perfectly formed shoulders. “I never see you workout in the mornings, did you come just to see me?” He smiles mischievously, but you can tell that he’s genuinely thrilled that you’ve joined him.

“Shoto.” You say, ignoring his offer. “Why did you leave your sweatshirt in Momo’s room?”

“Hmm.” His expression crinkles a bit as he thinks back. “I guess I must have taken it off while we were studying. Her room is pretty stuffy. She has way too much furniture crammed into her dorm. I told her she should get a smaller bed.”

“So when you were with her…you were just ‘studying’?” You prompt, annoyed that he doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation here. Is he trying to pull one over on you?

“Yes. We did a short review of the quadratic equations we’ve been working on in class this month. YaMomo put together a review session for Kaminari, Jiro and I. Well mostly for Kaminari, but I still found the material helpful.” He stretches, hands behind his head. “Would you like to join our next math review? Momo makes quite a good teacher. She’s a great friend for organizing so many study groups.”

You look at him in disbelief, your jaw hanging open. Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD. Did you stay up half the night blowing A TEXT completely out of proportion!? Holy crap did you just spend hours worrying and agonizing and imagining fake scenarios over absolutely NOTHING!? You’re enraged with yourself. How could you let one tiny text absolutely destroy you like that? You’re supposed to be a level-headed hero! And right now you’re acting like some kind of lovesick middle schooler. Grow the fuck up Y/N! This is not how a normal person acts!

You’re absolutely spiraling inside, ashamed of the way you’ve been absolutely tearing yourself apart worrying that Shoto had two timed you with Momo. How silly. How ridiculous. Shoto and Momo are both you’re friends and somehow your horny Neanderthal brain made them both into enemies at the drop of a hat. You feel like an awful person for thinking of Shoto and Momo in such a horrible light.

“What’s wrong?” Shoto says slowly, bringing you back to reality. Your head is absolutely spinning. You’re exhausted and shaky, anxiety still coursing through your veins. Shoto shuffles forward to get a closer look at you, concerned. He reaches out to put a hand on your waist. “Are you not feeling well?” His voice is tinged with concern and he’s looking at you with such warm eyes it makes you want to die.

“I’m feeling fine.” You snap, and Shoto instantly flinches away at your sharp tone. He recoils almost like a child that’s been admonished. His exposed fear at your harsh words makes you feel even sicker to your stomach. It makes you wonder again at how he’s treated at home. You have so many emotions flowing through you at once that you aren’t sure how to respond. Embarrassed, exhausted and unsure of yourself, you turn and walk away.

“Y/N – wait! What’s wrong?” He calls after you as you quickly weave around the gym equipment.

“I’m fine.” You say again in a clipped tone, not having the strength to look back at him.

You leave Shoto confused and alone in the large space.

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

You stomp your way to the classroom building. Your stomach is riling and you have too many emotions to count.

You text Mina and Toru in your group chat. You send them a vague excuse about waking up on the wrong side of the bed or some shit. Mina responds that she didn’t sleep well either and Toru sends a heart emoji. You assume all is forgiven.

Much to your class’s surprise, Recovery Girl is standing in Mr. Aizawa’s usual place when you all arrive.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Toru whispers as she takes her seat. You ignore her, still stewing. You can’t make sense of your feelings right now…why are you so damn angry? You’re certain that Shoto is telling the truth – it was just a study session in Momo’s room. You could easily ask Kaminari or Jiro to corroborate his story.

It’s not the study session that’s making you angry though…it’s the way you stayed up all night obsessing about Momo and Shoto’s friendship. The potential hookup. What it would mean if Shoto was seeing other people, despite your discussion about keeping the intimacy monogamous.

You’re embarrassed and ashamed. And now you’re even more abashed of the way you spoke to Shoto.

“Hello class. Aizawa had to take the morning off to attend to some personal matters, so we’re going to dive into our first Sex Ed lesson today ahead of your English class.”

The class groans.

“Don’t worry everyone, this one is quick. It’s just a stepping stone to our larger conversations.” She says kindly, peering up at them through her thick glasses. “Today we’re just going to chat about interpersonal relationships, specifically about how boundaries and strong communication can lead to stronger relationships. This is going to play directly into your friendships, into your hero work, and, eventually, into intimate relationships as well.”

“Who knows what a boundary is?” She looks around expectantly, but no one raises their hand. Everyone is too nervous to engage. She sighs. “Alright, well to start: when we set a boundary, we establish clear limits or guidelines about how we want to be treated. We may define what behaviors are acceptable to us or not. Can anyone think of a good example of what a boundary may be?”

Uraraka raises her hand. “Could a boundary be asking someone not to call you a certain name? Like if Midoriya told Bakugo that being called ‘Deku’ was crossing a boundary for him, it would be wrong of Bakugo to continue using the name, right?”

“Keep my name out of your mouth, pink cheeks!”

“Sounds like Bakugo is crossing the name calling boundary already!” Mina calls out mockingly, and Katsuki looks at her with eyes full of fire and brimstone.

“Settle down! Yes, Uraraka. That’s a good example of a boundary. Boundaries can also be physical or emotional. I’ll give some applicable examples: during training you may feel the need to tell your sparring partner that you aren’t comfortable with your face or chest being touched. In a friendship, you might set a boundary with that person requesting that they not share private personal information about you with other friends. In a dating relationship, you may set boundaries surrounding physical intimacy. The boundaries you set depend on your feelings and needs, as well as the relationship. The most important part of boundary setting is clear communication. Be direct about your feelings and need for a boundary, and don’t be afraid to verbally reiterate to reinforce the boundary. Any questions?”

You see Shoto’s hand lift towards the ceiling. You look over at him and your stomach rolls.

“Yes, Shoto?”

“Say a friend is mad at you, and you’re not sure why. Can I set a boundary in the future requesting that they be direct with me and communicate their feelings as clearly as possible?” He looks straight ahead, careful not to meet your eyes.

Recovery Girl’s mouth quirks a bit. “That is…an oddly specific question.”

She thinks about it for a moment then smiles at Shoto. “But yes, setting clear boundaries surrounding your communication needs is perfectly reasonable. A good step would be to meet this friend in a neutral area and to request that they have an open and honest conversation with you about how they are feeling and why. Tell them that in the future, you would like to have an open line of communication with them and that it upsets you when you don’t understand their feelings. Be sure to underscore that you want to understand them better, and you care about them. Of course, it is important to note that sometimes your boundaries will not be considered or respected. Your friend may not be willing to sit down with you and have a conversation. All relationships are complex and everyone has their own needs that they want met. The best we can do is be respectful of one another and try to approach difficult interpersonal situations with as much empathy and grace as possible.”

Shoto considers this, and nods with understanding.

“Does anyone else have a question about boundaries?”

Mineta raises his hand but begins speaking without being called on. “I think we all know that my boundaries are to see as much of the girls’ boobs and butts as I can. If the ladies of the class could all respect my boundary by having their assets on display as much as possible, it would be much appreciated.”

The lesson ends there.

Mineta is sent to the Principle’s office and Recovery Girl gives them a long lecture about respect and body autonomy. Present Mic comes in halfway through to start his English class. One look at Recovery Girl’s angry face is enough to send him packing, and he doesn’t pluck up the courage to come back and begin his class until 15 minutes have elapsed.

You think about Shoto’s question and feel a stab of shame. Shoto isn’t the best at understanding people, and he comes from a volatile home life where it sounds like his father’s anger is often weaponized. Of course he’s hurt and confused at your seemingly mysterious anger towards him. You wonder if he’s full of anxiety as well. You really shouldn’t have just left him in the dust this morning.

You glance over at Shoto, but he’s still staring straight ahead. His eyes are focused on Present Mic and the chalkboard, but they look a little glazed over. He’s not taking notes. He’s clearly deep in thought about something. You wonder if he’s thinking about you.

Crap, you really screwed this one up.

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The rest of the day goes by pretty fast. There is the usual blur of classes, training, sparring and lunch. Mr. Aizawa reappears for combat training later in the day. He does not share an explanation as to where he has been. Instead, he doubles down on training and makes everyone work twice as hard as usual.

Shoji lays you out on your ass during said combat training and you’re absolutely sure your legs are going to bloom with bruises later on. He apologizes profusely but you shake it off and tell him it was a great throw. The way you had flown through the air must truly have been a sight to behold, as other students are taking a break from their work to come and check that you are okay. Shoji, still incredibly embarrassed, offers to take you to Recovery Girl for a quick once-over.

You catch Shoto’s gaze watching with concern from across the room where he’s sparring with Tokoyami. The momentary lapse in his attention allows for Dark Shadow to hit him square in the chest. He falls back on his own ass and blinks up at Tokoyami with wide-eyed shock.

“You’ve been woefully distracted lately, Todoroki.” You overhear Tokoyami say to Shoto as he pulls the fallen hero back to his feet. “Is everything okay?”

You feel a mixture of shame and embarrassment pool in your stomach as you realize that you’ve been ruining Shoto’s focus. An anxious, terrible thought creeps into your brain…maybe Shoto is better off without you tangled up in his life. You’re a distraction from his hero training, and he from yours. Plus, you’ve most definitely hurt him with the way you jumped to conclusions and then left him to sit with your angry vibes. Maybe for Shoto’s sake…maybe you need to break this off sooner rather than later? You shake your head in an effort to clear the thought from your mind.

“Y/N…are you sure you don’t want to go to Recovery Girl? You’re definitely going to have some nasty bruises from the way you hit the ground.” Shoji tries one more time. You wave him off, starting to get annoyed at the way everyone is dotting on you. Your nerves are absolutely fried.

“No, no. It was my fault for not breaking my own fall. I need to be more careful. Let’s go one more time – but give me a second or two to practice my counter move so we can see if it would be effective against your dupli-arms.” Shoji nods and squares up to you, giving you a moment to collect yourself and get into a position with more leverage. You train together for a few more rounds of sparring before Mr. Aizawa comes around and adjusts your posture to better protect your body from damage. You’re annoyed at the correction, but grateful for the advice.

After combat training, you shower and roll back to the classroom for your final lesson of the day – math. Ugh. You settle back into your desk, taking out your notebook and pencils and trying to convince your brain to cooperate for one last hour.

During the class, Mina passes you a hot pink post-it note that has two quick sentences scribbled out in her neat script: “Stage Two: Rendezvous in the Library at 8pm. Be sure you aren’t followed.”

You roll your eyes at her and tuck the note into your book bag. Mina’s flare for the dramatic could be the thing that blows this whole party operation; you need to keep her in check. You pull out your planner and scribble a quick reminder to meet up with Mina, Toru and Nieto in the evening.

You’re tired and angsty and anxious – to be perfectly honest, you’re not in the mood for a dose of party planning and strategy tonight. In fact, you’d rather take a second, longer shower and spend the evening brooding in your room. You need to figure out how you’ll make things right with Shoto. And you need to determine if hooking up is posing for too much of a distraction to you both. You return to your quadratic equations, morale low and enthusiasm for math crumbling.

The day ends unceremoniously. You pack up your bag, stuffing your notebooks and pens into the small book bag as best you can. Your math textbook peaks out at the top and you can’t zip it all the way. You want to throw it at the wall, you’re so frustrated. What a shitty day it’s been.

Your phone buzzes as you walk through the door. You open it up to see a text from Shoto.

Shoto: Y/N. I don’t understand why you’re upset with me. Will you walk with me back to the dorms so we can discuss your feelings?

Ugh. You totally knew this was coming. You turn and see Shoto packing up his own bag back in the classroom. There are a few other stragglers from Class A – you watch as he attempts to hang back. He looks up at you and finally catches your eye. He looks sad, his expressive eyes shining with more than a little hurt. You nod at him before turning back down to your phone.

Y/N: Of course, I’ll wait for you outside of the classroom.

You loiter outside the classroom door for a moment, nodding at your classmates as they pass through the threshold and make their way back to the dorm building. Shoto is the last to exit; his fine brown leather backpack slung over one shoulder. The bright afternoon sunlight shines through the hallway windows and dances upon his fair face. It highlights the bright scar that encircles his left eye, giving it an almost fiery glow. He’s so gorgeous he could be a model.

“I saw you got your ass kicked by Tokoyami today.” You try to joke, but the comment just comes out lame. The two of you start making your way towards the exit, the sunlight streaming across your bare arms and wrapping you in a glow of warmth. The feeling is oddly comforting. You take a few steadying breaths as you prepare yourself for a tough conversation.

“Yes. I was distracted. I saw Shoji throw you to the ground and I was worried that you were hurt.” Shoto says, straightforward as ever. He fixes his gaze on the hallway ahead, not daring to look over at you.

A flicker of anger and madness licks at your insides. You try taking a deep breath to keep your emotions at bay, but you almost can’t help yourself when you snap out: “You can’t worry about me like that. I can hold my own in battle. I got into UA on my own merits, after all.” A beat. “You need to trust that I can handle myself.”

You’re on edge and upset at yourself, and once again today you’re taking it out on poor Shoto. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I’m going to be a hero.” You say with feeling, adjusting your backpack so the straps don’t dig into your shoulders as much. Damn, you’ve got too many books crammed into this thing.

Shoto is silent for a moment. He turns to stare out one of the large sunlit windows, gathering his thoughts. You give him some time. He takes a deep breath before he turns back towards you, his eyes bright.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Y/N. Is that why you’re mad at me – do you feel that I’ve been underestimating your abilities? Because I assure you its quite the opposite. I hold you in such a high regard, you are nothing but impressive to me.” He turns so he can focus his full attention on you, his mismatched eyes fit to burn a hole through your heart. The kind words roll off of his tongue sweet like honey, and you believe him. He thinks so highly of you. You’ve always known this. And yet, you needed him to repeat it. You need to be reminded, or else the anxious thoughts will have you in a chokehold.

“I truly think you are amazing.” At his words, the prickly anxious energy surrounding your heart and mind dissipates a bit.

“Shoto…I’m not mad at you. I’m not even sure how to explain why I was so dismissive of you this morning.” You say, trying your best to pin down a few of the swirling thoughts in your mind.

“Can you try?” He asks softly. “Recovery Girl said that I should be direct and ask questions. I would like to have an open line of communication with you, because I care about you and it has been hurting me all day that I can’t understand the way you’re feeling. Are you willing to discuss this?”

“Of course Shoto.” You say, trying to come up with the right words to describe your feelings. Your whole body aches from your sparring session with Shoji, and you’re so tired you feel like you could shut your eyes and fall asleep where you stand. Talking about feelings is the absolute last thing you want to do right now, but Shoto deserves an explanation and an apology. You try to adjust your backpack straps again, but it does nothing to alleviate the stiffness in your back.

“Here, Y/N. I know you’re a strong hero and that you can hold your own, but please let me help you with your backpack. It looks uncomfortable.” Shoto reaches out and slips the backpack strap off your shoulders. You feel instant relief – you lift your arms high over your head and feel your shoulders crack as you stretch out the muscles.

“Thank you. I’m not feeling my best.” You continue to run through some basic stretches and roll out your muscles as you explain how shocked you were to see the text from Momo come through the night before. “I wasn’t snooping on your phone, I promise. I would never violate your privacy like that. But I flipped it over and saw the message. I misinterpreted Momo’s text…I thought that when she said you’d left your sweatshirt in her room…well I thought it implied that the two of you had hooked up.”

Shoto’s eyes grow round with surprise, his eyebrows shoot up into his neat two toned hair. “You thought that Momo and I…?”

“Yeah. My imagination and my anxiety went into overdrive and I was up all night wrecked with worry.”

“But Y/N, I told you that I only want to be intimate with you. What reason would I have to lie to you?”

“Anxiety is a brutal thing. I spiraled out of control and assumed the worst. And then when you had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why your sweatshirt was in her room…I was ashamed at how upset and needy I let myself get over the whole thing.” You hang your head in shame, unable to look him straight in the face. “I was up most of the night anxious about the situation and I let it consume me. I was mad at myself, and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry Shoto, that was wrong of me.” Your eyes focus on the floor beneath you.

“Y/N.” You feel Shoto’s hand reach out to take your own. It’s his cool hand – it feels refreshing to have your fingers wrapped around each other in the sunny glare of the wide UA windows. “It’s alright. I’m not upset with you. That makes a lot of sense, and now I understand why you feel the way you do. But I hope you believe me when I say I only want to be intimate that way with you.” He rubs his thumb across your hand lightly, the gentle touch sending goose bumps up your arms. “I like Momo as a friend – but that’s all. I promise.” He squeezes your hand lightly, a physical manifestation of his assurance.

You look up into Shoto’s face and his gaze is open, warm. He repeats: “I’m not upset with you.”

“But you should be!” You burst out, nerves still buzzing. “I was so cold to you this morning, and I clearly hurt your feelings.” You pause, your emotions welling up and bubbling too close to the surface for comfort. “And…and I’m too much of a distraction to you. Ever since we started hooking up, you’ve been less engaged in class and in training. I just can’t stomach the thought of holding your hero training back because you’re too focused on me.”

This is clearly not what Shoto was expecting you to say, because his mouth hangs open in surprise. He stands in the hallway, flabbergasted.

The hallway is silent, save for simple notes of birdsong wafting through a nearby open window.

Shoto looks at you now, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, Y/N…I am going to ask you a question and I don’t want you to think I’m being demeaning here. But…when was the last time you had a full night’s sleep? You look exhausted.”

You blink at him, confused for a moment. But then you realize its true – you’re utterly drained and you haven’t gotten a good nights’ sleep all week. In between late night study sessions and your hookups with Shoto, you’ve really been burning the midnight oil. And then, of course, there’s the way you’d kept yourself up the night before agonizing over the text from Momo…

“It’s been a while.” You say slowly.

“I think that maybe you need to relax a bit. I’m not mad at you. You’re not distracting me. In fact, you’ve done nothing but enhance my life since we’ve started seeing each other more…intimately. You let me just be myself around you. I can’t convey to you how much that’s helped me lately. I need you to believe that.”

You nod. He’s being far too kind to you.

Shoto uses his free hand to check his phone for the time. You see his boring blue sky phone background light up briefly before he re-pockets the device.

“It’s 4:00 right now. Do you have time to rest before dinner?” He asks gently, squeezing your hand again.

“Yes. I don’t have anything planned until 8 o’clock tonight.” You say, thinking back to Mina’s note.

“Good. Then I’m escorting to your room and enforcing a mandatory nap.” He uncouples your hands and marches forward towards the dorms. You follow behind; head foggy with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Shoto isn’t mad at you.

Within minutes, you’re back in the Class A dorms. Most of your classmates are scattered across the campus – fitting in some last minute training in the gym or working through homework in the library. You feel guilty – you should be in one of those places, too. You need to work towards your goal of becoming stronger, becoming a hero. You voice these concerns to Shoto as he leads you through the empty hallway and towards your dorm room.

“Heroes need rest, too.” He says simply, dismissing your worries with a wave of his hand. “How can you become stronger if your exhausted?” He has a point there.

You turn your key in the lock and push your door open. The two of you enter the tiny dorm and you lock the door behind you. Shoto places the two backpacks on the floor near your desk and turns to you expectantly.

“Where do you keep your comfortable clothes?”

“Um, in the second drawer on the right.” You direct.

He moves to your dresser and opens the aforementioned drawer, drawing out a pair of cream-colored sweatpants and a grey tank top. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the pieces are not a matching set. He tosses the outfit in your direction and tells you to change. Meanwhile, he grabs the water bottle off of your nightstand and walks to your tiny bathroom to fill it for you. You hastily change in his absence and throw your worn uniform in your hamper for washing.

Shoto returns with a full water bottle and a damp cloth. He sets the bottle back on your nightstand and tugs you to your bed. You pull down the covers and climb up into the fluffy monstrosity, tucking your cold feet under the covers.

Shoto climbs up with you and sits next to you. He brings the cloth to your face – it’s damp with warm water. He lightly dabs at your cheeks, eyebrows and forehead, refreshing your skin in an insanely sweet gesture. “My mom used to do this for me before I went to bed.” He mumbles under his breath. “It always helped me sleep better.”

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to your forehead. You flush at the tenderness of his actions, overwhelmed with gratitude but feeling unworthy of his gentle attention.

“Drink some water.” He says before sliding off the bed and moving to ring out the cloth in the bathroom sink. You oblige, grabbing your water bottle and taking several large gulps of the cool liquid.

You feel ten times more relaxed than you had in class today. The loose clothes feel comforting on your aching body, and your face feels fresh and clean from Shoto’s attention. You lay your head down on your soft pillow and exhale deeply.

Shoto exits the bathroom, shaking the excess water from his hands.

“I’m sorry to be such a burden to you, Shoto.”

Shoto looks at you with a piercing gaze, almost angry.

“Y/N. I care about you – it is not a burden to take care of you when you need it. All I ask is that you are more open with your feelings next time. Don’t bottle things up and keep me in the dark.” He walks over to his book bag and reaches inside to grab one of your English class books – The Great Gatsby.

“Alright…I can be more open with you for sure. I’m sorry I was so harsh and mysterious this morning, I was processing too much and I got myself all worked up thinking that you and Momo had…well, you know.”

“Momo and I are good friends. You and I are also good friends but we have a more intimate relationship. There is nothing to be jealous about. As I said - I don’t care for Momo in the same way that I care for you.” He states simply, climbing back up beside you with his book in hand. “Here, turn onto your side and I can use my quirk as a heating pad on your back like last time.”

“You sure? I don’t need you to go to all this trouble…” You trail off as you feel his calloused hand works its way under your tank top. He spreads his fingertips wide as he cradles your lower back in his powerful hand. You feel him slowly start to modulate his temperature and the heat feels delightful against your aching muscles.

“Let me do nice things for you. I want you to relax. Now close your eyes and take a nap – I’ll wake you up before dinner.” He settles in next to you and you turn onto your side to give him better access to your back. He adjusts his position and props himself up against a few of your plushies. He flips his book open with his free hand and starts to read, brow furrowed in concentration.

You drift off, drawing comfort from the heat of Shoto’s left hand. You feel your muscles relaxing into his warm touch, the pains of the day melting like butter on a hot plate. You stretch out your legs into a more comfortable position and bury your face into your pillow.

“Thanks Shoto.” You sigh, letting your heavy eyelids drop. You feel so comfortable and safe; it’s not hard to let yourself fall into a soft, dreamless sleep.

True to his word, Shoto wakes you up two and a half hours later with a gentle shake of your shoulder. You blink up at him, bleary eyed. He smiles down at you, eyes soft as ever. It’s funny that you’ve never really noticed this – his face can be so blank and stoic, but all of the emotion shines through his pretty mismatched eyes.

“Did you have a good nap?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your brow before getting to his feet.

“Yeah…I feel like a totally new person.” You say. And its true – you feel refreshed and 90% better than you had earlier this afternoon. Your training aches and pains are still present, but have subsided a bit under Shoto’s gentle heat. Shoto hands you your water bottle and encourages you to take a few more gulps before getting out of bed. You indulge him, making a show of draining the bottle before you slide out from under the covers. You stand and wrap your arms around him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you Shoto.”

Shoto returns the hug, taking care to run his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture. “We take care of each other.” He says simply.

“How’s the book?” You ask as he breaks the hug and walks to his backpack, tucking his copy of The Great Gatsby amongst his notebooks.

“I finished it.” He says, scooping the bag up and onto his shoulders. “I don’t want to spoil the ending for you, but I’ll say this – it’s not a happy book.”

“Oh. Well I wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway. I much prefer sci-fi to the classics.” This seems to surprise Shoto, his eyebrows quirk up into his bangs in a gesture that’s rapidly becoming familiar.

“Sci-fi? Wow, I learn new things about you every day.” His tone is filled with surprise. “You’ll have to lend me one of your favorites sometime.” He checks the time on his phone, his factory default background glowing in the lowlight. “I should get going so I can drop my bag off in my room before dinner.”

“Hold on a sec – can I see your phone?” You hold out your hand, palm open. He looks at you for a moment, curious.

“Is this something to do with YaMomo again?” He asks, handing you the device.

“Not at all – I just noticed you have a basic-ass phone background. I think we need to change it to be more you, ya know?” You say, opening his Internet browser app and going to Google images.

“Oh, I’ve never really thought about that before.” He says, leaning to look over your shoulder curiously. “What are you thinking?”

“I feel like lately when we talk you’ve revealed that you like ocean creatures. That whale pillow on Pinterest? The Squirtle plushie? You seem to really like the sea vibe.” You say, typing a quick prompt into the search bar under Todoroki’s watchful eye.

“Huh, that’s true. I find the ocean to be very calming. And the creatures are usually cute.” He wraps his arms around you from behind as the image results populate on the screen. “Oh – I like that one a lot.” He points at a tiny thumbnail image and you click to expand it. It’s an old Lisa Frank design depicting two dolphins leaping out of crystal blue water. The art features a rainbow background of colorful corals and palm trees. It’s vibrant and filled with energy, and seems to fill Shoto with excitement as he buzzes behind you eagerly.

“Oh, I like that one too! All the colors are really nice. Let’s see how it looks as your phone background.” You smile as you save the image and set it as Shoto’s phone screen. He gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as he hugs you, bringing his chin down to rest on your shoulder as he watches you work your tech wizardry. You feel warm and fuzzy inside – Shoto is truly opening up to you. It feels like each day you chip away at his stoic exterior to reveal bits and pieces of his true self.

You hold up the phone and he unfurls an arm from where he’s holding you. He brings the phone to his face and smiles down at his new technicolor dolphin lock screen. You reach up a hand to cup his cheek tenderly and he leans into the touch.

“Thanks, Y/N. I really like this.” He says, turning his phone every which way to admire the artwork. He’s always surprising you. You’re happy he’s starting to get comfortable showing off his true self.

“Of course, Shoto. You should surround yourself with things that make you happy!” You feel your stomach growl and you remember that dinner is only minutes away. “We should really get going, shouldn’t we?” You both laugh as your tummy rumbles again.

Shoto unwinds his from around your stomach and gets to his feet. “Mind checking to see if the coast is clear? I’ll drop off my bag in my room and then see you at the common area.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You slide off the bed, unlock the door and peer out into the hallway. Thankfully, there’s no one in sight. You have a feeling that most of the class is already down in the common area assisting with dinner preparations.

“All clear.” You give Shoto a goofy little salute before opening the door wide for him to exit. He smiles and leans down to place a kiss on your cheek before booking it down the hallway. He hits the staircase and he’s out of sight in a blink of an eye.

You smile and head back inside your room, moving to change into a top that better matches your sweatpants. It feels nice to be taken care of. You wonder how Shoto knew exactly what you needed in order to feel better. Sometimes he seems so…out of touch. And yet, as soon as you need something he seems to lock in and know just what to do. You suspect that’s the true mark of a hero – seeing someone in need and figuring out a way to help. Who would have thought that Shoto Todoroki would become your own personal hero!?

In the dorm, Class A takes turns cooking with everyone rotating meal prep responsibilities. Tonight, Bakugo, Kirishima and Ida are handling the meal and you know it will be delicious. For some reason, Katsuki has some insane cooking skills. The smell of cooking vegetables wafts up from the kitchen and your stomach growls again in response. You leave your room, ambling down to meet the rest of your class in the kitchen area.

You feel much lighter, much happier. Shoto Todoroki is a goddamn prince of a man.

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“Alright, Mineta. We need you to do this for us.”

It’s 8:05 pm and you, Toru, Mina, Nieto Monoma and Minoru Mineta are all holed up in a study room within the Geography section of UA’s oversized library. Nieto purposefully chose this location for your clandestine rendezvous because “no one at this school studies goddamn geography, so it’s the perfect secret meeting spot.”

Mina had invited Mineta with a secret post it note as well. She had passed him a hot pink note in between classes. The note had implied that the two would be having a private meeting to discuss the “raw romantic tension between them.” Needless to say, Mineta had been extremely disappointed to find you, Toru and Nieto all waiting alongside Mina in the geography study room.

After a few not-so-sincere apologies, Nieto and Toru had gotten right to the heart of the matter and explained their master plan and Mineta’s potential role in it. The small purple classmate had listened intently; nodding as Toru unrolled schematics and Nieto explained timing and strategy. He seems genuinely interested in the party plot, and for a moment you think that he might say yes and help you all pull this off.

“What’s in it for me?” Ah, there’s the kicker alright. He looks around at you all expectantly.

Mina crosses her arms and stares him down. “The gratitude of our class and the joy of knowing you helped out your classmates.”

“No way. I want something out of this.” He rubs his hands together, scheming. “If I’m going to participate in this crazy ass plan so that you all can throw some stupid party, I better get something out of it. So here’s my price - 7 minutes in heaven. With each of you.” He looks at Mina challengingly.

“First of all – that’s 21 minutes in heaven. And second of all – majorly GROSS!” Toru bursts out, turning to you for confirmation. You shake your head in disgust as well, ready for Mina to jump in and negotiate terms.

“Absolutely not.” Your pink friend says, her antenna bristling.

“You’re not really in a position to be negotiating, are you?” Mineta leers up at you all. “After all, you need something from me. You should be grateful I’m even thinking about helping out with your crazy scheme considering how much trouble you got our class in last time.”

Mina makes a sour face. Honestly, he kind of has a point.

“7 minutes in heaven is off the table. Name something else.” She spits out, her dark eyes murderous.

“Fine. I get a kiss from each of you. And I get to grope Hagakure’s ass at least once.”

“What!! Why my ass!?” Toru explodes, waving her arms in upset.

Mineta salivates. “Because I have no idea how juicy it is. Just give me one good squeeze so I can truly know.”

“You absolute perv!” Toru roars, reaching out to grab Mineta and give him a good thrashing. You catch your friend’s invisible hands before she can rain down terror on the little miscreant.

“Hey you’re the ones who want to play Spin The Bottle and watch our classmates kiss. You’re just as pervy as me.” Mineta levels you all with a superior look. “I bet Monoma here is getting something good out of this deal, so why shouldn’t I?” He gestures up at Monoma, who up until now has stayed completely silent. This is all part of Mina’s strategy. Ahead of the meeting, she had advised Nieto to keep his talking to a minimum since its likely Mineta wouldn’t trust him.

“What are they promising you in exchange for your help?” The little creep asks Nieto.

“That’s none of your business.” You say, squaring up to your classmate. You decide to play into his insecurities. All’s fair in love and war, right!?

“Look, Mineta. We need your help to get this party off the ground. You’re the only one who can do this job, and it would mean the world to all of our classmates if you went through with it. You’d literally be hailed as the coolest guy in our class. Isn’t that enough? You don’t exactly have the most social clout at the moment.”

Mineta looks at you for a long minute, clearly weighing all of his options. He seems unfazed by your comment about his “coolness” factor.

“Nope. I want whatever he’s getting.” He points at Monoma, who gives him an unhinged look.

“You Class A stooges are so entitled!” He booms, laughing a bit maniacally. Mina smacks the back of his head to give him a hard reset.

“Stay with us, Nieto.” She turns back to Mineta. “Okay in the spirit of transparency, we are helping Monoma get a kiss during Spin The Bottle. To keep things fair, we can guarantee one kiss for you as well. Tell us who you want to kiss, and it will be delivered upon successful completion of work.”

“Heh.” Mineta smirks evilly. “Fine, I accept your terms. For my kiss I choose…Y/N!” He points directly at you, blood dripping from his nose.

You look at your friends and shrug. Unenthusiastically you say: “Fine. Why not.”

“My ass thanks you.” Toru squeaks out, covering her behind with invisible hands. Nieto glares down at Mineta in disgust, but lets you continue to do the talking.

“If this will get our party off the ground, I’m willing to do it.” You look down at Mineta. “Here are the conditions – It’s gonna be a single kiss. Lips closed, no tongue. No groping. No touching. Lips only. Got that?”

Mineta nods eagerly. “Don’t worry. Once you get one taste of these lips, you’ll be begging for more.” He turns back to Mina, awaiting instructions. “So what do you need me to do?”

You all return to the dorms forty minutes later, with plenty of time to get back to your separate rooms before the curfew takes effect.

A battle plan has been drawn out, and commitments have been made. You have a sour taste in your mouth at the thought of your eventual kiss with Mineta, but sacrifices must be made. After all, the fate of the party of the century hangs in the balance.

You make a mental note to make sure that Shoto is cool with all of this – after all, it would be super hypocritical for you to be jealous of Shoto’s non-existent relationship with YaMomo, and then to turn around and give another guy a peck on the mouth.

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When you finally make it back to your dorm, you’re riding an absolute high. You and your friends are planning the biggest secret party in UA history, and with the kickass strategy you all have developed, you anticipate the whole thing going off without a hitch. Monoma truly is a genius – you can’t wait to see his tightly orchestrated plan come to life. The man truly loves pulling all the strings behind the scenes.

Thanks to your nap, you’re feeling a bit more rested and energized. You text Shoto.

Y/N: Hey Shoto, you up?

Shoto: It’s only 9. Of course I’m awake.

Y/N: Have time to come through? I want to properly thank you for taking care of me earlier.

Shoto: I just finished some homework, I can come over for a bit before curfew.

Y/N: Perf! I have the perfect idea of how I can return the favor and TAKE CARE OF YOU! 👀

Shoto: I’m nervous. The all caps coming from you is aggressive.

Y/N: That was supposed to be cute and flirty 😉 Don’t be scared!! ☠️

Shoto: Ok. I’ll be down in 5.

True to his word, Shoto arrives in a timely fashion. He slips through your unlocked door like a ghost in the night.

“Hey, Y/N. How was your meeting with Mina and…?”

His jaw drops in surprise when he looks up to find you in nothing but your bra and panties. It’s a matching set – midnight blue and lacy around the edges. You’re feeling bold.

“I was trying to think of a way that I could properly thank you for taking such good care of me earlier…” You trail off, reaching behind him to turn the lock to your door.

“…And I came up with an idea. Get on the bed?” You ask sweetly. Shoto wastes no time obeying your request. He hurriedly scrambles onto the bed with the speed of a teenage boy who’s been promised a sexual favor. You climb up after him, lifting the hem of his t-shirt suggestively.

“Clothes off.” You say, tugging at the shirt a bit to see a flash of his perfect stomach before dropping the fabric from your fingertips.

Shoto doesn’t need telling twice – he strips, pulling the shirt over his head with lightening fast reflexes. His perfectly toned abs glow under the fairy lights, and you lick your lips at the sight. He hurriedly slips his sweatpants down his hips and takes them off one leg at a time, still managing to look graceful despite his frantic energy.

He throws his pants out onto the floor, out of sight. He’s wearing a pair of loose grey boxer shorts, his hardening cock already visible through the thin fabric. You reach out a hand to trace along the outline of his pulsing member, causing him to get even stiffer under your teasing touch. He looks down at you with that heaven-piercing gaze. Perfect.

You lean towards him, ghosting gentle kisses along the curve of his pale neck.  “What do you want Shoto?” You breathe wetly into his ear, running your hand down his bare chest. “Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.” You hear Shoto’s breath catch in his throat at the implication. An open ended offer is a valuable thing – you wonder how he’ll use it?

“I’m thinking…maybe you could do that thing with your hands again?” He says sheepishly, pupils blown wide as he watches you palm at his dick over his boxers.

“You mean a hand job? Are you asking for a hand job?” You say, laughing, as he blushes crimson as his hair.

“I guess I am.” He says, breathing shakily. He leans down into your hair and mumbles “It feels so much better when you do it. I’ve been trying to replicate it on my own but…it’s just not the same.”

You smile. “I can definitely do that for you. Tell me, how badly do you want it?” You ask in a tone that’s barely above a whisper. You squeeze his package lightly over the boxers. He almost moans at the touch.

“I want it…so badly Y/N. Please.”

The light begging sparks something in your core and you’re already so wet you fear you may soak through your panties. Again. Wow, this is becoming quite a bad habit of yours.

“Take off the boxers.” You command softly, and Shoto accommodates – stripping down to nothing. Once again, here is thisa beautiful man buck naked in your bed. It’s enough to make you see fireworks behind your eyes.

He sits there, fully exposed, his cock hard and laying flush against his taught muscled stomach. You long to reach out and take him in your hand, but you know you know you need to be patient.

“Shoto, you said you’ve been trying to replicate the hand job I gave you?” You ask amiably. He nods. “I want you to show me how you like to do it on your own. Show me how you touch yourself, Sho.”

He glances up at you uncertainly through thick lashes, looking between you and his cock with trepidation. “Are you sure? Would that not be…weird?”

“Not at all!” You reassure him. “It’s the best way for me to learn how to pleasure you. I want to see what you like so I can add it into the mix. It’s like hero training – we need to learn from each other to be the best we can be.”

This analogy makes perfect sense to Shoto, who understands the importance of training. “Alright. If it would help. But I feel pretty self-conscious right now.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” You say, placing another string of kisses to his jawline. “Try not to be too nervous. Remember - we’re just having fun and exploring, right?” You pause. “Plus…it would be really fuckin’ hot to see you jerk yourself off in my bed. So know that I’m completely and totally into this. If that helps.”

This makes Shoto smile. “It actually does help.” He laughs softly, turning his head to capture your lips in a brief smooch.

“Right.” Shoto says, drawing in a shaky breath. He looks at you nervously, before glancing down at his erect cock once more. He reaches for it, wraps his fingers around himself and gives a light tug. You watch as he slowly starts stroking at himself, concentrating a bit more on the head here and there. He glances up at you from time to time, letting his eyes roam across your breasts and the gentle curves of your hips.

You move the straps of your bra off your shoulders, giving him a bit of a show before you reach behind you to unclip the bra all together. You toss the fabric to the floor in what’s rapidly becoming a familiar gesture with Shoto. His breath hitches in the back of his throat as his eyes take in your perfect breasts. He picks up his pace, jerking himself off in a succinct rhythm as his eyes devour your chest.

“Come here.” He groans. You scoot towards him in the bed.

“What do you want?” You ask, voice soft but demanding.

“I want your breasts in my mouth. Right now.” He says, not breaking stride as he continues to work at his rock hard cock.

You reposition yourself so that you’re slightly above him and you lean forward. He can’t help himself – before you’ve settled into a comfortable position, he’s captured one of your nipples in his mouth. He suckles on it, using his tongue and teeth to tease the delicate flesh. The pleasure that shoots through you is unquantifiable. You lean into his mouth and your eyes flutter shut as he uses his free hand to give attention to your other tit. The gratification is so good you hope he never stops.

But then you remember – you have a goddamn plan here. You should be watching and learning to see what Shoto likes. Your eyes fly open and you try to ignore the absolutely incredible things this Todoroki blessing is doing to your breasts.

“Shoto…” You try to get his attention. He looks up at you from down where he’s sucking on your tit and cocks and eyebrow questioningly.

“Mmm?”

“Shoto, this is fucking hot, but I’m trying to concentrate. Please – show me what you like and talk me through it.” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, even as he pinches a nipple and rubs the pad of his thumb over the delicate nub with his free hand. After a quick moment, comprehension dawns in his eyes and his mouth releases your boob with a wet “pop!”

“Sorry, I got carried away.” His face is red with embarrassment as you slide to sit next to him.

“Don’t be. I like it when you get carried away. You’re so goddamn hot Sho.” You plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now get back to it – and talk me through what you like.”

Shoto looks down at his cock and resumes stroking it. “So I hold my hand like this around it, see?” He demonstrates how he keeps a loose closed grip around his dick, sliding his hand along the base for a few deep strokes before concentrating around the head. “This part is the most sensitive, so when I want to finish I concentrate a lot here. But first I work myself up by starting down here.” He moves his hand down to the base of his dick to show you. “And I’ll tease myself a little as I work back up to the top.”

“Sometimes, I like to touch my…um…testicles a bit. It feels really nice to kind of…uh this is super awkward to explain…it feels good to move them around?”

“I think I understand.” You say, watching as he shows you how he likes to be played with. You let him work at himself until you see shiny beads of pre-cum form at the head of his cock.

“Okay, my turn to drive.” You say, reaching to shoo Shoto’s steady hand out of the way so that you can replace it with your own. “There we go.” You wrap your hand around his hard cock and start at the base the way he explained. You slowly roll your hand midway up his shaft before bringing it back down to the base. Shoto sighs at the motion, his hips flexing in a way that implies that he’s dying to thrust up into your hand.

You continue to tease him that way, coming closer and closer to the sensitive tip of his cock without truly touching it. You can tell by the expressions stretched across his face that he simultaneously loves and hates what you’re doing to him. You grin; enjoying the control you have as you edge him.

With your free hand, you reach down to fondle his balls, trying to mimic the motion he showed you. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you start to shift his package around, and you can tell from the way he bites back a moan that it must feel so, incredibly good to be touched this way.

Finally, you release his cock and bring your small hand to your mouth. You make a show of licking the palm of your hand before spitting cleanly into it. Shoto’s eyes widen in surprise at the crude gesture, but his cock twitches in anticipation.

You bring your spit-filled hand down to his dick and resume jerking him off – this time starting low at the base and continuing all the way up to the tip. Your saliva allows for your hand to slide and glide in a delicious way that it hadn’t previously. Shoto lets out a curse followed by your name at the feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N. Holy fucking fuck.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him curse, and the lilt of his lust filled voice is absolutely sinful. You grin like a Cheshire cat as you stroke him the way he showed you, focusing on the sensitive head. His breathing is ragged, and he’s absolutely wrecked as you continue to run your lubed up hand along the very tip of his rigid member. “Shit. Y/N. I’m going to - ”

Shoto orgasms hard - thick waves of hot cum shooting up and flowing over your delicate hand as you continue to work at him. His legs jerk with the suddenness of his climax. His breath hitches in his throat and you fear that he’s stopped breathing as his hips roll up, thrusting his cock into your grip over and over and over. You use your hand to milk him for all that he’s worth, being sure to mimic the way that you had watched him grip his dick earlier in his demonstration. The expression on his face is priceless – his eyes are wide and filled with an expression of rapture, his mouth caught open in a small “o.”

Whatever you’re doing seems to be doing the trick, because it is quite a bit before he catches his breath and politely removes your hand from his spent, pulsing cock. He’s over stimulated and panting, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N, that was…” He’s still breathing heavy.

You reach across him to grab a conveniently placed washcloth off of your nightstand (you had a feeling that you’d be needing some cleanup supplies tonight). You wipe the sticky mess from your hand before giving him the cloth. He gratefully accepts, wiping the cum that’s pooled along the defined planes of his stomach and in the well of his bellybutton. “That was incredible. You take direction so well.” He says, his voice a bit fuzzy around the edges as he drops his head back to rest on your pillow.

You lay back with him, moving your clean hand to stroke his hair slowly. He leans into the touch, eyes heavy and half lidded as he comes down from his high.

“I’m a fast learner.” You say, enjoying the soft texture of his fluffy hair as you flutter your fingers through his dense locks. You lay there for a few minutes, playing with  Shoto’s hair and letting him bask in the afterglow. He’s completely naked and gorgeous in the glow of your fairy lights, his pale skin rippling with muscle.

“It’s almost curfew…you’d better get going in case Mr. Aizawa makes a bed check appearance.” You say with regret, wishing Shoto could stay with you through the night.

Shoto turns his head and groans into your shoulder. “But I want to stay here forever. It’s so comfortable here with your hands in my hair. And I’m so tired now.” He almost whines. You smile – a month ago you would have never thought Shoto Todoroki capable of whining. 

“I wish you could stay, too.” You coo, continuing to card your fingers through his mismatched locks.

“I like it here. Maybe I’ll move in. Stake claim on all of your plushes.” He reaches out and grabs his favorite plush from behind your head. He holds it close to your face and waves it up and down a few times, pretending to make it dance. “Squirtle, Squirtle.” He says in a strained, warbley voice. You giggle at his goofy attempt at mimicking the water Pokémon.

Afterglow Shoto sure is chatty. He looks so open and relaxed, his facial features at rest.

“Oh my God Shoto…did you finally look up Pokémon!?”

He hugs the plush to his bare chest and laughs. “I watched 12 episodes. I had to keep watching until Squirtle showed up. I would give my life for the Squirtle Squad.”

This cracks you up. You laugh even harder when you look up and see the way that Shoto is sprawled across your bed – completely naked except for the large Squirtle plush clutched to his chest. You point at him and make a little choked squeak. He realizes how ridiculous he looks and soon you’re both in hysterics, gasping for breath. It’s a wonder that no one has knocked on your door yet and asked you to quiet down.

After a few minutes you both calm down enough to catch your breath. You slide off the bed and scoop Shoto’s grey boxers off the ground and toss them in his direction. He drops Squirtle for a moment so he can shimmy into his underwear. Partially clothed once more, he flops on his back and pulls the covers up to his chin. He tucks Squirtle in beside him. You move to get back into the bed and join him, but he holds up a hand and puts on a serious expression. “Sorry – there’s no room for you. This bed is for card carrying members of the Squirtle Squad only.”

You smile and then paste a theatrical pout on your face. “You goof. How does one apply for Squirtle Squad membership?”

“Hmm.” Shoto brings his hand to his chin as if deep in thought. “You need to pay our membership dues. It’ll cost you a kiss.”

“That’s pretty expensive.”

“Squad Membership is well worth the fee, I promise.” He nods stoically, looking over at the Squirtle plush beside him. “Squirtle can confirm.” He gestures at the plush, which stares up at you blankly with its large embroidered eyes.  

“What does Squad Membership include?” You ponder aloud, pretending to think it over.

“If you join up now, I’ll act as your official heat and ice pack.” Shoto holds up both hands above his face as an offering. “And I’ll make you cum whenever you want.”

“Whenever I want?” You repeat. “Now that’s an intriguing offer. I think I’ll take it.” You lean down and cup his soft cheek in your hand, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips melt into his and you kiss him soundly. He moans into your mouth, moving his lips softly against your own.

It’s wonderful to be with him like this – so open and having fun like regular teenagers. There’s no pressure to put on a brave face and to be strong heroes in training. In these stolen moments, its okay to just be. You break the kiss and pull yourself up into he bed and under the comforter. Within seconds, you’re wrapped up in Shoto’s arms and he pulls you against his bare chest.

“Welcome to the Squad. Your membership is approved.” He places a kiss on your forehead and you snuggle into him. You take a deep breath, letting your tired body relax against Shoto’s solid warmth. 

You lay in silence for a bit, just enjoying each others company. Shoto’s breathing is slow and even. You can tell he’s feeling comfortable and relaxed after his orgasm. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder and huffs into the curve of your neck. After a bit, Shoto gets too warm and uncouples himself from you so he can pull down the comforter a bit.

“You know, I was thinking…” Shoto rolls over onto his back and crosses his arms behind his head. He’s partially naked and gorgeous in the glow of your fairy lights, his pale skin rippling with muscle. He looks up at the ceiling. “Summer training camp is coming up. I heard that this year we are going for 2 weeks. They plan to put us through a week and a half of training, and then we’ll get a few days just to have fun and enjoy being outside. There will be hiking, and campfires…maybe the two of us can sneak off and just have some time together? No curfews, no whispering. No hiding away.” He turns his head to look at you.

“That sounds really, really nice.” You say, reaching over to give him a big boop on his nose. He smiles at the contact. You love seeing him like this – usually he is so closed off and stoic. Every smile you can get out of him is a prize in itself. “I doubt we’ll truly be able to sneak off given how large and damn nosy our class is…but we can definitely try.”

Shoto closes his eyes, a blissful expression etched across his features. “I just picture the two of us on a moonlit hike, just able to enjoy the scenery together. We can listen to the cicadas and the crickets in the quiet of the dark. It’s such a calming thought in my mind. I’d like to share that moment of peace with you.”

“Orgasms make you talk nonsense.” You joke, trying to ignore the way that your heart is squeezing at his words.

He opens his eyes and scans your face. “You’d like that, though?”

“Of course I would, Shoto. It would be nice to get out of the city and to see some greenery. To be together outside of our dorm rooms. I wish that we didn’t need to sneak around so much…I wish that we were older and that we could just do whatever we want without consequence.” You say wistfully, reaching to grab your phone and check the time. “Crap, it’s nearly 10.”

Shoto pulls you into another embrace, shifting his hands around you so he can cradle your breasts. He plays with your nipples a bit, swirling his fingertips around them delicately. You gasp at the contact, your pussy instantly responding to the touch.  “I can’t go yet – I haven’t made you cum.” Shoto whispers thickly into your ear, pinching a nipple with each hand. You make a strangled sort of noise, sliding a hand down between your legs to give your clit a brief pulse to sate the hungry way its pulsing beneath the smooth fabric of your panties.

“Shoto…if you stay any longer and Aizawa comes around, we’re gonna get caught.” You say in a pained voice as he continues to play with your tits. You can’t let this go any further or you both are done for. “Shoto, you’ve gotta go.”

“But it’s not fair if I don’t make you - ” You move to regretfully remove his wandering hands from your boobs.

“I can take care of it myself this time.” You say, in a sultry tone. “And I’ll think of you the whole time.” You turn to look over your shoulder to see Shoto’s face has gone beat red at the implication that you’ll be spending the rest of the evening masturbating to thoughts of him.

He lets out a shaky breath, still clearly uncomfortable with the thought of leaving you hanging. “Alright, Y/N. But next time, the focus is all on you to make up for it. Okay?”

“I think I can live with that.” You smile, and reach behind you to give him a light shove to leave.

Shoto grins softly as he untangles himself from you, climbing over your body to get out of the bed. His feet hit the ground and he stretches languidly before reaching for his abandoned clothes. He pulls his shirt and pants on unceremoniously as you watch, laughing at the way his soft sweatpants stretch back into place over the smooth curve of his ass.

“You’re too cute.” You say, reaching to pull him back to the bed so you can give him one more quick kiss. He smiles into the smooch, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, steady embrace.

“I’ll text you?” He says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure I take my phone back with me this time.” This earns a laugh.

“Please do.”

“Well, goodnight then.” He kisses your cheek and then makes his way to the door; he peaks out into the hallway before making his usual fast exit. You pray he doesn’t get caught by Aizawa again – he would probably demand an explanation from Shoto.

You lay in your bed, relaxed, staring up at your ceiling. Life sure has been complicated lately – between school, training, an unexpected romance, and the illicit party planning, you sure are having an adventure.

You allow yourself to replay a scene from earlier in your mind: “Fuck, Y/N. Holy fucking fuck.” Shoto curses as you stroke his cock mercilessly, bringing him to the brink of climax. “Shit. Y/N. I’m going to…”

You feel arousal twinge between your legs once again and you bring your fingers down to touch yourself over your panties. You wish Shoto was still here to help – all you can think of is the loving way that he sometimes uses his wet tongue to play with your nipples. You roll over onto your stomach so you can increase the pressure of your fingers against your clit. Mmm. You replay the image of Shoto’s pretty “O” face over and over again as you bring yourself to the brink of climax.

Before long, new thoughts are blooming into your brain. You imagine what it would be like to have Shoto’s fingers on you instead. What would it be like to feel that pretty cock slide inside of you - to be physically filled to the brim with Shoto Todoroki? You’ve never really fantasized about actual act of intercourse before, and you wonder how it would feel to be that connected with Shoto. You picture his voice pitching and sighing as he slides in and out of you, his strong hands bracing on your hips. The thought of Shoto’s thick cock sliding against your wet pussy causes your breath to stick in your throat. Your heart pulses impossibly fast as you use your fingertips to push yourself over the edge, gasping into your pillow. Oh fuck that’s good.

Shoto Todoroki and his hot body are truly going to be the death of you. You can picture your epitaph in your head – “Here lies Y/N. She was brought to the gates at heaven by Shoto Todoroki’s hard cock. May she rest in peace, having known what true ecstasy feels like.”

You smile at that unhinged thought. Your phone buzzes next to you and you flip around the screen to see a text from Shoto.

Shoto: I made it back to my dorm room. Did not get caught this time.

Shoto: Typing.

Shoto: Did you…take care of things?

Y/N: Haha yeah. I just finished. Was thinking about you the whole time.

Shoto replies with a single word.

Shoto: Fuck.

Shoto: Next time, I’ll take care of you myself. I promise.

Y/N: You've already taken care of me so much today, but I’ll hold you to that. ☺️ Goodnight, Shoto.

Shoto: Goodnight Y/N.

You put your phone back on your bedside table and snuggle up in your bed, pulling the Squirtle plush close to you and wishing that it were Shoto Todoroki.

End of Chapter.

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Previous Chapter: Part 4 | Next Chapter: Part 6

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Author's Note:

HOLY GUACAMOLE!! This chapter ended up being 30 pages - I know in my last chapter post I said that Chapter 5 would focus on The Party - but y'all all of your reactions to the Chapter 4 cliff hanger made me want to create a more satisfying plot line surrounding the YaMomo text. In short - the comments you leave influence the story a lot more than you'd think! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and Shoto's sweet way of taking care of the Reader. I try to make The Reader a pretty general character so that it's easy to self-insert, but she's kind of developing her own personality which is fun too!

Part 6 is already in the works and partially written. I have most of THE PARTY scenes drafted and typed out, and I'm really excited for you all to see what I've been cooking up for this story arc. I also want to lay the ground work for future arcs as well - I don't anticipate this tale ending any time soon! It seems to take me a month/month and a half to churn out each chapter, so please feel free to check out my other work on My Master List as you wait!

I have been so locked in on this Todoroki story that I've been neglecting one shots lately. I hope to finish a little Kirishima focused fic soon, plus I have an idea for a tale surrounding All Might (the working title is gonna be something like "United States of Smash that Ass" idk its gonna be goofy and All Might is gonna have a huge cock or something stupid like that). TLDR: Keep an eye on my blog for more fun content surrounding our other favorite heroes as you wait for Chapter 6!

As always, thank you thank you thank you for all of your positive comments, messages and reblogs of my work. This passion project has brought me so much joy and I love how much joy it seems to bring all of you. Thanks for joining me on this wild ride, excited to see all that happens next!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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[yourfavoritehouseplant]

I watched James Somerton's final video, and all I got was this 6 page document

As soon as I learned his final unreleased video was on Revolutionary Girl Utena, I knew I had to hate watch it. I didn't know that I'd spend the following 4 hours making a comprehensive doc on everything I hated about it. But here we are.

The TLDR (is this too long to be a TLDR?)

The intro section, as well as Part 2, are directly plagiarized from wikipedia. The rest is unclear.

He makes a “haha this show is so weird right guys” joke 10 different times

He reads Anthy as so emotionally stunted she literally has to be taught how to think for herself, and believes that being the rose bride makes her feel good

He says that his reading is ‘vastly different” from the rest of the community, before boldly stating that this is because he sees it as a “deeply allegorical and symbolic story”

He sees the sexual abuse as “not to be taken literally”

Insists that the show be separated into parts that are strictly literal and strictly allegorical for the entirety of parts 3 and 4, before making the contradictory move of analyzing characters as allegories during part 5

The only characters that get dedicated sections are Akio and Dios, who he doesn’t believe are the same person. 

He says Dios gets his powers by “deflowering women”

He calls Akio, known child predator, a chaotic bisexual

Uses 14 year old SA survivor Anthy’s passive personality to make a joke about her being a bottom

His final point is that Utena was the real prince all along

There are no citations

Anyway, full version for people who hate themselves under the cut. With time codes, because I cite my sources.

Part 1: Intro

This entire section is almost exclusively quoted from the Wikipedia article for Revolutionary Girl Utena. Words have been changed, but the order at which certain topics come up is not. Highlights include:

0:56 In his introduction of Be-Papas, lists the founding members in literally the exact same order as Wikipedia.

1:40-2:00 His list of Be-Papas previous works is lifted entirely from wikipedia, only with the words changed. This leads to a strange moment at 1:52 where he claims Be-papas ‘lent their talents to’ Neon Genesis Evangelion, a show which started production at least a year before Be-papas was founded. On the wikipedia article for Utena, this is instead referring to the previous work of Shinya Hasegawa and Yōji Enokido

4:23 he uses a quote by Yūichirō Oguro describing the production as a “tug of war”. He seems to have lifted this in its entirety from Wikipedia, as he does not cite the actual source it is from (the box set companion book, btw)

As for James Somerton originals, at 0:44 he claims that out of all magical girl series,”none to my knowledge have been more discussed and dissected than the 1997 series Revolutionary Girl Utena” He will go back on this at 5:05, where he states that “Sailor Moon takes the lion’s share of discussion” in regard to influential magical girl anime

Part 2: Part 1

(At least I know I’m not funny, unlike James Somerton)

Speaking of which. Here is every single time he makes a “wow this show is sooooo weird you guys” joke: 6:00, 8:50, 10:40, 10:58, 13:46, 17:07, 24:16, 30:34, 41:19, 48:01

Here’s every time the punchline to the joke is the existence of Nanami, a character who he otherwise completely disregards: 10:56, 12:05, 16:22, 42:40

6:16 Claims that the “Apocalypse saga” and “Akio Ohtori saga’ are two names for the same several episodes, depending on the release. This is untrue. Instead, different releases either only have the Apocalypse saga, or split the episodes into an Akio Ohtori saga and then the Apocalypse saga. 

7:58 Claims Utena intervening on Anthy’s behalf begins the first duel. While this happens in the movie, Touga intervenes in the scene he uses clips from (like literally right after the shot he uses in the video). Utena only gets drawn into the duels when Wakaba’s love note to Saionji is posted. Youtuber Noralities’ Utena video also gets this wrong, which makes me wonder if this was copied.

9:09 Claims Akio’s “End of the World” moniker is actually more closely translated to “Apocalypse”. In reality, the translation moves away from a more apocalyptic reading, with 世界の果て (Sekai no hate) apparently translating closer to “the furthest reach of a known world” or “edge of the world”. (Love the implications of this translation, but I digress)

9:10 As can be assumed from the previous point, this means I can’t find any sources that point to them not using the title “apocalypse” for religious reasons

10:10 Uses Anthy’s extreme passivity under her Rose bride persona to make a top/bottom joke. I’m gonna repeat this in case you’re just skimming. He uses a trait that likely stems from years of abuse, (possibly exaggerated by the persona Anthy uses to manipulate people), and uses it to call her a bottom. 

He also just doesn’t seem to understand how the whole point of Utena constantly telling Anthy that she's just a normal girl who should make more friends is framed as Utena imposing her will on Anthy, just as much as the previous Engaged have done. 

11:54 Apologies in advance for my most “um, actually!” point yet, but technically his statement that Anthy stops being host to the Sword of Dios is wrong. Akio literally pulls a sword out of her chest in the final duel. It's a more evil-looking sword of Dios, granted.

13:02 !!! CANTARELLA SCENE ALERT !!! He interprets it as them fighting over Akio?? Which like. I will allow people to have their own interpretations of vague and symbolic scenes. I will. I swear. This is not technically incorrect. It just makes me want to eat my own intestines.

14:44 Bad Anthy take #1: He states Anthy “is emotionally stunted to the point where she needs people to make decisions for her because she does not know how to think for herself” This ignores several moments of Anthy clearly making her own choices throughout the show, including the suicide attempt Somerton mentions about a minute prior. This also strips Anthy of what little agency she has throughout the story, usually exerted through messing with Utena or Nanami. (The fact that she repeatedly makes choices that contribute to her own abuse is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting parts of her character, and it's a shame that Summerton’s ‘reading’ of the story completely disregards that)

Additionally, he once again reads Utena ‘urging Anthy to think for herself” in the first arc as an unambiguously good move, and not as something critiqued in the show.

14:52 Summerton reads the Swords of hatred as symbolizing men’s hatred specifically. Again, I’m trying not to completely disregard differing interpretations to a show like Utena, but this feels very simplistic, especially considering the harm we see aimed towards Anthy by other women

16:42 Here he claims that his reading of the story seems to be “vastly different” from the bulk of Utena discourse. What is this reading? That the show shouldn’t be read literally. Or, in his words, “[we can interpret] Revolutionary Girl Utena as a deeply allegorical and symbolic story about the struggles of coming of age amidst widespread institutional corruption in a high school and which describes a passive culture of inaction in regard to brazen instances of domestic exploitation in which there is not only a question about the caporeality of the events transpiring but also which events can be taken for granted and which events are meant to signify abstract sociological institutions.” The idea that he believes this is in any way a new reading of the material honestly baffles me.

Part 3: Part 2

17:48 through 18:50 differently quotes the Wikipedia article for postmodernism. He even makes a joke at 17:55 about Wikipedia. Please kill me. 

The first three themes he lists at 19:11 are just the three main themes listed on the Revolutionary Girl Utena Wikipedia page. What was that about a “vastly different” reading, James?

You’re gonna have to take my word for it, but this section is so short because it's just him talking about the various ways the story can’t be taken literally. He does, ironically, call this a hot take.

Part 4: Part 3

Here’s where the reading falls apart folks

At 23:15, he states that some things in Utena are allegorically coded, while others are to be taken literally. This is true. However, he seems to take this to mean that some parts of the show are Strictly Literal, while others are Strictly Allegorical for things going on in the Literal World. 

This is apparently why he prefers the Anime to the Movie, where there basically is no separation between the Literal and Allegorical

This take is bizarre to me for several reasons, but here is my favorite. At several points, he mentions how Revolutionary Girl Utena is a work of Magical Realism. Magical Realism is literally defined by its blending of the “literal” and “allegorical”, the mix of fantastical elements in a mundane, realistic setting. This idea of the impossibility of a blurred line, that Utena must either have lore where the magic is all real and means nothing, or dedicated allegory segments quarantined from the rest of the story, is contrary to the very idea of Magical Realism.

I can’t help but wonder if Somerton took his mentions of Magical realism from a previous work, due to how little it is consistent with his final argument. Either way, this section suggests a great lack of creativity in his analysis, a shame for such a creative work.

24:36: Shiori slander, for those who care

After this he gets really worked up about people assuming symbolism in everything, even when the author ‘doesn’t make it clear something is symbolic’. He shuts down a reading of a shot in the Lord of the Rings. Miley Cyrus is there? Very The Curtains Were Blue of him. 

28:22 Claims that Wakaba is the key to telling where the Strictly Literal segments end and the Strictly Allegorical segments begin. He states that, under this lens, deeply personal moments of character suffering such as all of the sexual abuse and Anthy’s suicide attempt (which he literally cites) should be read as symbolic and be “approached with uncertainty rather than confusion”. (28:24-29:13)

This also somewhat falls apart when you consider Wakaba is the jeep in the movie's car chase

And then he rants about people not liking his Attack on Titan video for a bit. Since its potential symbolism also doesn't follow hard enough rules to be symbolism. Once again, the separation of “fact vs allegory” I haven’t watched AOT, so that's all I’ll say.

Part 5: Part 4

Thank god this part is short. Much like Dios’ on-screen presence.

32:55 Makes the extremely bold claim that Dios is not Akio. As in, never even became Akio. because Dios is Strictly Allegorical.

Just to be a pedant, this is pretty explicitly disproven in the show

Confusingly, both earlier and later he will address these two as the same character. 

33:04 he also explains the root of Akio’s name in a tone that suggests this is supplemental information and not like. Literally something he explains out loud in the show?

Part 6: Part 5

This section is nearly entirely about Akio Ohtori. I would like to note that him and Dios are the only characters with dedicated segments.

38:30 The part where he states that Dios gets his powers from deflowering women.

38:46 Claims, once again, that Akio’s abuse of Anthy “may not be literal”. 

38:59 “the instance of exploitation here is used because assault has deep roots as indicating that akio's gender is the source of his imbalance”  THE ASSAULT IS ABOUT AKIO NOW???

39:45 Bad Anthy take #2: “Anthy’s conformity to the Rose bride is based around the fact that she feels good being subservient because this is the only thing in her life that has ever brought her any kind of positive reward”. This is a direct quote. Anyway, I can’t think of any instances in the show where Anthy’s subservience gives her a positive reward, except maybe when she’s intentionally using it to manipulate others. As for her feeling good being the rose bride. She tries to commit suicide. Dude.

Side tangent, but isn’t this exactly what Akio says during the final 2 episodes? That Anthy enjoys being a witch? Is the main villain, who consistently says things during that very episode that are blatantly false, our source of information for this take? I guess so, since this is the dedicated Akio section.

At 40:20 he decides to introduce the concept of Anthy, Akio, and Utena as stand-ins for wider concepts, which is antithetical to his approach in analysis beforehand

Part 7: Part 6

42:40 he finally acknowledges that he’s been spending too much time talking about Akio, and literally no time on characters like Nanami

46:10 states that Utena’s exclusive motivation “is to protect Anthy from the predatorial intentions of the other dualists”, which disregards the fact, which she states herself, that she was largely participating in the duels and protecting Anthy to feel like a prince

48:04 The part where he says that Akio has ‘chaotic Bi vibes’ in regards to him sleeping with Touga, who is 17 and implied to be a long-term victim

Part 8: Part 7

54:01: His concluding point is that Utena was the real prince all along. 

In true Somerton fashion, the video then ends over a scrolling wall of patrons, with not a single citation in sight.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐁𝐨𝐲, 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐔𝐩

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous ─ next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: After your stepmother's ahem accident, and now brimming with confidence, you decide it's about time to make Eddie whole again and lend him a hand in doing so, while Eddie regains new and old sensations along with some feelings. An excruciatingly heavy dose of jealousy, included. And you confirm that Eddie Munson is hot. Eddie is so very hot.

Chapter Warnings: he's not super stinky anymore but his feet still are, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing. oh yeah, and murder. again. so there will be descriptions of violence and blood but its a creep getting what's coming. includes references to SA which occurred in a previous chapter.

a/n: surprise, bitch. bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. anyways, got a new macbook so here we are. this chapter was a lot longer but i actually forgot to add crucial details for my plot, so, I'm going to split it into more chapters. hope you enjoy this one! and yes, we are pretending certain songs existed during the year this is set.

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“I mean—I haven’t stared at his hands or anything, he’s just got to be dexterous with all the books he handles. It’s perfect.” You’d decided on the next unwitting donor for Eddie. A suitable hand to replace the one he lost.

  Of course, with the hand meant there’d be another body to dispose of. You’d planned it out carefully and quickly. You only had about a week until Laura was due back from her conference, or whatever the fuck it was. Regardless, you knew she wouldn’t be making another appearance, alive that is. You were sure her photos would assault you on news channels when she was discovered missing and you were relatively fine with that. It’d be the last of your abusive step-mother you’d ever have to see. You really were finally free of her, and it surprised you how relieved that made you feel.

  From the moment she came into your life, she’d made it almost unbearable for you to exist in your own skin, in your own life—in any space or capacity. The months spent enduring her verbal, emotional and mental abuse had eventually made you grow used to it, not that it ever became tolerable or normal to you. You just…stopped realizing you weren’t yourself anymore; always hunched over, eyes staring at the ground, walking on eggshells every minute you weren’t locked in the safety of your room. You’d become meek, doing anything you could to seem small so she’d leave you alone. Always holding your breath.

  You could finally breathe.

  There was a bit of guilt present, only because you knew regardless of how horrible Laura was to you and how she’d been to Chrissy before your step-sister had graduated high school (she’d told you all about it when you’d first moved in), she was still Chrissy’s mother, and Chrissy would no doubt feel the loss.

  She’d get over it.

  Eddie slowly made his way into your bedroom after you, and you took the chance to really look him over. He certainly did look more lively. Still dead as fuck, but not so much a corpse rotting for years. Maybe just a few months.

  “I’ll see him tomorrow, so we’ve got to do it then.” You kicked off your boots, letting them land wherever they wanted as you padded over to your bathroom with Eddie trailing behind you. 

  The bathroom light flicked on and you quickly got to work, pulling out your makeup removing balm and skincare products. You got started, making sure your hair was out of your face before you were massaging products into your skin, “You know, my dad said this move would be a new start for us—really, I didn’t have a choice unless I wanted to be homeless—and I thought that was a huge load of crap.”

  You stopped the motion of rubbing the balm to pry your eyes open, blinking past the product coating your eyelashes as you stared at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring intently at your reflection and not at all bothered with the state of your severe raccoon eyes, “I still think it’s crap. But maybe this happened for a reason, maybe I was meant to tend to your grave until lightning brought you back to life kinda. Maybe Laura only ever existed so she’d be around to give you another ear when you’d need it. I mean she always gave me an earful so, I think it’s poetic justice. Now, she’s the one who only has a singular ear. Ear-y, if you will.”

  You quickly rinsed off your face and patted it dry with a towel, pausing to contemplate.

  ”And she’s dead now, too, so it’s like you guys just traded places. Freaky Friday and all that—did you ever see that movie? Jodie Foster?”

  Eddie nodded his head.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Mm.” He shrugged, sticking his hand out and letting it teeter. 

  You pursed your lips as you applied your moisturizer, “I mean it’s got its moments, some real nice mother-daughter understanding but I thought it was just okay, too.” 

  You were expecting him to make some sort of zombie sound of acknowledgement, so when he remained silent, your eyes drifted once more to his reflection, finding him now staring intently at the shower curtain, fingers of his good (the other one wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t there) hand twisting it this way and that. The shower curtain was bright pink, holographic and shifted to reveal a bunch of kittens when angled correctly.

  Eddie looked perplexed and you had to bite your lip to keep your grin from taking up your entire face at such a blatant display of boyish ignorance.

  Slowly, as you watched Eddie continue to fuck around with the curtain, the grin twisted into a small frown. 

  Sure, Eddie looked a little rough around the edges, had apparently been in the drug dealing business while he’d been alive—but you couldn’t imagine someone wanting a guy fascinated with shower curtains designed for late 40 something year-old women with no taste (Laura had picked out the curtain), dead. 

  You wondered if they’d been behind his missing appendages, too. Glancing down at his wrist to take in the wound—bone still visible, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach, one similar to the feeling you’d get when you’d watch Carrie; see her smiling on that stage, overwhelmed with joy at finally feeling accepted, but you couldn’t be happy for her. As a reader and viewer, you knew about the bucket.

  With your night routine finished, you turned to face Eddie, clapping your hands twice to get his attention. He reminded you of a puppy the way his head tilted in confusion at you.

  “Back to my room.” You swept your arms out in front of you, gesturing for him to leave first and when Eddie stood up he tried to do the same thing, only his arms weren’t as loose as yours, so it just looked like he was doing the robot.

  You smiled, turning to walk out the doorway when you stopped short, eyes honing in on the dark, red stain on your carpet.

  Fuck, you had to clean the crime scene still. Panic filled your chest while your brain tried to recall your dad and Chrissy’s schedules for the day. Chrissy had said she’d be out with friends so she probably wouldn’t return until well past the time your father went to bed, and he’d probably be home by dinner time. Even if he did return early, he rarely—and by rarely you meant never—went into your room. Not to lecture you, not to say goodnight, not to check if you were still alive.

  You were in the clear.

  Moving to stand directly in front of the stain, your sock covered foot tapped rapidly as you fidgeted. There was no way you’d be able to get all that out, Laura had bled harder than you did when you sneezed on your period. You could soak up most of the blood, scrub out the rest but the stain would always be present, no hiding the dull red amongst the pink fibers. 

  But maybe…

  Your eyes trailed over to the rug placed deliberately under your bed. It was a piece you brought from your room back home, a nifty find from the estate sales you and your mother would frequent with a shared love for antiques and the unique.

  You could pull it out a little, have Eddie lift the bed and then you’d be able to cover the stain left behind after you cleaned the carpet. Your lower lip became the victim of nervous chewing as you wondered if Chrissy would notice the difference in placement. Did she even pay that close attention to you? Could you risk it?

  Well, it’s not like you had any other option. With the clean up plan in mind, you turned to your doorway and jumped when you nearly collided with Eddie’s chest.

  “JESUS! Fuck, sorry dude—I forget you’re so quiet.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, and you were almost taken aback with the amusement you could see in his eyes. Eddie had found some amusement in having freaked you out by doing literally nothing—and his eyes kind of…sparkled with it. They hadn’t done that before you electrocuted him. While big, they hadn’t been all that expressive.

  Interesting.

  Whatever—you’d have to look into that later, right now you had something to cover up. And you needed to keep Eddie busy while you did.

  “C’mere.” Rather than just have him follow after you, you grabbed his hand—tugging him over to your bed. When Eddie was in front of you, you pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit down and then grabbed your beat up Walkman, your headphones, and rummaged through your bedside drawer for a certain tape. 

  No luck. You scowled, slamming the drawer shut as you scrutinized your room. You eyed your school bag, on the ground by your door and scrambled over to it, arm reaching in to search around before dumping the contents out. Damn, still no tape and your irritation was beginning to fester. 

  Sure, you had more but you needed Eddie to listen to that one. It was important for a reason you didn’t care to delve into. So, you handled your lapse in memory with grace.

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?” You shoved everything carelessly back into your bag, practically throwing it back down as you rushed over to your dresser, moving all your crap aside in search of the plastic rectangle.

  Not there either.

  There was absolutely no way you’d ever misplace your tapes in the drawers of your dresser but you ransacked those, too, slamming them each when they proved futile. Your blood was practically boiling.

  “Eddie, cover your new ear because I am about to LOSE MY FUCKING SHI-oh, there it is!”

  It had been on your dresser, hidden under an open copy of Frankenstein, with the corner sticking out.

  You hummed, annoyance fleeing your person as you held the cassette case up between your fingers to show off to Eddie. During your little bitch fit, he’d made himself comfortable on your bed, laying back and popped up on his forearm. The lower half of his face was cinched up and you had the sneaking suspicion he was smirking at having witnessed you lose your cool, but he was a dead guy so who was he to judge?

  “This is gonna change your freaking life, I swear.” And then, as a guilty afterthought, “Uhm. In a good way.” You tucked his hair behind his ears, fingers gentle, and placed the headphones over them before you were pulling The Lion and the Cobra out of its case. “It’s one of my favorite albums and—honestly, I bought it because she’s bald. Well, I guess not bald bald, she’s got a buzzcut. This is Sinead O’Connor. I told you a little bit about her last night.”

  After slipping the tape into place and closing it in, you offered the case to Eddie so he could see Sinead on the cover of it, wrists crossed over her chest, and her normally soulful stare avoiding all those gazing upon her.

  When Eddie stared down at it a little too long for your liking, you snatched it out of his hands, an unpleasant feeling in your belly, heart clenching a little. It was a simple cover, he didn’t need to scrutinize her, didn’t need to admire her for that long. 

  You knew his eyebrows would be raised—if he could, but the most you’d seen them do is twitch—with the look he was giving you.

  “Shut up. Just—listen, okay? Every single track is a work of art, but some feel a little more…personal than others. Tell me your favorite afterwards, ‘kay?”

  Eddie stared at you for a couple of beats and when he nodded, you pressed the play button, giving him a smile.

  You could feel his eyes on you as you walked out of your room to retrieve a sponge, some hot soapy water and the carpet shampoo mix Laura concocted and always drenched the floors in.

  While you worked on making sure no one would ever know Laura took her last evil, foul wench breathes in your bedroom, Eddie had managed to shift into a different position, lying on his back with his head dangling off your bed, the ends of his curls pooling on the rug below.

  Now Eddie had always considered himself a music connoisseur, loved discovering new artists—but he was a little unfair in his practice. As in, he didn’t give a shit what other people told him to listen to. 

  Well, people he didn’t care about. Eddie cared about you. 

  Eddie cared about you a lot. 

  He’d been rediscovering his body the longer he remained alive, still marveling over his ability to reanimate from the grave. With his apparent deceased status, came the sensation of knowing where every organ in his body was.

  Eddie had been tempted to cut himself open, confirm with his sight what was going on in there, but he had a feeling you would have yelled at him so he settled for taking mental notes. He could think, so his brain was clearly working, maybe jump started by that lightning strike. He could tell the exact location of his stomach, feel things moving around in there and he’d spent a great deal of time hacking the creepy crawlers up after he’d spat one up in Laura’s lunch—he didn’t want to gross you out by accidentally coughing one up on you or something since he’d already puked on you.

  After making sure he didn’t feel any more bugs roaming around in his organs (and he was extremely grateful they’d yet to make his way to his lower intestine because there was no way you’d be normal about him shitting out bugs—if he even could shit), he realized he had a couple of broken rib bones. 

  Eddie couldn’t remember much about the night he was murdered, couldn’t recall too many images—mostly just experienced an intense wave of fear that clawed its way out of some crevice in his chest and up his throat, desperate to break through with a scream, so he tried not to think about it much. They must have broken his ribs in the attack, if he pressed just below his left pec, that particular rib bone would move inwards with a popping sensation. 

  Definitely hadn’t done that before he was dead, would have been a sick party trick, though.

  And then came the matters of the heart…it’s the one thing he couldn’t really feel, couldn’t locate, unlike his other organs. Eddie had briefly assumed that shit was still dead or dust but then you’d returned home, radiating with jubilation—a far cry from the miserable girl he’d observed that first night, so beautiful and marred with self deprecation.

  You’d said it was because of him, of the dress he’d seen hanging in your closet and then fantasized about seeing you wear all night while you’d slept. 

  Eddie swore he felt the heart he thought had given up, clench. It had been a fleeting sensation, but he’d felt it nonetheless. He had no idea what it was doing, had no idea if was actually beating or just responding. All he knew was that it belonged solely to you.

  And then you had to go and mention Steve fucking Harrington. 

  He wasn’t exactly fond of the self proclaimed King of Hawkins, had sold him some really shitty weed because the blockhead didn’t know the difference. He was an asshole, even worse than Eddie. 

  And for some fucking reason, the love of Eddie’s life—who read him poetry, talked about all her interests, shared her secrets with him along with the very same loneliness that had plagued him all his life and followed him to his grave, and who was far out of Steve’s league—wanted him. Not Eddie.

  No, because this is Eddie’s second life, he still can’t be happy. You wanted Blane and your movie Pretty in Pink ending. Eddie was just Duckie and he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the novelization ending. 

  When the fourth track began to play, Eddie’s despair was calmed by the sound of a guitar strumming, and he was able to yank himself out of his head. No point in dwelling. This wasn’t about him anyways. 

  Yes, he’d come back from the dead. The circumstances of his return were still unclear, but he knew it was somehow your doing, somehow because of you. And he’d spend the rest of his life (he had no idea if he was gonna age or not, he’d only been alive for like a day) expressing his gratitude and protecting you.

  Besides…

  Ah when you close my eyes, babe, I can see most everything, Sinead sang.

  And Eddie understood it. 

  His gaze bore into the side of your face, admiring the tick between your brows as you scrubbed at the stain, the pout of your lips and Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to get up without his limbs literally creaking, saunter over to you with the confidence he knew would make you swoon over him, pull you up into his arms and kiss you until you forgot Steve Harrington even existed.

  He closed his eyes and let the scenario play out, changing a few details in the scene.

  The two of you weren’t in your room. Pink carpet switched out for his dingy, stained bedroom carpet. Generic in color, you didn’t seem to mind it at all as you rifled through his vinyl collection, greedy fingers flicking through the covers at an impressive rate. 

  Sinead’s voice was still comforting Eddie, just not through a pair of headphones. Her voice crooned out from the turntable on his dresser. 

  He’d been passively engaged in a sketch of the main villain for one of his favorite DND campaigns, still needed a ton of details that wouldn’t be hitting the page tonight. Not with you present, not with you sitting there engrossed in your own world and oblivious to his appreciative stare.

  Eddie didn’t like to consider himself particularly vain, and truthfully it hadn’t mattered to him what you’d look like the entire time he was—whatever. He didn’t care. But oh did someone up there have to favor him just a little bit, because when he saw you for the first time with his soil embedded dry eyes, he was sure it was love at first sight. Would have popped a woody if he had any sort of blood flow and if you hadn’t freaked out at having a dead guy crash through your window.

  Oh, fuck, he was ruining his own fantasy by remembering the circumstances of his existence. Back to it.

  While he could envision you in that black dress, as hot as you were in it, it was the pajamas he first ever saw you in that covered your skin. Hair ready for bed as the two of you winded down in a show of domestication. 

  Thump, thump.

  There it was again. Not always lively but always coming to life when you were around, even in just his daydreams, ready to beat for you. And since this was his fantasy…

  Eddie tossed aside the sketchbook and pencil, not caring where they bounced to on his bed in his haste to stand. He padded the short distance to you, snatching the vinyl you’d been checking out right from your hands.

   “Hey!” You cried out, any semblance of protest disappearing the moment you turned to look up at him and caught that mischievous Munson Smirk on his face as he dangled the album in front of you. He was teasing you.

  Your eyes narrowed up at him playfully and for a moment you were still until your arm darted out in an attempt to snatch the album back—a move Eddie was already anticipating.

  The album was quickly held just out of your reach and your grin was sheepish as you moved to get up from the ground. Clearly, your boyfriend (yes, he was your boyfriend in this fantasy, sue him) was feeling playful, and honestly, he just really liked it when you threw yourself at him just as you did right then.

  Eddie still held his ground, arm sticking straight up in the air to try to keep the album out of your grabby hands. 

  Teasing would always get a little physical, since he’d known what it was like to be without another’s touch for so long, he was keen on forever feeling yours.

   “You’re such an asshole!” You laughed as you did this pathetic little jump to try to reach it and Eddie snickered, the arm not clutching the album snaking around your side to bring you impossibly closer to him. Keep you there. Preferably forever.

  “Mm, but I’m your asshole,” Eddie cooed down at you, angling his head down so the tips of your noses bumped. The gentle curve of your lips had his heart thumping again as you settled against him, one hand stroking up his chest to rest on his shoulder. He could feel your breasts against him but it didn’t excite him as it should have (okay—it did, he just wasn’t paying attention to his dick in the fantasy), what he really cared about in that moment was how he was able to hold you so close, he could feel your heartbeat. And it wasn’t beating for Steve Harrington. It was Eddie who made your heart flutter and race, “and you can do whatever you want with me.”

   “Gross,” you whispered, breath ghosting over his lips.

   “You say that and yet you still let me─” The rest of Eddie’s sentence was lost against your mouth, soft, and a little tacky from your lip balm but oh so sweet. He let out a pleased hum, flicking the album onto his bed so he could cup the back of your head as your tongue parted his lips. The two of you stood there, holding each other, kissing each other with no ulterior motives. Just the burning desire to ensure the other knew exactly how wanted their very presence, very existence was. Sinead echoed her own statement over and over again in the background, making it the perfect soundtracked moment.

  God, there was nothing more he could ever possibly want.

  Actually—there was one thing he wanted more, he realized as his eyes opened once more, and your profile came into focus with a couple of lazy blinks. 

  Eddie wanted you to want all of that. 

  Wanted you to want him back, because you deserved more than what Steve Harrington could give you. Materialistically, sure okay—the rich douche could give you more considering Eddie was technically homeless without a penny to his name, but you didn’t care about material things. Not like that. It hadn’t been objects or devices you’d told him you longed for at his grave.

  You longed for something Eddie was positive he could give you. He just needed his body to be up to par, needed what he was missing so you could see the whole—Eddie as a whole—was greater than the sum of his parts. He could make you happy. He could make you so happy.

  If only he wasn’t a fucking zombie—and really, c’mon, that’s the main thing Steve’s got over him. He’s…y’know…more alive.

  You must have felt Eddie’s heavy and romantic, not creepy, stare because your head snapped up and you gave him that gorgeous smile again. Then you were knee crawling over and Eddie wanted to bite a chunk of your mattress out—you were so damn cute.

  When you were in front of Eddie, and still very much so upside down to him though you were actually right side up, you lifted the headphones off his ears, “How you liking it so far? You good over here?”

  Oh, you know just, yearning over a love we’ll never share because I know I could be everything you’ve ever wanted and anything you need, whatever you want, if I weren’t a corpse and I have to listen to you talk about another, much less cool guy when I’m right here and I’m missing a hand, so I could be better.

  Eddie held up (down, technically) his thumb and you leaned your body over so you were kind of upside down too, grinning brilliantly at him. Eddie had never wanted an upside down kiss so badly.

  “I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet, Eddie. I really like hanging out with you.”

  Eddie let out a groan, rolling his eyes and gently pushing your face away from him after your terrible pun while you cackled. 

  After you finished cleaning the stain to the best of your ability (so not well), you enacted the rest of your solution and had Eddie lift your bed frame so you could pull your rug a little more out and successfully cover the stain.

  Before bed, you asked him what his favorite track of the tape was. When Eddie pointed at Just Like U Said It Would B, you nearly jumped up and down on your bed before revealing that was your favorite song, too.

  Eddie wasn’t even remotely surprised. Yuuuuup. You were definitely his soulmate.

  When you woke up the following morning, squinting like an elderly chihuahua as you once more fumbled out of bed to pry your closet doors open, Eddie had another outfit waiting for you. Unlike yesterday, Eddie wasn’t awake.

  He was sitting against the wall of the closet, head resting against the bottom of various dresses and long skirts as a makeshift pillow. His eyes were closed and he was unnaturally still. 

  Alarms started to blare off in your head and you nearly shit your heart out of your asshole because you thought Eddie had somehow died again. Your reaction was instant, eyes filling with tears as you got on your knees and crowded into his space, hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, “Eddie?! Eddie, c’mon, don’t do this to me—don’t leave me, I just got you, c’mon get up.”

  When he stirred, chest rising as he inhaled, you nearly dropped dead from the relief, allowing yourself to fall back on the carpet and partially on the rug sticking out from under your bed.

  “Oh my god.” You breathed out, lifting two fingers to check your own pulse. You still had one so you were kicking, and Eddie was still very much alive or whatever he was, “Okay, new rule, you gotta tell me what your body can and can’t do anymore—I thought you were DEAD, Eddie!” 

  You pushed up on your hands before you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his upper half. In that position, his hairs rubbed at your nose and the scent of your own shampoo filled your nostrils and he felt very hard overall, but his arms wrapped around you too. He was fine. Except for y’know, his current state of existence—but at least he still existed.

  When you pulled away to look at him, you noticed his eyes looked kind of hazy, bleary. Tired. He was full alert yesterday morning, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t slept that night, nor had he been tired when you got home. 

  “Are you okay?” You asked, fingers raking through his bangs to settle them against his forehead. 

  Eddie nodded slowly with a grunt, and grabbed the items that had been resting on his lap when he fell asleep, pushing them into your arms.

  A sheer black mesh long sleeve, a red corset to go over that and keep you from getting arrested for the public indecency, and a sleek midi black skirt that was sure to hug your hips and flow the rest of the way down to stop a little past your knees. 

  “So, yesterday it was Madonna and today it’s Cyndi Lauper?”

  Eddie pushed you out of the closet but before he could shut the doors, you wedged your way between them to prevent him from doing so.

  “Wait—okay, you win again. Are you tired?” You pried the doors all the way open again so you could see Eddie more clear with the light, his head nodding slowly.

  ”I didn’t know you could sleep,” You mumbled and the look Eddie gave you made you think he hadn’t known either. You were beginning to suspect your little Dr. Frankenstein moment did more than simply bring Eddie’s ear to life, “Well get up. You can sleep in my bed, I’ve got a couple of classes today. Chrissy likes to carpool on Tuesdays and my dad’s gonna head to work, not that he’d ever venture to this corner of the house anyways. Get some rest and I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

  He looked a little unsure of himself so you had to pull him out. And once you remembered he was in the same pair of clothes, you gave him another band shirt and some plaid pajama pants you’d received on some birthday in the wrong size, to wear to bed.

  By the time you’d finished getting ready and doing your makeup, Eddie was asleep again. You found him lying on his stomach, head nuzzled into your pillow with his feet hanging off your bed.

  You walked over, grabbing your comforter from where you’d bunched it up on the other side of the bed after you’d thrown it off you and pulled it over him. Whether or not his blood circulation was working wasn’t even a thought, the action of tucking Eddie in was more so an affectionate one than rational. 

  It’d been years since he’d slept in a bed, having been wrongfully sentenced to spend eternity with worms and everything beneath the earth’s surface. You hated that, something hot simmering in your belly. Laura’s much deserved murder aside, Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong! Yeah, okay, you didn’t exactly know him—but you knew him. The dead dude, currently sleeping (?) in your bed, had acted earlier only and solely to protect you. You hadn’t been in Hawkins when he was alive so the odds of him running around with a sewing machine to bash people’s heads in for you were pretty slim.

  Impulsively, your hand reached out to run through his hair with ease, fingers twisting into the curls. His tresses were still surprisingly soft and there were no tangles. Part of you wanted to lean forward and smell him but you didn’t because it’d be creepy and he’d just smell like your shampoo, probably. 

  With a sigh, you retracted your hand and silently gaped when some of his hair came out with it. 

  Oh, shit.

  Rolling your lips together and with no alternative, you rolled the hair into a little ball and tucked it into your bra to dispose of later. The last thing you needed was for him to be nosey and bored enough to go through your bathroom trash and find his hair in it, without him having put it there.

  You were just about to head out when you remembered his shoes and how uncomfortable going to bed wearing them must have been so before you could USE YOUR FUCKING HEAD you were carefully pulling one off (it would be just your luck to accidentally pull his foot off or something) and once his foot was free—you realized immediately why he’d kept them on.

  The stench hit your eyes first, tears filling them faster than you’d ever experienced before and stinging them something fierce. When the smell breached your nostrils, it triggered your gag reflex and you did everything you could to keep your dry heaving relatively quiet. 

  After you threw up in your mouth a little, you managed to put his shoe back on and ran for the bathroom. Once your stomach was settled, you held your breath and braved your room, lunging for your body spray to aggressively mist over Eddie’s sleeping figure before hurrying out, gasping for air once you were in the hall leaning against the bedroom door. 

  God, your wallpaper was fucked. No way it wasn’t curling in on itself.

  You were still in a state of shock and recovery when you ventured downstairs, almost snapping to attention when you heard Chrissy gasp and your head lulled towards the dining room where she sat at the table across from your father. He had his head buried in some magazine while she stared at you in awe, hands covering her mouth.

  “My goodness, Sissy! You look like you could have walked straight out of that witch movie that Cher was in! You know, the one with the three witches?”

  “I’m familiar, let's hope men in real life are easier to knock dead.” You commented, leaning against the entryway with your arms crossed and the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

  Chrissy laughed, the sound ringing out like the most annoyingly pleasant wind chimes as she explained to your father who wasn’t really listening, “Because in the film, daddy, there’s this awful man and they’re trying to get rid of him and really all the men in the film aren’t the greatest.”

  Your dad just grunted, still thoroughly engrossed in his magazine, “Uh-huh, I’m sure your sister’s a regular maneater.”

  The sarcasm was evident and unappreciated by both you and Chrissy. The brief glare you spared the oblivious sack of meat was lethal before your steely gaze was back on the strawberry blonde.

  “You ready?” You usually carpooled with Chrissy on Tuesdays since your last classes lined up.

  “Ohhhhh, here she comes. Watch out, boys, she’ll chew you up.” Chrissy teased, popping the last of her eggs into her mouth. You noted, with great satisfaction, specks of pepper peeking out from her gums and between her teeth, “You know, sissy—you seem a lot more confident without mom around.”

  Your dumb bitch of a mom, you internally corrected her, lips curling into a smile as you recalled exactly where that woman was. Probably arguing with Satan about which ring of hell she’d be damned to for the rest of eternity. It had to be one of her choosing or she wasn’t going to budge an inch, you could imagine her telling the fallen angel. 

  “I do have to admit,” Chrissy continued, “It’s pretty peaceful without her here. I’ll have to convince her to go out more often.”

  This next part pained you, and you could actively feel your stomach clenching as you forced the words out, “Not too often. I kind of miss having her here.”

  Oh, you were so gonna throw up, “I mean—everyone needs a Debbie Downer to put life into perspective.” 

  Or make you want to kill yourself. The sole reason you were even voicing these lies was because you needed to establish a somewhat ‘healthy’ relationship with your stepmother, for investigative purposes. 

  Sure, you argued a lot; she hated you, you wanted her dead and now she was, but if you went around saying you missed her, you likely wouldn’t be number one on the suspect roster once she was determined to be missing. 

  That caught your dad’s attention and he finally looked up in confusion, “Really?”

  “Of course! I know we fight sometimes but she’s a good example for me.” You had to put your all into this performance, forcing your expression to appear somewhat genuine even if you were really mocking her, “Because of her, I now know it’s possible for you to be a bitch your whole entire life if you don’t fix your attitude and outlook while you’re young, and that if you don’t start caring for your skin sooner rather than later, you’ll have wrinkles the size of California. I know she doesn’t want that same bitter existence she goes through, sunup to sundown, for me. That’s why she’s so tough on me.” 

  Chrissy looked touched, a dainty little hand over her chest as she blinked back tears, “You are so right. I know she’s hard on you but I’m glad you’re starting to see she can’t help it. She’d probably rather die than not be a little judgmental.”

  You scratched the back of your neck and cleared your throat, “Mhm. So, school?”

  “My, aren't you eager to just snap the neck of every boy at school today?” Chrissy gathered her utensils after she’d cleared her plate.

  “Just certain ones.” Your nose crinkled with your smile. Chrissy briefly disappeared into the kitchen, and when she emerged, she was tightening the ponytail she’d sectioned the top half of her hair in, allowing you to see a faint bruise just below her jaw.

  “Hey—you good?” You reached up to rub a knuckle over the same area on your skin and her eyes widened as her fingertips flew to her jaw, pressing at the skin until she seemed to feel the tender spot.

  “Oh, yeah. I must have got myself with my straightener this morning.” She laughed, nervously and your eyes narrowed as you followed her into the foyer. 

  “I thought you valued not ever using heat on your hair.” You reminded her, having had to often listen to her brag about how her hair was sooooooo healthy and sooooooo long because she never used heat on it. She only slept with curlers on, and judging by the bump to her ends—that had been exactly the case. 

  Chrissy’s eyes darted away and you knew she was lying, “I-I—I do! I mean I don’t! We were just doing each other’s hair at the sleepover yesterday, and I let them─”

  “Sleepover? I thought you just went out for some bowling and a kickback. Did you not sleep here last night?” You quirked your head, mouth setting in a frown. There was nothing more you hated than being lied to. Except maybe getting the shit slapped out of you by Cruella de Vil yesterday.

  Chrissy’s eyes widened and she began to stammer, “No, no! I-I did! It was, you know, it was supposed to be a sleepover but I didn’t stay all that long. S-School night and-and all.”

  “Huh.” Was all you said, deciding to let it go after making her a little more nervous with your stare. It was powerful when lined with kohl. Chrissy looked like she was about to start shaking in her white princess Reebok’s and you started to feel bad for her. It had been over a year since her boyfriend had broken up with her and she still always felt guilty about being with other guys. You had a feeling she was still holding out for him. That, coupled with the fact that you were feeling sorry for Chrissy—and not the other way around—made you feel good about yourself so you’d happily look the other way while she tried to find affection she probably craved.

  Oh, how the turn tables.

  The ride to school was filled with chatter, Chrissy’s way of trying to make sure the subject didn’t return to her escapades from the previous night, no doubt.

  You let her chatter away as you pulled a piece of paper from one of your notebooks to jot down a quick note. Much flirtier than you had originally planned to write it, but after spotting Chrissy’s hickie, you were inspired. 

  Once you were done, you folded the pink lined paper up and pressed a kiss to it, leaving your lipstick stain on it. The paper was rubbed discretely against your neck as well, an effort to get some of your perfume on it. 

  I’m tired of playing games. No more interruptions. Meet me at the old bench in the woods behind the high school at 4pm?

  Yes /  No

  Leave your response on the windshield of the white miata

  Xoxo

  When Chrissy pulled into the parking lot and the two of you parted ways, you scanned the area for a certain car and placed the note under one of the windshield wipers before making your way to your first class. Luckily, your seat was right next to the window that overlooked the parking lot. You spent the entire class nervously fidgeting until you saw him making his way towards his car. 

  You watched, with bated breath, as he paused in his approach when he noticed the note. Your asshole clenched when he pulled it from its secure spot and unfolded the note to read its contents.

  He was too far for you to make out the expression on his face but he dug around in his pocket until he produced a pen and scribbled his response before jogging over to Chrissy’s car to leave the note exactly where you instructed and you wanted to stomp your feet against the ground in victory but no.

  No. You couldn’t, not in front of all these people and certainly not in class. You were just beginning to garner a cool reputation and you weren’t about to let a guy ruin it.

  You did, however, maintain a constant smirk throughout the day and it briefly morphed into a genuine smile when you’d intentionally wandered in front of the library, catching Steve’s eye. He’d traded you a secretive smile, fingers waving in your direction and you returned the sentiment before carrying on your way to beat Chrissy back to her car.

  You were in such a rush to make it to the parking lot before her, you didn’t stop to think someone could be coming around the corner and crashed right into a broad chest, dropping your back in the shuffle.

   “Shit. Sorry,” You mumbled, dropping down to your knees to grab your bag and the subsequent items that had fallen out of it. The mystery person bent down in time to grab the tube of your mascara before you could, the last item you needed, and held it out to you and you glanced up, body freezing as Tommy Hagan stood before you.

  “No harm done.” He shrugged, appearing nonchalant as he smiled down at you, “You really should take those corners slow. They’ll get you.”

  Tommy Hagan was…something. You didn’t really like him. 

  He hadn’t given you much of a reason to not like him, since you never interacted with him, it was just…something about him. He was a wildcard. You’d seen Tommy in many different states; cool, calm, collected, goofing off. Then, with a snap of a finger, it was like he was a completely different person. 

  You’d witnessed him lose his shit on someone before, crowding some poor guy up against his car as he threatened to bash his face in with the door. 

  He wasn’t much of a bully to you, Carol seemed to target the girls and while you’d heard Tommy used to be a big bully in high school, you hadn’t seen him pick on people continuously. Just those he actually seemed to have friction with, so you assumed he’d grown out of the bullying. 

  That being said, up until recently, he was still involved with Carol and anyone that could willingly want to deal with her in a romantic situation had to be bad news, and that’s why you stayed away.

  How he could go from Carol, to appreciatively eyeing you up in the middle of the corridor, you had no idea. 

  You didn’t like it.

   “Uh, yeah.” Was all you could say when you realized you hadn’t responded to him. “I-uhm-I was in a hurry.”

  He nodded, brown eyes sweeping over you once more, sending a bad shiver down your spine. You definitely did not like it and you couldn’t even explain why because there had been nothing inherently crude about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t anything like with Fred the other night, Tommy wasn’t looking at you like he was about to have his way with you…you couldn’t explain it. There was just something so ominous about his presence. Something dark attached to his freckled, ‘friendly’ face. 

  “Do I know you? From somewhere? We have a class together or something?” He asked, apparently keen on making small talk with you.

   “No, I don’t think so.”

  ”You’re Chrissy’s sister!” He supplied, eyes lighting up and you weren’t fond of being linked with him any sort of way.

   “Yeah. She’s-Chrissy. My step-sister.”

  How the fuck can I end this conversation?

  Tommy smirked, and you could feel your stomach drop as the ominous aura came over him, his face somehow darkening. Not in color, in nature. “Is she the evil one, or are you? Hmn?”

  You didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know if he was cruising around for his next cruel girlfriend, but it wouldn’t be you.

   Instead of answering his question, you laughed nervously. The sound wasn’t pretty, nor was it modest. You laughed loud, and you laughed obnoxiously. It’s not like you could help it!

   “I gotta, I gotta go.” You managed to get out between rounds of your laughter as you backed away.

  He watched you with something akin to interest, as you whirled around and made a dash for the parking lot.

  You could hear him call out a see you around and since you didn’t want to see him around, you just lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning back.

  Good god, that was unpleasant. That was extremely uncomfortable and it made you feel the need to panic poop. The urge faded, when you saw Chrissy’s car. A white square was under her wipers.

  You snatched the note up, quickly unfolded it and the smirk made its way back onto your face, mimicking that of the Grinch’s when he’d come up with his plan to ruin Christmas for The Whos.

  Yes was circled, several times, so it looked like you had a date with destiny after school.

  “What are you so happy about?” Chrissy asked on the drive back home, a smile on her own face as bright eyes darted from the road to you and back again. The maniacal smile remained firmly in place on your face. You couldn’t help it. Everything really was falling into place for you.

  “We watched Bill Nye in a segment of Almost Live in my Lab class today.”

  “I love that guy, they really should give him his own show. He is kind of cute, isn’t he?”

  You gave Chrissy some side-eye, “Uuuuuhhhuuuh.”

  When she pulled up along the curb outside your house, you noticed she only put the car in park and made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt.

  When you raised a questioning brow, she supplied, “I’m gonna run into town for a little bit. You need anything?”

  Immediately, you were suspicious and if it weren’t for your plans, you might have pushed at the lame excuse. This worked for you, she’d be gone for a while and out of your business, “Nope.”

  You made sure to wait until her car had disappeared around the corner before you entered your house, jumping when you saw Eddie trying to yank his good hand out of one of the vases Laura had placed near the fireplace. It had been one you made in art class back at your old high school, so naturally, she deemed it hideous, and hid it behind an even bigger vase. 

  It was also where you stashed your weed.

  Eddie turned to you, his hand still stuck in the vase, and somehow managed to look sheepish.

  You glared, shoulder sagging enough to have the strap of your back rushing down it, “Seriously?” 

  He shrugged his shoulders, grunt sounding small.

   “Can you even smoke weed?” You asked, abandoning your backpack on the floor as you bounded over. 

  Eddie’s grunt in response sounded more like a scoff. Can he even smoke weed…

  You took hold of the bottom of the vase, holding it still to allow Eddie to pull his hand from it, still intact—thank god. In his grip, was a brightly colored Lisa Frank pouch, meant for holding your school supplies. 

  It obviously did not hold your school supplies.

   “Alright, bloodhound. We’ll give it a shot. Later. Right now, we’ve got big plans.” You gestured for him to follow you upstairs and he did, after stopping by the front door to retrieve your bag for you.

  You shoved your bedroom door open to find the bed fully made, and Eddie’s pajamas haphazardly folded on top of your duvet. 

  Sparing a glance at his approaching figure, you made a mental note to stop at one of the stores in town to get him some more threads. He couldn’t wear the same thing everyday. Actually, he could but you didn’t want him to. That was gross when guys did it, especially dead ones. 

  Your bag was tossed to the side, and you began rummaging around in your closet in search of spare sheets, “Did you get everything else ready?”

  Eddie grunted in confirmation. After he’d woken up, he’d put the items you’d requested in your van and discovered a discarded filter in there, which resulted in him searching your house for the stash you had to have.

  When you emerged from the closet, arms around balled up sheets which you soon transferred to Eddie’s waiting arms, you gave him a determined look. 

  “Let’s do this.”

  The van ride had been a quick one, and it was parked somewhere in the woods away from the roads and any foot traffic once you made it.

  A quick detour was made at the cemetery before you walked over to the area behind the high school, not too much of a walk away from the cemetery. How appropriate. 

  You assumed it was once a family location back in the glory days of Hawkins, but you had no idea why there was only a singular picnic table there.

  Come to think of it, you didn’t see any sort of grills or anything else that would make this area a popular destination, so why the hell was there a random picnic table in the middle of the woods???

  Before you could give it much more thought, you heard the sound of leaves crunching and turned your head to see Eddie’s latest donor walk right through the treeline.

   “Hey,” Fred grinned, a surprisingly thick finger reaching up to push his glasses further up his nose. His hair was wet, and you tried to keep your lip from curling at the knowledge that it was sweat and not just water. You had a sneaking suspicion the walk had been a challenge to him.

  Show time.

   “You got my note,” you breathed out, making sure the statement sounded airy and affectionate despite how the hairs on your arms were rising at the sight of the guy who’d touched you so brazenly without your consent. 

  “I did,” Fred confirmed, nearing you and you stood up to stop his approach, “I was really hoping you’d come around. And-And don’t worry, you don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night or anything.”

  You don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night.

  You.

  Fred had tried to take advantage of you while you were under the influence of a drug you hadn’t known you’d taken, had whisked you away to an empty room where something sinister could have taken place had you not saved yourself—and you didn’t have to be embarrassed about what he’d done to you.

  Something in you snapped, blood boiling so hot you could feel yourself sweat a little.

  You didn’t even like Fred as a person, and yet you could feel something lodged in your throat, heart pumping heavy in your chest and loud in your ears. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t the anxiety that overtook you more often than not. 

  Rage coursed through your entire being.

  You had no pity for him, Fred was going to get exactly what people like him deserved.

  “I was just so nervous,” you lied, tips of your fingernails dancing over the wood of the table top as you slowly moved to the other end, “And you were so kind to look after me.”

  A glance was spared in his direction, your gaze heated through your lashes.

  His cheeks flushed, splotchy face gaining more color to it.

   “It was nothing, really. We freaks gotta stick together, right?”

  You scoffed, the sound playful though you held nothing but malice for the guy across from you.

  Fred was no freak. He was a monster disguised as a nerd. You’d gone through Chrissy’s yearbook before, had seen how small he used to be. He’d evidently gained a bit of muscle since high school, swapped out a wardrobe for something slightly better, but all the physical change could do nothing to hide the little man he really was. A self-titled nice guy who wondered why girls never went for him while trying to take advantage of ones that could barely stand up on their own two feet. 

  At least the creeps made their nefarious intentions obvious. Fred was dangerous; someone calculating who hid his intentions behind a pair of frames and a somewhat friendly approach.

  “You’re right. You’re so right, and I feel really guilty about the way I ran out on you. I was hoping…” You fiddled with your fingers, feigning a coy demeanor, “Would you let me make it up to you?”

  If Fred really was worthy of some sort of stupid fucking redemption, of living, he’d say no. He’d realize how fucked up in the head he was, this whole situation was, and go get help or put himself on some sort of registry if not just disappear from the face of the earth altogether. In an ideal world, those would be possibilities. 

  This wasn’t that world, so Fred only nodded his head frantically as his knees began to shake. 

  As you led him through the woods, you briefly wondered what was going through his head. What exactly did he think you were going to do to him? Not like it really mattered, since he’d proven to be the type to try and force people to do whatever he wanted.

  You felt something swipe against the side of your pinky and pulled your hand to your chest just in time to prevent Fred from taking hold of it.

  At his questioning look, you just gave him a demure smile, “That’s for later.”

  He just shrugged his shoulders, not at all upset about being unable to hold your hand just yet because he’d get to do other things to you.

   “Where’d you say you parked your car, again?” Fred asked as the two of you approached the back of the cemetery. It was eery in this section, the area even creepier after the lightning strike. You could feel Fred’s nerves.

  “Just outside of the cemetery, it’s quicker if we cut through it. Although, I have to say, I quite enjoy strolling through it. Really puts life in perspective, don’t you think?”

  Fred gave a nervous chuckle, hair dampening again, “Uh-huh. I don’t have many dead relatives, so, no-uh, real reason to come on by this place.”

   “What’s the matter, Freddie? You scared?” 

  “No way, just not one to take romantic strolls through a cemetery. I’m not scared though.” He huffed out.

  You should be, you thought.

   A chuckle was the only response you gave him as you neared Eddie’s grave.

   “That one’s my favorite,” A polished finger was pointed in its direction and you could hear Fred’s intake of breath. Eddie’s gravesite was particularly fear inducing, the stone cracked and blackened. Patches of the grass around it had also been charred, with black arms seemingly reaching out from it. Patterns from the lightning strikes.

  Fred’s steps slowed significantly, tension building until it all came to a head when he finally noticed the mounds of dirt pushed aside, a large hole in the ground just in front of his tombstone.

  “We—We should really be g-getting out of here,” He stammered in fear.

  “Nonsense. What? Does it creep you out? Relax, Fred. It’s just from that shit weather that night, remember? Lightning, is all. Not like the dead can just climb right out.”

  Your tone was reassuring but if the noob couldn’t see the marks Eddie had made when he’d clawed his way out, couldn’t see the footprints of his shoes embedded in the mud—well, that was on him.

  But Freddy boy had had enough, walking right up to you to grab hold of your wrist so he could drag you away, “Let’s just go to your van already, this place is evil as shit and his grave is not a welcome place for anyone, let alone me.”

  Fred pulled you to his chest, which sent you into a panic. You hadn’t been expecting him to get physical with you so soon. Your body went into fight mode, squirming to get away from him which seemed to only annoy him as he fought to subdue you.

  Before you could even voice your protest, demand he let you go or kick him in the balls, Fred yelped. His grip on your wrist disappeared and you jumped back in time to avoid his body colliding with yours as he went crashing down to the ground.

  Your breathing was labored, relief morphing into the best kind of elation when you spotted the hand, coming from the hole in the grave, wrapped around Fred’s now twisted ankle.

  Fred turned to stare down at it, too. His mouth dropped in horror, body shaking like a leaf as the two of you watched Eddie Munson rise from the grave.

  The shriek Fred let out was decidedly girlish in nature, high pitched and almost impressive. You couldn’t have anyone hearing him though, so you dealt a swift kick to his mouth.

  You didn’t use much of your strength, but the kick still sent him onto his back. He groaned, reaching a hand up to his mouth and you noticed his teeth were staining a shade of red, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

  “Feeling ambushed, Freddie? Violated, perhaps?” You hissed down at him, mind flashing back to that night, feeling so disoriented and lost and wrong as he’d cupped your breast, felt you up while you could barely string a coherent sentence together and still said no.

  Fred groaned again, hunching over to spit out some blood, “What the fuck?” He asked, voice sounding dazed. 

  You didn’t notice your kick had also knocked his glasses off his face until he was shakily reaching for them. One of the lenses was cracked. It didn’t impair his vision too much, though, because he started screaming again when he caught sight of Eddie again, who’d climbed completely out of the grave and stood just over your shoulder, glaring menacingly down at him.

   “Stop screaming, you banshee.” You quickly squatted down, scooped up some dirt and shoved it into his mouth. He fought against your palm, but the idea had the desired effect; Fred was too busy coughing the dirt out to scream.

  “Please,” he croaked out, tongue sticking out of his mouth, “Stop! Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t know what I was doing!”

  The chuckle you let out was void of humor. Of course, when a man has to answer for his evil ass actions, suddenly he’s capable of admitting what he did wasn’t in the right. Too fucking bad for him. You were about to tell Fred it was far too late for pleas, until his next round of statements made you realize his begging wasn’t directed at you.

   “It was Chance! An-And Andy! It was their idea, I had nothing to do with it! I mean—I mean, I was just the lookout! How was I supposed to know what they would do?”

  Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you looked over your shoulder at Eddie who appeared just as perplexed as you.

  His brown eyes bore into yours, searching for the question in them before he shook his head.

  You turned your attention back to the weasel cowering on the ground, “You know him?”

  Fred’s gaze darted frantically from you to Eddie as he kept stuttering. He’d clearly caught on to you being unaware, and possibly Eddie. You couldn’t have him keeping secrets, though, so you reached for the ax Eddie had pulled out of the grave where’d he’d hidden it and Fred let out an inhuman line of gibberish.

   “Yes! Yes, okay, yes, I know him!”

  You weighed the ax in your hand, glaring down at Fred. You just needed this fuckers hand for Eddie. That’s it, just needed his hand and you couldn’t let him live after that. 

  It’s not like he’d just let Eddie have it, go about his life pretending like he didn’t know there was a deadman walking around with his hand after the two of you cut it off.

  That’s all you needed of Fred, and now he was mentioning having known Eddie. Implying something was done to Eddie, and you had a sickly feeling you knew exactly what.

  Did Eddie want to know? Would it do more good than bad?

  You turned your attention to Eddie once more, and found that he was already watching you. There was nothing expectant in his gaze. Despite the circumstances, and the guy shaking like a leaf on the ground with broken teeth and a broken wrist, Eddie didn’t appear menacing to you at all. 

  Just looked like he was waiting to follow your cue. And you remembered how he’d come to your rescue so many times already. It was high time you started showing up for him.

   “Explain.” You demanded of Fred, handing the ax back to Eddie.

  Fred looked hesitant, only speaking when you turned to Eddie as if to deliver the instruction to kill Fred, “It was…It was after graduation. Look, I don’t know everything, okay? Chance and Andy told me I had to meet them at the Quarry and just make sure no one else came by but Eddie. I wasn’t thinking, I was just scared as hell about someone else showing up, like what was I supposed to do to stop them? I was a twig! And then—And then, everyone came running out and yelling to scram and run for it! So…I did.”

   You watched as Fred seemed to shrink before your eyes, back to that scrawny boy you’d seen in the yearbooks.

   “I…I didn’t find out until my mom turned on the news later that night…I didn’t know Eddie was dead until then.”

  You couldn’t do anything to stop the shaky croak, a hot tear trailing quickly down your cheek as Fred confirmed Eddie had been murdered.

  Your Eddie, the sassy guy with long curly hair, a mischievous and playful nature, so far from hostile unless someone was a direct threat to you.

  He’d been harmed, his life stolen. The rage you’d felt earlier was nothing compared to the craze you were spiraling into.

  “They killed him,” You whispered out, nearly shaking. When Fred gave a slow nod of confirmation, you just about shrieked, “And you didn’t tell anyone?! You didn’t go to the police!?”

  Fred looked at you like you were out of your mind to even suggest that of him, “And tell them what? That I was the one making sure no one interrupted? I would have gone to prison.”

  Your mouth dropped open. 

  Okay. 

  Yes, you were fucked up. Your emotionally, mentally, and apparently physically abusive mother was dead and you’d played a role in that. But she was only dead because she meant to seriously harm you, and Eddie had stepped in to protect you. If it had been someone innocent, someone like Chrissy, you would have taken the blame and the prison time. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.

  But this motherfucker knew Eddie had been murdered that night, had not been too far away when it happened, and hadn’t told a soul because he was afraid of possibly being held responsible. Always only thinking of saving his fucking skin.

  “You selfish son of a bitch!” You spat out, “Eddie died that night, you knew he was murdered and you let them get away with it! If you weren’t an accessory then, you sure are now!”

  “Does it look like I was meant to be in a cell!? Admonish me all you want, I did what was best for myself! I can’t take it back, what’s done is done. Besides, you didn’t know him. Eddie–he was a burnout. He wasn’t gonna do anything worthwhile anyways.”

  You couldn’t believe someone so pathetic EXISTED!

  It made you want to scream, but you held it in, physically having to close your eyes and take deep breaths before you made the last demand that would determine what would happen next.

  “Go to the police. Tell them everything. You can even tell them about me, and you can try telling them about Eddie,” You jabbed a finger into your zombie boy’s direction, “They’ll never believe you about that, though.”

  Fred blinked at you, incredulous. 

  “I’m not telling anyone anything. I’m not going to jail. I’m not.”

  You nodded your head a couple of times, running a hand over your hair. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

  Then, you grabbed the ax from Eddie’s grasp, swinging it down onto Fred’s propped up wrist. It was a clean cut, hand perfectly severed and Fred let out a scream.

  “You’re not going to jail.”

  Blood spurted from the wound and you cringed back a little, wishing he’d aim it away or something. Gross.

   “Why’d you do that—oh my GOD, my HAND!”

  Fred was in hysterics, clutching his arm, and really you couldn’t blame him. It probably sucked to lose your hand this way but he wouldn’t have to suffer for long.

  You picked up the appendage, waving it around triumphantly.

  “Why are you bitching? What’s done is done. I’m holding your hand like you wanted.”

  Eddie made a sound behind you and turned to hand him the…hand.

  “Here, this is yours now.” 

  Fred whimpered as you positioned yourself over him, ax in hand and poised near your head.

   “The hand is Eddie’s, but chopping it off was for me. You’re never gonna touch another girl, never gonna cause harm with it. Never again. This, however,” you adjusted your grip on the ax, making sure you had a good handle on it, “Is for Eddie. It’s nothing personal, it's just that I hate you and you shouldn’t have been too much of a bitch to report a murder.”

  With that, the ax came down. Fred didn’t make any more noise.

“So, you really don’t remember much about dying?” You asked for the third time, perched on Eddie’s headstone as he shoveled dirt over the grave to seal it once more. 

  “Uhn, uhn.” 

   “Can’t remember faces?”

   “Uhn, uhn.”

   “…Did it hurt?”

  Eddie paused in his ministrations, stabbing the shovel into the ground as he leaned against it and seemed to ponder your question. You wondered if he was trying to recall the answer, or if he was debating on whether or not he should answer. 

  You got your answer a few moments later when Eddie slowly nodded his head, shoes smoothing over the surface of the dirt before he pulled the shovel out and gestured for you to follow him back to the van.

  Eddie was quiet, something had changed. Aside from, you know, your body count.

  You had an inkling it bothered Eddie to not know what happened to him. Not a whole lot of your thought went into it, but Eddie had to have been mourned by someone. He had that tombstone, the inscription. Those weren’t cheap and someone had to have cared for him enough to make sure he had it. Did he have a mom and dad? A guardian? Family?

  He’d left people behind, against his will and probably had no idea where they were now.

  You hoped he didn’t feel alone in the world. 

  It wasn’t impulsive, it was an action that came from a great deal of caring… you reached out for the hand still attached to his body. It wasn’t warm, and it wasn’t cold, either. What it was, was comforting.

  From your peripheral vision, you could see his head turn to you in surprise and you met his gaze, offering a smile and a squeeze to his hand you were sure he couldn’t feel.

  Until he squeezed yours back.

  “We didn’t even need the sheets.” You realized out loud. Originally, you were gonna wrap Fred up, weigh him down with some rocks and throw him in Lover’s Lake. It had been Eddie’s idea to bury him. By that, you meant he just dug out the rest of his grave (impressive with one hand) and rolled Fred into it.

  RIP FrEddie Munson.

After a quick trip into town to get some things for Eddie (he had to lay down in the back), and pick up some more thread, the two of you made it home to find no one else had which worked in your favor. 

  You didn’t bother changing out of your bloody clothes just yet. You still had some Frankenstein work to do with a live-ish appendage, so you found yourself on Eddie’s lap, sewing his new hand into place.

  It would have been quicker if you could focus but Eddie’s face was just a few inches away from yours and he would not look away. The side of your face his gaze was boring into felt hotter than the other side and it was making you nervous for some reason. Not a bad nervous, just…nervous.

  You decided to break the tension.

   “Oh, shit, this is the wrong hand.”

  That did the trick, you felt him tense up underneath you and Eddie’s head darted down to make sure he didn’t have two of the same hand, body relaxing when he realized you were joking.

   “Got’cha.” You grinned, eyes scanning over his features. You felt your heartbeat stutter when you noticed the twitch at the corner of his lips. Eddie was smiling at you.

  Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat, gave him a tight smile, and went back to work. 

  He groaned on one particular tug of the thread, and you paused with a wince, “Did that hurt?”

  He shook his head, but he was also making a bit of a face.

   “Feel unpleasant?” 

  “Mm.”

   “Sorry,” You were a little more gentle in your actions, trying to carefully weave the needle through his wrist, and his new hand, making sure your tugs were extra gentle which he appeared to appreciate, nuzzling his head against yours for a brief moment.

  You nearly convulsed.

  Once the hand was on, the thread had been snipped and neatly secured, it was to the tanning bed!!!

  You got him all situated, made sure he didn’t hit his head and then watched him light up.

  The smell of burnt hair filled the mini garage, and you made a mental note to pick up some hair products later. Eddie’s curls were gonna need it if they wanted to stay attached to his scalp, though you supposed you could probably scalp someone should he need a replacement.

  Argyle, a guy who worked at one of the local pizza places, had long luxurious locks of hair, but you couldn’t do that to him. He was a nice dude, stuck in a permanent trip for sure, and so always pleasant to you. He was also your dealer and you were pretty sure his girlfriend was a witch. The last thing you needed was to be cursed or hexed. Or turned into a goat.

  Settling in for what you expected to be a long wait while Eddie tanned, you were surprised when just a few moments later, all sparking stopped. Figuring you didn't set the right temperature to bake him at, you moved to mess with the dial only for a hand to curl out and push the lid of the bed up.

  Eddie’s time in the tanning bed, while somewhat briefer this time, still seemed to have cooked him. Smoke dripped out, flowing almost syrup-like down to the floor where it all seemed to pool and twist around your ankles as the bright blue lights of the bed’s panels cast the room in a euphoric glow. 

  You stared wordlessly, mouth parted in complete enchantment–and you swore you could hear the intro to Ozzy Osbourne’s No More Tears in the background like some godly music video on MTV–as Eddie’s figure emerged from the smoke still gathered in the bed.

  And in seemingly slow motion to your captivated self, Eddie pulled the goggles over his head, hair tousling just the right amount. His movements were fluid, not a stiff limb in sight. In fact, he even stretched out, shirt riding up to expose his pale—no longer a completely sickly shade—stomach and a smattering of dark hair that made up his happy trail. 

  Uh oh. Something was going on in your body.

  It was only when that happy tail was covered again, Eddie hunching forward, that you realized you were staring at his crotch region. Your eyes drifted up to find Eddie staring at you, more life in those warm, gorgeous eyes of his, framed by attractive dark circles as he smirked at you. No twitching of his lips, no maybe smiles. It was a full on smirk. Eddie was in complete control of his face (and you noticed his cheeks dimpled when he smiled).

  He lifted his new hand and wiggled his fingers at you in greeting. That’s when you lost it, jumping up and down in elation. 

  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

  Eddie was fast, pushing himself off the tanning bed to dart forward and sweep you right out of the garage, spinning you around and around.

  You clung to him, laughing and filled with so much joy at the knowledge that Eddie was coming back to life. When he decided you’d been spun enough, and your head was a whirlwind, he released you and you stumbled a little, finding your balance with the hand Eddie offered to you for stabilization.

   “Look at you.” You breathed out in amazement. It was more of a whisper but Eddie heard. He looked pleased, gesturing to himself with a sweep of his wrists, Look at me.

  You were correct in your scrutinization of him when you’d first played dress-up.

  Eddie Munson was very much so hot when he was alive. There was no doubt in your mind. You hadn’t seen a whole lot of his movements, what with him finally being able to move freely occurring just a few moments ago, but you were inclined to believe he was extremely theatrical in them. Probably in everything he did. 

  And confident.

  Eddie seemed to have had enough of the small distance between the two of you, twirling you back in his grasp so you were pressed right up to him, his hands on your sides to hold you. He was grinning like an idiot and you were positive your face was no better. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt from your smile.

  “So. You’re the infamous Eddie Munson.”

  He rolled his eyes and you laughed, something inside of you warming up at the smile he gave you in response to it.

   “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’ve been wanting to for a while now.”

[wandasaura]

STAY ALIVE (REPRISE)

summary — after your girlfriend takes the one thing from you she promised she never would, the only person you think to run to is olivia

warning(s) — mentions of rape, sexual assault, previous rape, alluded to ptsd, anxiety/panic, mentions of blood, domestic abuse, physical abuse, angst/hurt, comfort, protective liv and rollins, mentions of sonny carisi, fin is lowkey ur work bestie, alludes to mommy issues, pet names, physical contact, mother-figure olivia benson, unfortunately two hamilton lyric reference

authors note — olivia benson returns? with more angst and more comfort? amanda rollins features? read part ii here

Your heart hammers in your chest. If you bring this to her, it’s real. Your palms are clammy, they’re shaking. Your entire body is shaking. You can hear Fin’s voice down the hallway, in the break room where Sonny left donuts, it’s gravely and low — far away. It reverberates against your muscles like they’re panes of delicate glass. The sensation of him cutting right through you feels like it did when you’d accidentally zap the tip of your finger in time with the metal tweezers during operation. It’s jarring, unexpected. It startled you.

Your hand is trembling now. You can’t bring this to her, but she’s the only place you thought to go. You don’t want to drop this on her — on Amanda and Sonny, Fin and Kat, — but it gets laid on SVU anyways the second a cotton swab touches the laceration on your cheek. She raped you. You’re the special victim now.

A knot forms in your belly, the reflection of your sunken eyes and temporarily discolored face in the reflective pane on her office door is sickening. You’ve been shaking for a while. It’s not new. Your fingers had started going when he’d gotten mad over a wine glass. Your jaw had started when a fistful of your hair was snagged and guided into the brick fireplace you’d once tenderly decorated with stockings. Your knees… maybe the force of her shoving you down onto them before she’d unzipped her pants had shattered your kneecaps. You can’t be sure. The only thing you feel is blinding cold or blinding scorching heat ripping deeper into one of the many bleeding wounds on your body.

“Hey, can I help you?” Your body goes rigid when a familiar voice cuts through the office. You love that voice. That voice has become like a sister to you in the years that you’ve been at svu. That voice sends fear coursing through your body. This is real. This is real. This is real. She raped you. She took the one thing from you that she promised he wouldn’t. You know who it was. Of course you do. Thirty-nine percent of sexual violence is committed by someone you know. You just had to fall into that category.

You don’t know how you’d gone unnoticed for so long. Everyone here was so perceptive, yourself included. If the officers at the front didn’t catch someone upon entry, someone on your team did, but it could’ve been half an hour that you’d been standing in front of Olivia’s office, unable to force yourself inside, and unapproached by a Detective — a colleague, friend, mentor. These people were your family, and you’d never wanted them to see you like this. Like another one of the people they’re burdened and empowered to aid. It’s a rewarding job, one that you all do graciously, but its taxing, and you're personal. You’re not self absorbed to know that this will rattle the precinct.

Amanda’s hand sweeps across your back, and you might’ve jumped ten feet into the air with the way you recoiled so automatically, your bruised bones that felt like jelly beneath blood puffed skin aching at the quick motion. Your hair fell away from your face, the hoodie that you always wore overtop of your work clothes slipping off your head until Rollins could see you — identify you.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She cooed, that southern drawl at the forefront of her concern as her eyebrows drew inward. Her fingers flexed, her left hand reaching for her hip; an unconscious response that sparked when she and Carisi let themselves be pulled together. You swallowed thickly, panickedly bouncing between her concern filled blue eyes and the phone strapped to her belt. In an instant, both of her hands were cradling your face, pulling your jaw one way and then another like a frazzled mother. She was a mother. Billie and Jesse were so lucky to have her. Your heart sinks at her concern. It can’t fall much farther than it already has today.

Amanda’s knuckles rap on Benson’s door before you can even process that she’s pulled you into the warmth of her embrace and tucked you beneath her other arm. “Liv,” She speaks firmly, but it lacks the usual depth of her beacon when she’s truly in Detective mode. This isn’t Detective Rollins that's guiding you into a disclosure, it's Amanda; the woman who has become your sister in the years that your lives had been so intertwined.

“Oh, my god.” Olivia gasped when her eyes flickered up to find Rollins’ at the door curiously. You stood meekly at Amanda’s side, your gaze set on the floor even though the blood smeared across your favorite hoodie was evidence enough of some kind of assault. Olivia didn’t need many more context clues to figure out what the nature of the assault was as her eyes scraped across the purple handprint peeking out from the collar of your button-down.

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to undress from last night’s shift.

“M-My, I— I—“ You stuttered, your teeth sinking into your lower lip when it became evident to yourself and the women around you that you weren’t in any position to lead the conversation right now. Olivia nodded, setting her reading glasses down on the mound of paperwork that had accumulated since the start of the week.

You didn’t flinch so hard when Olivia’s hand swept across your back, guiding you over to the couch beneath three windows. The blinds were pulled shut, but you could recognize Kat’s figure pacing by her desk as you sat down. Amanda closed the door before she joined you and Olivia on the couch. Neither woman expected you to realize that your eyes watched Amanda carefully, on edge that she’d flee unexpectedly.

“Alright, sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?” Olivia asked softly, keeping a hand on the small of your back where there was thankful a patch of fabric clear from blood. She would’ve handled the bloodied garment regardless had it been stained, but keeping her hands clean was an honored bonus in this line of work.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sob caught you off guard, tumbling out of your mouth and into the relatively empty office. “She raped me.” The words came out between you beginning to hyperventilate and release another broken sob. “My girlfriend.”

Olivia nodded, letting you sit with that information for a few seconds before she prompted you with another question. “Okay. What else can you tell me? What do you remember?”

In that moment, beneath the soft current of her comfort extended like the pillowy feathered wings of an angel, you couldn’t be a victim. The switch that was always there in the back of your mind flipped, and every sense that hadn’t been overruled by searing pain remembered where you were, what you did for a living.

You cleared your throat, mucus pooling on the back of your tongue that you swallowed thickly. The texture of silicone still irritates your lips, the ghost of a memory vibrant enough to pull you beneath the tide of stimulation like it was still happening. Your tongue poked out to lick at your lips, and although your shoulders squared, you didn’t pull away from Rollins who had found a way to hold onto your leg without you realizing when she sat down on the opposite end of the couch. It kept your knee from shaking, bouncing up and down as anxiety ate away at what remained of your strength. “I, um, I went home last night. Late. Sonny and I got caught up at the corner, he showed me pictures of the girls from over the weekend, because I couldn’t stop by…” Your eyes flicker to Rollins, begging her to believe you, to remember that you always come over on Saturday, but last week you’d been unable to for one reason or another.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Rollins nodded, her hand brushing hair off of your cheek. You're not even sure when that happened. When it had fallen out of the rats nest at the back of your hair and slipped into the blood still freshly weeping from your tender wounds. “Alright, so you and Sonny got caught up talking, what happened after that?”

“I went home. B-Back to my apartment.” You stumbled over your words, flashes of last night coming to you quickly, disorientingly. “Um, s-she was already home from work, or maybe, m-maybe she didn’t go. I, uh, I never really got the chance to ask. I put my bag down on the couch and she was in the kitchen. You can tell when she’s mad. Her shoulders cave in, and she puts more weight on her left leg than her right. And, and, she… she was so mad, and I didn’t know why, until she threw a wine glass at the wall. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” You crumbled, your eyes damp, willing tears to fall, but they’d seemingly dried out. You’d cried yourself dry.

“This is not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Olivia’s voice was firm, just like it was when she talked to any victim, regardless of whether you had reason to believe they were guilty of something equally relevant in a case. But, that courage that she extended like an olive branch — like it didn’t chip away at fragments of her happiness in the middle of the night — caught in the back of her throat with heavy emotion. You weren’t a kid. You hadn’t come into the station requiring to be handled like one or overseen like one, but you were young. Only a year out of the academy and already being thrown at her feet with pride disguised as something else, something intimidating that would dissuade you, unravel your true intentions and fit with Special Victims.

You hadn’t let Olivia down for a second, and in becoming her rising star of the squad, she’d gotten to see your softer side. Like how you cry with a victim when you don’t think any of your team is around to watch the tip of your nose quiver. And how you get down to any kid's level, regardless of their anger and how that anger was channeled irrationally. She recalls many scratches and bite marks adorning your forearms on a particular case, but by the end, you’d be the only one the child had wanted when they rushed off the stand in hysterics. She’d taken you under her wing. Guided you when she’d seen how you let this job affect you. You’d become something of another kid to her, though you were sufficiently less expensive then Noah, even if you pinned your tab on her after every night out.

“Does she…” Amanda swallowed, seemingly unable to say the words that were at the tip of her tongue. Even if you didn’t realize it, your body was in fight or flight mode, and all that you were concentrating on was disclosing your assault to Olivia before you passed out, a throbbing in your head from when she’d thrown you into the bedroom door prominent and blackening. Your vision is blurred with black pearls, though nothing is as iridescent as the glimmer of twinkles between the black dots whenever your gaze dances to the lamp on Olivia’s desk. “Does she hit you often, sweetheart?”

You don’t know when that started. Whenever you broke down, Amanda resorted to calling you some variation of a pet name that dulled the ache in your heart just enough to force you into clarity again. You noticed that she fell that to strategy sparingly, but let it run rampant with you. You could assume it all came back to the relationship she had with her sister — you’d had many conversations about how she saw you as a kind of second chance — but you’d never asked, but you didn’t want it to stop if it was something she was unaware of. Amanda Rollins was not unaware of how slivers of your broken heart healed whenever she showed you she cared, but she’d let you think she was. That was just the shit sisters did when heart-to-hearts sounded unappealing and unnecessary. Whatever Rollins' reason was, it had prompted Olivia to indulge in the same affections. Though, you think Benson inevitably would’ve let her walls down around you regardless. She was horrible at hiding her soft spot, even when Fin declared favoritism in a meeting tauntingly.

“Yes.” The words are hoarse as they pass your lips, but you don’t let yourself deviate from what you’re here to talk about. You swallow dryly, in desperate need of water, but you can’t wash away the evidence that’s slapped across your tongue and your throat. You know the drill. “S-She raped me in the bedroom. On the bed. T-The sheets are pink. The, the, um, the straps in the closet. S-She threw it there before she stormed out. Um, I, I— I passed out after that. My, my u-underwear’s, um, it’s my pocket— she, um, she left them on, but I… I couldn’t, I couldn’t walk in here in them… I—“ You dissolved into tears, and Olivia didn’t hesitate to pull your face into her chest, careful of the cuts that leaked crimson liquid.

Olivia held you for a couple minutes while Rollins stepped out of the room. The only reason she’d been able to sneak out was because Olivia had replaced the weight of her palm on your thigh, keeping that one knee steady the same way Rollins had before the blonde crept into the main room to inform the squad. She knows where your girlfriend works, she knows where your apartment is, all of them do. They know you. They’ve all gone to incredible lengths to know everything about you that you're willing to share. Fin could tell Benson your coffee order off the top of his head, even though he adamantly denies remembering that you like low-fat soy milk, vanilla cold foam — not syrup —, and one (specifically one) extra scoop of ice.

“I know, I know.” Olivia conceded, patting your blood damp hair. Her face met an uncomfortable sheen of concern when her digit twitched, aware of a certain thickness that coated rings and knuckles. “Did you hit your head?” She asked softly, pulling away from you only to inspect your pupils. “Can you follow my finger, sweetheart?” She holds a finger in front of your face, or maybe it’s two, you’re not sure, but you do as she asks only to be met with a sigh of displeasure. “Alright, we need to get you to the hospital. The squad car will be quicker. Sirens and lights.”

“N-No.” You choked out, aware of what that meant; implied. A wounded officer. Sirens and lights to seal the reality. You were raped, beaten, already victimized and striped of your dignity, you couldn’t swallow your pride enough to continue letting it happen. You’re a New York City Detective; a Special Victims Detective, you know every step to avoiding this, how had you let it happen? “No, no, I-I’m fine!” You weren’t fine, not at all and you knew it, but somehow that was the only defense you could find that would explain your apprehension to her. Somehow, Olivia saw through you either way.

“No dispatch. Just you, me, and Rollins. We‘ll relay only what’s necessary to Kat, let Fin take the reins in detainment and interrogation. This stays close until it can’t, I can promise you that. Rollins probably already called Carisi, a warrant is probably on the way as we speak. But we cannot do anything about that until we help you. So, let me help you. You’ve done it before, I know you can do it again.” She encouraged, her fingers tickling the wrinkled skin of your shin. Your quivering lip keeps the pale patch distorted and red, and Olivia hates how her eyes continue to drift to the monument of sadness on your face.

“I-I’m so sorry!” You sob, breaking down, losing any kind of grip on your emotions as the adrenaline waned and was replaced with whatever traumatic response your body could force out; right now it was apparently hysteria. “I’m sorry! For forgetting what you taught me! I shouldn’t have let it happen! I-I should’ve stopped it! I h-had my gun, a-and my taser, and I’m a d-dective and she’s a-a-a fucking shelf stocker b-but I froze and I shouldn’t’ve! N-Not again!” There it was. The root of your frustration, your inability to accept where you found yourself. Olivia froze, her hands on your face becoming stones for a single second before she melted and held you tight, like you were just as young and malleable as Noah — like she could still rewrite all the trauma before it impacted you emotionally and mentally forever.

“Again?” Olivia had to ask, because she needed to know if this had happened before, if you were only disclosing now because it had left you physically marred. You wouldn’t have been able to hide this. Not from her. Not when any excuse never would’ve explained the mark on your neck of all the injuries that littered your once glowing skin. Olivia had complimented you yesterday, knowing you’d been down a rabbit hole of moisturizers that could combat the budding Spring weather in New York. Today, she couldn’t even tell that the dry redness on your cheeks had cleared up, the blood splattered nad caked onto your skin concealing any kind of recognizable progress.

“I was twelve.” You whisper, because after years in her Unit, beneath her command and her angel-like affection, you’d learned where her brain wanders when answers are left unspoken. “Not her.”

Olivia nodded, because that’s all that she could do. She needed to call her babysitter. There was no way she was leaving you until you got that discharge slip from the charge nurse, and even then she’s sure her and Amanda will duke it out over who you stay with while you heal — neither one is going to let you back at that apartment until your girlfriend has either been arrested, or moved out and far from Manhattan at all.

“You have all of the control now.” Olivia reminded you, shying away from her typical promise of it all getting better at some point, in some way. This will never go away, the first account never went away, it ruined relationships, destroyed opportunities, left you feeling so impossibly boxed into an alleyway at points, but… it did lighten. You didn’t feel so shackled anymore, but part of you could credit that to getting away. You’d gotten away from home, from your family and the connections to your attacker, built a new life, one on the mission to become a police officer. You’d surpassed the biggest dream you’d ever had already. What else did you have to push yourself toward? “I’m with you, at every step of the way. You’re not alone, not anymore, sweetheart.”

Before you could respond, not that you had the words, or the capabilities, the concussion you assuredly had beginning to get the best of you, Rollins burst into the room. “Cap, Fin’s got a warrant.”

“Send him and Kat. We’re going to Mercy.” Olivia nodded, “I need to call my babysitter.”

“I already called her. Sonny’s taking the girls to his Moms. I’ll text him to meet us there.” Amanda nodded, rounding the couch to approach you. You hadn’t even realized Olivia stood up, arranging her blazer over her shoulders until the buttons of her blouse were hidden away. “Hey, sweetheart,” Amanda caught your attention, slowly easing her touch onto the small of your back until she could guide you to stand. “There we go, take it easy.”

Your vaguely aware of Amanda directing Rollins where to guide you, but in a moment of clarity, all you registered were the faces of officers and secretaries in the precinct watching you be walked out, their whispering words haunting your already terrorized mind.

“With me, sweetheart. All you need to do is stay with me and Rollins until we get you to Mercy. I know you can do that.” Olivia stepped up beside you, blocking your sight until fresh air broke across your face.

“We’ve got you.” Amanda promised as she guided you into the squad car, climbing into the backseat with you while Olivia climbed into the drivers seat, pulling off onto the road before Rollins had even gotten the door closed all the way behind her body. You didn’t have anybody the first time. It had been a long walk to clarity in solitude, but with Olivia’s radio buzzing in the center console, left untouched despite the chaos of New York City, and Rollins actively pushing off her duties as a mother to a toddler and an infant, you felt like you had a real chance this time; a chance that wasn’t defined by your own persistence, but by the family you’d found.

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 6 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri) 

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!, this chapter is pretty much pWITHp (can be read alone, however you will be a tiny bit confused)~

♡ Rated: I for Indulge

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: smoking, alcohol, vague mentions of su*cidal thoughts, discussions about depression, vague allusions to substance abuse (alcohol), a few emotional breakdowns, a drop of subby Jk (truly a drop), handjob, slight dom Jk makes an appearance, oral (m + f), a hand goes over a mouth (;D), a hint of voyeurism, protected and unprotected sex 

♡ Word Count: 19.7k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: goosebumps by Travis Scott— see masterlist for playlist! 

♡ Beta: Thank you so much to @mellowladyanchor @iutint @pearinwords for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: Office Sexcapades Part 2! First series shift coming next chapter~ Just a fair warning, this series is about to take a dip, specifically regarding mental health— once again a reminder that if that is a sensitive subject for you please be cautious when reading the following chapters! And sorry to everyone once again for the extreme delay trying to get this out! Life happens :')  

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Jungkook’s days had a tendency to go badly the very minute he opened his eyes. It was either Yuri, work, himself, or the most miniscule obstacle that even Jungkook could have never predicted. At this point, it was a curse he deserved considering everything about his shameful existence. Simply waking up was all it took for the world to start throwing shit at him for its sick pleasure just to see if he’d make it through the day. It was exhausting and today proved to be no exception to the torture. 

Jungkook woke up, made himself a little coffee, went to the gym, came back to shower, got dressed, then headed to work. Dae-Jung dropped him off in the garage, which had been something his dad always told him was the quickest way to go instead of through the main lobby. He’d skipped too many workouts, so in turn he asked his driver to let him out towards the back for the opportunity to get in his much needed extra steps. He bid farewell to Dae-Jung and then he steadily weaved his way through the sea of cars, mindlessly heading toward the door thinking about what he needed to do today, when bam— you were standing right in front of him getting out of the passenger seat of some random vehicle. 

It only took a second for his confusion and amusement at the situation to turn into something even he didn’t understand. With his luck with the universe, he should have known it wasn’t just going to be a funny coincidence you two could laugh about later. 

Jungkook watched, unbeknownst to you both, as you got out of the car first before Kim Taehyung emerged from the driver's seat. You were smiling, so was he, and Jungkook noticed as you started making your way inside a certain look in both of your eyes, an uneasy comfortability, that made him remember the fact that you two had dated before. 

The minute the door closed behind the both of you, Jungkook felt his blood boil to a temperature he was sure rivaled the sun. His relatively moderate mood at the time transformed into something monstrous and hideous. He had practically stormed in soon after you made it inside. He had no idea why he was so upset. Nothing had happened— nothing had happened, so why the fuck were you with Taehyung? 

Jungkook was never the best at hiding his emotions, so the minute Jimin walked in his office later that day, it was apparent by the pout on his face that he had an attitude. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jimin tried to be lighthearted, but considering the situation Jungkook was in, it was hard to know how serious the issue might be. What if this was about Yuri?

Jungkook looked up at him and then went back to staring off into space. “Hyung, is it normal for a guy to drive a girl to work?” It was the first thing he said to him, and it was certainly not what Jimin had expected to come out of his mouth. He stopped in his tracks, feeling uneasy about the question. 

“Ummm… what’s their relationship?” Jimin asked, rolling with it. He came in here with a work question originally, but it seemed it could wait for the moment. 

“They say they’re friends.” Jungkook mumbled shamefully. He couldn’t even look his hyung in the eye confidently. It sounded nonsensical even to his own ears. 

Jimin almost wanted to laugh, but then he grew more worried wondering where this question was coming from. 

“Why are you asking? Don’t tell me, Yuri—” Jimin’s mind was always quick to go there. It had every reason to.

“No— no, I just watched this movie and saw people debating about it.” Jungkook quickly came up with the lame excuse on the spot. He didn’t know what to feel— better that it wasn’t about Yuri, or worse because it wasn’t about Yuri. He felt pathetic. 

“Oh… well, in that case, probably not. Someone definitely has feelings, maybe one or both of them,” Jimin giggled at that. He had a lot more experience in the romantic department, so Jungkook really took his advice to heart. It was a little ironic considering he was the man who had been married for nearly four years.

Jungkook tried his best to stay calm. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you had literally told him with your own mouth that you and Taehyung had dated before. He’d seen too many movies and dramas depicting exes rekindling their relationships after previously complicated circumstances in their lives had prevented them from being together at the time. Maybe you two have matured and are finally ready to embrace each other again in the way you couldn’t beforehand. Just because you both did date in the past doesn’t mean things needed to end between you two. But that very thought made a weird wave of emotion wash over him— sadness, anger? He wasn’t quite sure, and he was even more unsure why he was having a reaction in the first place. You might be embroiled with him in an affair, but your life was your business, not his, and he had no right to care. Right? Right…? 

He kept trying to reassure himself, but the minute he came out of a meeting and saw the two of you together smiling and laughing as you always did, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head for some reason. 

He just didn’t like Taehyung— Taehyung just… Why was he always there?! He was a problem, and Jungkook was confused why you didn’t see it. His own conflicted feelings pissed him off even more and just seeing you— you— why were you doing this to him?

When the meeting ended, he got out of there as fast as he could. The minute he made it back to his office, Jungkook sent you a text asking to meet him in the storage room, but not before grabbing what he needed out of his desk first.

It hadn’t been too long after Jungkook had arrived when you knocked twice and he opened the door. You had been in relatively good spirits before you walked in, that was until you saw the slightly dazed, but pouty look on Jungkook’s face when he guided you inside. 

“You ok?” you asked hesitantly when he closed the door behind you. You honestly weren’t in the mood to fight with him today. 

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded his head. 

He was fine? Yep, you didn’t believe that for one second, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t either. 

“Well, in that case, I wanted to say I was actually a little glad you called me in here. All these meetings, graphs, spreadsheets, Excel— I’m honestly done with it all. I’m frazzled. It was so bad yesterday that I overslept and Taehyung had to pick me up this morning or else I would have been late,” you sighed, rubbing your temples to quell the stress.

You unintentionally had given Jungkook a rationale for what he saw this morning, but it hadn’t really solved the problem. Because why did you need to ask Taehyung when the route he takes to work isn’t too far from your apartment? You could have easily asked him to take you. For some reason, Jungkook’s brain didn’t take into account that you didn’t know that and instead focused on the fact that Taehyung had been your knight in shining armor, saving you from dealing with public transportation when you were already late. The thought just didn’t sit right with him for some reason.

“Anyway, I’ve been stressed, and I know this arrangement is mainly about you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me take the edge off,” you sighed, feeling a little embarrassed asking. 

Jungkook had no idea what that meant and was too distracted by the fact that you wanted him for something to even try to figure it out. He tried his best to keep his cool. You wanted him! 

When Jungkook didn’t say anything back and continued to have this dopey look on his face, you wondered if he understood what you said.

“Jungkook?” you questioned.

“Hmm—” it managed to snap him out of it a little bit.

“You do know what I meant, right?” you finally asked when he still hadn’t done anything.

“Oh— ummmm…” He was a bit clueless it seemed. You were far too prideful to ask him outright, so instead you took initiative and made your way over to the table. 

You didn’t turn around as you started undoing your pants— it was extra cold today, so you went with pants instead of the skirts you’d usually wear. In hindsight, if you had known he was going to call you in here today, you probably wouldn’t have worn them. Your cheeks burned as you pulled them down, set them on the table beside you, and kicked off your heels. You put on your best straight face, not wanting him to know how embarrassed you felt, before hopping up on the table.

Even in the dark, you could see Jungkook’s bewildered gaze, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he was blushing like he always did. 

“You get what I mean now?” The lilt in your voice made it obvious that you were teasing him, but you also couldn’t deny that you were a little impatient. You smiled at him as you spread your legs a little, hoping that would entice him enough to beckon him more quickly.

It was hard to see anything in the dark, but the glimmer of light that seeped in from underneath the door outlined your body in a way that had him practically drooling as he stared at you. Sometimes it was hard to believe how pretty you were, even when he could hardly see you. 

Jungkook made his way over quickly and once he got close, it dawned on him what exactly you were asking from him. 

“So, are you just going to stand there?” you asked softly, your eyes staring up at him innocently, yet the way your leg began to rake up his own made tingles spread through his whole body in a flurry.  

Jungkook was quick to close the distance between you two. The longer he kissed you, the more and more it dawned on him that you had asked him to do this for you, not Taehyung— fuck Taehyung. You had gone to him in a time of need and suddenly that thought made the flame grow all-consuming.

He wanted to have you. Jungkook was down on his knees soon after, lightly kissing and sucking along the expanse of your thighs. With the extra skin exposed, so soft, so warm, he didn’t know how to act. 

Jungkook treated you well. He always did, when he wasn’t cursing your very existence, and as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you just like you wanted, you felt the stress wash away the longer he was between your legs. He seemed especially focused on you despite his needs being the reason he called you in here, and in between the moments he was a major dick, you had to admit he was actually very sweet. He was so attentive, and in the short time you’d been doing this, you felt like he already knew your body so well.

Moments like this made you wonder how ten months could have passed without his wife doing something, anything with him. You didn’t want to speculate too much— that wasn’t really your business and you didn’t know their relationship enough to make any type of accusations. But unless Jungkook was leaving a big part of the story out, you just couldn’t understand her. 

Your mind grew fuzzy at some point, you ended up losing count of how many times he made you cum when you hit your limit— you still had to be able to walk out of here after all. You finally pulled him away, and you could see his face glistening despite the darkness in the room. It was a sinful sight that made a wave of electricity run right through you.

When Jungkook finally lifted himself to his feet once again, you saw the quick way he glanced down before looking into your eyes. Right, of course you couldn’t forget about him.

“Mmmm, just go slow. I have to make it back to my desk somehow.” It was sort of a joke, but you also legitimately feared that if you did anything more, Jungkook might need to help you to your desk, and you were sure people would ask questions. 

Jungkook quickly nodded before fishing out the condom he grabbed from his desk earlier. Truth be told, he had to go slow or he probably wouldn’t even last a minute. He had wanted to focus on you, and he relished in the pretty sounds you made as you ran your fingers through his hair. However, it got him so worked up that when you tugged on his strands particularly hard while you came on his tongue again, he nearly finished right along with you. Somehow he had held it off, but at this point, he felt like he was only a trigger hair away from losing it.

Slow and steady was definitely the way to go. The minute Jungkook wrangled the condom on, he was inside you moving at a nice, comfortable, steady pace. His strokes were languid, seemingly trying to pay close attention to the way he moved; deep, gentle, and lazily rhythmic, each glide made your toes curl. He filled you up in all the right places and it was so soft how all his attention was on your gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it was incredibly romantic. But alas, in reality you were getting fucked at your workplace by your superior who was a married man. Nothing screams romance more than that.

Despite his efforts to try to go at a steady pace, he still wasn’t able to last long with the way you squeezed around him. You were so slick from your previous activities, and your warmth made it frustratingly easy to give in. Suddenly, Jungkook came, nearly knocking the wind out of himself in the process as he worked his way through it.

By the end, you both were just trying to catch your breath. You knew you had to leave soon. You had been gone far too long and you knew someone would start looking for you soon. 

Jungkook moved away to throw away the condom while you worked on getting your pants on again. Suddenly, his voice cut through the growing silence. “By the way, my way to work isn’t too far from your apartment. If you ever need a ride in the morning, you can just text and ask.” You didn’t notice the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

You laughed. “And what would people think if they saw us getting out of the same car together? Just to save us the trouble of being bombarded with questions, I’ll only come to you if Taehyung isn’t available— but hopefully that won’t even happen anyway because, crossing my fingers, by New Year’s I’ll have my own car and I won’t have to worry about that anymore,” you tried to smile.

“Right… I almost forgot,” he laughed, nervously fluffing his hair. 

“You were the one who helped me, remember…?” You were a little surprised you needed to remind him considering it had only been a few days ago. 

“Right… right, I’m sorry,” he was always so quick to apologize. 

“There’s no need to apologize,” you mumbled.  

It hadn’t been long since that meeting where you had ended up being a tiny bit late due to being stuck in traffic for what felt like forever. Luckily for you, unlike the times you’d gone on your own, the fact that Jungkook hadn’t arrived meant that nothing could start without him there, so by the time you burst through the doors, you really hadn’t missed anything. 

On the way back, you had asked Jungkook about all the car stuff that had been bouncing around in your head since you started your research. You first made sure to remind him that unlike him, you weren’t the son of a trillion-won tech company’s CEO and you couldn’t get just anything. Surprisingly, Jungkook gave you some pretty insightful advice about what to look for and possible features you might be able to add within your budget. He even recommended a few brands to research further. It had definitely helped refine your search and now you were close to having something picked out and ready to move on to the next stage.

It was odd that he apparently forgot this had happened, but you didn’t want to get on him too much considering everything that was going on. Everyone was busy moving toward the end of the last quarter, and you could only imagine what other things he was dealing with that would cause the memory to leave his mind so easily.

•────•──────────•────•

“Mom?” You questioned as you answered the call.

“Oh? So my daughter finally decided to pick up the phone.” Her tone was so deadpan you knew you were one of the only people who could’ve picked up on the sarcasm and humor in her voice.

“I’m sorry…” You sighed, but a smile still remained on your face. 

“You decide to move to Seoul and ever since then it’s almost impossible to get a hold of you anymore,” she mumbled, and in the background you could hear the faint sound of something hitting up against the metal bowl she would always cook in.

“We just talked last week.” You reminded her.

“Last week…” you heard her scoff. “I should be able to talk to my daughter whenever I please!” 

At this point, you couldn’t stop the laughter knowing how dramatic your mom could be at times. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She scoffed again. “Where even are you right now?”

You pulled your jacket a little closer to your body as the cool breeze seeped even further into your skin. “I’m walking to the subway station. You called me as soon as I left the office.”

“At this time of night?!” She exclaimed scoldingly. You couldn’t blame her considering it was almost nine o’clock.

“I’ve been busy these days…” You simply settled not wanting to get into the details. Your mom knew about your work troubles to a certain extent. She knew about your frustrating boss and how that situation arose because you spilled coffee on him on your first day, but you kept the more painful details to yourself. She worries about you enough as it is and the last thing you wanted to tell her was how much you were suffering because of a mistake. You had been so eager to let her know about the improvement in your relationship following your promotion, you hadn’t found the heart to tell her things had gone south again.

Of course she also doesn’t know about the affair either, how you were now sleeping with the Jeon Jungkook you used to rant to her about until the early morning hours. It was still hard to admit to yourself that it was happening, and even though you knew your mom wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it, you couldn’t bear the humiliation you’d inevitably feel if you told her. 

“Is that why you never answer my calls anymore?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy…” You sighed.

“You’ve always been busy. All you ever do is work; you’ve been like this since you were young. Most parents have to pester their kids to do their homework, but you’d already have it done before me or your dad made it home. You’d always be sitting at your desk with your head in your books already looking into the next week’s material.” She absentmindedly reminisced. You couldn’t help but laugh, your mom’s words hitting you with a wave of nostalgia you weren’t prepared for. You could never forget your nights working at your little green desk in the corner of your room. It sat right beside your window that provided a comforting view of the Busan cityscape, and if you squinted hard enough, you could even see the water despite how far inland your house resided. 

It was typically just you in the house for a few hours after you’d get home from school, both of your parents still out and busy hard at work. As soon as you made it home you were dropping your things off, taking a seat at your desk, and getting straight into work. Even while you were younger you didn’t want your grades to be another worry your parents would have to constantly think about, so you always felt the need to take initiative and work hard. It always made you so happy to see your parent’s shocked faces when they would get back from their second or third jobs and you would tell them you had finished all your homework and you were getting a head start on looking into what your teacher said you’d be covering in the following week. You lived for their pleasantly surprised faces, and from an early age, you made it your mission for them to continue to be proud of you. 

“I have to be busy so I can earn a lot of money.” You reminded her. 

“It’s always money with you… you’re just like your dad. Will you ever forget work and visit your family again?” 

“You know I’ll be going back a month from now. Plus, how else am I supposed to get you guys really nice Christmas presents?”

“But that’s too far away. Who cares about Christmas presents when I haven’t seen my daughter since you came home for my birthday, and that was three months ago at this point.”

“I know…” The guilt creeping in made your cheeks burn. You all were really close and even though it's been years since you’ve moved away from your little house in Busan, you used to always try and make time to visit home whenever you could, no matter how busy you were sometimes… 

“Your dad’s been sad you’re not visiting this year for his birthday. We’ve been having all his favorite dishes this week just to try and cheer him up.” You giggled at your mom’s words. Your dad could be even more dramatic than your mom sometimes, especially when it came to you. 

“Is that what you’re working on right now?” 

“Mhmmm. We’re having agujjim (spicy braised monkfish) today,” she said absentmindedly, likely focused on the next step in her internal recipe book. Just the mention of it had your mouth watering, and for a split second you debated if you could somehow take the train back home and make it back in time for work in the morning. 

“Tell him I’ll be sure to call him on Friday to try and make up for it.” 

“You should call me back when you make it home. I’m sure your dad would like to hear that from you himself.” Your mom mentioned.

You were immediately about to object, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized there was no reason why you couldn’t besides being exhausted from your work day. Plus, you really had been busy lately so your phone calls home were few and far between. 

“I’ll try and see if I can, but no promises.” 

“I talked to your dad right before I called you, and he said he will be here in about thirty minutes. I’m expecting your call sometime after that.” Your mom was serious once again, but you knew there would be no hard feelings if you didn’t end up calling. 

Your parents know you best in how much you consume yourself with work (though in more recent years that hasn’t been on your own volition), so situations like this weren't exactly new. They were always your biggest cheerleaders in your life, and you could never forget how proud they were of you when you told them you got your job Golden Tech, and they nearly fainted when you mentioned your promotion a few months ago. 

“Tell dad I love him if you don’t hear from me in the next hour.” 

“Mmmm, and what are your plans after work tomorrow?”

You thought about it. “I’m actually leaving a little early to get my nails done after work.” 

“I see. I’m still expecting your call later, but if not, call us afterward tomorrow and make sure I get a picture of your nails.” Your mom added. She always loved to see them whenever you’d mention you got them done. 

“Will do.”

“Alright then. Be careful on your way home. It’s late, so if you’re not calling, be sure to text me when you make it back home.” 

You grinned. “Alright, mom. I’ll talk to you later. Any longer and I might miss the next train.”

“You better,” her seriousness was back, making your smile grow wider.

“I will, don’t worry… Bye mom~”

“Bye.” 

And with that you clicked off and picked up your pace. You were only a block away, but you still found yourself hurrying. The last thing you wanted to do was have to wait for the next train, it was already late. 

It just had your mind traveling back to Jeon Jungkook and how it was all his fault that you were at work for so long. He just made your blood boil, yet at the same time… 

You shook your head hurriedly. No Jungkook thoughts after work. 

It was easy to say that, but as you hurried your way for some reason his face continued to follow you even as you sped down the stairs of the subway station. He pissed you off, he really did. Why was he always in your head? 

•────•──────────•────•

You were on your way back to your desk when you spotted Jungkook by the meeting room. At first you were going to speed right past, coming to the quick conclusion that he was preparing for the upcoming meeting later on, but something just seemed… off. He was pacing in front of the doorway and the look in his eyes, even from far away, made your passing gaze linger on him with concern. 

Just as you were about to walk by the hallway, your feet stopped you entirely. The longer you looked the more worried you became. Even still, the panic didn’t set in until you got a little closer. 

“Director Jeon?” you called out hesitantly.

The minute Jungkook turned around, you could truly process the fear in his eyes. You had never seen him look so distressed, only rivaling that first night you shared in his office. His eyes were looking at you, but it was like he was staring right through your very being. What was going on?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you said, far more seriously, grabbing him so he’d look at you. Your stomach dropped when you felt him shaking in your grasp.

“Uhhh— this— um— this presentation, I—” Jungkook stumbled over his words and seeing how disheveled he was, you knew you had to get him out of there. You looked around worriedly at all the people passing by.

You quickly told him to meet you in the storage room and said you’d be in a few minutes after. Jungkook didn’t fight you on it, instead he just steadily headed over in that direction while you walked in the other. You both knew you couldn’t be seen with each other, so the extra time allowed you to quickly show your face to your team and drop something off in your office before heading out to join Jungkook.

You knocked twice, waited a second, then knocked twice again— something you’d easily gotten into the habit of doing by now. When Jungkook opened the door, he still seemed just as distraught as he had when you parted ways. You hastily made your way inside to figure out what was going on.

Before you could really even get in the room, you saw Jungkook fall back against the door and sink to the floor. His breathing was shallow, so shallow you were worried he was moments away from passing out. His fingers quickly threaded into his hair and even in the dark, you could see how tight his grip was. You didn’t say anything at first, instead moving to take a seat right next to him.

“Deep breaths,” you said as you looked at him worriedly. 

Jungkook quickly reached for your hand and you let him squeeze it tightly. He wasn’t looking at you and you were worried he didn’t hear your words before, so you called his name again and started taking slow, deep breaths to get him to follow along. 

Jungkook’s eyes darted towards yours, and after a little while, he attempted to join you. It was like he had run a marathon with how out of breath he seemed. 

“I can’t— Y/n— I can’t,” he cried, and you held onto him tightly as you tried to calm him down a little. You rubbed reassuring circles on his hand as he tried to slow his breathing down. It took some time, but eventually you both got in sync. You didn’t stop, scared that the minute you did, Jungkook would go back to square one. 

It was Jungkook who finally halted doing the breathing exercises and pulled away before bringing his knees close and resting his head in his arms. You placed your hand on his back, feeling him shaking slightly still.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Your voice was calm as you looked over at him. “We have a little bit of time before the meeting starts. We could just sit in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

Jungkook leaned his head back. 

“I used to not be like this— I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve given countless presentations in the past and I was fine. But these days, I don’t know— when I see their eyes it feels like they can see through everything and—” Jungkook was teary as he spoke, and things just grew worse.

“How am I ever going to run this company if I can’t even stand in front of people to give this stupid presentation?!” It was a thought he had never told anyone, his growing fear about becoming the CEO one day. He didn’t want to say anything because he was embarrassed. He wanted people to have high expectations of him, but he wasn’t even meeting his own these days.

This wasn’t even a big presentation. It was just a review of what the teams had already accomplished and what everyone needed to get done before the holidays. It wasn’t major, but there were going to be a lot of people there, representatives from all the departments and a few higher-up executives to check in and see how things were going. It should be simple, he’d done this presentation a countless number of times, but this year for some reason, just the thought of everyone sitting there and staring at him, only him—

It felt like that nightmare all over again; the executives judgingly peering at him, degrading him as he shamelessly took you on the table.

It had already been bad the last time he just had to go up there and say a few things when you did your presentation together. In that case, however, Jungkook only needed to chime in occasionally and give a little extra insight while you did almost everything. This time you weren’t going to be up there for him to hide behind. He had to stand there all alone, everyone’s eyes would be on him and—

The feeling of your hand moving on top of his tore him away from his rushing thoughts. Jungkook looked down at them, then back up to meet your smiling eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he threaded his fingers between yours.

“Their— their eyes are so scary. I know they’ll see everything,” his tears finally spilled over. You noticed the little light seeping in and reflecting off the wetness that began to stain his cheeks. 

He was shaking really, really badly. It reminded you of the fateful day your affair had started. His sad, watery eyes were peering into your own, practically pleading for help. It contrasted with the Jungkook you had begun to grow familiar with, the one who would get mad at you for no reason other than the fact that you existed. But this felt like the real Jungkook. Behind all the anger was someone so broken, it was almost hard to watch. 

You had seen his presentations in the past. Most of the time it was just executives who would be present, so for a while it was only on rare occasions had you’d seen Jungkook actually having to lead meetings. You had hated Jungkook at the time, but it was one of the few moments your hatred would dim and be replaced by a sliver of admiration. He was good. He would always be cool, calm, and concise when he talked, elaborating his points well whenever needed, and answering questions with just as much care and attention. It made his panic today seem even crazier when you thought back on what he was like just a year ago. It made you want to ask what had happened. You tried not to ask him too many questions, allowing him to tell you things only if he wanted to. After a little bit of thinking, you ultimately decided against it, figuring that if he wanted to tell you, he would.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know I’ll get up there and will be shaking so much, everyone will hear it in my voice, just like last time— I’m so fucking pathetic.” And his fear just got worse. He couldn’t hide. They’d see him, they’d see everything— how incapable he was. He was a fucking mess and all his coworkers would see it.

“Don’t say you’re pathetic,” you finally interjected, hating how much he said that sometimes.

“I am, I can’t—!”

“Shhhh!” you squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t say you can’t, because you can. I’ve seen you up there before.” 

Jungkook sadly laughed at that. “That was before, but now I can’t—”

“No— I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to say these bad things about yourself. Nothing good will come from doing that. You can do this, okay?” You were stern, yet reassuring all at the same time. 

Jungkook just stared at you wide-eyed for a second before he leaned his head back against the door. “It just looks so easy for you. You’re always so amazing when you’re up there. How do you do it?” he sighed, staring off into the darkness of the storage room.

It was now your turn to get a little flustered, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside to get back to the point. “Well, it just took a lot of practice. Presentations used to be a daunting task back when I was in school, but I picked up a lot of tips, tricks, and advice over the years that really helped me. I’m not a professional or anything, but I know that anxiety with public speaking can sometimes stem from other problems and stressors you might be dealing with. Considering you said you didn’t used to be like this, I would say that might be your issue.” 

Jungkook sat back and thought about it. That would make a lot of sense actually. “You’re probably right. I haven’t felt good in years, but this year in particular… things have gotten considerably worse.” His voice wavered at the end at the mere thought of it.

“We could talk about it if you like?” you mentioned softly.

Jungkook slowly shook his head. “Not enough time, and just…” He shook his head again.

“That’s fine. We could sit here and continue to take deep breaths together. Maybe it’ll help you calm down.” You would sometimes do a little meditation whenever you had a big presentation coming up and you were particularly nervous. Though what Jungkook was going through went beyond just the jitters, it couldn’t hurt to try it out. 

Jungkook steadily nodded, closed his eyes, and turned his attention to focus on slowing his breathing. 

He really had needed this. From the very minute he woke up this morning, the shaking had already started. He had so badly wanted Yuri to do something to take away the anxiety; even simply being a listening ear to his nervous ranting would have helped. 

Yuri had been around at the apartment that morning. Maybe she had no work plans and none of her friends were pulling her to hang out so early in the morning like they usually would on her free days. He wasn’t sure the exact reason, but he was happy she was home. 

Jungkook’s hands had been shaking so badly, he nearly spilled his cereal trying to bring the spoon up to his mouth. Yuri had asked what was wrong with him because of how jumpy he was, but the minute he mentioned the presentation, she had simply rolled her eyes at him.

“Isn’t that your job? Why in the world would you be so nervous?” She sounded so disappointed. She had every right to be, and it wasn’t even like she was wrong. It was his job; presentations weren’t new to him. Why was he so nervous? 

Jungkook couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything else after that, knowing all too well that if he continued, things might get so bad he wouldn’t even be able to leave his apartment. Instead, he tried his best to steady his increasingly shaky hand while he ate.

Honestly, Jungkook feared what might have happened if you hadn't pulled him into the storage room. He didn’t know why he had been outside of the meeting room. His racing mind had grown more and more anxious as time grew closer to the meeting. Somehow, his feet had carried him to the room where it would all be going down, not even to prepare, but to pace and pace because the shaking just wouldn’t stop and it was getting overwhelming.

Jungkook probably would have broken down right there, causing a horrible scene in front of anyone who passed by, but thankfully you had pulled him out of his daze and helped him plant his feet on the ground again. 

“Inhale,” you said softly. Jungkook took a deep breath in, letting his lungs fill with as much air as they could hold.

A few seconds passed before you continued. “And exhale.” It was just as soft as before and Jungkook finally released the breath he had been holding. The air escaped shakily, but it still felt like a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders. 

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Along the way, Jungkook started paying more attention to the way you breathed. He tried his best to follow along with your calm, deep breaths in, followed by a long exhale. He was shaking, but gradually he was able to calm himself enough to follow your steady breathing a little more easily.

Breathing should have been his sole focus, but he realized his worried thoughts were also growing calmer as he thought about you beside him. You were too nice, far too nice for someone like him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that’s what Yuri would say, yet for some reason you were down here with him on the floor trying to help him meditate. 

At some point, he just had to open his eyes again to look over at you. Your eyes were closed as you calmly breathed in and out. You looked so relaxed and… wow, you were so pretty. Even in the dark your beauty managed to pierce through the black you both sat in, and your bewitching presence relaxed him even further. His face warmed at the sight and an overwhelming emotion filled his heart and squeezed it so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, one so consuming that for once, Jungkook put overthinking aside and acted on impulse before he could stop himself. 

It completely caught you by surprise, the feeling of his hand on your chin. You nearly jumped, but you quickly relaxed when you opened your eyes and saw it was just Jungkook. You glanced down at his hand before staring back up into his eyes. A new look had settled behind his gaze, one you were completely unfamiliar with.

Jungkook let his hand cup your cheek before he moved a little closer so there was hardly any distance in between you two. His gaze wasn’t meeting your own anymore. Instead, he was peering down at your lips. 

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, so soft, as he always was. You hated the way your heart tightened.

“Is this ok?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your body didn’t even give you the chance to think about it before you nodded. It was all Jungkook needed to finally close the gap between you two. This time was different. It reminded you of the very first time he kissed you— it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration— it was… it was…

You loved the way his lips moved against yours. He was so gentle, and his soft sighs anytime he’d pull away to breathe were addicting. You loved the way he held you, so tenderly— no, this wasn’t right. What was going on? 

You kissed him a little harder, picking up the pace a little to bring things back into more familiar territory. Jungkook didn’t stop you, instead welcoming the way you kissed him more passionately. You normally never took the time to just make out like this, always quick to get to the main event. But Jungkook was a really good kisser. He let you take the lead, allowing your tongue to eagerly explore his mouth. He was always so skilled and receptive.

You grew hot pretty quickly and you could imagine Jungkook was the same way as one hand flew to your waist and the one that rested on your cheek pulled you even closer. It gave you an idea. As much as you didn’t want to, you finally pulled away.

“Jungkook…” you said, your breath labored. 

Jungkook hated each second you spent apart and pressed light kisses across your cheek. “Mhmmm…” he practically moaned into your skin. 

You had to resist just completely melting in his grasp.

“I can’t help with your nerves directly, but maybe there’s something I can do to better take your mind off things if you’ll let me,” you mentioned in between the kisses he kept planting on your cheek and lips. At this, Jungkook finally pulled away, seemingly interested.

You let the silence pass for a little while.

“Orgasms always helped me de-stress,” you smiled shyly at him, maybe a little too innocently considering what you had just proposed. You saw the way he steadily processed your words in his mind.

“Maybe.” He was beating himself up for somehow finding himself here with you once again, but you always did relax him. “I didn’t bring a condom though. I didn’t—” 

You shook your head. “I don’t think we have enough time to go all the way anyway.” You glanced at your watch and once it lit up you saw that there were only twenty minutes before the meeting was about to start.

Jungkook looked up at you, worry painted all over his features again. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you reassured, placing your hand against his cheek. 

Jungkook seemed dazed as he stared into your eyes, before he quickly nodded his head. You smiled and shakily got up to your feet.

“Stand up,” you lightly commanded, not really wanting to suck him off on the floor. He did as you asked and before anything more could be said, you moved him toward the side of the wall so he wouldn’t bang against the door. With something a little more solid behind him now, you finally took the opportunity to pin him against the wall. 

Your height difference wasn’t much when you had your heels on, but even then, he was still a little taller than you. You doubted you looked that intimidating, but you nearly giggled when you saw the look on his face as you stepped closer. 

You made quick work of sliding your hand onto his waist and settling the other on his cheek. You smiled before planting light kisses across his warm skin and eventually guided yourself up to his meet ear. You brushed away his hair and being this close it only then dawned on you that Jungkook had not one, but two sets of shiny hoops in his ears that you had never really noticed before. 

“I promise to make this quick,” you whispered softly before planting a kiss right on his ear.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moaned as he quickly pulled you back to meet his lips. The position was hot, and you weren’t the only one who thought so. He’d never been pinned like this before and he certainly couldn’t say he hated it. No, if anything—

“F-fuck!” he panted as you moved down to suck on his neck. You were always careful about not leaving any marks. Jungkook was clumsy sometimes, but you knew the right balance of giving pleasure without going too far. It had Jungkook mewling as he embarrassingly started grinding into you slightly. He was subtle, but the friction combined with your mouth was enough to get him hard in no time.

The minute you noticed him chasing his hips into yours was when you figured it was time to move on to the next stage.

You kissed his lips one more time before dropping down to your knees. First, you checked the time again— fifteen more minutes. You really needed to be fast.

His belt and zipper came undone in a flash. Since he was standing this time, you tried to pull his pants down to make it a little easier for you to work, but Jungkook stopped you and mumbled something about it being quicker like this. 

Even if you were trying to be conscious of the time, you didn’t think it would take that long to pull his pants up when you were done. But that’s what he wanted and there really wasn’t any time to question him on it. Instead, you finally took him out. You were drooling at how pretty the outline was even in the darkness and how it felt in your hand.

“Y/n…” Jungkook whined as you stared. Right, it was not a good time.

You slowly began pumping his length. You made sure to be extra attentive in your movements, steadily increasing your pace, and focusing on the tip since you knew how sensitive he was.

Your eyes also were trained on his expression. It was hard to see exactly, but you noticed the way he leaned his head back and the tight grip he had on the shelf that sat beside you both. He was trying so hard to be quiet, you could tell by the soft whines that would sometimes manage to slip out of his mouth. He really was so pretty. What you would have given for more time to tease him further. 

You finally took him into your mouth, apparently a little unexpectedly by the way he nearly jumped out of skin. You hated to admit it was kinda cute. 

Jungkook’s hand quickly moved from the shelf to rest on top of your head. He was careful to not hurt you as his fingers lightly threaded into your hair. He tried his best to keep steady, but his legs shook with each swipe of your tongue. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was overwhelming in the best way possible. Just the view alone of you on your knees for him… god.

Occasionally, you would look up at him and tease the tip between your lips. Sometimes Jungkook would try to watch as you took down as much as you could, but the sight was so good that he would need to quickly look away, flushed, knowing that the end would come all too quickly if he kept watching. 

Before long, Jungkook was close and had to put his other hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. Somehow, he was still able to warn you of his impending release.

This prompted you to speed things up a little, knowing by now that time was probably not on your side. It didn’t take much more work before Jungkook was suddenly spilling into your mouth. His moans were muffled, but you watched in delight as you saw the tension leave all his features and his cum continued to paint your tongue. 

You wanted to stay there and let him bask in his post-orgasmic bliss, but you figured he probably needed to leave soon to go set up for the meeting. You stood up and from the new angle you could see how relaxed he was; his eyes were closed while he leaned against the wall, his breath steady unlike when you first walked in. You really didn’t want to ruin this serene moment.

“Hope that helped a little bit, but it’s probably best not to sit here too much longer,” you mentioned after some time had passed.

Jungkook hummed and his eyes fluttered open to look at you before staring off into the distance. “I really don’t want to do this,” he sighed.

“I know it sucks, but once it’s over, it’s over. Do you have any other presentations coming up?” you asked, and Jungkook eventually nodded. 

“One more right before the holidays start. It’s mainly to the higher-up executives, giving them a formal look into our plans for next quarter and the next year as well. Not as many people are going to be there as today, but it’s a little more important,” Jungkook groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“We'll take it one day at a time. At least this one will be over shortly, and you can look back and—” but before you could finish, you felt a hand on your wrist and then suddenly you were pulled into something warm.

It took you a second to realize it was a hug. Your cheeks burned and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat at the way Jungkook nuzzled into your shoulder. He was so warm that you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

“Thank you… thank you for being here,” he sighed, and then all of a sudden you felt tingly everywhere. “Without you, I’m almost sure I would have had a breakdown right outside the meeting room, so thank you for just being here and… for helping out.” Your relationship was complicated for sure, but you weren’t the type of person to leave someone when they were clearly struggling. You may not exactly like Jungkook, but you didn’t hate him either. Sometimes, in moments like this, all he really needed was a helping hand.

“It was no trouble at all,” you tried to laugh, but it was hard keeping your voice steady when your heart was nearly beating out of your chest.

You stayed just like that for a second, wishing that you didn’t leave so soon.

“I guess I should go now. I still need to get my laptop from my office,” Jungkook sighed, and you quickly pulled away, remembering the time.

“Alright, you can head out first. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you smiled at him, but right then you suddenly remembered something. You reached over to where the light switch was and quickly turned on the lights. You both cried out, then laughed at the sudden brightness in the room, but you tried your best to ignore it and do what you had wanted.

Suddenly, you were very close and your hands were back in his hair as you tried to fix the disheveled strands a little after his fingers had been running through it too many times. Once he realized what you were doing, he relaxed, and Jungkook’s gaze steadily fell to your lips. The pretty color that had stained them earlier was now smeared from your activities and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. 

His hands came up to rest on your waist, but you paid no mind as you worked. The position made him realize just how much he didn’t want to leave you. You always needed to be quick whenever you met up here, but today you had no time whatsoever to spare. It really sucked.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore how much he wanted to kiss you again.

“Alright. I couldn’t help much, but I was able to get things relatively in the right spot. You look great and I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

It was then that you realized Jungkook’s gaze had drifted down towards your lips. With the lights on, you were able to see things clearly, his pretty lashes and all the cute moles on his face. He really was breathtaking. You were tempted to kiss him again, one last token of good luck before his presentation, but something about that felt… it felt like it wasn’t your place to do that. Instead, you smiled at him before pulling away again.

“How about this… if you have some time later, maybe I’ll give you a reward for finishing your presentation,” you mentioned as you watched Jungkook zip up his pants and redo his belt. 

Jungkook smiled at the thought. The presentation was the main thing he had to do today, but he also had a few documents he knew he needed to look through. He would possibly have time a little later to potentially sneak off with you again. Plus, by that time, no one would really even be around to notice he was gone.

“Secretary Yu is leaving early today, it wouldn’t be too hard to sneak off later, but I’ll let you know.” He was certainly planning on it. After the presentation, he knew he would need something to wash away the nerves again.

You nodded at that. “Alright… Make sure to take deep breaths, and if things become too much, just look at me and pretend everyone else isn’t in the room.” You had heard that tip somewhere and figured it would be a good last-minute suggestion.

Jungkook looked up at you again. “Thank you…” he smiled once again, still unable to believe you were even there. Why would anyone care for him like this?

“Again, no trouble at all. I’ll fix myself up, then I’ll be heading to the meeting room.” You could only imagine what your makeup looked like right now.

Jungkook smiled. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then~” you waved as Jungkook hurried out the door.

…

The presentation didn’t go perfectly. It never could have, considering all the anxiety he was dealing with these days, but he’s sure that without your help, it would have probably been a complete disaster. He hit all the talking points that he wanted to, even if he was a little shaky, but hopefully it hadn’t been too obvious.

You were a big help, and just your presence in the meeting made things a little easier as he tried the trick you suggested and fixated on you a couple of times to maintain his cool. 

It went better than expected, and that was enough for him at the moment. As everyone started leaving the meeting room, it was good to feel the relief of it all being over. But now that things were done, all Jungkook could think about as he made his way back to his office was when he could meet up with you again.

•────•──────────•────•

Ever since the day Jungkook had left Yoongi’s office after breaking down in front of him about the affair, they had been texting off and on. It wasn’t much, mostly just Yoongi occasionally asking Jungkook if he was doing alright or if he had yet made an appointment with Dr. Kim yet. He had not.

Earlier today, the doctor randomly texted him to ask if he would like to meet up and have dinner since he apparently didn’t have any late night appointments that day. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to say yes to something like that, not really enjoying other people’s company these days, but despite not technically being his therapist anymore, Dr. Min was still a professional and he knew he probably needed to talk to someone.

That was how Jungkook found himself leaving work a little earlier than he normally would and cruising down the streets of Seoul with Dae-Jung. A lot of people had already begun putting up decorations for the approaching holidays. Pretty lights twinkled in people’s windows and they came across frequent sightings of late night workers beginning to decorate small Christmas trees. 

Yoongi hadn’t texted him an exact address, instead giving him the details of the place across the street from where they were meant to meet. At first, Jungkook was a little confused by it, until they made it onto the road and he saw the pojangmacha (tent bar) at the end of the street. It wasn’t long before he saw Yoongi right outside. Jungkook hopped out of the car into the freezing cold, telling Dae-Jung he’d text him when to pick him up, and made his way over to Yoongi.

They both greeted one another, exchanging slightly awkward hellos before walking in together. It had been quite some time since Jungkook had been to a pojangmacha— maybe since college? It was nice. The cozy warmth from the heaters and the grill easily cut through the chill November air, providing a little oasis for the people coming in. Lucky for them, a table was already available so they were quickly able to get a seat. As soon as they sat down, Jungkook realized he’d forgotten to eat again today and his stomach growled as they both looked over the menu. 

The minute his eyes landed on Korean dumplings, he nearly started drooling as memories of them invaded his senses. He could practically taste them on his tongue. Jungkook eagerly pointed to them on the menu and then Yoongi ordered for the both of them, getting Korean dumplings for himself as well along with two sojus to go with their meal.

“I saw this place on my way to work today. They’ve come to this area before and they always have really good food,” Yoongi mentioned with a smile.

“I’m excited to try it. It smells really good here. I forgot to eat all day, so I’m starving!” Jungkook tried to laugh as he looked longingly at the food of the other customers. Hopefully their food would be served quickly…

Yoongi, however, was focused on something else. “Good food wasn’t the only reason I brought you here though. It’s been a little while since we’ve seen each other and I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. Have you managed to speak with Nam— Dr. Kim yet?” Yoongi asked, as a lady came over with their bottles of soju and some shot glasses. 

Jungkook steadily shook his head. “I’ve been really busy at work. I was just going to try and schedule an appointment after New Year’s when I’ll be a little more free again.” Like a proper dongsaeng should, Jungkook was already opening Yoongi’s bottle and pouring it for him. Yoongi tried to do the same for Jungkook, but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

“I see… Things are usually hectic during the holidays. I’m still a little worried, considering how you were doing the last time you came to my office, but I understand. How are things going with that by the way?”

Jungkook took his first shot. It was bitter today, of course. 

“With what?” Jungkook had to clear his throat as the clear liquid burned going down his throat. 

“The affair. Did you ever manage to tell Yuri about it?” Yoongi took his own first shot. He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but there was no use beating around the bush.

Jungkook stared at the doctor for a second before he hurriedly filled his shot glass once again, the clear liquid quickly rising to the top and nearly brimming in the process. He downed his next shot speedily and finished it with ease before finally managing to shake his head no. He still hadn’t told Yuri about what happened that day… and all that happened afterward. Frankly, he didn’t really want to.

Silence passed for a little while as Yoongi continued to stare at Jungkook. 

“Are you still seeing the coworker?” Yoongi eventually asked.

At this, Jungkook hastily went for his third shot. 

“Woah… no need to rush—” Yoongi mumbled in an attempt to tell him to slow down, but Jungkook shooed him away as he easily downed his third. As soon as he set the glass back on the table, Jungkook’s hands were threaded into his hair again, his grip tighter than ever. Eventually, he nodded. 

“Jungkook, look at me.” Yoongi softly commanded. Jungkook put his hands down and Yoongi was able to see that his eyes had grown a little watery. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I tried to push her away, or maybe I didn’t. I probably didn’t try hard enough.” Something about confessing out loud that things were still happening between you two made the reality sink in even more. How horrible was he?

“She was the one who tried to tell me it was a bad idea to continue, but I practically begged her to be with me again.” Just the thought of it was sickening. Pathetic. What would Yuri say if she saw this? 

“I tried to focus on Yuri, she’s my wife for fuck’s sake. But she keeps pushing me away, and now… I just feel like I’m digging myself into an even deeper hole than I was in in the first place,” Jungkook's voice wavered. He didn’t know what was worse at this point— betraying Yuri’s trust over and over again, or the fact that he was enjoying his time with you so much. 

Yoongi stared at Jungkook for a little while before he went for his second shot. Jungkook tried to pour it for him, but Yoongi shooed him away. He downed the shot easily before rising to his feet.

“Follow me,” Yoongi said as he started putting his coat back on. Jungkook was confused, but quickly rose to his feet and put on his coat as well. 

“We’ll be standing just right outside, could you call us in when our food is ready?” Yoongi asked the ajumma who was working hard behind the grill.

“Did you get that?” she called out to the younger woman who was sitting behind her scrolling on her phone. She had been the one who served them their drinks. Jungkook assumed she might be the older woman’s daughter. They had the same face, time being the only differential. The young lady nodded and with that, Yoongi pulled Jungkook out of the tent into the cold and over to a bench that sat in front of a big art sculpture that wasn’t too far from them.

Yoongi sighed, a foggy puff of air slipping past his lips, proving just how cold it was to anyone standing outside in this unfortunate weather. Jungkook was about to ask what was going on when Yoongi started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a box in one hand and something shiny in the other. It took him a second to realize it was a box of cigarettes and a bright purple lighter. 

Yoongi smiled as he held up the lighter. “My daughter’s name is Bora. I got this color because of her, but funnily enough, I don’t really use it much anymore,” he laughed.

It took Jungkook a second to realize that he had never really considered that the doctor… had a life? He felt guilty for not asking Yoongi about himself, but of course the couples therapist has a whole life and a daughter. Jungkook also imagined he was married as well. Oddly enough, Yoongi had started to take on the role of a big brother in Jungkook’s eyes, but it still shocked him a little. Sometimes he seemed years ahead of him in life experience, but other times he really didn’t feel any different in age. Yoongi didn’t even look that much older than Jungkook was, making it harder to remember there was a bit of an age gap— seven years to be exact. 

As Jungkook was lost in thought, he completely missed when Yoongi opened the box, took out a cigarette, put it between his lips, and handed the box over to Jungkook.

“Only if you want to,” Yoongi mentioned, as he tried his best to light it. It took a couple of tries, but eventually the end managed to catch.

Jungkook didn’t really think too much about it as he took one before handing the box back over to Yoongi and exchanging it for the lighter.

He didn’t really smoke, at least not anymore. College Jungkook, however, was a very different Jungkook. It wouldn’t have been an unusual sight to walk into his apartment and see him on the balcony with his feet kicked up and a cigarette between his lips, strumming along on his guitar to his favorite songs as he procrastinated doing homework. He never stopped for any reason in particular, it was just one of those habits that never stuck, and especially once he started his new life as a married man, he never really went back to it.

That didn’t stop him this time, though. Jungkook took the bright purple lighter and easily lit the cigarette. He took a long inhale before steadily blowing out the smoke, all while Yoongi observed him closely. Jungkook wasn’t prepared to hear the man chuckle beside him. 

“Guess you weren’t lying then…,” he giggled to himself, taking another puff. 

“You thought I was?” Jungkook asked, a little confused why he would think that.

Yoongi just shrugged, not really having an answer. 

“Anyway, I brought you out here to talk about how you’re doing. We’re not in my office anymore, so be as unfiltered as you’d like. Tell me anything you’re comfortable with sharing— about Yuri, the affair, yourself…” Yoongi looked over at him.

The proposition made Jungkook’s eyes glisten and he hoped Yoongi would just think it was because of the cold. He quickly took another hit of the cigarette. Silence passed for a while, just the sounds of a few passersby and the wind steadily blowing as it made the night even colder.

“I don’t feel good,” Jungkook laid out plainly, not really having the energy to put up a front for the doctor and pretend things were fine. They weren’t— he needed help, he knew that. “I don’t really feel anything anymore,” Jungkook added a little more quietly.

“Anything?” Yoongi repeated, and Jungkook nodded.

“Every day is a fucking nightmare. It hurts just to get out of bed each day and go to work. It hurts to see Yuri. Our marriage is getting worse every single day and I still don’t feel guilty about what I did to her— what I keep doing to her for some reason. The only time I feel anything anymore is when I’m with Y/n…” His eyes were watering so much now, it was hard to pretend it was still just the cold.

“Is Y/n your coworker?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook nodded once again. “What does she make you feel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It just feels good when we’re together. For a moment, I feel something again. For a second, my life isn’t shit and my problems disappear. Maybe that’s why I keep going back to her for more.”

Yoongi wanted to comment on that, but ultimately chose to stay quiet. He didn’t want to label anything prematurely, but as a couples therapist and a married man, what Jungkook described didn’t sound unfamiliar. 

“But even when I do, I still treat her like shit, just like I do with Yuri. I can’t do anything right,” Jungkook laughed as he wiped his eyes and took another puff from his cigarette.

“And what makes you say that?” Yoongi inquired further.

“I keep giving her more work when we’re already really busy as it is. We argue pretty much every time we’re alone together. She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jungkook was crying just thinking about how you were probably still at the office working because of him.

“I just feel so hopeless every day, every fucking day and I just want it to end.” Jungkook sobbed, using his coat sleeve to wipe his eyes.

“Before, I held onto this glimmer of hope that one day I’d get my shit together and finally understand how to make Yuri happy, how to love her, how to at least get her to a place where she’d try and work things out with me.” Just an attempt, that was all he needed. “But now I feel like I fucked things up beyond repair, I’ve fucked everything up so badly— nothing will ever get better and I’m just so tired.”

Yoongi didn’t want to interrupt but this was beyond heartbreaking to listen to and watch as the tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“And I’m so ashamed— Y/n— I think I’m just running off of what she gives me at this point, it’s the only time anything feels like something anymore— I want things to be ok, but I just keep messing everything up— I’m so tired, I feel like giving up at this point.” It was vague, but Yoongi was paying close attention to his wording and his heart sank hearing the words ‘give up.’ He honestly thought the worst.

“It’s just gray no matter where I look and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, hyung. I just want it to end.” Jungkook sighed.

It might have been a slip of the tongue, maybe it was the alcohol flowing through his system, but the endearing honorific, one Jungkook didn’t seem to notice in the moment, was easily heard by Yoongi.

At this, Yoongi finally had to say something. “Jungkook, I'm really, really worried about you. I know I’m a couples therapist so this isn’t exactly my specialty, but the way you speak about your depression is concerning. The sentiments you’re describing are treading into dangerous territories that I’m honestly a little worried about leaving you alone.” The label wasn’t really a surprise. Jungkook had figured he’d veered into depression land a long time ago.

“Do you think you can hold out till the New Year’s when you’ll be able to meet Dr. Kim?” Yoongi asked seriously. 

Jungkook nodded, wanting to believe he could. He hated to say he wasn’t confident in his affirmation.

“Things were bad before, but it was very recently where I don’t know… like I didn’t feel good for years if I’m being honest, but it I felt like I was on a hill and then all of a sudden I reached a cliff. I’m trying hard to climb out, or at least find the other side, but it just keeps getting lower and lower and now I’m stuck— the end’s nowhere in sight and—” Jungkook could ramble for hours about this. It truly felt there would be no end to this madness. He was tired, tired of going on and on and on with the same bullshit…

He was making people suffer, his wife, his employees, his friends, you, the list goes on. 

“I know things might feel hopeless now, but trust when I say there is an end somewhere. Just hang in there a little longer, Jungkook,” this conversation had grown very serious. They both were dancing around the actual topic at hand, but they certainly knew what was being discussed. 

They both sat in silence for a little while, letting it speak louder than words could in the moment, steadily smoking away their woes. Jungkook’s soft cries gradually grew quieter.

“Jungkook… I don’t really know the type of people you have in your life, but like I mentioned the last time you were at the office, I really recommend leaning on whatever support system you have. Friends, family, and I want you to know I’ll always be here if you need someone to rant to. If things ever feel like they’re getting too much, you can always call or stop by the office with a little heads up. You’re not alone and I don’t want you to feel that way.” Yoongi added after a particularly long puff from his cigarette.

The sentiment was nice and even though Jungkook was a mess right now, he still appreciated it. It was enough that for a moment it pushed away that terrible thought of him not being worthy of help anymore— for a second he wanted to believe somehow everything would work out as it should. It’ll be a tough battle and if worse comes to worse, at least maybe Yoongi will be there to lean on.

“Thank you…” Jungkook’s voice was soft as he spoke.

It was only a moment though, and bringing up all these emotions he tried his best to keep at bay made his head feel like a mess. It was so much, too much, and he really was so tired at this point. His eyes grew watery all over again, but his cheeks burned as he realized they were in fact in public. He could only imagine what the people passing by would think of him…

“But it still hurts, it hurts so much.” Jungkook was trying his hardest to keep the tears at bay. Yoongi was probably tired of all the crying, but they just kept rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to li—”

“Boys!” A sudden voice called out.

Yoongi and Jungkook looked back over to the tent and saw the lady who was sitting on the stool earlier had her head poking out. 

“Your food’s ready!” She added once she saw that she got their attention. Yoongi flashed her a quick thumbs up and she sent one back before heading inside. 

“What were you saying?” Yoongi tried to steer things back on topic, but Jungkook shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter—” He said, still wiping the tears off his face. “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving.” He was quick at getting up and heading over to the trash can to put out his cigarette and throw it away.

Yoongi wanted to stop him, but just decided they could discuss things a little more as they ate. Maybe things would go better with some food in their systems, especially for Jungkook. 

Yoongi caught up to him. “By the way, I don’t mind you calling me hyung.” He mentioned with a smile. Suddenly Jungkook looked even more embarrassed. 

“You said it earlier and I didn’t mind. I’m not your therapist anymore, no need to keep the formalities. Making things casual seems like the way to go.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I—” But Yoongi shushed him.

“No apologies, it’s fine. Let me hear you say it~” He slightly teased. 

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed. “Hyung? Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook tested how it sounded and they both chuckled.

“Sounds right to me. Now let’s go eat.” They hurriedly rushed back inside to the warmth and were greeted with the mouthwatering sight of the dumplings sitting on their table. Yoongi ordered two more bottles of soju, and once they got their coats off they immediately grabbed their chopsticks and started to dig in.

The place was fantastic— Yoongi was one hundred percent right and Jungkook wished this place would stay here so he could visit more often. He made sure to tell Yoongi hyung that when the place was back in this area to let him know so they could eat here again together. 

Now things were in much better spirits considering the difficult conversation they just had outside. Jungkook even asked for more food after he managed to finish so quickly. Nonetheless, something Yoongi tried not to bring up at first was how awfully fast Jungkook was drinking. He easily downed shot after shot, and the bottles quickly came and went over at his side of the table.

“Are you trying to get drunk or something?” Yoongi eventually asked. Even he had lost count of what bottle he was on. Yoongi was still on his third. He had made the decision to just leave his car and take a taxi to work or something in the morning once Jungkook agreed to meet up, but he still wasn’t trying to get hammered. He had a seven-month-old at home he still needed to take care of when he got back. Buzzed, maybe even a little tipsy was the most he was going for tonight. Jungkook though seemed to have different plans.

“I’m fine…” Jungkook sighed as he downed another shot. 

Yoongi didn’t want to refute it, this was their first time drinking together, so it’s not like they knew each other’s limits. But he should have trusted the very fact he had eyes and knew that he was drinking way beyond just getting buzzed or even tipsy. 

Jungkook could hardly keep his eyes open by the time they were leaving. Yoongi had to be the one to put his coat on, and he practically had to carry him outside back over to the bench they were sitting at earlier. It was also Yoongi who texted Dae-Jung to come pick him up after Jungkook mumbled something about texting him when he asked if he had any plans on getting home.  

Dae-Jung was here not too long after, but by then Jungkook was pretty much passed out on the bench. He seemed to notice Jungkook was incapacitated and came jogging out of the car over to the two of them. He didn’t look much older than Jungkook— he had sharp eyes and a short haircut that Yoongi thought only added more to the “professional image” of an employee to the CEO’s son. He was also wearing a suit with a white turtleneck underneath.

“What happened?” Dae-Jung asked concerningly.  

“He had way too many. I should have stopped him, I’m sorry.” Yoongi said remorsefully.

“You’re fine… this was his choice and unfortunately this happens too many times these days. Thank you so much for looking after him.” Dae-Jung sighed before heading over to pick Jungkook up. 

Yoongi was just going to bid them both farewell, but Jungkook must have woken up a little because as they passed by, Jungkook grabbed onto Yoongi’s sleeve. 

“We— we should take him home.” Jungkook slurred lazily to Dae-Jung as he weakly pointed at Yoongi. Yoongi and Dae-Jung both looked at each other before back at Jungkook.

“You really don’t—”

“I don’t mind, unless you planned on driving back.” Dae-Jung huffed, as he repositioned Jungkook on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over.  

Yoongi shook his head.

“Hop in then.” And that’s how Yoongi ended up riding home with them. Jungkook passed out again as soon as they managed to get him in the car. Jungkook’s head rested against the window and his light snores were more than amusing in Yoongi’s buzzed state. 

Luckily, Yoongi didn’t live too far away, and it felt like in no time they were pulling up right outside Yoongi’s apartment building. 

Yoongi thanked Dae-Jung and said goodbye to Jungkook even though he was completely gone. 

Dae-Jung took charge from that point forward. Jungkook and Yuri lived a little further away, fortunately it was late and there wasn’t much traffic, so they managed to make it within thirty minutes. Dae-Jung helped Jungkook out of the car as they stumbled their way up to the apartment. With his aid, Jungkook was able to take off his coat and suit jacket, before they stumbled toward the other bedroom— Jungkook always preferred staying there when he was this drunk.

Yuri hadn’t been there to urge him to stay in their own room anyway. He doubted she would have.

Jungkook was out once again, sleeping far past his alarm, and unsurprisingly he was late to work the next day. He was a mess, his head hurt with every move he made, and all he could think about was how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. He’d messed up everything in his life, and there was no way out at this point. 

Every day was a waking nightmare, and he just wanted it to end.

•────•──────────•────•

You both were normally so careful when it came to sneaking off to the storage room. You would always wait a few minutes in between before heading inside, and you even had to do the special knock in order to verify it was each other. This time though, you were in a rush. 

Jungkook wasn’t too far ahead of you as you walked swiftly behind him, making sure to keep enough distance between you both, but he wanted you to be quick. With how fast he was moving, you could hardly keep up by the time he was turning the corner to the hallway where the storage room was. You waited a few seconds, then as inconspicuously as you could, you made your way down the same hallway. You didn’t even manage to get the full knock in when the door swung open, and you felt a hand grab your wrist to hastily pull you inside.

Before you even realized, your back was suddenly up against the wall and you were staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. He was close, his hands were right by your sides against the wall. You watched his eyes drift down and scan over your form before they returned to meet your own once again. Even in the dark, his pained expression was obvious.

Jungkook couldn’t stand another moment apart from you so he moved his hands to rest on your waist as he pulled you close to finally meet your lips. You could instantly taste the beer on his tongue as things quickly grew more intense. 

That was new. Is that what this was?

You really had no idea how things had moved so fast. You were leading a meeting only a few minutes prior; a rare one Jungkook needed to attend. He’d been making eyes at you as he sat at the head of the table, and while a part of you couldn’t lie it made you a little hot, this was a meeting; a meeting with a lot of other people around. Maybe the beer was the missing piece to this puzzle, it explained why he was so shamelessly eyeing you in front of everyone. It’s a bit strange though— it was only the afternoon, why was he drinking that early?

As soon as the meeting finished, Jungkook stayed behind and just as you were picking up your laptop to leave, Jungkook stopped you in your tracks. 

“Wait!” His bright, round eyes stared up at you, pleading almost with his gaze.

You quickly looked around. It’s not like this meeting room really had walls; the ones that faced the office were made up of thick panes of glass organized in a horizontally striped pattern, alternating between clear and frosted glass. The parts that were frosted were larger, but anyone who looked hard enough in between could see you both. You had no idea what he wanted, but you were a little worried.

“Yes?” You clutched your laptop tight to your chest.

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down his lap before he looked back up at you. “Would you have time to go to the storage room quickly?” His voice was soft, but he seemed desperate.

You looked at him a little confused. Usually there would be some type of heads up. “Right now?” 

“It’s ummm… it’s an emergency…” His eyes glanced down again before looking back at you. 

And that’s how you learned Jungkook should be forced to wear sunglasses all the time because why, why did all it take was him looking at you like that to make you so easily agree? You thought you were stronger than that, but apparently you were a lot easier than you wanted to admit since that was all you needed to give into his pleas. Your legs practically acted all on their own as you speedily ran back to your office to put your laptop back before you somehow caught up to Jungkook making his way to the storage room.

In short, that’s how you ended up here.  

His hands eagerly raked up your sides, tugging at your blouse and skirt as they sensually traversed along the fabric. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he practically stuffed his tongue down your throat before you could even process the situation you were in. His kisses were full of more and more desperation and wanting each time his lips met your own. You were never going to get used to how passionately he’d kiss you. It hastily took your breath away, and the heat you felt from the meeting earlier exploded into an even greater fury the longer you were in his arms.

Jungkook suddenly hiked your leg up to his waist, and at this angle you could feel the very reason why he was moving so fast. 

“Wh-what’s got you so worked up?” You moaned lightly, your body on fire from the tingles that surged through you. 

“You.” Jungkook hurried out in between kisses. “Your existence,” a callback to a running problem in your relationship, this time spun a little more sweetly. The stark answer made your cheeks burn in a way you weren’t prepared for. You tried to brush it off with a smile. 

“I’m serious… something’s up with you today.” Something was clearly up— Jungkook’s kisses trailed off your cheek and down your neck where he lightly sucked across your skin. You definitely knew he wasn’t being careful about not leaving any marks.

Jungkook wasn’t really in a talking mood, much preferring to enjoy your whines as his mouth worked on your neck and eager his hips met your own. You always made such pretty sounds. Then when your hands moved to thread in his hair, now he really wasn’t in a talking mood. He couldn’t help but think this wasn’t going fast enough.

“Jungkook?” You questioned the longer the silence went on, gripping his hair tight to get his attention, making him moan into your skin.

Oh.

“Your meeting was hot.” He groaned just thinking back to it, adding to the fact that he really liked it when you played with his hair.

You laughed at that. “And what about spreadsheets, pie charts, and Excel made you this hot and bothered?” It was a funny thought. You were somewhat joking, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure what he was into. Maybe that was actually his thing. 

You weren’t expecting the soft, but noticeable bite on the nape of your neck. It didn’t hurt, and you could practically feel his smile across your skin. You yelped slightly at the sensation.

“It’s not that—” Jungkook ground into you a little harder and you could easily feel him right where you wanted. “You feel that? This is your fault.” Jungkook’s voice was a little shaky and his words slurred together from how much he was pushing into you.

You couldn’t stop the moan falling from your lips at his words. This was new. Jungkook was normally so shy, he never was this blunt and you weren’t prepared at all for this new side. What was going on?

It was probably the beer. That was the only explanation. 

“I kept— kept thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you on the meeting table.” Jungkook groaned into your skin. It was a dirty thought, one that made his cheeks burn because he was in public and he was supposed to be focusing on your words. He could hardly pay attention as his mind bounced back and forth between admiring your presentation skills to thinking about what it’d be like to take you right there on the table in front of everyone.

At this point, you feared he was drunk. This was completely unlike him.

You tried to ignore how on fire your cheeks were. “Does that mean you didn’t pay attention to anything I said?”

“If I say yes will you do the whole thing again, just the two of us?” He was normally never this bold. He was already making work of getting your shirt loose, managing to get a few buttons undone with his shaky hands, enough to see your black bra come into view. Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you and wished so much he could see you a little better. He kissed your neck and steadily made his way down your chest.

“Oh— wha—” He could probably sense you were about to say something, so instead of letting you continue the banter, he moved back up to kiss you.

It was brief but enough to quickly take your breath away before he pulled away and buried himself in your shoulder.

“Y/n— I don’t, fuck, I don’t think I can wait— could you take me now?” Jungkook would never normally ask this. Yuri would be so disappointed if she knew he did. He always liked to take care of you in some shape or form before he did anything to you, but today… today…

And you could feel his impatience. No wonder he called it an emergency in the meeting room. And if that wasn’t enough, clearly something must be in the air today because Jungkook was showing you a completely new side to him.

“I’m really sorry— I can try and do more if you need it, I just—”

“Jungkook, please just fuck me.” This little talk was honestly all you needed to get going.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Jungkook was already kissing you once again as he tried his best to guide you both to the table. It took a bit of work, Jungkook was more than distracted, but eventually he could feel the plastic surface behind you. He wasted no time flipping you over so your hands were planted on the table and your ass was pressed right where he needed you. 

“I’ll try and make this quick.” But that wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. He needed you and today things were even worse than usual. 

You nodded as you heard the swift sounds of his belt coming undone. He normally was uncoordinated, the need always clouding his senses making even the simplest tasks seem impossible, but today it was even worse. The alcohol surely didn’t help in his struggle.

You could hear him growing frustrated as he wrangled with his belt while lightly grinding into you. He was subtle, but his cute whines were still evident.

“Cmon, please, please, please—” He cried. His eyes were a little watery. Yes, it was this serious for him, he was so close to feeling you, but once again the hurdle of the belt and pants got in the way.

Eventually, things were finally going his way. The belt came undone, his pants unzipped, and finally he was free to feel you. Jungkook was on you in a haste, his hands working fast at pulling up your skirt— even in the dark the view nearly made him lose it; from your thigh highs coming up your legs to your black panties, and the position you were in… Fuck, the arch in your back made you look so ready for him. He was so weak.  

Jungkook quickly tangled himself around you. While one hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his other hand was in your panties before you knew it; his fingers were eagerly running through your slit.

“Shit!” You gasped, already failing at keeping yourself quiet.

Jungkook was more than surprised to find you were already wet.

“Fuck—” He groaned, as he buried his head in your shoulder, growing more desperate by the second, already imagining what it would be like to be inside you. 

“I’ll be quick— I’m sorry…” He sighed as he started lining up behind you, rubbing himself along the dampness of your panties. Only then did he remember something he had completely forgotten till now. 

“Jungkook, please—”

His eyes quickly grew teary realizing how bad this was. “Wait— wait, I don’t have a condom.” He quietly cried. 

This got you to pause. “Wait, what?”

“I forgot to buy more…” He didn’t have any left whatsoever. Not even a brief, awkward pause to run back to his office would save him. The last time you were together was when you both made it through the last of the box he bought a few weeks ago. Jungkook had made the note to get more after work, but Yuri had texted him that day saying she was home and he completely forgot about anything else.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jungkook continued to lightly rub his achy cock along the damp fabric between your thighs. You were so wet. 

Shit.

He wasn’t thinking straight at all. You both really should be careful. He thought you two would never be in a situation like this again after he bought condoms, but he wasn’t used to buying them regularly; it wasn’t surprising how easily it slipped his mind. The smart thing to do in this situation would be handling both your needs in some other fashion than being inside you. There were a million ways to get off, it wasn’t the end of the world, but—

“Are you still—”

“Yes! We don’t need one if you’re fine with that.” You hurried out, not even needing him to finish the question. It was disappointing how that confirmation was all that he needed to keep going. No more questions, talking, banter, anything, he just had to feel you. 

Jungkook swiftly moved your panties to the side and shakily rubbed his length across your soaked folds. A choked moan fell from his lips at the sensation. He couldn’t take it anymore, the need grew too much to even attempt to tease you further. He hurriedly lined himself up and finally pushed his cock inside you. Jungkook was in such a rush, he was completely unprepared to be reminded how good you felt bare like this.

“Oh fu—” A few tears slipped from his eyes as he basked in your warmth, amazed at how tightly you were wrapped around him.

“Jungkook, oh my g—” You whined as his hand snaked back down into your panties and lightly started rubbing circles around your bud. He wanted to treat you well still, the guilt he felt rushing things was impossible to ignore. 

Jungkook nearly cried, savoring the way you tightened around him. It was grueling to try and keep still. He wanted to go slow for both your sakes, but mainly for you so you’d have that opportunity to get adjusted; he would hate to hurt you due to his own selfish desires.

“Please, Jungkook!” You cried, clamping hard onto the table. Tears had even started to prick your eyes.

“You think you can take me?” He groaned, even though you were practically squeezing him to give you more.

“What about ‘Jungkook, please fuck me’ is so hard to understand?” Your bratty tone was the last straw in snapping his reserve. He roughly pulled out and thrusted back into you, making you both moan out at the sensation. He didn’t mean to be so forceful, but—

“Quiet,” a simple one-word command that Jungkook practically growled into your ear. “You always talk too much.” He sighed as he began his steady pace of rocking into you, never once moving his hand away from your clit.

You nearly screamed at the sensation and quickly had to remind yourself that you were in a storage room at your job, and people weren’t that far away. You had to control yourself, but fucking Jungkook…

Instead of saying anything more, you obeyed like he wanted. It wasn’t like you necessarily wanted to, but as he started increasing his pace, you knew anything that would come out of your mouth at that point would only get you in trouble. 

It was almost mind-boggling that this was the same man you’ve argued, consoled, and talked with over the last month. What was going on?

You kept quiet trying your best to keep yourself under control as he pounded into you from the back. One hand on your waist, pulling you back to meet his hips, the other working tirelessly on bringing you closer and closer to the end. It felt good— more than good, but you didn’t want to admit that. You honestly hated thinking about how good the sex was with him sometimes.

It was only temporary, this would end someday, hopefully soon. This spelled disaster before anything had even happened yet, but deep down, you knew this path would only get more complicated the longer you both kept this going. 

This was bad news, this was bad news, this was bad new— But your warnings were being drowned out by the surge of pleasure running through your body by his hand and his cock that always managed to fill you so well.

Suddenly his pace slightly faltered and his grip on your waist grew tighter. “C-Close—” He fumbled out, trying to steady himself once more.

He knew going into this it wouldn’t last long. That meeting had worked him up in ways that he wasn’t prepared for, he couldn’t even pretend he was better than this. His daydreams were more vivid than anything he used to experience. They were memories. They were dangerous, powerful memories that he couldn’t run from even with his employees all around him. It was pathetic.

Now that he had you to himself, he couldn’t even fake composure. The scene was phenomenal, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties clumsily pushed to the side, your thigh-highs he wondered if were getting stained with your juices, and the way your ass would jiggle with each thrust he made. Jungkook could have cum just from his thoughts alone. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t keep it together no matter how slow he tried to move. It was too much, and it wasn’t too long after that he felt himself starting to speed towards his release.

You both were prepared for things to end soon as they always do, but for the first time in the few weeks you both have been sneaking away to the meeting room, you heard footsteps. 

These weren’t the typical footsteps that you both would hear whenever someone would pass by this pretty destitute hallway, no, these footsteps were loud. Instead of just fading as they walked off, they only got louder and louder with each second that passed letting you both know that they simply weren’t going along through the outside hallway, they were getting closer. 

You both instantly froze the longer you realized what that meant. The possibilities quickly ran through your heads. Best case scenario, this was someone who simply took a wrong turn and would be going back pretty soon after they realized that the only thing down here was a storage room. Worst case scenario, the only other people who have access to the room— it was a janitor innocently coming over to get more supplies. 

There wouldn’t be enough time to try and cover yourselves to pretend like nothing perverse had been happening only moments prior. It would simply be the end and the beginning to the hell that would await you. 

Luckily, your question was answered before they even made it to the door and your mind wandered too far. It wasn’t one, but definitely multiple people who were laughing and joking with each other as they got closer.

“What’s down here, hyung?” A younger voice filled the hallway quite clearly. 

“I’ve never been down this hallway before.” Another voice said. 

They were newbies— new people who joined the office and were receiving an in-depth tour of the building by their senior. There should be no reason to panic anymore besides the minor inconvenience, but things were never that simple.

The minute Jungkook heard voices, his first instinct was to pull you close so you were flush against his chest. His hand went over your mouth to keep you quiet, shushing you right in your ear while he was still buried deep inside you. The position, maybe it was the situation, you weren’t exactly sure yourself, but apparently Jungkook hit a button you had that you didn’t know existed.

As the group grew closer you were trying your best to keep calm, but you found it extremely—

“Oh—” Jungkook quickly had to bury himself in your shoulder. You were tightening around him so much, so fucking much. 

“Ok, so what’s down here?” Another person in the group said. You were hardly paying attention anymore, but they were standing right outside the door. 

They were right outside, but no matter what, you just wouldn’t relax around him. Jungkook tried his best to control himself and take steady, deep breaths just until the group left. But they weren’t moving, for whatever reason, this little hallway they found was the best place to be a great hang out spot and get into some random conversation about who knows what. 

“Fuck…” Jungkook cried out as quietly as he could into your shoulder. He wasn’t strong enough at all to do this. You were squeezing him so much, and he had already been close, trying to keep still was—

His hips almost had a mind of their own as they steadily began to pump into your sopping heat. He tried his best to keep his movements small, not to make too much noise, but when he moved that only made it so much worse—

“Sto— please— Y/n!” He was forcing himself to whisper, but it almost felt like he was yelling in the moment. He had to keep calm, but you were making this difficult. Why was this happening?! And somehow, as if things couldn’t get any worse… None of you were listening to what the group outside were saying, not until the point where one distinct voice questioned— “Ok, so the only thing down here pretty much is this storage room?” 

“What do you think is in there?” Someone else said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in there before, but I can’t imagine it’s anything that interesting.”

“Let’s seem,” it was the one who sounded a little younger— curious, oh he was so fucking curious because who suggests that? But the distinct sound of the doorknob turning only made Jungkook that much more desperate, his thrusts growing far too hurried for someone who was trying to keep quiet.

Click- click- click— no matter what way they turned, the door wouldn’t open, but the adrenaline you both were running on was unlike anything else.

“Huh… guess it’s locked.”

“Yeah, look, you need to use your badge to get access.”

“We don’t have access?”

It sounded like someone tried, the familiar game-like failure buzz sounded and the sounds of disappointed sighs filled the hallway. 

But you both heard it, and it was a sound of relief as Jungkook felt like he was two seconds away from derailing. They had to leave soon— they had to leave soon— please—

“Anyway, time to move on to the other parts of the tour, no reason to get stuck here.” Someone sounded, probably the senior who was guiding everyone around. Then, the sounds of footsteps steadily grew quieter and quieter. 

Your muffled moans, as Jungkook instantly hurried his pace, grew louder and more desperate right along with Jungkook as his hand went faster and faster. You were so tight…

Their footsteps were still going down the hallway when Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore from spilling into your warmth. A muffled cry went into your shoulder as he hastily pumped you full of his cum. It felt like this giant wave crashed over him, it knocked him down and he couldn’t even think about getting back up. He was shaking, hushed cries and curses filling the room, because what the fuck just happened? 

But Jungkook was not in the mood to question it now. In his post-bliss haze, all he could focus on was getting you over the edge as well. Jungkook didn’t waste another second and picked his pace up once again on your clit. 

“Want to see you cum for me…” He lazily whispered in your ear, and all the while his hand was still over your mouth, so all you could respond with was your muffled cries into his hand. You really do talk too much sometimes. 

You had no idea where this was coming from, and your body didn’t either. You had tears in your eyes at how good he felt, and Jungkook could feel them running down onto his hand. 

It didn’t take much until that knot finally snapped and you finished hard around him. You tightened so much around his spent length that as Jungkook was fighting the overstimulation, somehow you were able to easily have him cumming into you again while he worked you both through it like the pathetic man he was.

It was intense, and out of the month this affair had been happening, you hadn't experienced anything like this. You don’t think you ever have. 

You both were rendered messes as slowly but surely you started to come back down. Jungkook nearly collapsed onto you. Your knees felt weak, but you could only imagine what he was feeling having cum so fast right after his first orgasm. 

For a little while, you just listened to your labored breaths. It was like the disastrous calm after a storm. The sun was out, but all that did was highlight the devastating damage left in its wake.

Jungkook was slouched over you, and as time passed your breathing grew more in sync. You honestly didn’t want to move. Something about this moment made your heart hammer painfully in your chest; you figured it was the adrenaline. But eventually, Jungkook found the strength to pull away from you and you hated how you already missed his warmth. To distract yourself, you made quick work at trying to get yourself as presentable as you could again— pulling your skirt down, buttoning up your blouse, smoothing down your hair, and you’d touch up your makeup a little later. 

Jungkook barely managed to get his pants back up and was leaning against the wall, looking more spaced out than ever. In the silence, it made you think about something that you both had unintentionally avoided over the last month. 

“Do you think it might be a good idea to not keep doing this at our job…?” You laughed weakly. “I know they couldn’t get in, but what if that was a janitor.” 

Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at you.

Oddly enough, this affair had never left the office besides that one time you gave him a handjob before a meeting at another company. It was never something you both discussed, it just kinda happened this way. There was this unspoken line that for some reason none of you decided to cross since this started— inviting each other home.

Jungkook might have had his own reasons, but at least for you the office made it less real. Just like the very day you found yourself on Jungkook’s desk, it was almost like there was this haze in the air that made the reality of what you were doing easier to bear. At home— that felt personal— too personal for something that needed to have ended weeks ago, something that should have never started in the first place. Things just seemed easier here, risky yes, but convenient and made it a lot less difficult to convince yourself that you weren’t having an affair with a married man. 

But again, it was risky, and you were bound to get caught one day if this kept going. Maybe you hoped that the last time would really be the last, no need to bring him over, but for some reason you just couldn’t see that happening anymore. It felt more likely one day you both were going to get caught with your pants down by the janitor than you were to end things right now. 

That brush with the possibility, while exhilarating, you knew it was a warning sign from the universe that the next time you both might not be so lucky. 

“You’re probably right…” He sighed. 

“Your place probably isn’t a good idea considering… well, you know… it’s just me at my apartment, no roommates whatsoever, so we could finally have some privacy.” You suggested.

Jungkook slowly nodded, his silence lingered for a while. 

“Unless maybe you’re not comfortab—” 

“No, no, sorry. Your place is fine. It’s probably best to continue things from there then. Next time I guess we’ll meet there.” Jungkook rushed out, but you could tell something was a little off about him. He normally got quiet after things were done, but this was just unlike him.

“Alright, my place it is then.” You sighed. It was weird, you literally just had some of the best sex you ever had, yet Jungkook’s low mood was so easily sucking the new found energy right out of you. 

Silence passed for a little while before you couldn’t take it any longer. “Are you doing ok? I could practically taste the alcohol you drank earlier. Did you go somewhere? Everything alright?” You finally asked, more than a little concerned.

Your eyes bared into him as you waited for his answer. 

Jungkook weakly smiled into the darkness. “Just trying to make it through the day.” 

His answer did nothing but make you more worried, it just confirmed your worst fears. It’s not like he went maybe to some fancy brunch with friends, he was simply day drinking for no other reason than to drown out whatever sorrows he was dealing with.

“Are you drunk, you seem a little…” Off, he’s seemed off all day and that says something, because everything about him was off on a daily basis— today strayed even further from the ordinary.

“Not drunk… just maybe buzzed… no— just a little more than that. I think tipsy, feeling a little…” His voice trailed off as he shook his hand, “Not all there, but not completely gone.”

His answer didn’t surprise you there.

“Maybe you should stay here or head back to your office for a little while and sober up.” You suggested, trying your best to help out. It wasn’t like he was drunk drunk, but it was definitely obvious there was something off about him— you knew that before you had your tongue in his mouth. You worried someone else might realize.

Jungkook sighed. “You’re right… things just feel easier like this…” 

You walked a little closer, beckoning him to continue. 

“It’s just getting harder and harder to make it through… I’m trying, but I’m just so weak. I wish I was stronger.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but his eyes were watery. He was glad you couldn’t see.

But even in the darkness, he noticed your concerned eyes staring up at him. Suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his frame. It wasn’t something he expected as your warmth embraced him in a whole new way, his eyes were wide and for a second the haze of the alcohol dissipated.

“You are strong… You managed to get out of your cozy bed today and brave going through this awful fucking weather to get to work.” You were trying to be funny, and it made you happy hearing Jungkook chuckle. “I’m serious though, just getting out of bed is worth celebrating— don’t say you’re weak because it’ll only make it more true the more you say it.” You said while gently rubbing his back.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, he was just enjoying the feeling of you this close a little too much. “Thank you.” He smiled. He couldn’t say he believed that entirely yet, but it still felt nice hearing someone like you say that. 

“No problem… and sorry—” You pulled back and it took everything in Jungkook not to try and go for another. “You just looked like you needed a hug.”

It probably only took away a hair off of the mountain that was all his problems, but still it helped. “Thank you, really.”

You smiled at him and Jungkook couldn’t stop the weird way his heart twisted in his chest as he stared at you.

“Anyway, I have a Christmas tree I need to go decorate.” You sighed, stretching your tired limbs.  

Jungkook looked at you curiously.

“Apparently, all the teams on the floor are competing this year on who can decorate the best Christmas tree. Director Son is really passionate about it and beating the other teams, so we’re having an unofficial meeting to start working on it.” 

As you spoke, Jungkook’s eyes widened as he remembered that the holidays were approaching fast, tomorrow was the first already. At this, Jungkook’s face fell.

“What, you think it’s stupid?” You questioned and Jungkook quickly shook his head.

“It’s not that—”

“Maybe the fact we aren’t working, because—”

“No… you guys are fine. December is just busy for me, and I don’t know— this year I’m not really too excited.” He sighed. He normally never was, but he knew exactly why this year felt so off. December meant he would have to face his and Yuri’s family again, and as if he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he needed to face them with the knowledge he was cheating on his wife. The “cheery” holiday spirit was just the cherry on top to bring him down. While everyone else was going to be out celebrating, he would be wallowing in his self misery, reflecting and thinking back to what a horrible year this turned out to be. 

“Well, if you want to, you could always join our team in the competition if you need a little holiday cheer.” You were both joking and being incredibly serious. It was evident he wasn’t lying, and you were honestly worried about him. Maybe a little fun is what he needed.

Jungkook laughed. “I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t, he wasn’t in the mood at all— he’d just bring everyone down with him.

“I hope so.”

You stretched again. “Anyway, were you heading out?” You questioned when he still hadn’t moved. 

“Yeah, I think I’ll head back to the office like you suggested,” he couldn’t deny and say he wasn’t going to try and go for another beer. He recently bought a new pack to restock his fridge, but that was how he ended up tipsy today. He hoped he would get a grip and avoid it though, to actually heed your advice. He had work to do later. “But you can leave first and head out to get tangled in tinsel.”

You both laughed. “No, that’s not me, but I definitely know a few coworkers who I might need to detangle— Taehyung will somehow goof his way into getting wrapped up in decorations, then he’ll end up asking me to unravel him.” You laughed at the thought because, honestly, that would be something that he would do.

You didn’t notice Jungkook slightly frown at the mention of his name.

“Anyway, thank you for being here— sorry for pulling you here so suddenly.” He apologized.

“You’re fine, it won’t matter anymore. We shouldn’t have to worry about getting caught next time.” You smiled.

“Right… till then.” He weakly smiled back. 

Another moment of silence passed, it was almost like you both wanted to say something, but none of you worked up the courage to spit out.

“Till next time then. Take care of yourself, okay?” You pointed a finger at him.

Jungkook just nodded.

“Oh, and don’t forget to eat lunch!” You were saying anything you could think of to keep yourself around just a little longer in case he wanted to spill what he had on his mind. You really were concerned.

Jungkook just nodded again.

You glanced at him worriedly before you started heading to leave. Your eyes maintained their gaze, but you finally broke away and opened the door. With the click of it closing, you were gone.

Jungkook was alone.

In an instant, his eyes crinkled while tears poured out and slipped onto his cheeks. Jungkook quietly clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his abrupt sobs. 

Why does it hurt so much?

He just wanted it to end. Peace, he can’t go on like this much longer. All he wanted was a break from this hellish storm. Does it ever end? Everlasting, boundless, a harsh, brutal storm for the wicked. He couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for people like him.

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[sweetheartsofpanem]

Clinginess Is a Symptom - Soft Things Survive

Previous Part

i think haymitch would def be the type to be extremelyyyyy clingy and just the complete opposite if his normal self when he’s sick so this chapter was born from that thought😭

warnings: refer to series masterlist

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

word count: 3.62k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake to the sound of coughing.

It’s rough—low and sharp and just muffled enough to make your heart stutter.

You blink in the early morning light, the quiet gray of it leaking in through the curtains, and turn slowly toward the source.

Haymitch is curled on his side, facing away from you, one arm still half-under your pillow, the other bent near his mouth. His shoulders jerk with another cough, then another, and he groans low like it physically hurts to exist.

You sit up carefully, brushing sleep from your eyes. “Hey.”

He doesn’t answer, just clears his throat like it might fix the problem and flops onto his back, eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” he rasps.

You lean over him slightly, resting a hand on his chest. It’s warm. Too warm. Not fever-hot, but enough to make your worry settle in deeper.

He peeks one eye open.

You blink at him. “You’re sick.”

“Impossible,” he croaks. “I’m rugged and invincible.”

“You sound like someone dragged a rake through your lungs.”

“Still handsome, though.”

You snort, brushing your thumb along his sternum. “Sure. In a ‘coughs like a dying Victorian poet’ sort of way.”

He closes his eyes again and groans. “I’m too weak for this abuse.”

You smile. Then soften. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good?”

“I was hoping it would go away.”

You sigh, already sliding out of bed. “I’ll make tea. You rest.”

He groans louder. “You’re abandoning me.”

“I’m literally making you tea.”

“You could make it from here.”

“Do you want me to nurse you back to health or not?”

He opens both eyes this time, looking at you like you just offered him the moon. “You’d really do that?”

You blink. “Haymitch, I practically live with you.”

“You do.”

“I made soup last week when Peeta had a cold.”

“…You did.”

“I will baby the hell out of you if you let me.”

A beat.

He sniffles, pitiful. “Okay.”

You lean down, kiss his forehead and whisper, “You’re so dramatic.”

And he just smiles, eyes already fluttering closed again like he’s planning to milk this for everything it’s worth.

The kettle whistles gently.

You pour the hot water over the dried peppermint leaves you found with Katniss and let them steep, the scent already curling into the quiet morning like something healing.

It’s peaceful, in that slow kind of way that only comes when the world hasn’t fully woken up yet.

You hear the creak of floorboards behind you.

You don’t turn.

There’s a pause—just long enough to wonder if he’s heading for the couch or the table—but then you feel it.

His arms, winding around your waist.

His chest, warm and solid against your back.

He presses his face into the crook of your neck and exhales slowly, like you’re the only good thing that’s ever existed.

You blink down at the mug in your hands.

“Thought I told you to rest.”

“You did.”

“And yet…”

“I missed you.”

You laugh, quiet. “You were alone for four minutes.”

“They were the longest four minutes of my life.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into him slightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m dying.”

“You have a cold.”

“A tragic, slow decline. Tell the world I fought bravely.”

You glance over your shoulder, just enough to catch the look on his face.

And it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.

Because even with the redness around his nose and the sleep still tugging at his eyes, he’s looking at you like you made the sun rise. Like he’s never seen anything better than you in a too-big shirt making tea in his kitchen.

It’s so soft it almost hurts.

You swallow and turn back to the mug, gently stirring the peppermint leaves. “This’ll help your throat. And your sinuses.”

He hums, nuzzling into the curve of your shoulder like he might melt there.

He doesn’t tell you he loves you.

But it’s in the way he holds you.

The way he breathes you in like you’re the medicine.

He barely lets go of you in order to move to the living room once the tea is ready.

You set the mug down carefully on the side table next to the couch—the steam curling gently into the air, sweet and sharp with peppermint.

“Okay,” you murmur, turning to sit down, “let’s get you—hey!”

Before you can sit down, Haymitch hooks an arm around your waist and pulls.

You yelp softly as you stumble into his lap, half-laughing, half-scolding, your back against his chest.

“Haymitch.”

“What?”

“I was going to sit next to you.”

“And I changed my mind.”

“You didn’t even let me have a mind.”

He tucks his chin over your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It’s my tragic sick day. I get one wish.”

You twist just enough to look at him. “And your wish is… to hold me hostage?”

He hums, already nuzzling into your neck like a cat claiming ownership. “Exactly.”

You blink at the wall for a moment, then say flatly, “Why are you so clingy right now?”

“Because I’m dying.”

“You have a cold.”

“And your presence is the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.”

You snort. “Dramatic and manipulative. That’s new.”

He grins against your skin. “You’re warm and soft and you smell like safety. Deal with it.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers curl gently around the arm draped across your waist anyway.

“Fine,” you whisper. “But if your tea goes cold because you refused to let go of me, I’m not making another one.”

“Worth it,” he murmurs, and presses a soft, fluttery kiss to your jaw like it’s reflex.

Your heart does something deeply unfair in your chest.

You settle back against him, his chest warm and solid at your spine, arms wrapped snugly around your waist. His chin rests lightly on your shoulder.

“This is not how you drink tea,” you mumble, head tilted slightly toward his.

“This is how I drink tea.”

“You haven’t even touched the tea.”

He hums, voice rumbling low near your ear. “I’m busy.”

You glance sideways at him. “Busy doing what?”

He meets your eyes with a deadpan expression. “Being a burden.”

You blink.

And then you burst out laughing.

He smiles smugly, like your laugh is the only cure he ever wanted.

“You’re insufferable,” you say.

“I’m ill.”

“You’re milking it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your neck, the kind that shouldn’t make your heart stutter—but absolutely does. “I’m just a poor, broken man in need of affection.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet…” His hands shift a little, one settling over your stomach, the other rubbing slow, lazy circles along your hip. “You’re still here.”

You go quiet.

Because… he’s not wrong.

Your fingers curl loosely around his wrist, grounding yourself in the warmth of him.

You exhale softly. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Still here.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But his arms tighten—just a little.

Outside, the light’s gone soft and golden. The mug on the side table still lets off a quiet curl of steam. And you sit there, pressed against him like you’ve done it a thousand times, like you couldn’t possibly be anywhere else.

“You know,” he mutters after a long stretch of silence, “I was gonna try and act normal about all this.”

You tilt your head slightly, catching the corner of his eye. “About what?”

“This. You. Tea and you in my lap and morning cuddling and me being a complete sap about it.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “And?”

He sighs. “Didn’t work.”

You grin. “You’re doing great, sunshine.”

He scowls. “You’re lucky I’m too weak to throw you across the room.”

You reach up and pat his cheek. “You’d miss me five seconds after throwing me.”

He gives you a look like it’s the rudest thing you’ve ever said—then presses another soft kiss to your neck like it’s instinct.

You stay like that—tucked into his chest, his arms warm around you, the tea growing colder on the side table—longer than you probably should.

Neither of you moves.

Because, really… why would you?

Haymitch sighs loudly behind you, a long, drawn-out exhale that makes his whole body slump just a little further into the cushions.

You glance back. “What now?”

“I’m dying.”

You snort. “You aren’t.”

He groans. “My throat feels like I swallowed fire and betrayal.”

You twist enough to see his face. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m suffering,” he insists, brows furrowed, nose slightly red, expression far too pitiful to be taken seriously. “And you’re just sitting there. Mocking me.”

“I’m literally in your lap,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your own body. “What more do you want?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “You could stroke my hair and tell me I’m brave.”

You snort, laughing as you twist to face him more and reach up with one hand to gently card your fingers through his messy hair.

“There,” you say, tone dry. “You’re very brave. Fighting for your life. Right here on the couch.”

He hums, eyes fluttering shut like you’ve just performed a sacred ritual. “That’s more like it.”

You roll your eyes—but your hand stays in his hair, and his arms stay tight around your waist, and neither of you says the obvious thing. That maybe this is the softest either of you has ever been. That maybe, this close, it’s easy to forget how hard everything used to be.

He sighs again—less dramatic this time, more content.

Then, with absolutely no warning, he mutters, “I bet you like me better like this.”

You blink. “Like what?”

He shifts just enough to nuzzle his nose into your neck. “Quiet. Clingy. Tragic and weak.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “You think this is weak?”

“Emotionally, yes.”

You’re quiet for a beat, then say—soft and amused, but honest, “You are kind of cute like this.”

He freezes.

Then snorts. “Great. All I had to do was get sick and whine.”

You grin. “It’s working for you.”

“Fantastic,” he mutters. “New strategy. I’ll just have a chronic cold.”

You tilt your head back slightly until your cheek brushes his jaw. “Don’t tempt me. You might end up with soup every night.”

He hums again—low, pleased, maybe a little surprised.

“Keep talking like that and I might actually recover,” he says.

And you just laugh, because you can’t help it.

You don’t say it—but you kind of hope he never stops being like this with you. Open. Soft. A little ridiculous.

Just real.

Just yours.

His breath stutters—and then he coughs again.

Rough, low, chest-deep. The kind that scrapes its way up his throat and makes your own wince in sympathy just from hearing it.

You twist slightly in his lap, frowning. “Okay. You were supposed to drink the tea.”

He groans into your shoulder like you’ve just accused him of high treason.

“You made it too cozy here,” he mumbles, voice all gravel and indignation. “You got in my lap. I was compromised.”

You turn your head to give him the most unimpressed look you can muster. “You forced me into your lap and the tea is sitting on the table. Right next to you.”

“Far away,” he counters, squeezing his arms tighter around you like that somehow proves his point. “Inaccessible.”

You stare at him.

He stares right back.

Then—just to be difficult—he buries his face in the curve of your neck like he’s trying to disappear.

You sigh. “Fine. Since you didn’t drink the tea, you have to take medicine instead.”

He tightens his grip immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You push lightly at his arm. “Come on.”

He doesn’t budge. “If you get up, I’ll die.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“And,” he says, muffled into your shoulder, “I remain on death’s doorstep. Do you want that on your conscience?”

You groan. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m sick,” he says pitifully. “And in need of comfort. And medicine tastes like betrayal.”

You try to stand.

He clings harder.

“Haymitch.”

“I’m holding you for warmth.”

“You’re feverish.”

“Exactly.”

You drop your head to his shoulder with a dramatic thud. “You’re the worst patient.”

“I never claimed otherwise.”

And still—you don’t get up.

Because his arms are warm around you, and your hand’s still in his hair, and even if he’s being a little shit about the medicine, it’s hard not to melt at how shamelessly he wants you close.

“…Five more minutes,” you mutter.

He pulls you tighter. “Take your time, honey.”

And you do.

Because honestly, you kind of like it here—with his cough, and his ridiculous excuses, and his whole heart wrapped around you like it doesn’t even realize it’s doing it.

Even if you are forcing medicine down his throat the second the five minutes are up.

He coughs again.

This time, it’s worse.

Harsher. Deeper. The kind that sounds like it’s trying to drag his lungs up with it.

You wince. “Okay, that’s it.”

Before he can trap you again, you twist out of his lap.

He reaches for you, but another cough cuts him off, forcing him to double over slightly, hand braced against the couch as he coughs into his elbow.

You’re already in the kitchen.

Digging through the drawer, grabbing the little bottle of syrup that’s probably expired but still better than nothing.

“Y/N,” he croaks behind you, hoarse and betrayed. “I’m dying.”

“You’re dramatic,” you call back. “And about to be medicated whether you like it or not.”

“I liked it better when you were a sweet, gentle little thing curled up in my lap.”

You return to the living room holding the bottle and the tiniest spoon you could find. “Well, now I’m a menace with authority. Open up.”

He squints at the spoon like it’s personally offended him. “That’s poison.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s cherry-flavored.”

“It’s a lie.”

“Haymitch.”

He groans and slumps back against the couch like he’s staging a death scene. “If this kills me, I want a dramatic funeral. I want sobbing. I want Peeta to compose an emotional bread-based eulogy.”

You step between his knees and raise the spoon again. “You can have all that after you take the medicine.”

He gives you a long, withering look.

You narrow your eyes right back.

Then, finally—sighing like you’ve just asked him to walk into battle barefoot—he opens his mouth and accepts the spoonful of syrup.

He immediately makes the most offended face you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

“I’ve been betrayed,” he croaks.

“You’ll live.”

He stares at you overdramatically. “We’ll see.”

But when you move to sit beside him again, he opens his arms without a word.

You barely get settled against him again before he lets out the most pitiful sigh you’ve ever heard.

“Now what?” you murmur, already suspicious.

“I’m freezing,” he mutters, voice small and gravelly. “Think I might be dying. Again.”

You glance at him. “You’re burning up.”

He tightens his hold on you, burying his face against your shoulder. “Then I’m freezing from the inside out. It’s worse.”

You huff a laugh. “So what I’m hearing is you want a blanket.”

He nods against your neck like a suffering Victorian man on his deathbed.

You reach for the throw blanket at the end of the couch and tug it over both of you, tucking it around his legs and over your shoulders. He immediately presses closer, arms around you like you’re the last functioning heating source in the world.

“There,” you say, patting his arm. “Warm. Cared for. Still alive.”

He grumbles something incoherent and sniffs dramatically.

You let him sulk for a while, just breathing in the quiet, but eventually his stomach lets out the most awful growl you’ve ever heard.

You blink. “Was that… you?”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters. “Everything’s a betrayal today.”

You shift a little to glance up at him. “Okay. You need food. I’m making soup.”

He tightens his grip. “Noooo.”

“Haymitch.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“You need food.”

“I need you right here.”

You look up at him, deadpan. “You just said you were dying.”

“I am. And now you’re leaving me in my final hour.”

You squint. “I’m making soup.”

“Alone?” he says, horrified.

You don’t dignify that with a response. You start wriggling out of the blanket.

He makes a noise of pure betrayal.

You stand.

He groans dramatically and slumps back, but the second you step toward the kitchen, you hear him shuffle up behind you.

You glance back.

He’s trailing after you like a sick, barefoot puppy—blanket still half-draped around his shoulders, hair a mess, and the most pitiful look you’ve ever seen in his eyes.

You roll your eyes. “You could’ve just asked for more cuddling in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t answer. Just steps up behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist the second you stop moving.

“Haymitch,” you sigh, reaching for the pot.

“I’m helping,” he says into your shoulder.

“You’re clinging.”

“Same thing.”

You laugh under your breath and lean back into him, just a little.

You reach for the cabinet with one hand, the other pinned by his arm.

“Okay,” you mutter, “we’re doing this with one arm, apparently.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, muffled into your shoulder.

You huff a breathy laugh. “Can you at least move with me when I move? I’m going for the broth.”

“Lead the way, honey.”

You sidestep toward the pantry. He follows, arms still around your waist, blanket trailing behind like he’s your cold-stricken cape.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s warm.

You grab a can of broth and set it on the counter, then glance up at the shelf above it. “Gonna need you to detach for this part.”

A dramatic sigh against your back.

“You’re asking a lot,” he mutters.

“I’m making you soup.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

He peels away with all the suffering of a man being exiled from paradise. You retrieve what you need—dried herbs and some noodles from the jar Peeta made you—and when you turn around, he’s leaning on the counter beside the stove, watching you like you’re performing a one-woman play titled Soup for the Dying and Beautiful.

You pause mid-pour because he still hasn’t looked away. “What?”

He shrugs. “You look cute when you’re domestic.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m feeding you.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replies, reaching to rest his hand low on your back. “But I am also very hungry.”

You shake your head, stirring the pot.

He stays right there.

Doesn’t sit. Doesn’t wander off. Just stays with you, arms occasionally finding their way back around your waist as you add ingredients, leaning into your side like he’s recharging from the contact alone.

Eventually, the soup simmers.

You lower the heat and taste it—just a little—and he waits, eyes on you like the verdict will determine whether or not he survives the day.

You turn to him.

“It’s good.”

“Then I might live,” he says, deadpan.

You ladle it into two mismatched bowls and walk it back to the living room, Haymitch following close behind, practically brushing your shoulder with every step.

You hand him his bowl and sit beside him.

He stares at the soup like it’s a masterpiece. Then looks at you.

“I love you,” he says.

You blink.

He takes a spoonful, hums happily, and adds, “I mean, I’m not saying it now. Just… this is the kind of thing I’ll probably cite in the future when I do.”

You don’t respond.

Just smile into your bowl and pretend you’re not blushing.

You both eat quietly, knees brushing now and then, the silence thick with warmth and peppered with occasional sniffles from Haymitch. He finishes his bowl before you, which feels like a minor miracle considering the dramatic performance he gave about possibly dying.

You lean forward to set your bowl on the coffee table.

And the second you do, his arm snakes around your waist again.

“Hey—”

“Nope,” he says, tugging you gently but firmly back into him. “Soup’s done. Time for more comfort.”

You laugh, breathless, as you fall back into his side, and he drags the blanket over you both like this is the most natural thing in the world. Eventually his legs end up stretched out along the couch, and you end up tucked between them, your back against his chest again, his arms around you waist.

He rests his chin on top of your head and exhales like that alone makes him feel better.

“You are so clingy when you’re sick,” you murmur, but it comes out softer than you mean it to.

He shrugs. “Might die at any moment. Trying to get my fill.”

“You’re not gonna die.”

“Can’t be sure.”

“You had soup, Haymitch.”

He presses a kiss to your hair. “The soup was very good. If I survive, it’ll be your doing.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move. If anything, you lean into him more. He’s still warm—maybe from the fever, maybe from you—but either way, you’re not going anywhere.

He sighs against your hair. “This is nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You twist your head just enough to look up at him. “Even though you’re sick and whiny and full of soup?”

He grins down at you. “I guess.”

You snort and settle back against his chest, your hand curling over his where it rests on your stomach.

You don’t say anything else.

And neither does he.

But the arm around you tightens.

And you stay like that.

Wrapped up.

Warm.

Together.

Next Part

[bvidzsoo]

Color of love

The third star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

☆ Warning: smut, breeding kink (?), possessiveness, mentions of abuse and enslaving, violence

☆ Word count: 12.3k

☆ Rating: nsfw, mature

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Hongjoong is Hermes and MC is Iris, fated to be together au

☆ Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ A/N: Helloo, my lovelies!! ^^ I am back and all fresh to continue my Greek series, memory refreshed of the places that our story takes place at. All villages mentioned in this part are very real places and I decided to use them, since I now know Greek people also read this series, I hope I have done justice with the descriptions and please forgive me if I messed up anything, but I did take some creative liberty (mythology included!) Surprisingly, I don't have much to yap about right now, except that while writing this I derailed a bit from the initial plot I had constructed lmao but it's actually good because it tied everything nicely together. The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. I appreciate all your feedback, so let me know what you thought of Hongjoong's part! ^^ Enjoy, and here's a glossary before you start reading:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Hermes is considered the herald of the gods, but is also a messenger God ★ Iris is the the personification of the rainbow and messenger of the gods, a servant to the Olympians and especially Queen Hera ★ talaria are winged sandals ★ petasos is a wide-brimmed hat with a conical crown worn in ancient Greece ★ Zeus is the god of the sky and is considered the ruler, protector, and father of all gods and humans ★ Hera is the goddess of marriage, family, childbirth, and women, known as the queen of the gods ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Dryad is a tree nymph  ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Selene is the is the goddess and personification of the Moon ★ Helios is the god representing the sun ★ Isis is the goddess of healing and magic ★ Underworld is a distinct realm where an individual goes after death ★ Cerberus often referred to as the hound of Hades, is a multi-headed dog that guards the gates of the Underworld ★ Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi, Palaios Panteleimonas are villages in the Olympic Riviera and are situated on the mountain side ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @skittyneos @mingheol @sebastianswhore13

@astral-trashcan

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Alongside the mountain range of Olympus lays more than one beautiful settlement, some so breathtakingly magnificent that one would dare say the Gods themselves have crafted them. It goes without saying that it wasn’t them, but perhaps the humans that have constructed such roads and buildings were momentarily blessed by Hephaestus to wield their instruments the same way he wields his, with the same precision and perfection, building a haven for those who sought a refuge and a place to which they belonged. The lush green mountain range held more than one hidden village from the prying eyes of those wandering through the forest or the inhabitants of the bustling town of Dion, and these small settlements also offered refuge to those who desperately needed one. Right underneath the noses of the Olympian Gods, blessed but also scrutinized and often forgotten about, nobody would’ve thought to look for the two that held so much power in their pale hands, their bodies frail-looking but everlasting. The earthlings of Ano Skotina were unassuming and comprehensive of the two strangers who ran down the cobblestone-covered paths with baited breaths and soaked to the bone by the heavy rain, yet despite the oddness of their appearance and mumbled speeches, the villagers offered the two wandering souls fresh meal, a warm bath, and a house that they could call theirs. It almost felt like a distant memory now, something that happened centuries ago when, in fact, it was merely a few years back, when Zeus’ rage was still fresh and unforgiving as it mercilessly outlashed the mortals that worshipped him so much.

With the disappearance of Iris from Olympus, the Gods felt restless and uncertain, however, no matter how much Zeus scattered them out to search for his beloved seer, no God or Goddess has ever found her. But she was right under their noses, albeit tucked away in a safe place and surrounded by mortals who loved her and worshipped her unknowingly of her real self and status. The tall pinecone trees mixed with those specific to the climate had turned a sharper and more brilliant green compared to their colour before the two strangers decided to settle down in the quiet village, and after every rain, there was a rainbow. The children of the village would giggle and squeal whenever it appeared in the blue sky as they tried to chase its end, leaving a bright smile on my face as I tinkered around my humble abode, waiting for my lover to return.

The villagers of Ano Skotina were pleasant people, and once they warmed up to the newcomers, they included them in every tradition they had, often showering them with goods they didn’t need anymore. Despite looking as human as possible, there was something unearthly about the two newcomers, their auras bright and light, demanding a certain devotion that many in Olympus lacked. It had been hard at first to get used to the kindness and good deeds that seemingly followed every person here, but at last, I learned and realized that not everyone wished ill on their peer, nor did they expect anything in return if they did something for you.

At first, I had felt ungrateful towards their kindness as I found myself unknowing of the customs of the earthlings. Despite being a messenger, I never quite learned their ways and patterns. But they were understanding and chalked it up to me being peculiar, special, and a little different from them and never made me feel excluded when something was new and I didn’t understand the process of it. Hermes was doing better by my side, he accommodated faster, but that was to be expected. He’s been amongst mortals for longer than me, disguising himself as one as it came as second nature to him. Despite the range of our powers, neither Hermes nor I were blessed with the feat of turning ourselves completely human, and thus, I couldn’t help but blame it on a natural wonder and a blessing made by a Goddess when I was just a child that my hair changed its colour every season. During the colder days, it would turn into an ashen brown, slowly turning into a warm caramel colour as the sun returned. When it got so warm that not even the shade of the tall trees could shelter me from the sizzling sunrays, my hair turned a reddish hue, until it faded into a light brown when the leaves started falling once again. The mortals never said anything, never accused me of anything, but it was easy to tell that they knew something was amiss, that it had to do something with the divine. Perhaps that also prompted them to be kinder and gentler towards me, oftentimes noticeable just how squeamish I was around everyone besides my saviour. His name, the one that the mortals so feverishly worshipped, was Hermes, but the one they unassumingly called out as if he were a friend to them was Hongjoong. I, myself, found the later version of his name more comforting, friendlier, and for once not a reminder of everything I had to endure in Olympus at the hands of Zeus.

The night had been serene when we blew out the last candle and made our way to our shared bed, the covers cold until our ghastly bodies warmed them up, hushed whispers and giggles leaving our reddish lips until we became enraptured by the night and the dreams it brought upon once our minds and souls calmed and admitted defeat to the simple feat of exhaustion. Wrapped in the arms of my lover nothing and nobody could hurt me, I knew I was safe and far away from the very God that called himself our father and protector. But there were nights when my dreams were clouded with visions, making my sleep restless and terrifying. Some visions that came to me would be bright and of great news, and some would be foreboding and dark, petrifying.

At first, when the bright moonlight coming through the opened curtains slowly faded into permeating darkness, I thought it must have been the rainclouds covering the beautiful celestial, but with the appearance of the gut-twisting feeling low in my stomach, I knew something was amiss. The house was eerily quiet and I was alone, no longer in the safe and strong arms of my lover. My feet were cold as I carefully left the confines of my bedroom, the floorboards wet and slippery in an uncharacteristic way. Perhaps Hongjoong had visited Poseidon and brought the seawater inside our house, perhaps the rain was so harsh it settled and flooded our house. But the absence of the pitter-patter of the rain against the roof of the cottage was enough to confirm that it wasn’t raining, and with the talaria not in its place, I also knew Hongjoong wasn’t home.

The quiet hiss behind me and the fear spreading through my body warned me that this wasn’t my reality, that I had been sucked into a vision while unconscious. Most of my visions happened when I was asleep, when my mind was at rest and open to receiving whatever the Cosmos wanted to alert me of, but if the situation was dire, I could force myself into a state of consciousness too to see such visions. Rarely, but it’s been happening more often since I have descended into the human realm, I would get snippets of the future if I touched certain objects or even mortals, visions that usually bore good news. And so, without my consciousness stirring me awake to interrupt the vision, I turned to face the hissing animal behind me. A long and dark green snake was slowly slithering towards me, menacing as it opened its mouth and showed its poisonous fangs. A snake couldn’t kill me, I was immortal after all, but it certainly could harm this human body I was forced to inhibit in this realm.

But the ground shook and the sky cleared once again, the scenery different to where my unconscious body lay peacefully in the arms of my lover. The pinecone trees twisted and turned around me, caging me in as the snake came menacingly close, and I raised my head to look at the moon but it was absent. I was deep in the forest, I could hear the hushed whispers of the Dryads, the concern and fear in their voices. The snake rose off the ground and gave one last hiss before it lunged towards me, my legs apparently frozen in place as I couldn’t jump away or even run off. But before it could sink its teeth into my pale and frail skin, an eagle’s scream was loud and warning as it suddenly gripped the snake in its sharp claws and yanked it away from my body, taking it far away as it flew off into the permeating darkness. The Dryads haven’t stopped whispering, and while their mutters remained intangible, they became louder and more urgent. My legs stopped feeling like lead and I took a tentative step in the direction I hoped the cobble path was and would lead me back to the village, but a shadow darker than darkness itself seeped between the trees as if it was mist, encompassing the forest.

There was a scream in the distance and sudden terror gripped at my throat, my body locking up as I stared into the silver orbs that now seemed to be blocking my every-way, watching me almost tauntingly. I couldn’t breathe as my lungs seized, and I clawed at my throat, but the pressure only worsened, my body shaking from fear and the lack of oxygen. My vision became hazy as creepy laughter echoed around me, a terrifyingly familiar voice, a voice that I loathed with my whole being. I was succumbing to the greater force the more seconds ticked by, but before my eyes could roll to the back of my mind and allow my body to crumble to the cold floor of the forest, a face so clear it managed to make me gasp appeared in front of my face.

The man’s face was simply gorgeous, tanned from the sun and defined at the jaw with a nose that few bore around these parts. His eyes were uneven but sharp, and his pretty lips formed a word I couldn’t understand just yet. My ears were ringing louder than the person’s words, but the more my eyes bore into the stranger’s terrified ones, the clearer everything once again became.

“Run!” His shrill voice was raspy as I was forcefully shoved back and I stumbled for a moment until I regained my bearings.

I could move, I could hear, I could feel.

My body trembled as that familiar cackle echoed around me once again, and I realized the gorgeous stranger was one of the Dryads who whispered in the trees. He looked more scared than I had ever felt, and with a hand reaching out for him desperately to pull him with myself, my feet kicked off before the cold darkness could touch my skin.

And then, as quickly as it came, the vision was gone. I was shaken awake by the frantic calls of my name and warm hands that gripped my arms with tremors. “Y/N! My beloved, please, Y/N. Iris, please, wake up!”

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I realized the curtains were still drawn apart to allow the moonlight inside, to honour Selene and perhaps greet her when she passed on the sky with her chariot. Even if one could hide from Zeus, Selene and Helios saw and knew everything. But my vision was soon obscured by two bright eyes, an amber nobody else I knew had as they shook in fright and bore into mine, searching for anything wrong. My body felt tense and my throat a little parched, but other than that, I was alright. I knew I had been dreaming, I knew a vision came to me, but everything felt wrong. There was something just not right about the vision, about the way it occurred, about the man that showed itself to me. It took me a few seconds to register everything I had seen, and soon, my eyes were just as glazed over with fear as Hongjoong’s. I shot up and cradled my knees to my chest as Hongjoong settled down behind me, reluctant to touch me as he exhaled shakily.

“My beloved, what is the matter?” He questioned quietly, his voice pained, “I cannot help if you don’t talk to me. Was it another night terror, Iris?”

I gulped and my arms tightened around my legs a little bit more, “A vision, Hermes, an omen. Something bad is about to happen, he’s coming for me.”

There was rustling behind me and then I felt the press of a firm chest against my back, strong arms wrapping around my middle to pull me back into the warm body of my lover. I sighed, but my muscles remained tense as I tried to shake away the lingering feelings of the vision. Somebody was out there to get me. Somebody sent by Zeus, once again, and they were close, too close for comfort. The snake almost managed to touch me, perhaps it represented the mortal or traitor, even, that Zeus had sent. I wouldn’t put it past him to send the dirtiest of those that he had once cast away to bring me back to him so that he could enslave me once again.

“Nothing bad will happen, Y/N,” Hongjoong whispered as his chin came to rest on my shoulder. He turned his head and his soft brown hair tickled my cheek in the process, “You are with me and I will do everything to keep you safe, I have promised. No, I have sworn on my immortality, I’ll never let him find you, my beloved.”

Hongjoong’s tone was soft and tender as his fingers gripped my sheer nightgown tightly, pressing his front to the back of my body as tightly as he could, his hot lips brushing against my ear almost teasingly. I gulped, remembering the fear in the Dryad’s eyes too vividly, it had felt too real. I couldn’t even tell if he was part of the vision or if he had managed to cause a rift in the Cosmos to consciously warn me of the danger that was now closer than ever before. We’ve managed to stay hidden for so long, the fear of losing my freedom again was all-consuming and terrifying.

“The Dryad was terrified,” I whispered as my eyes coated over with the remnants of the vision, hard to erase such a look from my mind, “I don’t even think he was part of my vision. There was an eagle too in my dream, Hongjoong.”

My lover’s gulp was audible and I turned my face to face his, prompting Hongjoong to lean back just a bit so that we could stare into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a soft smile graced his lips and my heartbeat picked up just a little bit, my tense muscles finally easing and letting me become putty in Hongjoong’s comforting embrace.

“He won’t touch you.” There was a menace in his tone, warning and promising of pain, his eyes glazed over with fire for a second, memories taking him away from me, but Hongjoong quickly returned as his eyes cleared, tone more passionate than before, “If there’s anyone that can keep you captive, then that’s me because I’ll forever treat you with respect and love, care and tenderness. I’ll be your slave if that’s what you want me to be, I’ll prove to you again and again how devoted I am, I’ll treat you like a Queen if that’s who you want to be, Y/N. But most of all, I’ll run until the end of Earth for you if that means I can keep you safe, I’ll run and never stop. I’ll never step foot into Olympus ever again if that keeps you safe from those tyrants.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered as Hongjoong’s left arm untangled from around my torso so that he could cup my cheek, “With me gone, it’s already hard for everyone to keep up. I’m making you do all the work by yourself, it’s unfair. If you’ll be gone too, I fear our fates will be dire once we are discovered.”

“I know more than he’ll ever know, Y/N, I carry all secrets and strategies. If he tries to separate us or threatens to turn us into stars, I’ll know how to corner him.” A smirk that would frighten any mortal crossed Hongjoong’s lips, “And I will threaten to throw him off if he doesn’t back off.”

I knew no matter what I said to my lover his resolve wouldn’t break, it was of no use trying to convince Hongjoong that if he went against Zeus he most certainly would perish. No matter how much you knew, not even his own weaknesses could stop the God, he was the father of us all after all, and Hongjoong was merely a deity that had more power and free will than those unlucky like me.

“I love you.” The confession bubbled past my quivering lips, and I watched Hongjoong’s Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed, eyes darkening with want and fire that was perfectly reflected in his amber irises. Our human bodies were more fragile than our godly forms, they felt everything so much deeper, so much more passionately. I couldn’t help but succumb to the fire that licked at my skin as our warm lips pressed together, hungry and never satiated with the other as Hongjoong gently grabbed my hips and manoeuvred me around until I was sat atop him. Our lips smacked together with a languid pace and our teeth clumsily clanked together whenever one of us bit the other’s bottom lip eagerly, my long fingers finding purchase in Hongjoong’s wavy strands as his calloused hands guided my core over his clothed member. The soft fabric of his sleepwear was thin and hid nothing as he grunted at the first drag of my hips forward and back, making me eagerly swallow the sounds he was making. One warm hand settled on my thigh, underneath my nightgown, and slowly bunched up the fabric until it rested just above my hips.

Desire licked at my insides as hotness spread through my body, cheeks flushed as Hongjoong’s hands traced invisible patterns into my skin, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps as they slowly slithered towards my lower back, digging into my flesh. I sighed against his mouth before pulling back to tilt his head back and press kisses against his well-defined jaw, the moonlight making his appearance godlier than he ever was in his deity form. I moaned against his simmering skin as his nails dug into the flesh of my bottom, heat pooling in my lower stomach as he pressed me down just harder on his clothed member, drawing out a moan from both of us as my bare core ground right on top of it. The wetness between my legs only became more prominent and I bit into the flesh of his neck, making Hongjoong’s head fall back as he breathed through his mouth loudly, a whine falling past them every time I sucked a little harder, every time I let him drag my core over his hard member, hot despite the fabric separating us.

“I love you.” He gasped into the silence as his hands settled on my thighs again, my hips moving on their own as the friction had started feeling too good to stop, leaving a dark patch on his light-coloured trousers, which mixed with his own precum. I pressed a long kiss against his lips as I fiddled with the hem of his trousers and hastily pulled them down, freeing his member as I eagerly aligned myself up with it, our eyes meeting before I sunk on it. Hongjoong’s grip tightened on my thighs and he whimpered as I hugged him close to my body, fingers tangling into his hair once again, offering an anchor as my walls clamped down on his length. Hongjoong was safe, home was where he was, and I never wished to be anywhere else but in his arms. He saw past my gift and looked at my soul, he appreciated me and worshipped me for who I truly was and not for why everyone seemed to want me. Just a seer, a lowly deity that was able to glance into the future and sometimes the present. Hongjoong never demanded of me to look into his future, to spy on a vision for him, he only asked me to love him back. But he didn’t have to ask, I had always known if there was any mortal or deity I could love, it was him.

The muscles of my thighs tensed as I tentatively rose before sinking back down on his dick, making Hongjoong groan as he leaned back to support himself with one hand, bracing my hip with his other as he gently guided me. I let my hands rest on his shoulders as he snapped his hips upwards and ripped a moan out of me, making me meet his thrusts eagerly as our movements synced up, the slapping sounds became louder and louder in the confinement of our bedroom as we both lost each other to the feeling of overwhelming lust and love, the desire to possess and be possessed, to belong to someone, to love and be loved.

            But life had not always been like this. For centuries and centuries, it hadn’t been like this but full of torment, pain, and demands that seemingly never came to an end. Everyone always wanted something from me, they always took and took, but they never gave back anything. I understood my role in the Cosmos, and as the bearer of messages between the mortals and Gods, I knew I had to be flexible and report whenever I was needed. I had to prioritize my purpose and place everyone above myself, it’s just how nature worked. And it had been alright, I felt most fulfilled when I was doing what my calling was, when I was guiding Gods and mortals alike, stringing them onto the right path headed towards a bright future. But I was naïve and careless, I hadn’t realized that once the knowledge of the full extent of my powers fell into the wrong hands it would be exploited, that it would turn against me and hurt me in the process. Glancing into the future, predicting silly things like the weather, and warning mortals of floods or wildfires soon turned into commands and demands of looking into the fate of a disobeying God or Goddess, into spying on those that dared turn against Zeus, of migraine after migraine when I was at my wit's end, begging to be left alone to recharge and step away from the visions.

Zeus was unforgiving and violent, greedy and desperate to control everything and everyone around him. When the word of me being a seer got to him, my freedom was stripped and I never saw the sunlight unless I had orders to deliver a message. My visions became constant because I just had to do what he told me if I didn’t want to turn into a star, and my body and mind were exhausted. I couldn’t sleep, sometimes I would get stuck in a vision for weeks on end, unable to break free, becoming a prisoner of my own mind. It was terrifying and excruciatingly painful; I couldn’t tell whether I was still alive or not. It was silly, a deity never dies as long as it has worshippers, but my soul felt so tired I wished all mortals would drop dead so that my existence would cease too.

Zeus hid me away from everyone, he lied to Hera that I decided to reside on a secluded island down amongst the humans and wished not to be spoken to or reached out to unless the message was time-bound and very important. I had been an important messenger of Hera, and my heart broke when I felt her trust and respect in me vane, but what hurt, even more, was that she never questioned her lover, that she never actually tried to look for me and see if the God was indeed saying the truth. What hurt the most, even in my deity form, was that nobody actually cared enough about me to come and rescue me from the terrorizing clutches of Zeus, that nobody loved and respected me to save me from the torment I had to go through for centuries on end. Everything hurt, even speaking and sleeping, I was nothing but a shell of what I once used to be. Zeus never cared, he just wanted the visions, he threw me around until the physical pain became so unbearable that I just had to scavenge my mind for even a trace of a vision. I became scared of my own power, of what he’d to do me if I didn’t learn how to control it better.

And then one night, or day I couldn’t tell, as I lay exhausted on the cold marble floor of the room Zeus had imprisoned me into, there was a whoosh of a breeze inside and the shatter of a vase. I had no idea what’s happened, I couldn’t see quite right and my head was pounding, covering everything in an unclear haze. But something metallic was hurled underneath my long fingers and when my index finger curiously poked against it a vision so sudden and harsh that it knocked the wind out of my lungs clouded my eyes with flashes of a handsome and somewhat familiar face, smile mischievous yet menacing, his amber eyes ablaze and raging. I had known of him, of course, I have, but we’ve never quite crossed paths, so it was bizarre to get a vision so suddenly of Hermes. It wasn’t even Zeus asking me to look into him, I wasn’t even forcing my mind and soul to connect with it, it just came by itself. Tears flooded my unseeing eyes at the feeling and I tried not to sob upon realizing that my soul was still somewhat aligned with the Cosmos despite how much I’ve forced myself to see and hear everything, having broken the order of the Universe.

And the vision of Hermes persisted for months on end, until, the marble door separating me from freedom was blown into bits and pieces and the God rushed inside with flushed cheeks and a ragged breath. He said nothing as he scooped me up in his arms, lips hot as they pressed against my cold forehead, and for the first time since my existence, my heart started beating in an uneven pattern, fingers digging into the silky fabric of his shirt as I begged him to save me. Hermes looked angry, but not at me, he looked at me with pity in his eyes but said nothing as he broke the glass of the window with the heel of his foot. I couldn’t remember much as I lost consciousness after that, but I felt the wind blow around us harshly as we fell freely, descending into a realm that was familiar yet new, a cocoon of lush green trees and springs that were clearer than the sky and sun hotter than the rays in Olympus, a place that soon became our new home.

The paths leading down the mountain range were soon after our arrival covered in cobblestones, creating an easy and clear passage for the villagers of Ano Skotina, Palaioi Poroi and Palaios Panteleimonas down to Dion, which resided at the foothill of Mount Olympus. The villagers had put in hard work once Hermes brought up his idea, and with his help, it only took the men a few weeks to construct the paths and connect the otherwise strenuous trek for the villagers if they wished to travel between the settlements. But with our arrival it seemed that the fauna and flora flourished more than before, the villagers became livelier and eagerly awaited the appearance of a rainbow which hadn’t been spotted in ages by the mortals.

Having been saved from the clutches of Zeus, I was finally regaining myself. Hongjoong stood by my side every single step of the journey and he offered a helping hand when it all became too much and too exhausting. He hid me away from all the deities and promised to settle down in a village where Zeus would never find us. We couldn’t go far from Olympus as he still had to fulfil his duties, but with me gone, Zeus had no insight into anyone, he wouldn’t know who had stolen his slave away from him.

But even if we were hiding in plain sight, we’d never be safe from him.

            On the days that the Gods and Goddesses were too busy bickering with each other, forgetting all about their worshippers, the sky seemed to be clearer and a lighter blue. On days like that it was safe for me to leave the confines of Ano Skotina and hike down to Dion with Hongjoong. I loved days like this because as much as I was scared of Zeus finding us, I loved the loudness of the bustling town, the liveliness and eagerness on the faces of mortals, and most importantly, I loved the market where we could trade fresh flowers and fruits. If the weather deemed good and the deities remained preoccupied with their selfish deeds, Hongjoong and I would follow the path down to the sea and dip in the warm but refreshing water. Poseidon wasn’t always around, busy with his errands, so, it was safe to explore the beautiful sea in his absence.

Given our origins, it took Hongjoong and me around an hour to descend from the mountainside down into the town, our talaria polished and well-kept. We hid them in Hongjoong’s satchel as soon as we neared the closest settlement to avoid being discovered by the humans. Sneaking around always brought a little sense of excitement, of my blood boiling hotter and my heart pumping faster, only heightened when Hongjoong would playfully chase me down the cobblestone-covered paths inside of Dion, heads turning our way as they watched on curiously. There wasn’t a day where boredom could threaten to kidnap me if Hongjoong was around, he’s had plenty of time to observe the earthlings and find out what would be amusing and help the time pass by faster. Not that I wished for that to happen, I cherished every second I spent next to Hongjoong, clinging to him despite our unlimited time.

Being with him had always felt right, from the very moment he lifted me in his arms to save me from Zeus. There was something about his eyes that assured me that we were right for each other, that it was written in the stars, that my suffering for so long wasn’t fruitless. He had known he had to save me when he accidentally caught a glimpse of me through the barely open door of my cell-like room, Zeus’ voice booming as he demanded a vision from me before he could send Hermes on his way to deliver his message. He had returned just days later and snuck inside my room to assess the situation, accidentally knocked over a vase when he heard someone approach the door, then fled through the open window. He couldn’t return for months; Zeus was suspicious of him and he was scared if he was caught we’d both perish. But he remained vigilant and at last came back for me.

I made sure to remain close to Hongjoong’s side as the market was packed with more people than usual this afternoon, our pinkies reaching out for each other whenever the other strayed closer. He was discussing something I couldn’t hear with a blacksmith, wondering whether he had more metal to trade with him as my attention remained on the flower stall and the lovely old lady who always had the brightest smile on her face. Her grey strands were beautiful and highlighted her age nicely, and despite her late age, her demeanour was just as youthful as a child’s.

When our eyes met, she beckoned me over with a happy look on her face. Casting Hongjoong a quick glance to make sure he hadn’t moved away yet, I made my way over to the vendor and bowed my head in greetings, “My dear! I haven’t seen you in too long, I was worried about you.”

“My apologies for worrying you, kind soul, I haven’t been able to leave my village.” I kept my answer as vague as possible as her eyebrows furrowed in slight worry. Lately, the deities were busy watching over their desperate worshippers so I couldn’t risk my safety and cover.

“That boy of yours isn’t keeping you captive, is he?” Her eyes narrowed as my cheeks flushed and I quickly shook my head, not keen on her choice of words. I hated hearing anything that had a connection to captivity, and just the thought of Hongjoong keeping me as his prisoner was disgusting and infuriating.

“He would never,” My voice was harsher than intended, “He cherishes me more than anyone ever has.”

“Good, good.” The vendor muttered as her features relaxed once again, “Would you like some pomegranates? I traded them just this morning, I hear they’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself. Perhaps they’ll make me look youthful once again.”

The old lady giggled as she grabbed the fruit and extended her hand towards me, making my muscles tense at the mention of the deity. If it truly had been blessed by the Goddess I didn’t want to touch it, let alone eat it. She hadn’t been the kindest to me in our years of knowing each other, and despite knowing that Zeus held me in a chamber as his slave, she never said anything to anyone.

“Thank you, but I must refuse you. I do not have anything to trade it with.”  The vendor shrugged and put the fruit away, her fingers grazing against the petals of a sunflower. My eyes followed the action and I yearned to do the same, the yellowness of the flower reminded me of my own rainbow’s colour. It had been a while since I had brought upon the earth a rainbow, I missed its beauty and comforting colours.

“Your scarf seems to be made of silk,” The old lady hummed as she eyed me curiously, “I’ll give you a bouquet of sunflowers if you trade it with me, I know they are your favourite flowers.”

I gulped and gripped the scarf, pondering whether it was worth trading something of high value with something that had little value. But the piece of fabric held no sentimental value to me and autumn would be soon approaching, the old lady needed the scarf more than I did for her body was weaker than mine will ever be. And she was right, I did love sunflowers, it’s been too long since I could hold them in my hands, so, I nodded and untied the scarf from around my neck.

“You’ll seriously trade that beautiful piece for sunflowers?” The vendor next to the old lady asked with scepticism, a dark-haired woman with bushy eyebrows and greediness that wasn’t missed by the mortals either. The old lady ignored her as she tied a big bouquet together for me, happy to trade them.

“I can find many more scarves like this one, but summer is soon ending and I’ll have to wait a long time until sunflowers bloom again,” I answered with a soft smile and took the flowers after I handed over my scarf. The old lady took her time to examine it carefully and I glanced behind myself to see where Hongjoong was. He had moved on to another stall and he was surrounded by several men now as they conversed animatedly, his face bright under the sunlight and amber eyes glinting with interest.

“You have such little value for your possessions.” The other vendor grumbled, and the old lady laughed as she shook her head at the younger woman. I said nothing as I cradled the bouquet against my chest, looking down at the flowers to examine them. Its petals were soft between my fingertips and I took note that its hue was much more vibrant than the colour in my own rainbow, perhaps I could make mine more prominent too.

“The only possession I want to have is over my beloved, nothing else matters to me.”

“Oh, to be young and completely enraptured with a man.” The old lady mused with a knowing look on her face once I looked up at her, my cheeks dusted pink as I realized I had spoken my mind too freely, “I haven’t seen a pair as devoted as you two are to each other.”

“There must be some, I cannot imagine not loving with your whole soul and being—”

“Love is just a fairytale the deities made up to wrangle us around by the nose and manipulate us into doing whatever they want.” The other vendor lady snapped as she interrupted me, and my eyebrows furrowed at her harsh words. Certainly, if any deity were to hear her, her place in the Underworld would be assured and arranged to be painful. The old lady hissed and gave the other vendor an irritated look.

“Quit being so pessimistic, especially to such a young soul.” Before the other vendor could say anything else, the old lady faced me with a curious look, “You must be coming tonight to the offering, right? Zeus will bless you and then you will never part from your lover, he’s great like that.”

Zeus was anything but great, but I didn’t want to ruin the lady’s image of the deity. If I were a maiden praying to Zeus to watch over my lover, he’d rather take me as his lover than offer us his protection. Zeus was horrible like that. But the thought of him made me shiver and I tried to ignore my tensing muscles. I had no idea it was already that time of the month, Hongjoong must’ve forgotten too, otherwise, we would’ve never come down to Dion today of all days.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you tonight, I haven’t been feeling well these past few days.” A curious look crossed both of the ladies' eyes and I gulped nervously as I started feeling jittery. I realized I had conversed with them for too long and it was time I returned to the safety of Hongjoong, where nobody would bother me anymore or ask questions.

“You must be with child, then.” The younger vendor declared and my eyebrows furrowed as I cast a glance at her. I most certainly wasn’t with child, I would’ve felt it, but if that lie helped stop more curious questions, then I would take it.

“I am not sure, but perhaps I am,” I answered and the old lady gasped, eyes falling to my belly.

“That is great news, indeed! May the child have your peculiar hair colour and his father’s beautiful eyes.” She wished earnestly and I smiled, feeling just a little bit guilty that Hongjoong and I weren’t actually expecting a child anytime soon. But I blinked my eyes faster and looked down abashed, resisting the urge to shuffle my feet. Deciding that I should return to my lover’s side now, I bid the two vendors my sincerest goodbyes and turned around to search the crowd for Hongjoong. He was a couple of steps away, doing the same, and his eyes lit up when they found me. He had a wide grin on his lips and he waved his fingers playfully as he took off towards me, his steps bouncy and giddy. I chuckled and stopped to let him reach me first, but as I did so, a child narrowly avoided colliding with me as his warm skin brushed against my hand.

The sudden change of scenery managed to knock the wind from my lungs as I gasped and looked around, the market was eerily empty and the sun was hidden behind clouds as suddenly it started becoming darker and darker outside. White mist left my lips as I breathed through my mouth loudly, the temperature having severely dropped made me shiver in my summer gown, head whipping around as I searched for another living soul. But there was no one, not even Hongjoong, and I clenched my palms into fists when I heard the hauntingly familiar cackle once again. The Dryads weren’t here whispering again and I wondered if I’d see the young man once again, if he’d come to warn me again. But nothing happened until an eagle screamed in the distance and then a dark shadow appeared just by the entrance to the market. Its features were unrecognizable, but it towered over the gate as its silver orbs vibrated, looking wildly my way. I gasped and tried to take steps backwards, but I was trapped once again. I felt warm hands touching my arms, a muffled voice worriedly calling my name and something wet pressing against my cheek. The darkness persisted, however, and the shadow cackled once again as the eagle screamed and was suddenly plummeting down towards me, sharp claws drawn and beak parting. But before it could touch me, rip me apart, my eyes flew open.

The loudness of the market made my head thump in pain and I realized I was clutching onto Hongjoong’s shirt tightly as I tried to regain my breathing. My eyes searched to crowd frantically for the shadow, but also to make sure nobody saw my episode. Hongjoong’s arms were warm and slightly trembling as they pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against my temple as he sighed loudly, “You’re alright, I got you. Let’s head back home, my beloved.”

I nodded wordlessly as Hongjoong took my hand in his and manoeuvred us around the crowd, making sure nobody familiar ran into us so that we’d be able to leave faster. I appreciated his attentiveness as I followed after him, my fingers tightening against his as the crowd was slowly vanning out the closer we reached the end of the town. His features softened once he slowed down to let me fall in step with him, and I raised our joined hands to press a kiss against his hand, “Thank you.”

He said nothing but his amber eyes turned warmer as red swirled behind his irises, his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes and making him look boyish. I chuckled and pressed up on my tiptoes to steal a kiss from Hongjoong, making his eyes widen as a man had just passed us on his horse, his lips widening into an amused smile at our display of affection. I knew my lover was blushing red when he turned his head away, but he squeezed my hand once to let me know he appreciated the gesture, “I saw him again, the shadow, the darkness, the eagle. You know it’s Zeu—”

“Do not speak his name.” Hongjoong cut me off roughly, all previous warmth gone from his features as he faced me abruptly, “Don’t say it, Y/N, I hate it when you do. I hate him, and everything he’s done to you. You are safe with me and nothing will happen to you, I have sworn and I will keep swearing.”

“I know,” I muttered, gulping nervously as I averted my eyes, “but the visions never lie, my love, he’s close, I am not safe anymore.”

I tried not to yelp when suddenly two warm palms cradled my cheeks and yanked me close to Hongjoong’s face, his ablaze eyes boring into mine with fury and determination, “You are mine and if anyone, mortal or deity, touches you, I will burn them until nothing’s left of them. You have suffered enough, I will not let anyone take advantage of you ever again, Iris, it’s over.”

My eyes fluttered closed as my heart thumped wildly, and I leaned forward to press a lasting kiss against Hongjoong’s lips, who pressed his body incredibly close to mine, “You wear my petasos, my beloved, everyone knows you’re mine. Everyone knows what will happen to them if they try to claim you, I won’t allow it anymore.”

His voice was deeper as he spoke up once our lips weren’t pressing against each other and I licked my lips as I nodded, smoothing out the creases between his eyebrows. A silly thought came to mind as Hongjoong’s eyes searched my face and I chuckled as I leaned so close my lips brushed against his when I spoke again, “The vendor ladies think I am with child.”

Hongjoong’s breath stuttered and his pupils dilated as one of his hands grabbed my hips, pressing my body painfully so into his, “Perhaps you should be with child, my beloved.”

“Do you want that?” I asked in a whisper, throat feeling dry as I tried to ignore the fire spreading through my body. This greedy little human body could be so lustful.

“Yes, I want you full of my seed and belly round and pretty.” Hongjoong’s voice was deep as he answered and I had to take a second to compose myself, trying to be the bigger person right now. It wouldn’t be the first time things got a little bit out of hand while we were in public, and I didn’t want something as mortifying to happen again. Last time we were lucky the unfortunate soul who saw us in a scandalous predicament had been an older lady and her husband, both understanding and giggling as they rushed away from the scene. Truthfully, we could’ve picked a more secluded spot and the back of a bar that was often frequented.

“We’re being indecent, Hongjoong.”

“Then let me take you home and show you just how much I want you to carry our child.”

“Hongjoong.”

            One of us had to attend the offering, it was inevitable, and since nobody knew of my location but with Hermes still around, it wasn’t a question that it would be him who would descent to Dion tonight and bring a small flower crown made from my sunflowers and the neighbour’s weeds as his own offering. As a deity, we didn’t have to attend such worshipping customs, but since we were disguising ourselves as mortals it would look suspicious if we didn’t tag along from time to time. I never showed my face around when they were bringing offerings to Zeus as he often liked to disguise himself and come down, watch his loyal followers, and even take maidens to bed and spread his bloodline, but when they would show gratitude for Isis, I made sure to tag along. A deity recognized a deity even in disguise, and despite her catching me at her altar more than once, she never said anything. She could feel my pain, she could see past my smile and looked into my battered soul. She was sensitive and kind, instead of bringing me to Zeus, she blessed me and healed my wounds so that nothing could hurt me so horrendously ever again.

Once we had gotten back from Dion, Hongjoong was busy showing me just how much he really wanted me to carry our child, very reluctant to leave the bed to get ready for the night. I knew he didn’t want to go, he knew I didn’t want to be left alone tonight out of all nights, but we also both knew that we did not have a choice. Deities rarely had a choice, the greater good just always seemed to call out to us. But still, I helped him bathe and dress up, I cooked him a warm dinner and braided little strands of his soft hair while he was busy chiselling his talaria, his petasos already pristine, the leather smelling fresh and feeling soft under the skin.

“Are you certain I must go?” Hongjoong asked with a sigh once he was done with his talaria, eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me. I ran my fingers through his hair and ruffled the strands that fell into his eyes.

“Yes, my love, you must.” I hummed quietly and Hongjoong sighed long, “We hadn’t attended the offerings in a while, the townsfolk will get suspicious of us at this rate and I quite like this place.”

“I like it here too, it’s serene.” He hummed absentmindedly and I stepped back to let him wear his winged sandals, raising to his feet to test out their agility. He was fast, as always, in good shape and ready to tackle the night’s challenges. I smiled at him proudly as he came to stand in front of me, hands settling on my hips as he licked his lips and looked down at my mouth, “If anything feels wrong, go over to Mr. Do, he will keep you company.”

“I don’t think poor old Mr. Do will be able to tackle a god like Zeus if he shows up,” I said with a chuckle as I circled my arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders, standing on my tiptoes to reach his face better. He chuckled as his eyes searched my face, the amber swirling as fear made its way shown, “I will be alright, Hongjoong, don’t you worry.”

“Of course you will be.” He answered with a scoff as if Zeus showing up was such an impossible feat, “And when I return, I will show you once again just how eager I am to have you with child, to spend the rest of my eternity with you and our son or daughter. I want them to have your kindness and faith, and I want them to have my determination and strength.”

“Aren’t you thinking a bit far ahead, my love?” I asked with a snicker as Hongjoong pouted and shook his head.

“Of course I’m not, my beloved, the seed has been planted, we both felt it.” Hongjoong lowered his face and I watched as his lips parted, “The shift in the Universe has happened, the stars aligned for our love once again, Y/N.”

“We’ve been blessed.” I whispered and tangled my fingers in the hair at his nape, pushing Hongjoong’s face closer to mine, “I am fully yours now.”

“You’ve always been fully mine,” Hongjoong’s voice dropped as his fingers dug into my skin through the fabric of my gown, “only mine.”

I hummed and leaned my head back as his warm lips pressed against mine, instantly eager as they pressed together firmly and forcefully, asking me to part my lips for him. Hongjoong moaned when my tongue dragged against his, coaxing him in deeper as our saliva mixed and tongues brushed together, lighting my skin on fire. My heart pumped faster and my skin jittered, hushed voices and hazy orbs fluttering behind my eyes as a vision threatened to kidnap me from this moment. But I stopped it, I wanted to enjoy the touch of my lover, the sounds of my lover, as I knew the darkness would be back if I were to succumb to the greater force.

Our pace was languid as Hongjoong dragged each kiss out, sucking on my bottom lip before he’d dive right back in, sucking on my tongue too and making me whimper as my hand found an anchor in his nape, holding him as if I were afraid he’d pull back too soon. But he didn’t, he soaked up in the sounds and only kissed me more desperately, pulling back for air when it became too much for our human bodies. I was breathing hard and Hongjoong struggled to even out his pants, our foreheads pressing together as he cleared his throat once and then twice. He licked his lips and then pursed them, fingers twitching as he raised his hands to cup my cheeks, “I wish to return earlier tonight, I’m not done with you yet, Y/N. I have figured if I go earlier and stay for a shorter amount of time it should be fine, Zeus will want me to report back to him so I’ll try to make my journey as fast as possible.”

“I’ll be right here so don’t rush yourself, I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I said worriedly as we untangled from each other, I tried to smooth out the knots I created in Hongjoong’s hair. His outfit remained spotless, the black fabric tight and secure around his strong and well-built body, hugging him snuggly in places that wouldn’t restrict his movement.

“I’m too restless to remain until the end of the festivity either way,” Hongjoong shrugged and kissed my cheek before he went to grab his petasos, “Go to Mr. Do if anything feels even a little bit wrong.”

“I will, I promise.” I smiled reassuringly as my lover headed for the front door, pausing to turn back around with a worrisome look on his face. I knew he was reluctant to go, but he had no choice. One of us had to go and it was him, it was always him, he’d have to report back to Olympus either way and he was right, the quicker he got over with everything, the faster he could return to me. But as soon as the door closed behind me and I was left alone in our safe abode, dark visions clouded my eyes and sent me tumbling to the floor.

            The evening had been harsh to me, the visions seemed to turn only darker as the hours passed by, taunting me. It felt as if I wasn’t in control anymore, as if it was someone else controlling what I saw. My heart pumped fast and my head thumped wildly making my ears ring, and I felt boneless as I tried to stand from the chair I managed to drag myself into. My sight was hazy as I felt around the table for the glass of spring water Hongjoong and I had collected earlier this day, but I failed to reach the cool glass and thus gave up as a harsh wave of nausea almost made me gag. I had never reacted to my abilities so harshly, I couldn’t determine whether it was worrisome or not that my body was having such visceral reactions to the darkness that seemed to linger in the corner of my eyes.

I knew that I was alone in the house and that my visions were tricking me into believing someone was watching me from the shadows, candles unlit as I found the task too strenuous to do with my current state. It all felt too real, it made me scared of how easily my body was succumbing to the terror-filled memories that followed my bodily reactions. It wasn’t the first time my body threatened to shut down, but it’s been far too long since I had felt so sick. It made me remember my captivity and everything I had to endure at Zeus’ hands when he pushed my body over the limit and forced me to become nothing but a vessel that relayed the visions of a seer. I was scared because Hongjoong wasn’t here and because I couldn’t figure out just exactly what was triggering this reaction. All of Isis’ blessings seemed futile all of a sudden, and I found myself wondering whether I could ask the Goddess for guidance and help in dire need, a beckon of light to help me survive until Hongjoong returned and figured out a way to stop my suffering.

But I remembered that Mr. Do was a healer of sorts, a little too old and grumpy, but the villagers loved him and trusted him with their lives countless times before, I have seen it firsthand. Hongjoong and he seemed to have a mutual respect and a deeper understanding of the other’s force that I failed to see and sense. And despite every muscle and joint in my body protesting when I finally pushed myself up into a standing position, I found Hongjoong’s deep trust in the old man a reassuring thought that pushed me to take action and bring myself to the old man’s doorstep, perhaps he knew how to fix this. I had barely reached the front door of my house when my muscles locked up as if they sensed danger, my skin tingling in a way only around another deity it did. But I was alone inside the house, it made no sense, perhaps my seer abilities became uncontrollable and started lashing out in peculiar ways.

I swung the door open, finding the task difficult as my body vehemently tried to disobey my mind’s commands, and despite the haze that clouded my sight, Mr. Do’s small frame not even a few steps away was unmistakable. I hadn’t noticed, but the wind was howling as it bent the weaker branches of trees in odd ways and not one candle was lit inside the neighbouring huts. Cold darkness wrapped around us and I shuddered as it bit at my skin mercilessly, “Mr. Do?”

My voice sounded breathless and pained and my eyebrows furrowed as the older man stepped closer so that I could see him clearly, “Oh, you look sickly, my dear. Let’s head inside.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to object and stepped back inside my house as Mr. Do followed, his height shorter than my lover’s. It seemed to be relatively warmer inside the house, but I still shuddered as I brought the shawl tighter around my shoulders, pressing my nose against the fabric as it smelled like Hongjoong. It brought little comfort, but I relished in it as I willed my sight to clear, at least that little if nothing else seemed to be right with me. Mr. Do seemed curious as his eyes searched the place and I watched him with slight confusion, wondering if it’s been too long since he’d stepped inside our house. But it looked as it always did, the interior hadn’t changed since last week when Hongjoong insisted on having the old man over for dinner as a payment for his kindness after he healed Hongjoong’s broken fingers. It was a freak accident; one he couldn’t heal down here unless he wanted to be caught by the mortals.

“What is bothering you, my dear?” The warm smile felt wrong on Mr. Do’s face, he was someone who never smiled nor showed affection, his face a mask of coldness and uninterest. He never used nicknames and he had never once in his life before directly addressed me. Mr. Do seemed to be afraid to say my name for some reason and he always brought pastries whenever there was a rainbow in the sky, that’s the most emotion he had ever shown. That’s how I knew he didn’t completely mistrust me or hate me. This man standing in front of me was not Mr. Do. But it was too late now, I had already welcomed him inside. I quickly realized that despite his disguise, he couldn’t hide his godly aura, the faint glow around his body or the respect it demanded.

“Why are you here?” Despite my voice being faint, it carried conviction, and braveness, “What do you want?”

“My little seer back.” The man disguised as Mr. Do chuckled and walked further inside the house, walking around as he touched vases and ornaments that clearly belonged to Hermes, “You must understand my utter shock when I found out she was gone. My utter anger and annoyance when I searched for her relentlessly and she was just gone as if swallowed by the earth itself. I assumed it was Hades at first, we know how he likes to play me and taunt me, but when I found him gone from his kingdom and meddling with humans from far away times, I realized something more peculiar had happened.”

I didn’t dare speak up as Zeus walked closer, the face of Mr. Do scrunching up as he tsked, “Imagine my utter confusion and rage when I find out Hermes, my precious messenger and guide, decided to settle amongst the mortals. Not only did I lose my seer, but my messenger too.”

“Hermes never stopped serving you.” My voice was harsh as I willed the bile down my throat and blinked my eyes quickly to try and get rid of the haze, which was very possibly induced by Zeus himself. I understood why my body lashed out like this, it sensed danger and it was warning me. But it was too late now, I had walked myself into Zeus’ trap.

“He didn’t, you are right, little seer, but he also started slacking off.” He scoffed and I gulped as I remained put, my feet frozen to the floor, “You must imagine I assumed he was frolicking with the mortals at first, but then certain inaccuracies just stopped making sense, you see. I have other means of looking into my little deities, Iris, I don’t need you—”

“Then why did you keep me for so long?” My voice raised as my sight finally cleared and I was able to glare at Mr. Do’s serene face, fire and anger replacing my fear as I stared the God down, “If you don’t need me, why did you subject me to so much strenuous work and pain? Why did you force me to seek and seek without break, to bend myself and ruin who I once was?”

“The secret to being a deity is so simple, my little seer,” Zeus’ voice was quiet as he walked even closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed, “We are just like these mortals that worship us, we are greedy and selfish and we take without consideration, we possess and we demand, we punish and we slay, so, what sets us apart from them?”

“Immortality, lack of morals and care of those around us,” I whispered, unable to gulp down the lump in my throat anymore as my heart raced faster, ears starting to ring once again.

“Power, abilities that mortals will never have, is what sets us apart, Iris—or should I call you Y/N, now?” Mr. Do chuckled but his voice sounded distorted. My muscles tensed when his short frame suddenly grew taller, towering over me menacingly, “This is why you are such an insignificant deity to most, you are too soft, you love and want to be loved. You wish to belong to someone and to possess someone, it makes you weak. You act more like a mortal than a Goddess.”

“I never felt like I belonged in Olympus,” My face became hard as my eyes narrowed, unafraid to speak my mind for once. A surge of anger pushed me to speak my mind, to stand up for myself and demand the respect I was never given, “I was always pushed away by my kin, made fun of and ostracized. Your own lovely wife made me a slave of hers, and then you. You look down on me and judge me, but you wish to possess just as much as I do, if not more.”

The God remained silent as his jaw ticked and Mr. Do’s face formed into an unfamiliar shape, features mixing with familiar faces, but still unknown. It didn’t stop shifting as Zeus’ eyes bore into mine and it felt like the air was ripped from my lungs as they started squeezing in on itself, choking me as I fell to the side, clutching onto the table tightly.

“I want to punish you direly for thinking you could abandon your ruler, Iris, I really do wish.” His voice was a dark hiss as I tried to breathe, but couldn’t, “But you’re too precious to be turned into foam or a star, Hermes, however, I know just the perfect way to make him suffer for his insubordination.”

My eyes widened at the mention of Hongjoong and I tried to speak, but I couldn’t as dark spots started colouring my vision. I tried to object and scream, but no word left my mouth as I scrapped at my throat in despair while Zeus watched on with an amused expression. He loved seeing his toys fret and beg for mercy, he loved feeling like the King he was, able to rule over everyone and decide everyone’s fate. But before my misery could continue, the door of the house was slammed open and loud panting filled the house.

“I forgot my satchel—” Hongjoong’s breathless words caught in his throat as suddenly the airflow was back in my lungs and I started coughing loudly as my knees gave out and sent me tumbling to the floor. Hongjoong was by my side in an instant, body hot and skin sizzling as he grabbed my cheeks and forced my head up. His amber eyes were almost fully red as he searched for visible injuries and his jaw ticked as he turned his head to face Zeus. He had a vicious look in his eyes and he almost but spat in front of the God as his voice thundered in the confined space, “What are you doing here?!”

“I came for what’s mine—” The laugh that left Hongjoong’s mouth was guttural and it made me shiver as my frantic eyes looked at my lover with despair, begging him to remain level-headed so that he wouldn’t ruin his chances of survival furthermore.

“What’s yours?” Hongjoong spat, eyes falling on me once again to make sure I was alright. He gulped as he cradled my cheeks and I opened my mouth to beg him to stop and walk away, but lips pressed against mine firmly before I was staring back into his wild amber eyes once again. He had made up his mind, and I could do nothing to convince him to stop, to think through whatever action he took next. He was here to protect me and if that meant he’d lose his life in the process, he didn’t care. He had sworn to protect me and I knew he’d do no less than that, “Enlighten me, Zeus, what’s yours again?”

The God seemed appalled by the way Hongjoong spoke to him, face contorting into disgust as he watched my quivering form and Hongjoong’s protective stance as he stood up and shielded me from the God’s furious eyes, “Iris is what’s mine, you fool. I will feed you to Cerberus if you utter one more word—”

But Hongjoong was reckless and he didn’t care as he threw his head back to laugh loudly, hysterically, and I clutched the trousers at his ankle and yanked on them to get him to stop, but he was gone, far gone. He’d go to unimaginable lengths to protect what was his and not even his lover could stop him anymore.

“Cerberus would hack me back up if he were to swallow me, don’t be foolish you old man.” Hongjoong tsked as if he was scrutinizing a child and my heart raced in fear for him, “Besides, Hades likes me too much to let me perish, after all, I make his job a lot easier with all the souls that I carry for him to the gates of the Underworld.”

Zeus hissed and stepped closer, hands balling up into fists. I took notice of the wind picking up frighteningly so outside, to the point it rattled the hinges of the windows, and I could only pray the other villagers wouldn’t be affected by Zeus’ wrath. They haven’t been anything but kind and loving to us, I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to them.

“Before you destroy this lovely village,” Hongjoong seemed to be thinking the same as he smirked, the look on his face eerie as red swarmed around in his dark irises, overshadowing its beautiful caramel hue, “I must inform you that I have claimed Iris and she has claimed me, so you cannot touch neither one of us, you old fool.”

My cheeks heated despite the predicament and I gulped when deafening silence followed, the wind suddenly disappearing. My heart raced in my chest and it felt like it had ascended into my throat as I felt Hongjoong’s hands around my forearms, helping me up to stand next to him. His smirk remained frightening to any mortal, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told me that he was in control, that the odds were for once in our favour as he smoothed my hair down for me, “And since you are the one that loves to make up foolish rules for your peasants to follow, do I need to remind you what it means when a deity claims someone?”

Zeus just gulped, eyes darting between me and Hongjoong, the veins underneath his skin lightning as they travelled, his eyes turning a misty grey. No one knew Zeus’ real face, but I had come close to seeing it more than once, it was ugly. It reflected the person he was on the inside; he was ugly through and through, no wonder he chose to disguise himself even between his own kin, “I can still use her abilities to my liking, Hermes, that’s not what claiming one enthrals.”

“Oh, does it not now?” Hongjoong chuckled and I felt an arm sneak around my hips until his palm pressed flatly against my belly, his bottom lip between his teeth as raised an eyebrow mockingly, “Even if the seed had been planted to bring forth a new life?”

“She’s pregnant?” Zeus’ voice raised octaves as his eyes widened comically and the fundament of the house shook as I shuddered, clutching onto Hongjoong’s arm for stability. My skin was cold and I was shivering, but Hongjoong remained like a pilar by my side, supporting me and offering me braveness.

“She is pregnant with my child, yes.” Hongjoong’s smirk spread into a wide grin that made him look crazed as his amber eyes simmered in the darkness and the ground shook again. I looked at Zeus reluctantly as I let my hand rest above Hongjoong’s, our fingers tangling together as we held onto my belly. Zeus could feel it too, the shift in the Universe and the change in the alignment of the stars, he knew Hermes and I were fated to be together; he knew if he went against the wishes of the Cosmos, it would be him paying the price and not us. I couldn’t help but huff as I suddenly felt all tension leave my muscles, serenity infusing my brain and body like never before. Hongjoong, too, knew we were safe when his offensive stance relaxed and he stood tall in contentment.

“You are both traitors.” Zeus hissed, but there was no force in his voice, only defeat and despair, “And if I can’t make you pay, the Cosmos will find ways to make you suffer for what you’ve done.”

“Is that what you say to all the mistresses you keep?” My tone was cold and unforgiving, it shocked both Hongjoong and Zeus, “I wish you nothing but an eternity of suffering and misfortune, I wish that all of your children turn on you and bring your demise like you had brought your own father’s, Zeus.”

“Did you just curse me?” His voice boomed as Hongjoong threw his head back and started cackling loudly, bringing a small smile to my lips as I chuckled.

“I am no witch, Zeus, but I believe the Cosmos works in peculiar ways.” I stopped to take a breath, to finally say what I always wished to tell him, “And just because you are supreme to all of us, it doesn’t mean you are invincible. The Cosmos doesn’t differentiate in kind.”

Somewhere in the distance, a bolt of lightning struck and a deafening roar travelled through the forest as Zeus turned into nothing but dust and charged energy, lighting our house in blinding light for a second until everything was covered in darkness and silence. I remained frozen as Hongjoong started giggling, cradling my face as he grinned at me widely, “You are the most breathtaking creature I have ever had the luck to come across, my beloved.”

“I love you too, Hongjoong.” I chuckled and let him kiss me messily before he pulled back and giggled again, unable to contain the giddiness our small victory brought upon the both of us.

“Do you think I still have to report back to him tonight?” The question made me laugh as I threw my arms around his torso and pressed my body against his, revelling in his comforting warmth as I nuzzled my nose against his neck. Hongjoong pressed a chaste kiss against the crown of my head and I melted into his arms, feeling safe and like a weight had been lifted from my chest. We would be alright for the time being, the child would be safe down between the mortals and Zeus would leave us alone for now. I couldn’t tell what the future had in store for us, at least not until a vision came to me, but I didn’t care as long as Hongjoong was by my side.

The Cosmos gifted those deserving and took from those undeserving.

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[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Dateables + Luke About How Horribly They Were Treated In Twisted Wonderland Part 2

Part 2 to my previous post that was requested by @sweetlicorice but with the Dateables + Luke. I hope you enjoy it!

First Part (Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor)

TW: Talk of being overworked, burnt out, starvation, hunger, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons/Angels/Sorcerer (not at you), mental breakdowns, nightmares, a lot of talk of food in Lukes, and missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry)

Reader is referred to as MC by characters, and MC is gender neutral. Having said that, this is in second person POV, so for the most part you are referred to as "you" by the narrator.

Characters include: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke

Can be read as Romantic or Platonic (EXCEPT FOR LUKE, HE IS STRICTLY PLATONIC)

This will be long, so stories under the cut

This is organized by character with some context at the beginning (it's the same as the original post, so if you've read that, then you can skip it if you like)

~

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

And after you opened up to them, it only made sense that you started to speak more candidly to the others as well, right? They deserve to know, just as much as the brothers.

Diavolo:

Diavolo confused you, more than anything. At least at first. He held the same position as Crowley, yet he acted more like a mixture of Kalim and Hornton. You were wary, obviously, as you should be. But you never excluded him. You always listened when he spoke, and asked his opinions on things that most would consider trivial. You went to him to ask questions about events, because, while Lucifer or Barbatos could answer your questions, you wanted to see if he was doing his job, or if this was another Crowley situation.

But he exceeded your expectations every time. He'd recognized that you would struggle with the curriculum, so he assigned that teachers would give you easier assignments and asked Satan to tutor you. He'd answer any questions about events and such, in detail, and always with an excited tone, and always willing to take suggestions, or ask your opinions. He never dismissed your asking his opinion, and he always seemed to appreciate that you were actively listening to him.

He even went out of his way to ask you questions, and ask your opinions. He'd invite you to spend time with him both in and out of the castle. And while he'd let you sit in his office as he worked, he never made you do anything more than your schoolwork. He took the time to learn about you. Your interests, your hobbies, your preferences. How you dress, what you like to eat, what you don't like to eat, and everything in between. Discussion never seemed to cease with Diavolo.

He took note of your lack of willingness to talk about the time you were gone, and he'd seen that time in your file. Barbatos seemed to know, but also told him that if he wanted to know he should ask you. He did ask gently a few times, but if he sensed he was overstepping even by a toe, he would withdraw. He didn't want to risk the progress he'd made in becoming closer to you.

One day, he had invited you out to the garden as a catch-up, because he hadn't been able to see you as much as he would like recently. There was cookies, some cake, and your favorite hot drink, made to your preference by Barbatos, who left the two of you alone. You and Diavolo did, indeed, catch up about the time you'd not been able to speak. But he noticed that a gargoyle he had recently had brought in had caught your eye.

"Do you like it?"

"It's not one I've seen before, is it new?" You asked, sipping your drink.

"It is! I just had that gargoyle installed." He smiled. "I'm surprised you noticed."

"I take note of the decorative statues, force of habit. I didn't know that the gardens were having plumbing problems?" You commented innocently.

"They are not. Why do you think that?" He asked, just as innocently.

"So, the statue doesn't have the rain spout function?" He shook his head at your question. "Then it is not a gargoyle, it is a grotesque. They look similar, but gargoyles have a rain spout function, and they're usually installed to prevent damage to buildings through erosion." You smiled knowingly.

"Fascinating. I did not know you knew so much about the subject."

"I don't." You set down your cup. "I had a friend, his name was Malleus. Malleus Draconia. But he let me call him Hornton. He had a club at our last school, called the Gargoyle Appreciation Club. He was the real expert, I just know the base level stuff."

"Did you join this club?"

"I wasn't officially a part of the club, but I attended all the meetings I could. We were both rather busy people, so we weren't able to meet up as much as we would've liked." You admitted.

"In what way?"

"Well we were both full-time students. And we were both housewardens. His dorm, granted, was much bigger than mine. But I'd stand to argue that my only roommate was more of a handful than half of his students." You laughed. "He was crown prince of Briar Valley, so he had a lot of responsibility to his kingdom, on top of schoolwork. I had a lot of schoolwork too, but it was harder because I didn't understand most of it." You sighed. "And that's not including the errands Crowley would have me run, and the paperwork he'd push on me. On top of picking up extra shifts at the Mostro Lounge for extra funds, in order to supplement what little I was given by the school. Not to mention, making sure no one Overblotted, and taking care of Grim." You listed.

"He made you do his paperwork?" You nodded. He gently tilted his head to the side, before righting it. "Did he pay you to do his work for him?"

"No." You shook your head lightly. "He often took away my housing and food budget, if I didn't do what he wanted, or, if I didn't do what he wanted in a timely manner." You admitted. "It was stressful to live there."

"I'm sorry to hear that you were stuck with such an incompetent person in charge of your care, he sounds truly awful. I am grateful to hear that you did so well despite it."

"It's not your fault." You smiled at him. "I miss my friends, truly. But I am happy here. I feel welcomed here, and safe. It's odd to say that. Yeah, any citizen of the Devildom could snap me in two if they really wanted to, but they don't. And they won't. But there were no such limitations back at Night Raven College. If anyone wanted me hurt, I'd have to fight them tooth and nail. Luckily, I did have people that had my back." You hummed at the memory. "My friend group is great. I do hope I get to see them again some day. But I miss Grim most of all."

"Who is Grim?"

"My cat." You beamed. "Grim is my cat. He's a special kind of cat. At least, I think he is. I don't really know what he is, in all honesty." You laughed. "But he could use magic, and breathe fire. And he could talk! He used to talk my ear off." Diavolo smiled at your elated state. "He really wanted to attend Night Raven College, so he broke in, in order to get accepted. He and I were accepted after a short stint as janitors, each as one half of a whole student. He had magic, and I had opposable thumbs." You joked, making Diavolo laugh, a loud, hearty laugh. "He would call me Henchman, and he was greedy, and sarcastic, but boy, I love that cat. When it came down to it, he was the one I could rely on the most. He was always there when I needed him. And if he couldn't help, he'd find someone who could."

"He sounds like Mammon." He commented.

"Mammon does remind me of Grim. Perhaps that's why I'm so fond of him." You hummed, smiling at the thought. "Grim and I were practically inseparable. He'd sleep on my shoulders, or in my arms, or in my bag during the day. He'd sleep on my bed at night. If you saw me, you knew he wasn't far behind." You smiled at the thought.

"You miss him that much?" Diavolo asked lightly. You nodded, without much thought.

"Don't get me wrong, I love it here. You guys are so nice to me, and I'm not overworked, or burnt out. You're nothing like Crowley, and that is a wonderful thing. But I do miss Grim." You sighed, after assuring him.

"I am sorry to hear that you have gone through such hardships. I did not know."

"How could you have? I never told you." You shrugged. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Hmm?" He tilted his head to the side once more, eyebrow raised in confusion. You laughed at the sight of the crown prince of the Devildom looking like a confused puppy.

"I knew you were curious, about why I didn't trust you, about my past. But you didn't pry. Thank you, for letting me come to you on my own terms." He smiled, righting his head again, and nodding.

"Of course. You're someone I hold dear, I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

"That's very sweet of you." You took another sip of your drink, before looking at him again. "Would you like to hear more about my friends from Night Raven? I think you would like them."

"Yes, I would like that very much. And you simply must tell me more about this talking cat of yours. I am curious." You smiled, before nodding.

You started to regale him with tales of your adventures at Night Raven, and all about your friends. He smiled, nodding along, and letting you talk, even though you both continued to chat long after your drinks had gone cold, and the treats stale. He didn't even want you to stop when Lucifer had come to fetch you from the palace, but he knew he should let you go.

Now knowing more, he was certainly going to look into finding this talking cat of yours. He would love to meet him, and he's sure you'd love to have him back as well. And if the internal anger he'd started to feel towards your previous headmaster was released in the process, well then, he supposes that kills two birds with one stone. Maybe literally for one of those birds, but who is he to say?

Barbatos:

Barbatos knew a lot. He knew you were wary, and he knew you ought to be. He knew where you were when you were missing, he knew a lot of what you went through. He knew that you were scared Diavolo would be like your last horrid excuse of a headmaster, and he knew that the brothers, and others, reminded you of your friends from the time you went missing.

But even Barbatos can miss things. It's rare, but it does happen, and he doesn't always realize it right away. However, he always does his damnedest to fix, or take a second look at what he missed the first time.

Barbatos had welcomed you into his kitchen numerous times. If he didn't want your help, you wouldn't, but you were good at taking care of little tasks when asked, to make things easier for him. And while the silence that filled the room was always warm, and comforting, light conversation wouldn't hurt. At least, that was what he assumed.

He had decided to make a chestnut tart, and you couldn't help but think back to your first official day as a student at Night Raven, or rather, the night before. It was a fond memory. One that you laughed at when you looked back on it.

"What has you chuckling over there?" Barbatos asked, a teasing tone slipping into his normally formal speech pattern.

"Just, thinking about my old school."

"You do not often talk about Night Raven, so do tell me if I am out of line by asking, but what are you thinking?"

"My first official day as a student there, or, the night before, a friend of mine came to my door with a collar around his neck. Apparently, his housewarden had put it on him, for eating a tart. A chestnut tart," you smiled, lifting up the handful of chestnuts you had been holding, so that he could see, "and we had to do this whole big thing to get enough chestnuts to remake the tart, and it ended up being all in vain, but I think it was fun."

"A collar? Like a dogs collar?"

"Sort of. It's kind of hard to explain, but it took away his magic, as punishment."

"For eating a tart?"

"Yeah, Riddle... he was going overboard on the rules. But he was doing better when I left." You admitted. "This was the first time my friends had relied on their upperclassmen for help, and I got to meet some of my friends that way. Trey was an exceptional baker. And Cater... Cater didn't like sweets." He laughed at the way I phrased it. "Cater was nice! I didn't mean it in a bad way!" You tried to defend, but he just laughed harder. "No! Stop laughing!" You laughed.

After the two of you calmed down, a silence fell over you once more. It was comfortable, but something was telling you to reach out. If anyone would understand, even a little bit, it might be Barbatos. And even if he didn't, Barbatos has always been someone you can rely on. It wasn't like he'd judge you, Barbatos was nice like that.

"It wasn't long after that, that Riddle Overblotted." You admitted quietly. You knew he heard you, you could've barely breathed it, and he still would've heard you, he was perceptive like that. "That was the first, of seven Overblots that I had to deal with. And, admittedly, he was one of those I had the best relationship with afterward, aside from maybe Hornton. But, that's because I was friends with two of Riddles first year students." You shrugged.

"You sound quite fond of this Riddle."

"He was a friend." You hummed. "Riddle was great, and he was doing a lot better when I left. I like to think I had something to do with that. But I was closer to other people. Like Ace and Deuce. And Grim."

"Who?"

"Which one?"

"Grim. You have spoken a bit about Ace and Deuce before, comparing the arguments Mammon has with his brothers to arguments they would have. But I know nothing of this Grim."

"Grim was my cat. Well, to be honest, I don't know if he was a cat. I call him a cat, because he looked like a cat, and he kind of acted like one, but I don't know what he was." You admitted, finishing your task. You stopped, and turned fully to face Barbatos' back. "He could speak, and breathe fire. He could use magic. That's how come we got stuck together. But I wouldn't change that for the world, I could really rely on Grim."

"To chase away rats?"

"He would do that, yes," you laughed at his question, "but mostly if I was in danger, I could rely on him to help. I mean, I'm magicless, and I was in a magic school. I needed him, and he needed me." You smiled, looking at all the peeled chestnuts, and thinking of all the fond memories of your cat.

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes. I miss him more than anything." Your head snapped up to look at Barbatos who had turned to face you. "Please don't misunderstand, I love it here. Everyone is so great! I just miss my cat. He's been such a big part of my life for such a long time, it just feels weird without him, you know?" He nodded.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and for once, it was stifling. You could tell he was angry, but you didn't know at what. For him, he was upset, because he knew a little bit about what had happened, but he didn't know that you'd had to deal with a life-threatening situations like Overblots before. He felt terrible that he couldn't protect you.

"So, grind the chestnuts, yes?" You asked, wanting to break the palpable tension in the air.

"Oh, yes." He nodded. "And MC?" You looked up at him, waiting for him to finish speaking. "You can always talk to me. About anything."

"Thanks Barbatos. I appreciate that." You smiled, before turning back to your task.

He didn't say anything more than that, but you felt the tension slowly disappear. You didn't know that the chestnuts he was grinding up, he was imagining were tiny skulls of your previous headmaster, as he plotted his demise. But he didn't let you know that, wanting you to feel comfortable talking about your past in his presence, or to him in general.

Simeon:

Simeon was someone you felt drawn to. You didn't know why at first, but you chalked it up to either him being an angel, or him simply being a person you felt was good, and you hadn't been around anyone that purely good in a long time. He didn't mind very much, he thought you were lovely. Despite your flaws, and imperfections, he loved to spend time with you.

It helped that you loved Luke, and were very willing to help him whenever you could. You were always so nice to Luke, and to Simeon, which is what made him like you quite a bit. He knew something had happened, but you had made it pretty clear that you didn't want to talk about it, in a rather polite way. And he respected that. He didn't want to push you before you were ready.

While a lot of the time that you were over at Purgatory Hall, you were baking with Luke, or studying with Solomon, you did take the time to just exist with Simeon. You could be doing separate activities in the same area, and occasionally asking a question, or having a full-blown conversation very animatedly with him. He didn't care which. He just liked your presence. It's nice to be around someone who has common sense.

Simeon, for all his angelic qualities and traits, has an aura that makes you want to open up. He's very warm, and inviting. You find yourself having to restrain yourself from talking about the past with him, because you don't really want to put that on him. You knew that it was inevitable, but you kept putting it off, not wanting to have him ask questions about your past.

Occasionally, you would take naps in Purgatory Hall. With Simeon and Luke's angelic presence, it wasn't often you had nightmares while there. It seemed that they warded off nightmares simply by existing. But that means nothing when they were both out of the house, and Solomon was in his bedroom, looking for a book, leaving you to fend for yourself in your horrible dreamscape.

Simeon returned from dropping Luke off with Barbatos, to see you asleep on the couch of their living room. He smiled at the sight, one that he was accustomed to seeing every now and then. But his brows furrowed when he noticed your tense expression, and how you seemed to be breathing a bit heavier than would be normal. He glided over, graceful as ever, and gently kneeled next to you, placing a comforting hand on your face.

It was warm, like a comforting hug from your grandma, or when it's just starting to get warm during spring. Your expression eased, feeling comforted by his presence and touch, and you woke up soon after, your nightmare no longer existing, and your brain waking up.

You groaned lightly, opening your eyes slowly, still adjusting to the light. You saw Simeon sitting there, smiling at you, his thumb rubbing your cheek comfortingly. You smiled back at him, soothed by knowing he was there. He backed away, allowing you to sit up, and he took a seat beside you on the couch.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

"It was ok." You smiled, strained a little from realizing that you'd been having a nightmare, and Simeon's presence was what warded it off, not from it ending naturally.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare." He gently prodded.

"I was." You admitted, nodding to your own words.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It... it's hard for me to discuss sometimes." You admitted, looking away from him. "It's not like my memories of my time at my previous school are all good. Most of them are. The memories of studying, and my friends, along with the things that I learned, the things I experienced, and the people I met, they're all amazing. I wouldn't trade those for the world. However," you hesitated, pausing for a moment to try to choose the right words, as Simeon remained silent, simply listening to you, "there were many instances in which I suffered. It wasn't always easy, living there, and dealing with Crowley. My life was in danger quite often. And there was usually little that could be done to prevent such things, other than training. And their training consisted mostly of magical training which as we know, I don't have, so it was useless to me. Grim was always so happy to learn more about it, even if he hated studying, he always did want to learn more about magic, and become a great mage."

"That sounds like something Satan would admire."

"Well," you laughed at Simeon's gentle comment, "Grim is more like Mammon than he is Satan, so while Satan loves cats, and Grim is one, I doubt they'd get along very well, as much as I loathe to admit it." He laughed as well. "I would get nightmares there too."

"What would you do when you got them?"

"Usually, I'd just sit with Grim sleeping on my lap, or lay with him sleeping on my chest, and pet him. I'd pet him and stare at the ceiling, or out the window, until I was too tired and went back to sleep, or until it was time to get up for the day. Grim was the only comfort I had at the time. He and I, we were like an unstoppable duo, you know? Inseparable."

"It sounds like you love your cat very much."

"I do. Grim was one of the few things in that world that brought me comfort. He brought me a lot of stress too," You laughed, "one time he got stuck in a contract and ended up having to serve another Housewarden while underpaying them. I had to find a way to break that contract. Oh, and, and that time he got kidnapped. I had to travel, with help from two students, well, a student and a Vice-Housewarden from another dorm, to help get him back. I love Grim, he's my best friend. Don't tell anyone else I said that though," you joked, raising your pointer finger to your mouth in a shushing gesture, "the demon brothers and others are quite jealous people." He laughed.

"Your secret is safe with me." He assured. You leaned onto him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You're so good, Simeon. Someone as good as you is rare in the Human Realm, but it felt nonexistent in Night Raven. Everyone had an ulterior motive. It's nice." You hummed.

"You'll always have a place with me. No ulterior motives." He promised, smiling at you.

You separated not long after, as Solomon called out for you, wanting to have you help him with something. But he didn't forget your words. He'd heard Barbatos and Diavolo talk about it, as well as the brothers, so he knew how bad your Headmaster had been, and he had an inkling about the other Housewardens. But he had never heard about your cat being stuck in a contract, or him being kidnapped. It made him worry about what you went through that you weren't telling them.

But he knew he'd always be there for you, no matter what you told him about your past.

Solomon:

You talked to Solomon about your cat, Grim, quite often. It took you a while to open up to him, but when you did, you told him about Grim, and your friend group. All the happy memories that you made together. You always alluded to the not so happy memories, skirting around them, and dodging his questions when he asked. Doing so told him more than you realized.

It told him that you weren't comfortable talking about it. It told him that the bad times were really bad, and you likely didn't want him to direct any rage against one specific person. For a while it made him think you didn't trust him, but once he realized you weren't telling anyone about these parts of your past, he realized it wasn't just a thing you did with him.

Solomon loves to learn about Grim. The fact that he looks like a cat only adds to his curiosity. He wants to meet him, wants to know what he looks like, and why he's able to do all that he is. You made him swear not to summon him just to dissect him, or pester him with questions he doesn't have an answer to. Of course, this was after you made him swear not to summon him without telling you.

He realized after a while, that you weren't homesick for Night Raven. You never considered that place a home, and told him as such. But you missed the people. Especially Grim. You miss your friends, the people you considered family. He did look into interdimensional travel, but it wasn't so easily done, and it wasn't something he could do on a whim. Even just summoning one person or creature from another world wasn't very easy. Even for Solomon the Wise, who was an extremely powerful sorcerer, it wasn't going to be simple.

"Can you pass me that?" He asked, pointing at an ingredient on the table as he read his spell book.

"What're you doing?" You asked. "I mean, what's this potion meant to do?"

"It's a simple healing potion, but this recipe is new, I've not seen it before, so a colleague of mine asked me to peer review it." Holding the jar he had pointed at, you peeked over his shoulder.

"Oh I know this one!" You beamed. "Crewel taught it to us."

"Crewel is?"

"The potions teacher! He also taught poison refining. This was the first potion he taught us."

"Really?" He asked, looking at it. "That's strange. How on earth did the same recipe occur in both?"

"I mean, it's not really that strange." You shrugged. "Minor healing potions are pretty common in both worlds." You said, looking at the measurements. "It's not that weird that someone managed to figure out how to make the same potion in both worlds. The measurements are off in this one though."

"How do you know?"

"Crewel is very specific, and also Grim kept messing it up. By the end of that class, I had the recipe memorized because of how many times I did it." You told him. "Here, let me just,"

You picked up a pencil, and penciled on a separate, blank piece of paper, the recipe you had memorized, and showed it to him. He compared the two, noting the small difference in measurements that didn't line up with doubling or halfing the recipe. The ingredients were the same, or mostly the same. It was likely they had the same effects, and were similar, despite being from two different worlds.

"Why don't we make both recipes? One according to your measurements, and one according to theirs. That way we can give them your recipe if yours ends up being better." He suggested.

"Sounds like fun." You smiled.

A moment of silence passed over the two of you, light requests for ingredients came from him, and you obliged. It wasn't tense, not by any means, but he could tell there was something you wanted to tell him. He didn't pry though, knowing you'd tell him when you sorted it out yourself.

"I think you'd like him."

"Crewel?"

"Yeah. He was very smart, and an awesome teacher. He'd let me hang out in his office sometimes while I was doing schoolwork. I bet you'd like a lot of my friends. A lot of them were really chaotic, but that's part of their charm." He laughed. "Grim added to that chaos, definitely. But they were just as chaotic without him." You smiled at the memories. "Crewel, or perhaps Trein, would be a much better fit for headmaster than Crowley. I'm sure you'd approve of both."

"I've heard you speak of Crowley, vaguely, but I don't know if I've ever heard you say very much about him, in general. Is he really that bad of a headmaster?"

"He is a bad headmaster. Full stop." You told him. "You'd be a better headmaster than he was. Hell, at the rate he was going, Belphegor, would be a better headmaster than him."

"Belphegor sleeps more than he's awake."

"I'm aware of the comparison I've made." You nodded to your own words. "I was more of a headmaster than he was, towards the end of my stay there. Always doing his paperwork, and handling his duties." You muttered bitterly. "Crewel and Trein did try to make it easier on me, whenever they could, but they were full-time teachers, so they couldn't very often." You shrugged. "It was what it was. Can't change it now."

"Was Grim never any help?"

"No, not usually. But he was pretty good at taking our friend group away from me when I was about to explode from stress so I didn't blow up at them." You acknowledged. "And he did like to sit with me as I did the work, usually on my shoulders, or my lap."

"Sounds like he liked to keep you company."

"Grim and I were practically inseparable." You smiled. "We did have other friends. Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, even Sebek, but Grim and I were still really close. I think you'd like them all."

"I think you forget that I'd likely be the oldest one there."

"In my friend group, yeah, probably. But certainly not the oldest in the school. I mean, Malleus is a fae, and he's pretty old despite looking and acting rather young. And Lilia is even older. Granted, I don't know either of their exact ages, they're funny like that, never very forthcoming with information about themselves." You explained. "And I'm sure they'd still be fun to be around, my friend group. I mean, you've got Ace and Deuce, who never stop fighting, Grim, who is a talking, fire-breathing cat-like creature, Jack, who's a very loyal wolf beastman who can turn into a wolf, Epel, who looks somewhat feminine, but is the epitome of a raised on a farm in the middle of nowhere southern boy, and Sebek, the half-fae who has trouble with volume control and social cues of humans." You laughed as you explained them as if they were strange foreign beings, rather than some of your very best friends. "I miss them." You smiled, fondly, as you thought of them.

"I'm still looking." Solomon said simply, as he continued with what he was doing. He looked up. "You'll be the first to know if I find anything."

"I appreciate that." You nodded.

Nothing more was said until Solomon finished both potions, a silent acknowledgement of the fact that you felt comfortable enough with him to want to introduce him to those you hold dear was enough to keep him from wanting to break the silence. Just the thought of you trusting him that much was enough to make him giddy. It made him realize that to you, he wasn't Shady Solomon, or Solomon the Wise. He was Solomon. Your friend. Someone you care very deeply for.

He continued to do his research after that. Looking for a way back to Twisted Wonderland. He wanted to meet your friends, and your cat. He wanted you to be able to see and talk to them again. He wanted to be able to see the place you lived, and watch as you interacted with your friends, be a part of this important piece of you. And, if he happened to find a way to transform your former Headmaster into a crow, and give him to Diavolo or Lucifer as a gift, under the guise that he accidentally summoned a new type of crow that was even more intelligent than the average one, then you'd never hear about it from him. You might hear about it from them. But that's a bridge he'll cross later.

Luke: (STRICTLY PLATONIC)

"What! You mean to tell me you've met someone who's a better baker than Barbatos and me?"

"I didn't say better, Luke." You laughed. "I said on par with. You guys are on the same level. And since you're from different worlds, imagine the recipes you guys could swap."

Luke was always eager to learn about your past. He got disappointed when you didn't tell him much, but he was the first you really started talking about your fond memories with. Your fond memories of the food there, that is.

He learned first about the horrors of Lilia's cooking, when he saw you being able to choke down Solomon's cooking. He didn't question it until Solomon was gone, but then you regaled him with tales of how awful such an ancient being could be at cooking. He made a vow to himself that day, and to you, for self-preservation, that he and you should never let those two meet.

But soon after he learned of the wonderful cooks and bakers. He learned first of Jade, Floyd, and Azul, who's cooking you had most often, as they gave you an employee discount. He learned of Jade's love of mushrooms, Floyd's love of Takoyaki, and Azul's love of fried chicken. He heard of their wonderful menu, and how Jade liked to experiment with mushrooms, and how Floyd's level of cooking depended on his moods.

He learned of Jamil, and his wonderful cooking, combining a variety of spices, along with the sheer amount he cooked on an average basis. He learned of Kalim's lavish parties, the load of cooking that each party demanded, and how often you were invited.

You talked of the wonderful takeout that Idia would order, along with the lectures you'd both get on nutrition from Ortho afterwards. You held Ruggie in high reverence, citing how he taught you the best ways to stretch a budget and cook on that budget. You compared Vil's diets to Asmodeus's, explaining their strictness and the reasons behind it.

Out of everyone, it seemed he knew the most about your last school, even if only through how often you talked about the food. He tried his best to recreate the dishes you really liked when you talked about them, and others he simple listened in wonder, wondering how these dishes worked, how they tasted.

He learned last of Trey. You specifically kept that away from him, as a sort of homage, so he could learn about who you knew would be his favorite one last. Trey who was raised in a bakery, and made some of the best sweets you've ever had. You knew he and Luke would get along, and you also thought it was a shame that they'd likely never meet.

"Trey was raised in a bakery, so he grew up baking. He's made sweets that I've never had before, and he's an expert at so many of them." You smiled at the memory. "Trey and you would get along great, I'm sure of it."

"You said that about Kalim and Epel too."

"Well, you're just so likeable. And so are they." You shrugged, laughing as he crossed his arms, not satisfied with that answer. "I'm sure that you'd all get along, Luke. Because you are all wonderful people." You smiled.

"Tell me about Grim again."

"Again?" You asked in a playfully incredulous tone, smiling at him as he enthusiastically nodded. You decided to play along, since the treats you both were baking were in the oven.

"Grim was my cat. My best friend. We lived together, we slept together, we ate together. He and I did everything together. He was very mischievous, and never wanted to study. He called me Henchman, and he loved his cans of tuna." You told him, having recited this information to him a number of times. "Grim loved food. And he'd eat anything. He and I were in it together, we were never apart. I could trust him more than anything. And he could always depend on me, should he need to. We were two halves of a whole, literally." You hummed.

"Was Grim that much of a glutton?"

"Oh yes. He ate anything. The only person who could get him to stop eating would be Kalim. Because he'd stuff him so full, and then continue to try to make him eat. I had to lecture him a number of times because he just wouldn't stop. I was, usually, unsuccessful." You sighed. "But Kalim always meant well. And he got it eventually! Now that I think of it, the only other person who could get Grim to stop eating would probably be Lilia, because he just couldn't stand his cooking." You both shuddered, at the thought of someone as bad at cooking as Solomon.

"He sounds a lot like Beelzebub."

"That's the first time I've heard that comparison." You acknowledged. "But no, Grim was more like Mammon. Loyal to a fault, greedy as hell. He called me Henchman, like how Mammon calls me Human. And they were both always there when you needed them, no matter how much trouble they got into along the way."

"I wish I could meet him."

"I wish that too. I wish you could meet all my friends. I think they'd really like you. But, I think we'd be staying away from Lilia if he's been in the kitchen." You laughed, and Luke quickly nodded in agreement.

[calder]

i am the primary author of the essay Themes of Gay Identity and Homophobia in Fallout: New Vegas and the original writer of the Disability representation page on Nukapedia, the Fandom Fallout Wiki.

The Fallout Wiki is a severe ongoing danger to the marginalized people and youth of our community.

The alt-right gang who have occupied Nukapedia for the past 12 months is trying to abolish voting. They have been talking about it for a month and this morning they announced their intentions to fast-track it. They want to do this so admins can efficiently silence all disobedient voices immediately without evidence or possibility of community assessment.

This morning, an authority used an unprecedented "admin decree" to excommunicate a teenage boy, admin of the Fallout Fanon/RP wiki. They are trying to demonize and excommunicate him because they were unable to privately pressure him into promoting an adult he was known to be uncomfortable with. They also explicitly condemn him because they discovered he had told adults what they did to him.

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:UrbanAnge1#Clarification_about_comments_in_Discord

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:Arcaneous#Notice_of_Affiliation_Termination

They are saying Fandom "dismissed" the Vote of No Confidence he cosigned, and call it a "campaign of misinformation." They argue this supposed "dismissal" proves they are all innocent of all charges and insinuating they must punish anyone who challenges them, including anyone who signed that document 6 months ago.

Edit: the document was deleted by a rogue community elder acting alone, during the writing of this post. the elder is technically a Fandom employee and used me to disseminate confidental Van Buren documents, deliberately withholding information about how that could affect myself and the community. learn more here

In reality, one of their ringleaders buried the document without Fandom permission, and was subsequently issued a global ban and stripped of rights. They are simply lying and trying to intimidate everyone into complying with their abusive false narrative.

Fandom also told Nukapedia "the situation on the server has become so detrimental to the mission and wellbeing of the community that we can not permit our platform to be used as any endorsement of joining and participating in that server." The In-Group have aggressively pretended the server is still a formal function of the site. Fandom absolutely did not "dismiss" any criticism against these people whatsoever in the past year, they are simply malicious liars.

.https://fallout.fandom.com/wiki/User_talk:Jspoelstra#Clarification_on_'admin_decree'_terminating_MD_affiliation

O'saa is a misogynist and a psychological abuser. Mara is a far-right bully who celebrated the purge of everyone who made white people uncomfortable. Urban has abused multiple minors. This will be illuminated for the community over the course of the following weeks. They all frame themselves as victims and anyone affiliated with me as subhuman because I tell the truth about them.

As their next project, they plan to fashion special pages for an 18+ server where alt-right talking points are explicitly allowed, as well as discussion of beating and sexually degrading a banned woman. The admins of that server referred to the previous NP head as a "whore", an 'old crying bitch,' and a "street walker." They and their users "joked" about finding her in real life, siccing a dog on her, and stabbing her. They shared old screenshots with NP staff of her being bullied to her face for being a "whore." At least four prominent ambassadors from NP encouraged this. Again, this will be unpacked in every bit as much detail as necessary.

multiple open catholic christofascists have been given egregious special protection by admins after blatant acts of politically radical harassment and vandalism, such as "Catholic Crusader," unbanned by the head admin despite his only contribution being malicious vandalism of the LGBT page.

They run their "lovebombing-gaslighting-emotional blackmail" routine on anyone who displays potential in the space, including corporate employees tasked with handling them.

In all my past PSAs I have urged the community to stay away. But kids keep getting hurt at Nukapedia. We cannot keep ignoring it or hoping it fixes itself. They have their next targets in their crosshairs and they will always find more kids to torment. We have to do this.

The people orchestrating this number about 10, they can gather around 20 votes at most, and they survive on absolute and brutal narrative control. 3.4k people engaged with my first PSA about NP in a week.

For the safety of the youth and disabled of our community, I'm asking you to make a Fandom account with usernames different from your tumblr and Discord user names, and to simply speak up when you see anything concerning. Several community forums will occur soon, which will ping all editors, so make a contribution, poke around, and attend discussions. Ask questions. Do not let strangers pressure you into compliance without evidence of their narrative.

When you see the blatant consolidation of power in the hands of those who already hold it--AND YOU WILL--object openly and do not apologize.

They want you to think you are 'not a real member' and they are, but many of them do not edit the wiki at all. All you need to do is join, read the rules, and speak common sense in community discussions. I've written some advice here on how to effectively participate in improving the space.

Today I'm just hoping to attract a few adults willing to speak sense and call out bullying when they see it. The goal is harm reduction, and in such a small room, every voice makes a huge difference. I recommend you coordinate with the progressive people you meet there, out in the open.

This is a minor PSA i'm opting for because frankly i've been awake for a long ass time watching this implode and the coming weeks are going to shape the future of the community. They intend to allow this to escalate tremendously, hopefully that won't be necessary. A structured project of resistance and accountability will be launched in the coming days and will continue until progress is made.

This is necessary because children are going to keep coming to the site through google and these people are going to keep predating on them. They single out talented young people and pressure them to join in their alt-right bully mob, and those who refuse are inevitably targeted with harm, harassment, defamation, gaslighting. Month after month they keep fucking with kids, disabled people, queer people, and people of color. Talented young people keep pouring out of this place, abused, pursued by white men fixated on slandering their name and finding them offsite.

As far as I know, they have purged all queer people and people of color out of any position of power or respect, save some alienated elders they occasionally lovebomb. Their tokens have slowly been purged, leaving them a coalition of MAGAboys, cryptofascists, and gamergaters united under casual White Nationalism. The very few remaining marginalized staff and elders simply maintain silence out of fear they will be next. They need you to change the temperature in the room so it will be safe to speak.

The leaders and their enablers are reading this and laughing together, posting popcorn gifs and calling me insane, boasting that they are sorry for nothing. They are competing to signal loyalty, grandstanding about how nobody has ever done anything wrong at NP except for the banned crazy women they hatestalk. The inner circle will discuss ZERO of these incidents in detail. Zero. No matter how much proof. Zero. Ever. The truth being revealed means permanent immunity 100% of the time. The more proof, the more unfair they say it is. That is how dark and melted this place has become.

Some of the offenders have been there for over 10 years. They BRAG that they personally wrote "the policy" and have unique right to enforce it, and they stalk people offsite as a team to mock and provoke them. In October, an evidence document was posted, detailing many of their offenses. Today it was hidden from you. It cannot be allowed to continue.