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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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A Terrible Tutor

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [High School!AU] He’s cocky, annoying, a total tease, has a laugh loud enough to shake the stars, and you hate him. But as luck would have it, he’s also your tutor.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: minor cursing

A/N: this is based on a classmate i had way back! (we did not fall in love. he was awful.) i’ve also never taken physics, but i tried something a bit new for the reader’s personality. i hope you enjoy :) <3

You glared down at your physics textbook, the open pages staring back up at you with beady eyes made of diagrams and labels. Off to the side, your notebook was strewn across your desk, a list of questions scribbled across the top line in a hurried rush. The handwriting was messier than you would have liked, but the thought didn’t irritate you.

What did irritate you was that it was nearly half past four, and your so-called tutor still hadn’t shown up.

You could still envision the concerned look on Mr. Craftson’s face as he held you back a moment after class, watching as the rest of your classmates poured out of the door with an anxious look. He had offered you a kind smile before pulling out your test from the week before, and you winced at the numerous red marks scattered across the front page alone.

“I know you’ve been struggling in this class,” he said, gazing at you almost pitifully.

You tried not to glower at the sight of his apologetic eyes trained on you, instead nodding your head slowly. “It’s been… hard,” you said slowly.

He leaned an arm on his chair, pushing your test toward you. “You ask questions in class,” he hummed, “and from what I’ve seen, you complete your homework diligently.” His smile fell. “Yet here you are me, with the lowest mark in my class.”

You wanted to shrivel up into a ball. Maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but he wasn’t wrong, either.

At your silence, he prodded at you. “Is there anything going on at home that might be hindering you, or…?”

You whipped your head up, your eyes wide. “No! Things are—things are great. It’s just…”

You swallowed, then sighed, fidgeting your fingers on your lap. “I guess,” you murmured, trying to quell the shame flaring up inside you, “I’ve just been really struggling with the material, and none of it’s really been clicking.”

Mr. Craftson’s face softened in an instant. “That’s alright. Thank you for being honest with me. If my teaching hasn’t been working out with you…”

He paused, rubbing at the blond stubble on his chin for a moment. Then, his face lit up and he leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ve got a great student who I think might be able to explain things to you in a way you might be able to grasp a little better. He’s got the best marks in this class.”

Your eyes widened. The best in the class? He had to be a genius.

“I have a good feeling he can meet you tomorrow at four after school to help you out,” he continued, leaning against the arm rest of his office chair. “What do you say?”

You blinked, a thoughtful look passing over your face. Lord knew you needed the help—you were practically failing the class—but an uneasy stone settled into the pit of your stomach. You’ve never needed tis much help to pass a class before. The thought made you want to gag. Slowly, you opened your mouth.

“Do I have to…” You gestured vaguely. “Pay him or something?”

His cerulean eyes blinked at you for a second, then he laughed—the kind of deep-belly laugh only teachers seemed to be able to have. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand at you, “not at all. He’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

You bobbed your head, your insides crumbling. You didn’t want to accept, you really didn’t. Part of you guys wanted to believe that you could just work harder, study by yourself even more. You were a dedicated student, and you were doing just fine in all your other classes. Surely the content couldn’t get that much harder, right?

But as your gaze lowered to the red ink staining your test once more, you felt yourself swallowing the lump in your throat. Straightening your back, you let your stubborn pride seep out of your shoulders and onto the floor.

It looked like this was a sacrifice you were simply going to have to make.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” you said, letting your lips curl up into a genuine, grateful smile. “It—it really means a lot.”

Mr. Craftson grinned at you, an easygoing flint shining in his eyes. “Of course. You’re a bright student. Sometimes we all just need a little push.”

You could still remember shaking his hand in thanks before bundling your stuff in your arms and shuffling into the hall, tucking your feet between the pages of your textbook. That had been yesterday, and now, the same one was sitting on your desk, open to a new page full of jumbled words you could hardly decipher.

The chair across from you was distinctly empty.

He—whoever he was—was late.

You distantly wondered to yourself who your tutor even was, your gaze drifting down to your textbook. Mr. Craftson had said he was the best student taking the class. Would it be George? He always seemed like he knew what was going on, and he never really asked questions. But sometimes, he looked like he was just zoning out. Maybe it was Technoblade. He was smart. You paused, then shook your head. No, everyone knew he was one of those English kids.

The thought made you furrow your brows, wracking your head even more. The words on the page grew muddled and fuzzy as you thought even more. Just who was it?

Just then, you heard the classroom door swing open with the same loud creak every door in the school seemed to have. The sound of heavy breaths and panting filled the air, then a haggard voice spoke up.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

You didn’t look up from your page, letting a sigh escape your lips as you lifted your head. Plastering a polite smile to your face, you let your gaze travel toward your tutor. “Hi, it’s nice to me—”

Suddenly, your voice died in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway. Towering over the desks with a duffel bag resting against his hip, his dirty blond locks were damp and matted against his forehead, his emerald eyes blinking at you. Something bitter and warm twisted in your gut at the sight, and the smile dropped off your face and into a scowl.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “It’s you.”

The smile he offered you was easygoing, but you didn’t miss the strain in his gaze. “It’s me.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek, your heart practically revolting against your rib cage with the way it was hammering. A million questions were darting around the inside of your skull, only making your blood boil even more with each passing second.

Of all the people you had expected to show up, Clay was easily the last.

The two of you had first met back in freshman year in your first science class—he had sat behind you and had the loudest laugh on the planet, or so you were convinced. You were quieter back then, but just as stubborn and snappish as now. Soon enough, one thing led to another, and you swore the two of you were suddenly enemies for life.

Although you couldn’t remember what had caused your little feud, you knew that he was the one who started it. He was loud and kicked your chair, he just loved to borrow your pens and never return them, and you could never figure out just why he loved to tease you so much. You don’t think you learned a single thing in that class, always distracted by the presence staring a hole into your back, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Naturally, that meant your teacher assigned him to sit behind you for the rest of the year. To this day, you were convinced she hated you, and you still avoided her in the halls.

To say that science class was your least favourite would be an understatement, and soon enough, everybody was in on your hatred for each other. Clay never seemed to stop pestering you no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, and you would never forget the day you finally snapped at him, whipping around to glare at him with your cheeks on fire.

“Will you please shut up?”

The shocked look on his face was still burned into your memory as it melted into a wide, proud grin.

“Only if you make me.”

Even years later, he always seemed to find a way to worm himself back into your life, and you hated it. You hated him, simple as that.

So, seeing him standing in front of you like this, it took every ounce of your strength to keep your voice as neutral as possible.

“What took you so long?”

He patted his duffel bag before slipping it off his shoulder and setting it on the ground. “I just finished football practice. Coach ran a little long and I figured it would be polite to take a shower before so I didn’t smell all sweaty when I tutored you.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open. That explained his wet hair, you guessed. While you were vaguely flattered, you were distracted by something else. “You knew that you would be tutoring me?”

Clay nodded, pulling back the chair in front of you. “Yeah. Phil asked me.”

You gaped. “You call Mr. Craftson by his first name?”

His smile was a touch too smug for your liking, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. “Maybe. I was surprised when he asked, though.” He wrinkled his nose and shot you a teasing smirk as he sat down. “I didn’t think you would be failing this class.”

You glowered, that same bitter feeling bubbling up in your chest, again. “I’m not failing,” you snapped. “I’m just…” You paused, your cheeks growing hot. “…not passing.”

He gave you a deadpan look, then laughed. “That’s the same thing.”

You sent him a gesture that your teacher most certainly would have scolded you for if he was here, and he laughed even harder. You were suddenly reminded of just how damn loud his laugh was, sounding like fireworks in your ears. Slumping over, you hung your head in your hands.

“Ugh. I can’t believe you knew you were going to be tutoring me of all people.” You paused, then added, “I can’t believe you agreed.”

He tilted his head at you, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “Did you not know I was gonna be your tutor?”

“No.” You frowned. “If I did, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

His eyes flickered with mirth as a smile stretched across his face. “Aw, am I really that disagreeable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your gaze as sharp as a blade. “Without a doubt. A hundred percent. I didn’t even have to think about it.”

He whistled, feigning a wince. “Harsh.”

Wryly, you said, “You deserve it.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t that bad as a freshman, was I?”

You gave him a hard, callous stare. “Do you really think I’m the one you should be asking that question?”

He thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, point taken.”

You dragged a hand over your face, then pointed at your textbook. “Are you going to teach me now or what? We’re already behind.”

He winced for real this time, and you almost felt bad for him. Almost. “Sorry, again.”

“Seriously,” you muttered under your breath, reaching into your back to grab your pencil case, “and to think that you have the highest grades in this class.”

“Hey,” he shot back, “I’m brains and brawn.”

You shot him a look that was nothing short of disgusted. He cringed a little at the sight.

“Okay, that was cheesy, but I’m not wrong. Besides, coach says I have to keep my grades up or else I’m off the team.” He leaned closer to you, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his hot breath fanning over your skin. “You know I can’t let everyone down like that.”

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Totally.” Whipping out a pencil, you tapped at the bottom of the page you had open. “Can you explain this to me, now? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

He quietly chuckled, and you hated how soft it sounded. Leaning closer to the textbook to read, his lips mouthed the problem silently. You tried not to stare at his mouth as it moved, your gaze tracing over the soft dip of his lips as his viridian eyes flashed with recognition. A moment later, he sat back and cocked his head at you.

“So, what exactly do you not understand?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Everything.”

He blinked, disbelief colouring his features. “Everything? Like, the whole thing?”

You scowled. “I thought that was obvious. All that stuff about velocity and the funny diagrams—” You shook your head. “—none of it makes sense.”

He raised a brow at you. “I thought you were paying attention in class. You really don’t understand a single thing?”

You bit back the urge to scream. “It’s not like you’re much smarter.”

Clay snorted derisively. “I am. That’s kind of the whole point.”

You groaned, letting your voice ring out in the quiet of the empty classroom. You caught a glimpse of his amused smile in front of you, and it only made you groan louder.

“You’re the one who ruined science for me, you know? I hated going to that class, and look at me now.” You gestured to yourself, using your finger to draw a ring in the air. “It all comes full circle.”

There was a brief second of silence. “I’m the reason why you hate science?”

You didn’t budge. “I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy knowing I was going to be stuck in a class with someone who never gave me my stuff back and kicked my chair.”

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you, but this one was tense—heavy. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob.

“You…” His eyes swirled with something sad and honest. “You really hate me that much?”

He suddenly looked a lot like a kicked puppy, and a pang of guilt shot through your chest like a bullet. With a panicked gaze, your voice grew shaky as you spoke. “I—I don’t hate you. I just… I had a grudge, I guess.”

Your tone grew soft, and you lowered your gaze to your lap. “I… I really didn’t like you back then, but things have changed.” You offered him a small smile, but it felt shy. “We’re not exactly fourteen, anymore.”

He returned your smile with one of his own. Just like yours, it was small and tender, and it sent something stirring in the depths of your belly. “No,” he murmured, “we’re not.”

“I,” you breathed, gulping down the last dredges of your grudge, “was stubborn back then.” You raised a shoulder. “In a way, I still am. I have too much pride for my own good too, but I don’t hate you.” The look you sent him had a spark of mischief, and his breath hitched. “Strongly dislike, at best.”

Clay blinked at you, looking half-surprised and half-awed at you. You squirmed under his gaze before he snapped out of his stupor, almost bashfully ducking his head. “I’m… It’s definitely too late for me to say this now when I really should have said it all those years ago, but I’m sorry. Really. I was a dick.”

You snorted under your breath, fondly mumbling, “Yeah, you were.”

His face perked up at the sound of your bitten back laugh. “I really shouldn’t have teased you so much. My reasons were… dumb.”

You cocked a brow at him, almost as if to say, Oh? Do elaborate.

But instead, you watched as his ears burned crimson red and he flashed you a pair of bright, pleading eyes. “Forgive me? Please.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, something new and warm bursting along the seams of your lungs. You couldn’t possibly say no to a face like that. Even the toughest person on the planet would crack under a look as sincere as that, you tried to reason, ultimately letting out a sigh with a stammer.

“O-Only if you actually can get me to understand this unit.” Pushing down the heat creeping up your neck, you pointed at him with an accusatory look. “Until then, you’re on thin ice.”

The grin he sent you was beyond dazzling—you couldn’t have brought yourself to look away even if you wanted to.

(And you didn’t.)

“Gotcha.”

Clay finished scribbling a diagram onto the new page of your notebook, flicking his thumb back to reveal the hordes of previous pages you had filled with other practice problems. If you were being honest, you were a little envious of just how neat his drawings were. No one should be able to draw a line as straight as that without a ruler, yet here he was, doing exactly that.

What a show-off.

Feeling your eyes on him, Clay lifted his head to catch your gaze, turning the notebook to face you. You tried to pretend the stumbling of your heart wasn’t because of him—not at all. “Do you get it?” he breathed.

You glanced back and forth between him and your page, your grip on your pencil falling slack. “I think so,” you said slowly. “Mostly, at least.”

He hummed for a moment, then flipped your notebook around until it was facing him again and holding an expectant, open hand toward you. Without even thinking, you dropped your pencil into his palm, a spark running up your fingers at the slight brush of his skin against yours. Carefully, he wrote a string of words on a new line, circling the sentence when he was done.

“Here,” he said gently, pushing the pencil back between your fingers, “try this question. This was one of the harder ones from my test.”

Gingerly, you peered down at the page, and your mouth fell open at the sight. This question was far more complicated than anything you had been solving in the textbook before this. What was he thinking?

“If you get it right,” he said suddenly, casting you out of your thoughts, “you should be all set.” His lips curved up into a taunting, knowing grin. “But it’s okay if you don’t get it—it is difficult, after all.”

You stared for a second longer, then grumbled under your breath. How could he read your mind like that? You were going to prove him wrong, even if only to knock that smug look off his face.

Leaning down, you tackled the problem head on, your pencil flying across the page as you spelled out formulas and equations, doodling a diagram when you had to and pausing to think every other breath. Before you, you didn’t see Clay watching you with a soft, tender gaze, taking in the way your fingers fidgeted against your pencil when you stopped and how you chewed on your mouth when you got nervous.

You really were more endearing than you could ever know.

Suddenly, you let your pencil clatter against the table as you pushed your notebook toward him, eyeing your pencil scratches with a wary look. “Done.”

His viridian eyes gleamed with excitement. “Alright,” he said, plucking the paper from your desk with a practiced ease, “let’s take a look.”

His gaze scanned your work intently, his lips pressed together in focus. You folded your hands onto your lap, trying to focus on his analysis of you work. But the longer you looked, the more you felt your gaze trailing up to graze his cheeks. Did he always have so many freckles? You didn’t remember seeing him with this many as a freshman, but you also spent more time glaring at him than staring at him back then.

In a way, he was kind of... pretty. Handsome, even. Not that you would ever say it out loud.

You suddenly had a strong urge to reach up and trace feather-light lines between each of his freckles, but before you could even take another breath, Clay’s eyes were on yours again. Unlike earlier, the look on his face was grave, and a small grimace overtook his features.

“I have bad news,” he said dryly.

Your heart fell.

Of course you got something wrong. You were a fool to think that things would change just because Clay would be teaching you instead.

But then, his grimace curled up at the corners, and your jaw dropped.

“I have nothing left to teach you in this unit.”

Your eyes widened.

“I got it right?”

He turned the notebook back to face you. A large check mark had been scribbled in pencil along the side of the page, a tiny smiley face decorating the corner next to it.

“Perfectly.”

The gasp you let out sent you barrelling for your feet, and you nearly started jumping for joy in the middle of your seat. “Yes!” you cried, pumping a hand up in the air. Suddenly, you whirled to point at Clay, a pout forming on your lips. “Oh my god, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that.”

He chuckled, leaning back with his hands up defensively. “Sorry, sorry. I saw the opportunity and just had to take it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re terrible.”

His eyes softened—sincere and sweet. “I know.”

Ignoring the sudden burst of warmth rushing through your veins, you huffed at him. “Well, at least I have two pieces of good news for you. First,” you said, sliding your notebook off your desk, “we can both go home, now.”

“And the second?” he prompted, looking at you inquisitively.

You folded your notebook shut, boring a hole into your backpack with the intensity of your stare. You couldn’t look at him right now, you just couldn’t.

“Second,” you nearly whispered, “I accept your apology.”

Slipping your textbook into your bag, you heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Really?”

You reached for your pencil case, fumbling with the zipper. “Yes.”

There was another breath, but this one was gentler, less harsh. You peeked up at him from your bag, and your heart stuttered at the ecstatic look on his face.

“This,” he said, “is the greatest day of my life.”

You blinked wildly at him, zipping your backpack up all the way before slinging it onto the desk. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, his smile never once faltering. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to hate my guts forever!”

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I might have.” You paused. “Actually, I probably would have. But luckily for you—” You shot him a sincere look. “—not anymore.”

His grin grew impossibly wider, yet it somehow still looked natural on him. Deep down, a part of you wanted to bottle up his expression and remember it for as long as you lived.

“Like I said, greatest day of my life.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Weirdo.”

Pushing in your chair and gesturing for him to stand, you jutted your head toward the door. Clay didn’t need to be queued twice before he was rising to his feet, pushing the chair back to its rightful spot before heaving his duffel bag off the floor and onto his side. As the two of you headed out towards the door, a bought suddenly flickered across your head, and your lips began moving before you could even begin to think.

“One of these days, you need to tell me why you liked to pick on me so much. Like, seriously, why me?” You gestured to yourself as the two of you stepped outside into the school hallway. “I’m not exactly special.”

You hadn’t been looking at him in that moment, focused on closing the door behind you, but when he didn’t respond for a moment, you looked up and felt your lungs tighten. You had never seen Clay look so bashful in his life, with his ears flaring crimson red and a faint rosy tint dusting the panes of his cheeks. His freckles were only more noticeable with the pink background, and you nearly blurted something you knew you would regret.

“Maybe I’ll—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was firing off once more. “In the meantime, if you still need help, I don’t mind coming in again next week or something.”

You nearly took a double take. Next week? He wanted to help you, again?

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” you asked, scanning him with wide, curious eyes. “Like studying your own stuff.”

“You’re important,” he said abruptly.

You choked on your spit, and by the way he went absolutely stock still in front of you, you had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” you whispered.

That warm, fuzzy feeling from earlier was rising between your lungs again, only this time it sent your heart racing around your chest. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head once, twice.

“Sure,” you managed to say as calmly as you could. “The, um, the next unit looks a little confusing, so I might need some help.”

Clay’s face suddenly brightened at your soft request for assistance, and you caught his shoulders slumping with relief as he smiled. “Awesome.” He paused, then waved his hand. “Not the part about you needing help, I mean.”

You laughed a little at that, your nerves calming a bit more. “I would hope not.”

He smiled back at you. “So,” he said, drawing out the syllable, “I’ll be back same time next week?”

You couldn’t help but reach over to elbow him a little playfully. “Try to be on time though, yeah?”

He flushed a bit, but cracked a crooked grin nonetheless. “I’ll try my best.” He glanced over his shoulder down the hall, and you suddenly realized you would be heading in the opposite direction.

“I’ll see you around?” he murmured gently, brushing away his now dry hair from his forehead.

One of your hands tightened around the straps of your bag while the other waved back at him. “See you.”

With one last grin at you, you watched as he turned on his heel, striding down the hall with his duffel bag bouncing against the side of his hip. Just then, your eyes grew wide, and you cupped your hands around your mouth to call after him.

“One last thing, Clay!” you shouted, your voice echoing down the empty corridor.

At the sound of his name, he whipped around again, his brows knitted together. Breathing in deeply, you screwed your eyes shut and called out once more.

“Thank you!”

When you opened your eyes again, his emerald green eyes were blinking at you with wild abandon, his lips parted in what could only be described as a look of pure wonder. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wondered why he was looking at you of all people like that.

Swallowing, he sent you a lopsided, earnest smile and cupped his own hands around his mouth to shout back at you.

“Anytime!”

You kept waving at him even after he let his arms drop back to his sides and he vanished around the corner of the hall. Almost immediately, you bent over to bury your head into your knees, letting out a soft, muffled yell.

Why did your chest feel so warm when he looked at you like that? Why did you want to count his freckles so badly when he smiled? Was he always so nice, so helpful and kind? Why did he look so cute when his face flushed all pink like the way it did before? When did he become so endearing instead of annoying?

Did you like him?

You let out another muffled cry into your hands, feeling heat flood every part of your body like a tidal wave crashing into your system. You could hear your heart ringing in your ears like a bell that wouldn’t ever stop, and your toes curled into your shoes.

You had so, so many questions, none of which you knew how to solve.

Hopefully Clay could help you figure out the answers.

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patandpran · 3 years

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Hello! I truly enjoy reading your analysis of BB. You really capture what I felt while watching the episodes. I know since the last one was a Pran centered, there are not a ton of these types of analysis on Pat for episode 4. I know this is asking a lot but do you have it in you to do one of these for the scene of when Ink invites Pran to join her and Pat at the table? Pat’s expressions from the time Pran walks passed the chair to sit next to Ink and then their whole conversation afterwards. I noticed Pat’s many expressions it still with me and I don’t know how to truly capture it in writing. I know at the time most people where drawn to Pran’s feelings but Pat was right showing us some as well.

Sorry it took so long for me to get around to this. Being a new mom takes a bunch of my time up! Haha

Anyway here goes….

First of all, Ohm is the king of micro expressions so there’s a lot to pick a part in this scene and I’ll likely only scratch the surface.

This whole situation is so complicated. At this point, Pran is jealous of Pat and Ing and Pat is trying to figure out why Pran is being so distant and awkward with him. The epitome of this whole interaction for Pat is confusion and hurt.

One would assume that Pat would chase away a potential rival suitor if he really had feelings for Ing so when Pran appears and Ing invites him over, this reaction is surprising.

Pat doesn’t look pissed off, he looks almost concerned. He can tel that something is off with Pran, especially with the sheen in Pran’s eyes. He likely wants Pran close so he can figure out why he’s upset.

Pat doesn’t skip a beat and pulls out a chair, inviting Pran to sit next to him. When Pran ignores the offer and sets his bag on the chair, instead, Pat tries to mask his own hurt because of the rejection but doesn’t do a great job of that.

At this point, Pat can only assume that what’s going on is that Pran also has feelings for Ing and her arrival has caused the tension between the two of them. It’s clear that Pat is already mourning the closeness that they’ve developed over the past few weeks.

Ing notices the tension between the two boys and calls it out right away, suggesting they blame their interaction on the bus stop. In reaction fo this, Pat has a rather dejected look on his face which is very out of character for him, especially when he’s usually so goofy and flirty around Pran and Ing separately. It’s like he can’t figure out how to handle them all being in one place, as if he’s confused by the amount of conflicting feelings blurring his judgment. Again, he tries to hide this all but his effort is in vain.

Later in the episode, Pat uses this line against Pran before the game, likely employing it in a petty way to remind Pran of the interaction.

Ing brings up the upcoming game and teases Pat and Pran by asking who she should be cheering for, noting that they are always in competition with one another. This likely brings up the worry for Pat that he and Pran will now have something else to fight over: Ing.

Pat puts on a fake smile but it quickly fades as if he’s trying to grasp for his usual demeanor but his heart just isn’t in it. The conflicting feelings he’s experiencing are overwhelming and too much for him to process and be able to keep himself in the moment at the same time.

His struggle is: can he still be friends with Pran if they both have feelings for the same person?

But his jealousy might be coming from somewhere place that he isn’t even aware of yet. Maybe it’s not Ing that he wants to be with…

Pat seems to pull himself together and gets back to his flirty self when Ing notices that he’s wearing the bracelet she gave him back in high school. It seems like he’s overcompensating with his flirtiness as it doesn’t seem as genuine as when he is playful with Pran. Again, this is likely because it is inauthentic and is trying to, in a way, hurt Pran just in case he is competing for Ing’s affections.

Because that’s Pat and Pran’s default: rivalry and competition . That’s where they’re comfortable with each other, at Least to the outside world and in public. With witnesses, they must act as if they can’t stand each other and hide any sort of friendship (or more) that they might share.

After recalling the memory of seeing Pat receive the bracelet from Ing, Pran has a pained look on his face. He gets up to leave and Pat instantly looks like he regrets acting like that in front of Pran, shame and guilt written all over his face.

As Pat watches Pran leave, his expression looks broken, as if he wants to go after Pran to see what’s wrong but instead fights the urge because he’s “supposed” to be with Ing and not Pran. He’s supposed to stay with the one he likes instead of the person that is his ‘rival’.

The whole scene is so revealing about how much Pats relationship with Pran is both very important but confusing to Pat. He doesn’t know where they stand but he knows that he cares about Pran.

I took this is also what inspires the conversation later in the episode. Pat wants to clarify what’s going on between them but, because he’s so oblivious, he ends up hurting Pran even more.

#bad buddy #pat x pran #patpran #bad buddy the series #thai bl

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

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18, 15, 11 for sadness! love your fics sm

18) "Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.”

Jiang Cheng is four when he writes something to his soulmate for the first time. He begged his sister to teach him to write hello, just so that he could let his soulmate know that he’s there and thinking of them and today his sister finally deemed his strokes readable enough to write them out.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shakes a bit—the brush still too big in his tiny hand—but under Jiang Yanli’s watchful eye he manages to write it down on his arm in a way that is at least readable.

“I did it!” Jiang Cheng yells excitedly when he is done and Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his head, clearly proud of him.

“And now we wait,” she says and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, his arm always in sight so that he doesn’t miss his soulmate’s reply.

It doesn’t take long at all for some new characters to show up, but they are a lot more complicated than what Jiang Cheng just wrote, and he’s not yet old enough to read them properly.

He eagerly holds his arm out for Jiang Yanli to read his soulmate’s message out to him, but he knows something is wrong when her face falls.

“What does it say, a-jie?” he still wants to know and Jiang Yanli pats his head again.

“It says ‘don’t write again’,” she reads out for him and Jiang Cheng pouts.

“That’s not very nice,” he mutters and climbs into Jiang Yanli’s lap when she pulls him over.

“No, it’s not. But it means your soulmate is older than you,” she says and flicks his nose.

“Like you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Maybe, yes,” she gives back and Jiang Cheng stares at the characters on his arm again.

He has a soulmate! And they are older than him!

“I will draw for them,” Jiang Cheng decides, because his mother berated him often enough that doodling odd shapes on his papers is actually not the same as properly writing characters, and his soulmate only told him to stop one of those things.

“You should do that,” Jiang Yanli encourages him though and Jiang Cheng gets started on it right away.

And he doesn’t stop, not even when he doesn’t receive an answer from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nine when he tells his soulmate his name.

He never again received an answer from his soulmate, but that never stopped him from continuing to doodle on his skin, much to his mother’s despair.

‘My name is Jiang Cheng’ he writes out one day, early in the morning, so he can scrub it off before breakfast and before his mother can say something to him about it.

He fears that his soulmate might not yet be awake and that he won’t get an answer until a much later time, but then he already feels the tell-tale tingle of his soulmate writing something.

Jiang Cheng has only felt it once in his life before, but it’s not a feeling you easily forget.

‘I don’t want to know’ is the reply he receives and Jiang Cheng’s face falls.

He scrubs his own name off his skin and sees with relief that his soulmate does the same on their end, but then the implication of what just happens hits him and he crawls under his blanket again.

His soulmate doesn’t want him. They didn’t even ask for his name before or any other identifying feature and now they didn’t even offer anything in return and Jiang Cheng has to bite back tears at that.

Fine, he thinks after long miserable minutes. If his soulmate doesn’t want him, then he doesn’t want his soulmate either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is sixteen when he has to watch Wei Wuxian write obscenities on his arms in broad daylight and he’s also sixteen when he has to see Lan Wangji blush as he tries to cover the characters on his arm up.

There’s an ugly feeling forming in his chest and Jiang Cheng knows that it’s jealousy.

It seems like at least Wei Wuxian has a soulmate who is not completely against the match. It’s not like Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli can relate, and that thought at least brings some comfort to Jiang Cheng.

He’s not the only one who’s soulmate doesn’t like them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is seventeen when his Sect burns and his family dies.

He knows it’s stupid, even as he puts a brush with shaking fingers to his arm, but he has to warn his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they are a cultivator or not, if they are in danger or perfectly safe, but he has to warn them to give them a fighting chance.

‘The Wens are attacking. Please stay safe’, he writes out, his strokes barely legible and then everything is a blur.

He does not get a reply from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is eighteen when he goes to war.

He spends three months looking for his brother, before he finds him and brings him home, and then he can only remember battlefield after battlefield.

Jiang Cheng simultaneously doesn’t feel old enough to be doing this and like he has never done anything else as Zidian swings in a wide arch over his head, but then everything blurs again as the next wave of Wen soldiers hit.

He always feels exhausted down to his bones these days but at least he knows that his siblings are safe and that’s more than many of the other soldiers can say.

Jiang Cheng tries not to think about his soulmate too much.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he feels alive for the first time in months as Nie Mingjue pushes him against a wall and follows the motion up with a kiss.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s been looking for a while now but then again, who hasn’t? It’s Nie Mingjue after all and Jiang Cheng cannot believe he gets to have this, if even for only one night.

He moves his hands over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, leaning back against the wall and letting Nie Mingjue bite kiss after kiss down the length of his neck.

“This is no strings attached,” Nie Mingjue rasps out between kisses. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“I’m not that naïve,” Jiang Cheng bites out, but his voice threatens to break away into a moan when Nie Mingjue sucks at the hinge of his jaw.

Jiang Cheng damn well knows what a war hook-up is, and he’s aware that after this is all done, things will be completely different.

Neither of them will have time to look at the other again, no matter if they even want to or not.

Though Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he really, really wants to. He wouldn’t mind if this became a more regular thing, if he’s being honest, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, which is not that hard when Nie Mingjue lowers his head to kiss a mark into the base of Jiang Cheng’s throat.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng pants out and his hands dig into Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Come on, tent, tent!” he gets out despite the mind-blowing things Nie Mingjue is alreadydoing to him and he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to survive the night.

But that is something he can figure out after they’ve had sex. For now, Jiang Cheng pulls Nie Mingjue on top of him again, after he pushed him down onto the bed, and he can’t wait for them to undress.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen and freshly fucked when he finds out that Nie Mingjue is his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares like he so often is since the burning of Lotus Pier, and despite him being absolute exhausted he can’t fall asleep again.

So he takes his time to admire Nie Mingjue—and reminding himself that this is a one-time thing only—but when he can’t quite keep still anymore he starts to draw shapes onto Nie Mingjue’s arm.

He stopped drawing for his soulmate a long time ago, but it seems like old habits die hard, because Jiang Cheng is just mindlessly drawing shapes into Nie Mingjue’s skin when he feels an answering tingle on his own arm.

Jiang Cheng freezes because surely it can’t be. Surely this is just one big coincident.

He makes the same motion over and over again, always keeping an eye on Nie Mingjue to check that he doesn’t wake up, and Jiang Cheng shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of the same movement on his arm.

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he doesn’t trust this; Nie Mingjue would have told him.

But now there’s this niggling doubt in Jiang Cheng’s mind so he cranes his head around to check if there are any brushes nearby. When he sees one he quickly gets out of bed to retrieve it, together with some ink, but when he turns around to the bed Nie Mingjue is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, warily eying the brush in Jiang Cheng’s hand and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng thinks that’s already confirmation enough.

“You’re my soulmate,” Jiang Cheng says, and it feels strange to say it out loud, and he can see how Nie Mingjue immediately closes himself off.

“I’m not. I told you this is just a one time thing, don’t get any ideas in your head.”

“But I’m not just getting any ideas in my head, am I?” Jiang Cheng asks and before Nie Mingjue can say anything else, he dips the brush into the ink and moves it over his arm.

It’s just a wiggly line, but it’s enough because the same line shows up on Nie Mingjue’s arm, no matter how much he tries to hide it by pulling the blanket up.

“What the fuck, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then the anger bubbles over.

He always thought he was more sad that his soulmate doesn’t want him, but it seems like the anger was not far off, either.

“It doesn’t matter,“ Nie Mingjue snaps out turning away from Jiang Cheng.

“You could have at least told me. You could have at least told me that you don’t want me,” Jiang Cheng says and he puts the brush down with deliberately careful movements, because otherwise he might just break it.

“It’s not even—” Nie Mingjue starts but he cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter, Wanyin. We’re at war!”

“We weren’t when I was four, or nine, or fifteen, or any other time,” Jiang Cheng spits back because what kind of excuse is that even. “What are your excuses for those times, huh?”

“I’m going to die young, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and suddenly he sounds tired. “Either I die in two days, or in two years at best, but it’s going to be young. And I wasn’t about to do that to any soulmate. I’m not about to do that to you.”

That confession leaves Jiang Cheng speechless for a moment, before he manages to hold on to his anger again.

“So you just thought you’d fuck me once and be done with it?” he hisses and he can see how Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.

It feels like a very hollow victory.

“I just thought—I thought I could have this, at least for one night. Know how it felt like to be with someone that was intended for me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he’s still not meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“You could have had it earlier. You can have it after we kill Wen Ruohan, too,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he doesn’t quite understand why Nie Mingjue is so pessimistic about everything.

Jiang Cheng is the one who already lost everything, and even he has more hope than Nie Mingjue it seems.

“I’m not sure—the assault in two days—” Nie Mingjue starts, but he trails off with a shrug. “There’s so much that can go wrong.”

“Then don’t lead it,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, but of course Nie Mingjue only laughs at that suggestion.

“You think I really could just send our people to die, while I stay behind? While I stay safe? Maybe we’re not made for each other, after all,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together.

“Don’t you dare,” Jiang Cheng hisses, because how dare Nie Mingjue try to turn it around like this. “The intel we got from Lan Xichen’s spy was good so far, wasn’t it? What makes you think this one will be different?”

“It’s too good,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh. “Something is bound to go wrong sooner or later and with our luck it’s sooner. All it needs is one missed troupe movement; one wrong time and we’re all done for.”

“You really don’t think you’re going to survive that mission,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can hear the quiet acceptance in Nie Mingjue’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not, Wanyin. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mingjue? Please do enlighten me, because so far it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”

“I’m going to die young. It doesn’t matter if it happens at Wen Ruohan’s hands or if I succumb to a qi deviation, but I probably don’t have more than two to three years left. You really think I want you to suffer through that?”

“What do you mean, qi deviation? You seem perfectly healthy.”

“It’s a family thing,” Nie Mingjue tiredly says and scrubs a hand over his face. “My father died of one as did his father before. As will I.”

“I thought Wen Ruohan killed your father,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he shrugs awkwardly when Nie Mingjue stares in surprise at him. “What? I was the Sect heir, even back then. I did listen to politics and I heard you loud and clear.”

“Well, then you heard more than the other Sects did,” Nie Mingjue says with a bitter smile, but then he sighs. “It’s part of our cultivational style,” he then admits but Jiang Cheng won’t have it.

“No. I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t use that as an excuse, because I will find a way to prevent that.”

“And how are you going to do what my father and his father and his father couldn’t, huh?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, but he slightly turned towards Jiang Cheng, which gives him more hope than it probably should.

“Dual cultivation, for one,” Jiang Cheng says. “Your father’s wives were already dead when it happened, right? That could help. That could give you time.”

“It’s not a permanent solution,” Nie Mingjue warns him and Jiang Cheng stubbornly shakes his head.

“But it will give me enough time to figure something else out. Our Clarity Bells are not called like that for nothing,” Jiang Cheng admits, his eyes falling to the bell fastened to his belt. “We don’t make a big deal out of it, but we Jiangs are pretty good healers.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Cheng can tell that he still wants to tell him no.

“One good reason, Mingjue. Give me one good reason why not, especially now that I know. Something apart from your qi deviations.”

“The mission in two days,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back. “I don’t have a good feeling about it and it’s more than likely that we both won’t survive the war at all.”

“So you just make sure you survive the mission and then we can give this a try, is that what you’re saying.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No, tell me,” he begs, because he needs to know if there are other reasons for Nie Mingjue to hold back all this time. “It’s—if you have a problem with me, just tell me that and we can move on, but don’t use these excuses.”

“Why would I have a problem with you?” Nie Mingjue asks and he seems honestly taken off guard by that. “Did you already forget what we just did? Why would I do that if I want nothing to do with you?”

“I don’t know, Mingjue, I’m not the one who willingly stayed away from my soulmate since he was four,” Jiang Cheng bitterly shoots back and Nie Mingjue’s entire face softens.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out and then he offers his hand to Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin, come here,” he cajoles him and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to go to him.

He slides their hands together and when Nie Mingjue tugs him onto the bed, Jiang Cheng snuggles into his side. He can feel that Nie Mingjue is still reluctant, but in the end he puts his arm around Jiang Cheng.

“My father didn’t make a secret out of my fate,” Nie Mingjue admits. “By the time you wrote me that very first time, I already knew I wouldn’t live past 25.”

“It won’t happen,” Jiang Cheng says again, because maybe if he just says it often enough he can will it to become true.

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue amends and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But back then—I just didn’t want to do that to you. And then you told me your name and suddenly I had a face to go with my soulmate and it honestly just made things so much more difficult. Huaisang kept me updated on you and Xichen couldn’t stop talking about how Lan Qiren likes you and I knew I could only make you unhappy, so I stayed away.”

Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath.

“And then you lost your family, your Sect; even your brother for a while. I wasn’t going to add to that misery.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jiang Cheng says, and he is honestly a bit choked up, but he will still not allow this. “But I refuse to be coddled. Yes, I already lost everything; I’m not about to lose you, too.”

“This is not something you can out-stubborn,” Nie Mingjue tries, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand why he still simply won’t accept that he’s settled with Jiang Cheng now.

“Did you see the people I brought to this fight? I out-stubborned the destruction of my Sect, your health problem is nothing to me,” he says, much more confident than he really feels, but he’s sure if Nie Mingjue would just give them a chance, they can figure something out.

“God, I adore you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

“Then finally accept that I’m your soulmate and that I’m here to stay,” Jiang Cheng bites out, furiously trying to keep the blush off his face, but of course he’s failing.

“After the mission,” Nie Mingjue amends. “After the war. If we survive this—then we can try.”

Jiang Cheng is not happy with that, not at all, but it’s better than anything else he got so far, and so he’ll take it.

“Okay.”

“But promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for everyone. They will need a new leader and Xichen isn’t cut out for this,” Nie Mingjue says.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng gets out, trying to keep his tears back, because Nie Mingjue is already so convinced that he won’t survive this, it’s almost like he’s already dead. “But Wen Ruohan doesn’t get to kill you, too.”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue soothingly whispers and while Jiang Cheng is aware that there’s still a lot to talk about, he doesn’t resist when Nie Mingjue pulls him down with him again.

They can talk after the war.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he hears that Nie Mingjue and his people have been caught; the mission was a trap, just like Nie Mingjue feared and now he’s in Wen Ruohan’s hands.

When Jiang Cheng brings a brush with shaking hands to his skin, it almost feels familiar, but in the last second he thinks better of it. He can’t let Wen Ruohan know that Nie Mingjue has a soulmate; the man is already sadistic enough. Who knows what he will come up with to torture Nie Mingjue.

So Jiang Cheng can do nothing more but to trace shapes into his skin over and over again, hoping that Nie Mingjue can feel him.

Apart from that, Jiang Cheng can only fight.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when Meng Yao stabs Wen Ruohan and just like that the war is won.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to celebrate with the other’s just yet; he needs to find his soulmate first, before he can get to that.

He makes his way into the palace, letting his instincts guide him deeper and deeper inside, until he finally finds the throne room.

Nie Mingjue is there, laid out on the floor, and for a split second Jiang Cheng is afraid that he’s too late; that all of Nie Mingjue’s dark premonitions were true and that this is it for them.

“Mingjue,” he yells, running up to Nie Mingjue and skidding to a stop on his knees right by his side.

He’s almost afraid to touch him, to feel his cold skin, but then Nie Mingjue’s eyelids flutter and Jiang Cheng could sob with relief.

“Mingjue,” he whispers again and pulls Nie Mingjue up, so that he’s laying in his lap.

“Don’t trust him,” Nie Mingjue mutters, turning towards Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao. Don’t trust him.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, and if this is important enough for Nie Mingjue to tell him in this state, then he will heed his warning. “I got you now, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t die,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile, even though Jiang Cheng can tell that he must be in agonizing pain, judging by the wounds all over him.

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he thanks all the gods for that, as he leans down to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead.

“You get your chance, then,” Nie Mingjue says and raises a hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s face. “I didn’t die, so you get to find a way to keep me alive.”

“Done,” Jiang Cheng promises him and covers Nie Mingjue’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nineteen when his brother-in-law, his sister and his brother die in quick succession.

He wants to crumble with his grief, but the baby in his arms relies on him to stand and it’s not like Nie Mingjue would let him fall, either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-one when he marries Nie Mingjue, and despite how close his grief still is, it’s the happiest day of his life.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-three when Nie Mingjue starts to suffer qi deviations. While Jiang Cheng hates to see his husband suffer like that, it finally gives him the opportunity to see what the Clarity Bell can do for him, and from then on it’s almost easy for him to figure out how to make it have a permanent effect on Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-six when he and Nie Mingjue adopt a little sister for Jin Ling and when Jiang Cheng looks at the tiny four-year-old held securely in Nie Mingjue’s arms, who’s beaming with happiness, Jiang Cheng wonders what’s in store for her life.

It’s not like he could have ever imagined to end up this happy when he was four and he hopes his daughter will have the same happiness waiting for her.

Dialogue Prompts

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Homecoming

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: What if reader was pretty much best friends with Tara, as well as related to a Son, and was with her and Margaret when Salazar kidnapped them. Tries to fight them off initially, but get's shot in a non fatal place, and when Juice finds out - their secret relationship gets out. Open to interpretation, etc.

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries, hospitals

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Did I get a little carried away with this? Perhaps. But I think it came out alright. Totally tweaked canon a little bit for my own self-indulgent needs lmao. Hope you enjoy!!

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“You really don’t have to come with us,” Tara reassured you as you descended the hospital steps with her, Margaret walking a few strides ahead to give you a false sense of privacy.

“I know. But you should have family there—not that Red’s not great,” you nodded towards Margaret who shook her head slightly at your comment.

“You can’t tell Jax, alright?”

The first comments that popped into your head weren’t the ones you should say. Truthfully you felt it deep in your gut that Tara was making the right decision on this, but you didn’t want to say that in the wrong way. The VP might’ve been your brother’s best friend, and your best friend’s partner, but you had never let those sentiments cloud how you viewed him. You gave yourself a moment as you nodded, “I know. I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

You climbed into the back seat of the car, allowing Tara to drive and Margaret to ride shotgun. You liked observing their whole dynamic, anyway—it was funny how quickly things changed. As you listened to the two of them talking in the front seat, you found yourself toying with the chain around your neck. Without thinking any better of it you lifted it from underneath your shirt and ran your finger over the ring that hung at the end of it.

Your eyes met Tara’s as she looked at you in the rearview mirror and you instantly clasped your hand over the ring, hurriedly tucking it back into your shirt. The look on her face let you know that there was going to be a conversation about it later, and you were already kicking yourself over it.

As you were about to speak up and try and bring up a new topic of conversation, someone ran into the back of the car. It didn’t feel like it was bad enough to do any real damage, but all three of you still got out to check both cars and make sure that the other driver was alright.

The young woman who got out of the car looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place why. There was something about her, though. You hung back, letting Tara and Margaret do most of the talking. You saw that there was someone sitting in the passenger seat of the car, but they must’ve been fine if the woman talking to Tara didn’t make mention of them.

“Hey…” the woman’s voice shifted slightly as she looked Tara over, “You’re Jax Teller’s girl, aren’t you?”

Tara’s body visibly tensed and so did yours. Conversations that started like that never went well. She cleared her throat, “I…I’m…um, yea. Who…who are you?”

She nodded towards the passenger door of her car as he swung open, “I’m his girl.”

Salazar stepped out, gun pointed directly at Tara. Margaret screamed as she held her hands up and you cursed under your breath as you tried to figure out exactly what was happening here. “Up against the car!” he ordered, gesturing with his gun, “All three of you!”

By this point Luisa had taken out her own weapon and the two of them were searching the three of you. They did Tara and Margaret first, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you saw the ink that covered the hospital administrator’s back. It was certainly something that warranted a discussion when things weren’t falling apart anymore.

Luisa was patting you down, gun pressed between your shoulder blades, “Not many places for you to hide anything,” her snide remark about your outfit rolled off your shoulders—you had thicker skin than that.

“Then can you hurry the fuck up please?” you huffed, “Shit’s digging into my spine.” You could feel Tara’s and Margaret’s eyes on you even though you were looking up at the sky, begging you to not make the situation worse.

“Hey,” she pressed it harder into your skin, “You better watch it.”

You could tell by the feeling of her breath on your neck that she was leaning in close. Mumbling a few curse words under your breath, you threw your elbow backwards and cracked her in the nose, sending her stumbling back a few steps. She swore, spitting the blood out that had dripped into her mouth.

Salazar was too busy shoving Tara and Margaret into the car to see what had happened, all he heard was Luisa’s voice as she struggled with you, trying to prevent you from getting the gun from her. When you realized just how close your face was to hers, you leaned back and quickly brought your head forward, slamming into hers. The sound of your foreheads colliding was louder than you thought it would be, and the impact and the pain caused her to stumble backwards, dropping the gun in the process. You were reaching down to get it when you heard a gunshot go off. There was a sharp pain in your side, and when you looked down you saw blood starting to seep through the fabric of your tank top.

Luisa took advantage of the chaos of the moment to grab the gun back. She had it pointed directly at your head when Salazar grabbed her and pulled her back towards the car, “Leave her!” he snapped, “She’s done anyway.”

It all happened so quickly, and before you knew it they were peeling off with Margaret and Tara in the car. You were trying to focus on your breathing as you attempted to figure out what the fuck you were going to do next. You didn’t want Salazar to be right, but if you didn’t figure something out very soon, you were definitely going to be done.

You managed to pull yourself back to the car, blindly reaching around on the floor for your phone. You let out what you could of a sigh of relief when your fingers curled around the tiny burner flip phone.

Dialing one of the few numbers you knew by heart, you waited for him to pick up. After a few agonizingly long rings, you heard your father’s gruff voice on the other end of the line, “What’s going on?”

“I need you to come get me. Fast. And bring the fucking van,” you winced as you tried to put some kind of pressure on your wound.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“Just, get here. Please,” you rattled off your location before hanging up. You leaned back against the tire of the car and waited, hoping that Piney would get there fast.

Light-headed was an understatement as the van whipped up, Tig and Kozik immediately leaping out of the back of the van. Piney climbed out of the driver’s seat, and for the first time in a very long time you saw him looking worried.

“Well, don’t look at me like that,” you tried to laugh but you couldn’t quite swing it, “Makes me feel like I might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tig was carefully trying to lift you up to get you in the van, “What the fuck happened?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Piney snapped, shaking his head, “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“No!” you and Tig both responded in unison. You shook your head, “Hospital means cops.”

“No hospital means a morgue,” Kozik piped in, siding with Piney, “We gotta get you to a doctor,” he paused for a beat, “We’ll say it was a random drive-by. We’ll figure it out.”

Piney nodded in agreement, “We’ll get her to the hospital,” he turned to Kozik, “Take care of the car.”

He nodded, “On it.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue with them about it. You were leaning completely onto Tig as he tried to get you situated in the back of the van. You could hear him and Piney talking but none of it was really sinking in with you.

You didn’t remember passing out on the ride to the hospital, but you must have. The lights in your room were almost blinding as you came-to. With a groan you tried to shield your eyes as they opened.

“She’s awake,” your father’s gruff voice came from your bedside.

You turned and looked over at him, managing a smile, “Small miracles, huh?”

“You need anything?” when you shook your head, he switched gears completely, “What the hell happened?”

You went to try and reposition yourself so that you were sitting more upright, but it hurt too much. You resigned yourself to your current position as you started to explain what had happened. About halfway through your story Tig walked into the room, and when he heard who it had been you could practically see the blood boiling in his veins. He stepped back out of the room to call Kozik. You had no idea how they were going to handle the situation, but you knew that they would.

“Cops come by?”

He nodded towards the door, “Paperboy has been waiting out there since the call went out over the scanner.”

“Jesus Christ,” you shook your head, “Doesn’t that guy ever take a fucking vacation?”

Piney chuckled, “No,” he paused, “You alright here?”

You nodded, “Yea, yea. Fuck, I’ll be good. Go help them with Tara. I’m as safe here as I’ll ever be with the Deputy Chief out there.”

It got a tiny smile out of him, glad to see that you were feeling as alright as could be expected. He rose from his seat and pressed a kiss to your forehead, telling you to call for anything at all before walking out. You saw the look that he gave Hale as he walked by and you tried not to laugh, mostly because it hurt to do so.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked you as he entered the room.

“Like I got fucking shot,” you smiled at him, “How are you feeling, Deputy?”

“I’ll feel better when you tell me what happened,” he looked you over, “Your dad said it was a drive-by. Wrong place, wrong time.”

You nodded, “Sounds about right.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, “Does it?”

“Mhm. I really, I really don’t know what to tell you, Dave,” you saw him cringe at the way you said his name like that, “I guess I’ve just got some shit luck.”

He sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to divulge anything to him unless you absolutely had to, “Well. If you change your mind, think of anything else, you know how to reach me.”

“I sure do,” you flashed him a smile, “Thanks, Officer.”

When the door shut behind him, you let out a quiet sigh. You looked beneath the thin fabric of your hospital gown to check out the bandages that were on your side and stomach. As you were looking, your doctor came in and started explaining everything to you. For the most part you listened, but your mind wandered as your fingers found their way back to the chain around your neck. Once they told you that you were going to be alright, that it was through-and-through and so far it didn’t look like you had anything extra to worry about, you tapped out of the conversation.

You felt useless as the days ticked by. Piney didn’t want to bother you with what was going on with the Tara situation, but luckily you knew that Tig had a soft spot for you and he kept you more up to date on everything. The club left for one week and everything started to fray at the seams. You kept your mouth shut about it—not reaching out to anyone that was in Belfast. You agreed with the three of them on that, that this was the last thing any of those men needed to be worrying about.

You hadn’t heard anything from anyone in a day or two and you were starting to go a little stir-crazy. Truthfully you didn’t know why you were still being kept in the hospital at all until Margaret walked in. It was impossible to hide your surprise, but despite the ordeal she’d been through, she had cleaned herself up for work well. You could see the fear and exhaustion in her eyes, though.

“You’re the one keeping me here in first class, Red?”

“You’re welcome for that.”

Neither of you really knew what to say. In hushed tones she told you about everything that had happened, about what the situation was like now. She explained to you that she may or may not have misplaced some paperwork to keep you in the hospital and safe until everything played itself out one way or another. You hadn’t expected that from her—for her to go to bat for you when she didn’t even know you. But you were thankful for it.

Meanwhile, the club was just getting back to the compound, baby Abel in tow. The joy of being home again was short-lived, however, when everyone got filled in on the news of what was going on. Juice tried desperately to keep his cool when he found out what had happened to you, not wanting to throw another wrench into everything that was going on, but it wasn’t easy. They all immediately took off in separate directions to try and handle whatever part of the mess that they could.

Opie was walking towards the row of bikes as he spoke to Jax, “I’m gonna head to the hospital, make sure she hasn’t started holding any nurses or doctors hostage,” he chuckled, only able to joke because he knew that you were going to be alright, “I’ll catch up with you after.”

Jax nodded as he clipped his helmet on, “Sounds good.”

“I’ll go with you,” Juice piped up as he followed Opie. Both the men looked at Juice, a little confused but neither of them argued with him about it. He saw their expressions though and fought to cover for himself, “I can stay with her when you catch up with Jax—makes sure everything’s alright.”

Opie shrugged, “Fine by me.”

He and Juice both headed out of the compound, but once their tires hit the road, Juice took off like a bat out of hell. Almost instantly he left Opie in the dust, and Opie didn’t fight to try and keep up. They’d both make it there one way or another.

Juice practically launched himself off of his bike when he parked at the hospital. He quickly wound his way through the halls until he found your room. You were lying in bed with the TV on, but he could tell that you weren’t really paying any attention to it.

You heard footsteps stop in your doorway and looked over. Your entire face brightened up when you saw him. He looked at you for a moment, and you could see that there were a million thoughts and emotions running through his mind as he took in the sight of you in the hospital bed, toying with his ring.

“Welcome home,” you laughed.

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his own head and he all but ran over to your bedside. He hugged you, trying his hardest to be gentle and not hurt you. he pressed your head against his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“Are you okay?” his voice was soft.

You nodded, pulling back from him so you could really look at him, “I’m alright. Could’ve been gone a couple days ago but Tara’s friend is keeping me in hospital witpro,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry,” he cupped your face in his hands, “I should’ve been here.”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that to yourself. I’m fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

He traced his thumb along your face before leaning in and kissing you on the lips. You felt yourself smiling as you leaned into him, your hand coming to rest on the outside of his arm. Even though it’d only been about a week, the way he kissed you made it feel like he had been gone for months.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Opie leaned against the doorframe.

Juice pulled his lips off of yours, almost making himself stumble backwards a few steps to try to cover for the two of you. You laughed, knowing that there was no point in trying to lie about it now.

“I was coming to see if you’re alright,” Opie chuckled as he walked to the other side of your bed, “But honestly this,” he gestured to you and Juice, “is more concerning than the bullet wound.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “I’m fine on both counts, thanks for asking.”

He chuckled before bending down to kiss your forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you looked back and forth between him and Juice, trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Opie looked at him, “Once she’s out of the hospital bed, she’s the one you need to worry about. Not me.”

Juice nodded, not fooled at all by the calm way that Opie was handling the situation. He knew that underneath the cool demeanor Opie was more than ready to snap and wring Juice by the neck if you ever gave a reason for him to do so.

“Got it,” Juice shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, unsure of what else to do.

Opie raised his eyebrows slightly, “Can I leave you in charge here, then?”

He nodded, “Yea, yea of course.”

“Don’t let her get shot again,” Opie leaned down and kissed the top of your head once more before leaving and going to catch up with Jax.

Juice let out a relieved laugh, “I thought that was gonna be way worse.”

You smiled and shook your head, “It’s not him you gotta worry about. Just wait ‘til Piney finds out.” Juice’s face paled at the thought of it and you couldn’t help but to laugh. You patted the space on the bed next to you, “Come lay with me.”

He was never good at saying no to you. With a quiet laugh he clumsily climbed into the bed beside you, letting you settle against his chest as he looped his arm around your shoulders. He kissed your temple, closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy being with you again.

He saw the outline of your bandage through the thin fabric of the hospital gown, “Does it hurt?”

You looked at him and chuckled, “Did it hurt when you got stabbed?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Alright, alright. Stupid question, I get it.”

You rested your palm against his chest, soaking up the feeling of his heartbeat, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Sorry I didn’t have a better welcome home party planned for you,” you smiled.

He shook his head with a small grin as he kissed your forehead, “We’ll party plenty when you get out of here.”

“Can’t wait,” you looked up at him, “Gotta show off my battle scars.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

You playfully nudged him, “You love it.”

He looked at his ring hanging around your neck, his gaze slowly trailing up to meet your eyes, “Yea, I do.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years

Text

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt15 Final

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13 Pt14

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

“Why do I have to carry the two of ya” Mammon as Levi and Belphie are in his arms. While you are with Beel upfront and Satan with Asmo is behind of two, as Beel following Lucifer’s scent.

“Because your more bigger then Beel right” Levi answer him, and Mammon just groans at him.

“I didn’t realize how soft your feathers are Mammon, this could be great for pillow stuffing” as Belphie said it, he nuzzles his face on to Mammon’s arm. Hiding the fact that he misses his big brother.

“OI! Don’t get any idea!!” Belphie sleepy laugh at Mammon’s bash reply, which Belphie scoffs.

Beel track down Lucifer’s scent in the mountain’s valley near the woods where Mammon’s treasure cavern is, soon you all hear a shrike from the distant, to both Mammon and Satan displease with the latter which clench his fist so tight he dug his nails into the palm of his hand.

“Satan, are you okay…...your trembling” Asmo asks as he feel Satan shaking.

“It’s fine Asmo…... it’s just my instinct kicking in, maybe because we’re in his territory I start acting like this. Shit I didn’t expect this strong of a demonic presence, this ruin the plan entirely”

“So, what now?”

“Our best bet is y/n’s pact with Lucifer, pinning him down long enough for at least on of us cast a chain spell on him, then Mammon can make sure he doesn’t escape”

After minutes of flying, both Asmo and Beel to feel weak and unease, and Mammon sees it.

“Oi, what’s going on with you two”

“I don’t know…... its like my body is getting heavy” Beel can barely say it, he felt like something is causing his body to feel numb.

“I think…... I can’t go on” Asmo started to slowly decent down, as Satan tries to talk to him.

“Asmo! You need to~”

Suddenly both Asmo and Beel felt a surge through their body, they felt that their wings are getting heavier.

“Shit! I can’t move wings” Beel is trying his damnedest to keep flying, eventually he can’t take it anymore and decided to make an emergency landing in one of the path ways between the mountains, and Asmo followed suit with Mammon not far behind.

“Beel! Are you okay!” Belphie immediately rushes to his twin’s side as Asmo can barely stand, while the rest looks around to see where you guys landed.

“Mammon…...” you called out to him, with a worried tone in your voice, as if you felt someone or something is watching you.

“Stay right there, I’ll come to you” Mammon start walking towards you, when he stops and his feathers immediately stand upright, and his wings is spread out in a defensive way.

You quickly turned around to see a black griffin-like demon with six pair wings, a tail with seven peacock feathers on the tip end, familiar horns and eyes with the sclera ink black with crimson red eyes staring directly at you.

“Lucifer…...” you mutter under you’re breathe as your eyes start to shifted, scared of what’s is going to happen.

Lucifer shrikes, launches himself towards you, but Mammon leaps over you, and colliding with Lucifer. The two of them fall on the ground and quickly got up and take a defensive stance as they growl at each other.

“Lucifer! Snap out it. Your better than this. You know us, you know me!” but the only thing that Lucifer did was shrike at Mammon and rushes at him. But then.

“Lucifer. STAY!?!” Immediately Lucifer was pinned on the ground, and try to struggle out of the invisible force on his body down.

Mammon turns around to see you with one hand reaching out and your pact mark with Lucifer glow on the right side of your chest, but Mammon can see that you’re struggling to hold down Lucifer.

The others finally got up, then Satan start casting the spell while the others circle around the two older brothers.

“Lucifer!!” Asmo calls out to him only met with anger shrike, then Levi and Beel start walking close to the two.

Feeling surrounded and threaten by his brothers. Lucifer, let out an eerie shrike causing the other brothers halted in place as they can feel their body twitching uncontrollably as they feel an uncontrollable force making their body weak causing them to fall on their knees all expect Mammon who fought the effect of Lucifer’s shrike, as he makes his way to him.

He sees it in Lucifer’s eyes. Fear, panic and confusion in his eyes just remained when he was like this, not even fully changed yet, and he was terrified. But you were there with him before and after transformation to keep him company and you might know it, but you were his guide back to his sanity when he was lost in his own instinct, now you’re helping him with Lucifer’s own beast.

This time he’ll be the guide for his brother, now he towards over the avatar of pride subdue state, with the attend to remain him of the promise he made with him long ago.

“Lucifer” Mammon calls out to his brother with sincere and honest in his voice “I’ll still stand by you, Lucifer” He stop shrike, and look at Mammon with confusion in his eyes. “Remember what I said to you long ago, I never regret following you and never will we need you Lucifer."

Mammon, will not let this happen, losing him like this. not even in a fight.

But he didn't know that Lucifer can hear him and remember that night.

The night he took Mammon's advice, and that draw him back to his senses, as Mammon continue on.

"And if I have to beat that to your thick head to make you realize that we need you and how much you need me. I know you’ll never say it~”

“I do need you Mammon….” He’s eyes widen to hear Lucifer talk to him, even his like this “I…...I’m sorry…. for lying and…... everything”

He got to him. He knew that Lucifer can hear him.

Mammon chuckles to Lucifer’s apology, to think his never going to hear this from him once this all over.

Meanwhile Levi was the first one to get back on his feet, and witness what he always wanted. The two talking with out turning into an argument. With Mammon comforting Lucifer in his own way.

“Oi, you can’t say things like that here, what if Satan or Belphie hear ya” he getting through to him. “Lucifer, listen. We’re gonna stay in the cave until you get a hold of this. It’s too dangerous to go back home yet. Don’t worry I’m stay and help ya through this” he smiles with eyes at Lucifer.

“Your …... enjoying this aren’t you” even with the demonic voice, Mammon can tell that Lucifer sound tired. Maybe once there in the cave, he can tease his brother.

“y/n its okay, he’s calming down”

“Are you sure” he nodded in respond, so you lower you hand and sigh in relief. Then let the first and second be alone while check on the others.

Once the force of the pact was gone, Lucifer got up with his head hang low. Disappoint at himself for using the book, he thought it was necessary with Mammon’s state. He was wrong, then he looks up to see Mammon who is trouble maker, stepping up took charge, when he was gone. He might be mentally exhausted but he can clearly see how Mammon has grown.

Lucifer walk up to Mammon and lean his head on Mammon's Shoulder, and let out a satisfy squawk. Then he pat Lucifer on the head, just glad that his calming down

“Good to have ya back, brother”

Once he reaches the nest in the cavern, Lucifer flop in the center nest and immediately fell in sleep, while Mammon watch from the mouth of the cavern.

After making sure that Lucifer is fully asleep, he heads towards you and the rest of his brothers to entre way of the cave.

“How is he?” you ask as you walk over to him.

“he’s asleep, he would be tired after all of that flying after changing” he answering you, before puling you into hug and holding you tightly. “Make sure our room is clean, by the time we get back kay’” you hum in respond as you bury your face into him, and start sobbing. “Hey! Its not like I’ll be gone forever. It’ll be a week, or even least with Lucifer prideful head, keeping him in control.”

You look up to him with tears gathering in the corner of your eye. “I know, is just I couldn’t help to feel responsible to cause all of this” tears start fall, but Mammon use the back of his hand to wipe it off.

“y/n even if we didn’t go to the casino that night, I would have done everything to make sure your save and sound, you’re my treasure after all” you blush and hide your face in his feathery chest and he laughs at your action “Hahaha. Now who’s flustered now!”

“Shaddup”

“Oh my, your even talk like him. You really need this time to be apart” Asmo chipper in as he and Beel are getting ready to fly back to house.

“Come on normie! We can’t waste more time here anymore. I’ve missed three days’ worth of events and login~”

“Oi! You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying here with me and Lucifer.” Mammon cuts off Levi and quickly grab him by the helm of his jacket and drag him back.

“This so unfair!?! Why do I’ve to stay?”

“Welp we’re off” Satan grab hold on to Asmo, he and Beel with you and Belphie arm on each of his arm took off leaving a pleading Levi yelling to take him with you.

Once you all are far way from the cave Asmo flew closer to Beel, Satan start talking to you.

“Enjoy the next couple of days with no Lucifer, because once he and those two come home, expect your name to be written on the ceiling”

“Satan!” Asmo butts in “Lucifer wouldn’t do that to our little human, he might be cruel but he’s not that heartless”

Satan looks up to Asmo with a grin on his face, telling him that to eat his own words.

“I can’t believe you would do that to our human Lucifer!?! How could you!”

“Asmo, I will not hesitant to strung you up to, for giving a headache this early in the morning”

“So, Lucifer how’s it feels being back to chaos and piles of paper works”

“You two, better enjoy your freedom now. Because once Diavolo approve the use of the book. You’ll be first two are going to change and I’ll make sure of that”

After returning from that cave with Mammon and Levi, two days ago. Lucifer had been catching up with a week worth’s of reports, bills, and paper works.

Now Asmo is at his side nagging and Satan just being Satan, as he makes his way to staircase where him strung you up by the waist after finding out that it was you who drag Mammon at that Casino in the first place.

As he got there, he saw Beel looking up to where you are being hanged.

“Beel what are you~” he Immediately cuts himself off when he looks up to see that you were gone and the rope is cut. Satan and Asmo try not to laugh at the whole thing.

“Ah? Lucifer” he glances over to Beel who is holding a white feather in his hand. “I find this~”

“MAAAMOOON!”

At the roof of the house was you at Mammon arms just being at each other’s presences as you two heard Lucifer screaming his name.

“Looks like that our que to fly out of here”

“Where do we go?” as you ask Mammon lifted you up in his arms, and quickly shifted into his tame form.

“Where do ya want to go?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, lean in to kiss him on the cheek, then set you head on his shoulder.

“Anywhere, as long your there” he chuckles “ya got it, treasure” and take off, flying to the dark sky. Happy and content.

Fin

Note: I didn’t expect for this story to take this long.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me reader x mammon #obey me monster love #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me blue lotus petals

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nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: caleb is not so sure that he deserves the kindness you've done for him. you're sure that he deserves so much more, and you plan to show him in small increments so that you don't scare him away. the shopping trip is only the beginning. (part 3/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.1k

warnings: caleb's low self-esteem, mentions of political corruption, set early in c2

note: i am only on ep16 of c2 so that's where we're at folks, also my german is so so so rusty so uhhh hope it's right but any germans want to correct me feel free lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Caleb Widogast is a jumpy, jumpy man. You assume it’s for good reason - he’d confided in the group that he met Nott in jail and, well, typically people don’t go to jail unless they’ve done something.

(Although, the more that you adventure with the Mighty Nein you’re not so sure that’s true. It seems like corruption runs deep in the Empire, and you’ve only scratched the surface.)

Still, he is far jumpier than even Nott, and she’s a goblin in the Empire. You watch him, sometimes, and cringe when he flinches. It’s not pity that makes you start being nice to Caleb, but that does color your actions in the beginning. You are of the firm belief that he is a good person, that all of the Nein are, and that they deserve kindness. Caleb most of all. He is so hard on himself and no amount of coaxing from the rest of the group can get him to ease up. Not even Nott, and she functions as his pseudo-mother. But you want him to loosen up, want more of those moments where he makes a joke with a straight face, only to crack a small smile when the group looks away from him. (You try not to look away, craving those moments where you can see the smile light up his face.) When your group arrives in Zadash, you make it your mission to get Caleb to feel some sort of positive emotions about himself.

Or some sort of positive emotion that’s not scarred by whatever happened in his past. You want him to be happy, to heal from whatever keeps him held back from joking with the rest of you. It doesn’t even matter if he reciprocates how you feel about him - you don’t really care. You can love him from afar, be kind to him, and that will be enough for you. He doesn’t have to fall in love with you like you’ve fallen in love with him, really, that’s not why you’re doing this. This being stopping by Pumat’s shop to pick up some more spell scrolls for him with your gold. He had been muttering to himself the last time you were all in about not having enough money, but you hadn't wanted to embarrass him by purchasing them on his behalf, so a separate trip it is. Pumats, all of them, seem to know what you’re doing because they smile when you tuck the scrolls under your cloak and sweep out of the shop.

Your next stop is an ink shop, where you pick up some more ink and incense for Caleb. You’re not really sure how his magic works because it’s not something he was born with or given by a God, but you know that he’s always looking for good ink, parchment, and incense. Just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean that you can’t be supportive. You hope that’s what Caleb will get out of your gift, and not anything else. After you gather the magic supplies - you’d asked specifically for the things that wizards use just to make sure - you make your way to the Chastity’s Nook. Maybe Caleb was joking about wanting to be titillated while he learns, but you feel better safe than sorry.

The worker there is incredibly nice, if not shy, and helps you pick out something educational, historical, and terribly smutty. It makes you blush when you glance through it, but it seems to be the right balance of the things that Caleb has expressed interest in before. (Even if that might be fake - you’re not totally sure. Still, it can not hurt to try.) She even wraps it up nicely for you, offering to wrap your other gifts too. That might be too much, so you decline, but you still pass her a few more silver as a tip. You’ve never been so nervous as you are when you make your way back to the tavern where you’re staying, but it’s almost easy to keep your cool and mask the absolute terror you feel when Caleb is sitting with the group, eating dinner. You were kind of counting on him being in his room, reading, but you don’t let his sudden appearance stop you. Jester spots you first, patting the empty seat between her and Nott, calling your name. You slip into it, easily concealing your gifts behind your back. “Where did you go?”

A sly smile slips onto your face as you reach forward, taking a portion of the food they’d ordered, “Oh, you know, around.”

“You smell like perfume,” Beau leans over Nott and sniffs you, making a slightly disgusted face, “Why do you smell like perfume?”

“I went shopping,” You cut in before Jester and Molly can interject with salacious theories, “That shopping happened to be in the Tri-Spire, thank you very much.” Caleb raises an eyebrow, sharing a look with Fjord, but you ignore it. “What did you guys do today?” You don’t really listen - only enough to hum or nod as they’re speaking - because you’re focused on figuring out a plan to get your gifts to Caleb without the others noticing or making him feel like you’re doing it out of pity, or that he owes you. You just want him to be happy that he’s getting a gift. It’s later, when everyone has cleared out, that Jester shakes your shoulder lightly, calling your name.

“Are you okay?” Her dark blue eyebrows pull down over her eyes, incredibly worried, “You didn’t talk at all during dinner.” You take her hand in yours, squeezing it briefly.

“I’m fine, Jessie. I think I might head to bed, though.” You give her a hug before heading up to your room, looking over your shoulder just before you hit the stairs to see if Caleb had gone to bed when you had zoned out. He’s easy to find in the corner, nose deep in a book, and you grin. That makes everything so much easier, especially since Nott is tucked into the booth next to him. That means that their room is completely empty and a perfect place to drop the gifts without any of the unnecessary baggage that might come with giving them to him face to face. You don’t even think about the fact that he might have warded his room until it’s too late. (That being until you watch the string snap around your ankles when you make it four steps into the room.)

But, damnit, you have a mission to complete. There’s at least a minute before Caleb makes it to the stairs and perhaps another half a minute before he hits the door. You set the things up on what you think is Caleb’s bed a little messier than you wanted but you’re running out of time. The door is a no-go to leave, and you can hear Caleb bounding up the steps. You whirl, tugging your cloak tightly around you as you debate jumping through the window instead of opening it. In the end that will just draw an entirely different reaction than you want, so you settle for slamming the window up and slinging one leg over the sill. Caleb’s room is on the second floor, so the fall might hurt a little bit, but Caleb is right outside the door, so you don’t have any other choices-

“Was machst du in meinem Zimmer!?” He bellows, hands already engulfed in flame, when he kicks the door open. It startles you off of the window sill, luckily into the room instead of out. You pop up, hands raised and already talking.

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re saying but I didn’t know you had your room warded, I was just trying to give you the things that I bought you today, and then by the time I realized it was too late because I couldn’t just leave without giving you the stuff, because then you’d be scared-” Caleb extinguishes the flames that had started to crawl up his arms, shutting the door as he comes closer to the bed. You scramble to your feet, snagging your cloak in your hands to twist it nervously. “-I should leave now, excuse me.” You do your best to skirt around him but Caleb holds up a hand, eyes on the pile of loot you’ve left on his bed. He wraps a warm hand around your wrist to keep you in place as he tries to process what’s happening.

“What is on my bed?” Caleb finally looks toward you then, eyebrows furrowed as he watches you nervously fidget with your robe, biting your lower lip. “I am not mad, but what do you mean things you bought me?” He gestures loosely with the other hand and you take a step closer to him and the bed. You weren’t ready for being confronted with Caleb, despite how much you thought about what you might say to him in a situation like this. You almost swallow your tongue trying to figure out what to say to him.

“I bought you things,” You blurt, “Because you deserve it. I’m not sure if it’s all the right things, but I tried and even if you can’t use them for, you know, magic things you can use them for other stuff-” You watch as he makes his way over to the pile and begins rifling through it, mumbling to himself in Zemnian. “I’m not doing this out of pity, or anything,” You move to his side, peeking over as he skims through the book you bought, “I did it because I want to, I promise.” You wring your hands and look off to the side, avoiding watching the way he’s pouring over what you’ve bought, “You weren’t even really supposed to know they’re from me, honestly, I just wanted to do something nice for you because you deserve kindness-”

“-I am not so sure about that,” Caleb turns to you, catching your attention. He smiles, but it’s weak, when he looks at the small pile you’ve bought for him, “The spells will be useful for the group, but the rest… You are too kind.”

“I’m not!” Perhaps on instinct, you reach out and clasp his wrists in your hands, “No, Caleb, please. I didn’t do this to make you feel bad, I want you to feel good. You’re so bright, Caleb, and so amazing that I just want you to feel a fraction of the happiness you make me feel.” He hesitates so you press on, taking the chance to step closer to him as your heart takes off at a breakneck pace in your chest. “Please, don’t feel guilty. I did this because I want to, okay? I want to make you happy and make you smile, and make you feel good because it makes me feel good. You don’t have to do - to do anything and if you want, I’ll stop. You just say the word and I’ll stop, but I see you, Caleb.” Your voice breaks off as your eyes mist over. He looks awe-inspired at you, not stepping away or pulling from your grasp, “I see you. I see the way you bite back jokes, and sometimes they slip through. I see the way you care for us, for Nott. I see the way you sacrifice yourself in everything you do because you don’t feel like you deserve to be happy, but you do. Please, you are such a good man - I can see it. I can feel it, Caleb. You deserve the world’s largest kindness, but if I can’t give that to you I’ll give you small kindnesses, if you’ll let me.” Your lip quivers and your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper when you decide to fling yourself off the metaphorical cliff you’ve found yourself on, “Caleb Widogast, I wish to give you never-ending small kindnesses not only because you deserve them, but because I love you. I am in love with you.” The difference sits heavy in the air between you as you watch Caleb process everything that you’ve said.

“You… Are you in love with me?”

“Undoubtedly.” You confirmed, whispering. He’s stepped toward you a fraction of an inch, but it puts the both of you nearly chest to chest. “I have never been so sure of something, Caleb.”

“I enjoy the way you say my name.” He confesses. You watch in wonder as red begins to crest from underneath his facial hair, coloring his cheeks a rosy, pretty pink. He tries to look away, but you duck your head to try and keep some semblance of eye contact. Your hands tremble in his.

“I’ll say it forever, then,” You try to smile, but you really only manage an upward quiver of your lips, “Every day, if you’ll accept my kindness.”

“Es wird schwer,” Caleb says under his breath as he shuffles even closer to you, “Es wird so schwer, aber ich werde es versuchen.” You’re not totally sure what he’s saying, but when he presses a terrified, hesitant kiss against your lips the message comes across loud and clear.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #caleb widogast imagine #caleb imagine #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast / reader #caleb / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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sluttyten · 4 years

Text

Coming Home

Poly Orgy Series: Part 8

Poly Series Chapter Index

summary: when you found out you were pregnant, you worried you’d have to go it alone, but instead you find that you have quite a lot of support, several boyfriends that love you wholeheartedly, and a place to call home.

length: 21,227

tags: pregnancy!!, smut, polyamory, multiple partners, unprotected sex, the usual poly orgy series type of tags

“Baby, I don’t want to have to worry about anything in the future. I don’t want you to have to worry either. I love you so much, and the other night I was thinking about the future, about you, about the baby, and really it seemed to me that there’s only one true next step for me to take.” Mark takes a deep breath.

Your world freezes.

“Baby, will you marry me?” Mark asks even as he’s sinking down on one knee.

“Mark!” You cry out, slapping him on the arm hard enough that the sound echoes around your living room.

“Fuck!” Mark straightens up with a whine, his hand immediately flying up to cover the burning imprint of your hand on his arm. “What the fuck?”

Tears burst to your eyes, though you're not sure exactly why. “Mark, why would you ask me... ask me to marry you?” Your voice pitches up at the end, a surprised and somewhat almost frightened squeal.

Mark looks at you then, all wide-eyed seriousness. “I just thought it’s the right thing to do. If you’re pregnant, then shouldn’t you have something stable? A husband? Someone who can help you out and take care of you and the baby? And with the way our lives are, it’s a miracle that no rumor has gotten out to the fans about you at all yet, but now if it does, if they find out about you being pregnant, well, then everyone’s going to want to know which of us you’re with and the answer can only be one, and it’ll just make sense for us to get married, right?”

“And you think that should be you?”

“Well, why not?” His tone is slightly angry, defensive and hurt.

You sigh and turn your back to him so you can wipe at these tears without him watching you.

“Baby?”

“Mark.” Your voice breaks and you clear your throat before turning around and addressing him again. “Mark, I appreciate it and I get where you’re coming from, but I’m going to say no. I love you, and I love that you want to do the right thing by marrying me, but it’s simply not fair to all the others. It’s not fair to you if you’re not the--”

“I don’t care about who the dad is.” Mark straightens up, determination burning in his gaze. “I know the odds of it being mine are slim. I would love if it is mine, like, the idea of being a dad is scary, but no matter what happens, who turns out to be the father, I figure I’m still going to be involved, right?”

You open your mouth, but you can’t find any words to comfort him, to give him a satisfying answer. You don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Of course, you’ve always known that this whole polyamorous relationship couldn’t be sustainable, though you’ve all tried your best. This news, the little life growing inside of you, might just be that last little chip to shatter the relationship to bits. How can you hope to stay in a relationship with them all when you’ve got a baby? How could you raise a child with fourteen possible fathers?

“Maybe I’ll just Mamma Mia the whole situation,” you mumble.

Mark snorts. “You gonna run away to a Greek island and raise this baby on your own? And in twenty something years when we’re all doing our own things, we’ll get an invite to a wedding, and only then will we unravel the mystery?” He smiles and steps up, wrapping his arms around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your neck. “Baby, you don’t have to do any of that. We’ll all figure this out. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this tonight. I just.... I’m a traditional kind of guy, I guess. Baby, marriage, moving in together. Those are all things I’ve wanted for a long time, and we’ve already got two of those things in the works. But it’s okay, I understand.”

You sink into his hug. Mark’s so warm and soft and with his arms wrapped around you, you feel even more sleepy than you had before. You breathe in, just taking in the smell of his soap and laundry detergent, and you breathe out.

“This feels nice,” you mumble, your words muffled against his shoulder.

Mark’s hum of agreement vibrates through his chest, and a moment later it turns into a laugh.

Without breaking the hug, you ask him, “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t even have a ring or anything.” Mark’s voice bounces happily, and he hides his face in your shoulder. “Probably a good thing you shot me down, honestly.”

A while later when you’re in bed, Mark yawning now too as he settles into your bed, you sit up and reach over to rummage through the drawer of your bedside table.

When you turn back around, Mark’s watching you curiously, and he wordlessly gives you his hand when you gesture for him to give it to you. He watches as you uncap a Sharpie marker, and then you separate his ring finger from the others, as you draw a fine black line around the base of his finger. When you’ve completed the ink band you hold his fingers in yours.

“This is a promise,” you tell him, “that we do have a future together, no matter what. That we’ll always be in each other’s lives as lovers or friends or whatever it may be, you’ll always be special to me, Mark Lee.”

You turn his hand over, and bringing his palm to your lips, you kiss right beneath the black band that you just drew on him.

Mark lunges up, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you down against his chest, and he kisses you, kisses your cheeks and nose and chin, and you’re laughing with your hands braced against his chest, kissing him when you can too.

And the next morning when you wake up, you find that some time in the night, Mark had picked up your abandoned Sharpie, and drawn a matching black ink band on your ring finger.

Things are a bit weird for a while after that while everyone adjusts to the awareness that you’re pregnant. And after your first prenatal appointment, some of the boys start acting even more differently.

For one thing, the appointment confirms that you are indeed pregnant, and about eight to nine weeks along by the looks of things. Which, as you listen to your doctor, makes a lot of sense given the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. And that news of you being approximately eight weeks along, and therefore bringing a baby into the world in about 32 weeks, definitely changes how some of your boyfriends start behaving.

Especially after you show them the ultrasound picture.

It’s just a little gray, blurry blob, but there’s a heat in your chest that’s not caused by the heartburn you’ve begun to feel

For a few of the boys, this means that they get protective over you. Taeil and WinWin, for example, both offer to do pretty much everything for you, from opening doors to running upstairs to grab something. Anything that actually might be in any possible way considered “overexerting yourself” they argue with you to let them do.

Johnny, Jaehyun, and to your surprise, Jungwoo, all get much more touchy, wanting to be around you as much as possible. And Jungwoo is just a horny boy all the time, to the point that one evening after you get home from a date with him, as you’re sitting on his lap on the sofa in the otherwise empty house, Jungwoo just starts touching you, and you can tell that he’s already half-hard.

“What is with you lately?” You ask with a laugh, letting Jungwoo pull your shirt over your head. “You’ve been so horny. Is it something I’m doing different?” You perch yourself on his knees, bat your eyelashes at him, and push your chest forward, smiling as his eyes slide down to the curves of your breasts.

“Oh my god... Yeah, angel. Just thinking about you pregnant is actually really sexy.” Jungwoo’s hands settle on your hips. “You’re gonna look even sexier, and your boobs are going to get bigger and, uh, it’s not something I’ve really talked about before, because I was afraid the others would make fun of me or you’d think it’s really weird, but the idea of, like, nursing?” Jungwoo averts his eyes from you, his face going a pale shade of embarrassed. “I think it’s pretty hot.”

You smile and pat his head. “You’ve always had a thing for my boobs, you know, so honestly, I’m not too surprised.” Jungwoo leans into your touch, smiling all sweetly even as his hands knead at your ass roughly. “But you really think me being pregnant is sexy?”

Jungwoo nods. “Definitely. Plus,” he shrugs and says, “I don’t know, there’s just something about you right now that is very, very attractive. Jaehyun says so too.”

“I’m sure he does. Especially since he’s been hot for the idea of knocking me up since the first time we all had sex.” You drape your arms around Jungwoo’s neck. “You, him, Johnny, all three of you are acting so clingy and affectionate lately, meanwhile most of the others wouldn’t dare to try to have sex.”

Just the day before you’d tried to initiate something with Hendery. He went along with it while you were just making out, but as soon as you slid your hand into his pants to rub his erection to full hardness, he’d backed away, making excuses. Taeyong had done the same a few days before that.

“I’ll dare to do it.” Jungwoo leans his head down, mouths at your breasts, as he murmurs, “I want you to ride me, right here. But turn around.”

Reluctantly you climb off his lap, and as you’re facing away from him, Jungwoo pulls your pants and panties down. You step out of them, look back over your shoulder at him, and see Jungwoo watching you with a look of pure awe on his face.

“You’re always so beautiful.” Jungwoo slides a hand down your side, over your hip, curving around to your butt. He leans in and drops just a tiny kiss right at the small of your back. “What did we do to deserve you and everything you’ve blessed us with.”

Your face heats up with a blush.

When he pulls you back onto his lap, his hands settle on your hips, guiding you all the way back until your back is pressed to his chest, his cheek touches yours, and your ass is right over his bulging erection. His fingers flutter for a moment, and then he brushes his hands up to your belly, gentle and light, and then he touches one warm palm flat against your skin, the soothing heat of skin on skin sinks down into you.

Jungwoo’s lips rest against your cheek as you sigh, relaxing back against him.

His other hand wanders lower, fingertips dipping into the crack between your thighs, and obediently you part them for him, letting your legs fall off to either side of his, giving him access to your wet heat.

“Look at you, already soaking wet, spreading your legs so easily for me.” Jungwoo murmurs. “You really do want it badly, don’t you? How long has it been since one of us touched you?”

Truly not that long. That evening with Taeil, Johnny, Taeyong, Kun, Doyoung, and Ten was the last time, and that was just a little over two weeks ago. But compared to just a couple months ago, a week could be considered a dreadfully long time to go untouched by any of them.

You whine when Jungwoo only strokes his finger teasingly over your entrance, avoiding your clit, hardly giving you anything.

“Too long, Jungwoo. I want you.”

“Me? But I’m sure you went to others first. Lucas? I know you love how big and broad he is, making you feel all small. Or Kun hyung? Remember when he and Ten were hogging you all to themselves; you couldn’t get enough of them then.” Jungwoo teases. “You want me? Why do you want me so badly?”

You squirm, wiggling down against his erection. “Because I love you, Jungwoo. I want you.”

He tuts, his lips trailing down now from your cheek to your neck, brushing over sensitive skin, his nose bumps against your jaw. “But why though? What exactly do you want about me?”

His teeth meet the skin of your shoulder just barely, and you whine. “I want you to have me all to yourself, Jungwoo. You can make me feel small too. You’re so big and broad and long.” You rub your ass down against his erection, your head dropping back against his shoulder. “I want you to make me feel small, like your little angel doll.”

Jungwoo smiles where his lips are against the top of your shoulder.

You can feel yourself dripping wet, the slick arousal gathered on his finger that just keeps up its petting of your pussy lips.

His mouth moves, teeth pricking your skin occasionally, and then you feel the moment that he catches your bra strap between his teeth, dragging it along to the curve of your shoulder. When he releases it, the band tickles down your upper arm, and Jungwoo shifts, focusing his nipping kisses on your other shoulder until he against takes that bra strap between he teeth and drags it over the curve of your shoulder.

“Sit up, angel.” Jungwoo murmurs, and you do just that, feeling excited but also disappointed when his hands disappear from your skin, only to return a moment later. His slick finger touches against your back along with several non-slicked fingers, and a second later the clasp of your bra comes apart. You let it drop from your arms, leaving you fully exposed in the room, sitting in a fully-clothed Jungwoo’s lap.

He spreads his legs apart, and you lean back against him once more as his spreading legs push yours farther apart as well.

“Sexy.” Jungwoo kisses your cheek again.

He scoots your forward just a little, just enough that he can fit his hand between you both, and unfasten his zipper to get his cock out. You feel him hot and hard against your tailbone, and your core throbs. It’s been too long since you last had one of them inside you, and now....

You moan from the satisfaction of lifting yourself up and sitting down on Jungwoo’s cock.

“Perfect.” Jungwoo murmurs, his lips against your bare shoulder once more. “Love the feel of you when it’s been a while. The way you react.” His hands circle around to the front of your body, one hand lifted to gentle cup your breast. You groan, leaning back against his chest, sinking down the last inch around him, and Jungwoo’s other hand strokes lightly at your clit. “You’re so beautiful.”

With his arms wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body, his cock filling you up, you feel so perfectly small and safe in his arms, even with you being so exposed out in the room.

Jungwoo smiles as you start to squirm, needing to move to get more than just feeling full and having his teasing touches on your clit. But as you move away, pushing up onto your feet, pulling off his cock, you turn to see Jungwoo frowning slightly. Until you sit back down on his lap facing him.

“I want to see you.” You push his cock back inside you, nice and snug, and then plant your hands on either side of his face, lower your mouth toward his, and start riding him.

Jungwoo’s hands fall to your hips, keeping your rhythm steady as you bounce in his lap. The sound of your gasping breaths and breathy moans echoes all around the space, and you’re grateful that tonight it’s only the two of you here. You feel the sparks of pleasure buzzing and zipping around under your skin; Jungwoo’s hands grope at your ass, his lips burn along your jaw, and you needed this, you really did.

The orgasm comes over you before you expected it, suddenly crashing through you--walls clenching around Jungwoo’s dick, thighs twitching, unable to hold you up any longer, but that’s when Jungwoo just holds you up by your hips and keeps fucking you through it, his thrusts rocking through your body, elongating your orgasm.

Jungwoo grunts as he approaches his orgasm, low moans under his breath and swearing, and you just twist your fingers in his hair, dragging his lips to yours as he cums.

He pulls out of you as he does, cumming half inside you and half against your thigh, but you don’t mind. You sink down, feeling the mess as you sit against the front of his jeans, the denim rough against your sensitive clit, but at the moment you’re a glutton for that kind of oversensitivity.

With Jungwoo’s softening erection still wet and the rough denim of his jeans, you start humping against him, desperate for another orgasm to keep this warm buzzy glow inside of you going.

“Fuck,” Jungwoo groans. “Gonna cum again, princess? You’re making quite the mess of my jeans, look at you.” You do duck your head, looking down at the front of Jungwoo’s jeans where his own cum is smeared along with your wetness and more of his cum as it leaks out of you while you wantonly rub yourself against the denim, making a larger and larger wet patch, grinding forward against his cock, back along the denim.

His hands circle around your back, broad hands covering the expanse of your back, and you arch backwards a bit, leaning into his touch, keeping the movement of your hips against his pants. Jungwoo dips his head forward, his tongue swipes a circle around one of your nipples, his lips then skirt around kissing your breasts. They hurt but right now it doesn’t feel so bad, not with everything else you have going on.

“Cum again for me. I’ve got you.” Jungwoo murmurs, and he sucks gently on your nipple. Your mind falls straight to what you’d been talking about with him earlier, and you picture Jungwoo sucking on your breasts like this, breastmilk on his tongue, and somehow you find that to be a stimulating thought.

This orgasm writhes through you, and your hips twitch erratically over his jeans, your body falling into the overwhelming pleasure of it, and you can feel the heat squirting out of you, and Jungwoo’s moans of surprise mix with yours. And all through it, the heat of his hands holding you safely remains, and then he pull your forward against his chest, those same hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m sorry about your jeans,” you whisper to him after a little while when you’ve come back to yourself. “We should probably throw them in the wash before they’re permanently ruined.”

“No,” Jungwoo hums. “It’s fine. We can just stay like this for a bit longer.”

But you feel like your pussy is drying to the leg of Jungwoo’s pants, and that idea is certainly not pleasant, so when you peel yourself away from him, you wrinkle your nose a bit in disgust and Jungwoo groans at the loss of contact. “Let’s go shower and throw the clothes in the laundry. Plus, we shouldn’t stay here like this much longer. Who knows who will come home and find us like this?”

“I guess you’re right.” Jungwoo stands up suddenly, and it’s then that you really get a look at his pants. The whole crotch of them is dark from you squirting and from his cum. He quickly stuffs his cock away again, wipes his fingers along the front of his pants, and then you watch, bemused, as he lifts his fingers to his face and sniffs.

“You’re gross.” You laugh, taking his hand, and grabbing up your clothes before heading for the stairs.

“What? You smell good.” Jungwoo reaches up to touch your butt as you climb the stairs, and you stop so that you can spin around and look at him, and Jungwoo just grins. “Come on, thought we were going to shower?”

Moving day comes quickly, and the move is easy when you’ve got a whole moving crew at your disposal, every one of them more than happy to move things for you so you don’t strain yourself at all. Especially since they’ve all had multiple chances to look at that little blur that was the beginning of a baby in your ultrasound picture. You first showed off that picture two weeks ago, and now ten weeks along, you’re really starting to feel the pregnancy.

You’re exhausted, wanting to just nap all the time. And then, on top of the morning sickness, you’re dealing with heartburn too, plus just the day before the move, you stood up too quickly and felt dizzy, so now the boys are being very protective over you.

“Don’t lift that!” WinWin cried out in frustration as you bent over to lift a box from the floor. His hand rested on your back as you straightened up. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it, what do you think we’re all here for?”

He quickly stooped to lift the box for you. As soon as he was out the door, you looked for anything else that you could do. You hated being unable to help yourself move out. Ten had refused to even let you try to wrangle your cat Miso into the carrier since he seemed to be uneager to leave the apartment and move into his new home. So far most of your stuff had already been taken out before you could lift a finger to help, but now you saw a few boxes left, and just as you moved toward them, Xiaojun came through the door and caught your eye.

Xiaojun shook his head. “Don’t. We’ve got this.”

When you fold your arms across your chest and pout at him, Xiaojun smiles and walks over to you.

“Don’t be like this.” He laughs. “We’re just looking out for you and the baby.” Xiaojun lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb touching the corner of your lips tenderly. “Just think, all it takes is one day to move out, and then you’re living with us, baby. No worries about getting home late at night to your empty place.”

You glance around at your startlingly empty apartment. This little place you’d made into a home, but it had grown less homelike over the last few months as you spent more time with your boyfriends.

Home was them, the comfort of their kitchen filled with spices and warmth of whatever was cooking up, the sleepiness of sinking into the sofa with a few of them after a long day at work.

Home was Taeil cuddling up behind you, his nose chilly on the side of your neck, but the rest of him so warm. It was Johnny kissing you hello every time either of you walked into the house after not having seen each other all day. It was quiet chats with Taeyong with your limbs tangled together, Yuta’s little moments of caring for you through words and touches and gifts. Home was Kun and Ten bickering with each other and turning to you to point out that they’re both fools, hearing them murmur ‘I love yous’ with Ten’s chilly fingers intertwining with yours, Kun’s contrastingly warm lips on your skin. Home was the smell of Doyoung and the sound of his voice singing so smooth and beautiful, his laugh, his gentle touches and bright smile when he saw you. It was Jaehyun sleepily slipping into the shower with you, just wanting to be close to you, WinWin silently taking care of you and quietly showing affection through light touches and surprise moments of intimacy.

You could find home in Jungwoo’s playful, needy rambunctiousness and in his quieter heartfelt moments. Home was in Lucas confiding to you worries and secrets that he feared would make him look weak; it was in Lucas gathering you into his arms and bracing you against his chest, easily making you forget that the rest of the world was out there. Home was Xiaojun holding your face in his hands like the most precious treasure in the world; it was him laughing with his whole chest and spending hours curled together without sleeping, just having the quiet time together on your phones or listening to music or whispering to each other or gazing up at the stars. It was Hendery always being able to make you laugh, knowing the right things to say, caring and worrying and loving you.

Home was Mark playing his guitar and singing under his breath, smiling out at you from beneath a hoodie, holding your hand as if he worried you might fly away, and most importantly home with Mark was found in him always being the first to invite you into their company, into their hearts and homes.

“Let’s go home,” Xiaojun tells you.

You nod, take his hand, and walk with him out of your apartment for the last time.

Miso doesn’t like living in the house, not right away. He hisses at the boys, always bolting from room to room, trying to hide from anyone that’s not you. It’s only after Ten accidentally shuts Miso in his room with him and you that Miso finally mellows out just a little bit. After that he likes Ten. Only you and Ten. But that doesn’t keep Taeyong, Taeil, Jeno, YangYang, Renjun, and Jaehyun from trying to befriend him.

Even when you’re napping on the sofa and Miso curls up on your chest, as soon as Jaehyun and Ten come downstairs, Miso stands up, flicking his tail angrily, and jumping off your chest, which wakes you up. You just catch sight of Miso’s tail disappearing from your line of sight, and then you look around.

It’s dusk outside, the sky a pretty pale blue with hints of pink and periwinkle clouds, and through the door in the kitchen you can hear laughter from outside. Johnny and a few of the others are out there grilling dinner, some others are in the kitchen. Jaehyun sits down across the room from you, but Ten slides onto the sofa with you.

“I’m sorry Miso doesn’t like you, Jaehyun.” You stretch your arms over your head, savoring the feel of your sleepy muscles stretching. You shiver at the feel of your shirt skimming up your stomach, a slight tickle.

“Yeah,” Ten laughs. “He only likes me. Let’s hope that the baby’s the same way.”

Ten’s chilly hands slip under your shirt and you whine, smacking his hands away. “God, Ten! Stop that!”

But he laughs and pulls his hands out, only to bring them to his face, puffing some warm breath into them before he does it again. It’s slightly better, though not by much. You pout at him.

“I just want to feel.”

“Feel what? The baby’s not big enough to kick yet. I don’t think it even has proper legs. It might still have a tail.” You roll your eyes, looking across the room to where Jaehyun is watching all of this with a light smile on his lips. “And I’m not even showing yet, so you’re literally just feeling up my belly. I have much less to show under here than you do.”

And you dive for his shirt, trying to pull it up to expose his toned abs, even higher so that you see the black tip of his chest tattoo. Ten laughs and wrestles his shirt out of your grip carefully. He drops a kiss on your lips, and dances away before you can protest. He vanishes out the back door of the house, into the cooling afternoon where Johnny and Hendery are grilling dinner.

You sigh and sink lower into the cushions. Jaehyun’s looking back down at his phone now, but you watch him anyway.

Ever since all of this with you announcing your pregnancy, showing off the first ultrasound of Little Blobby (as you and a few of the others, including Jisung and Haechan, have begun calling it), and since moving in, you haven’t really had many opportunities to speak one-on-one with Jaehyun. He’s been busy MCing, taking on an acting role, fulfilling other idol duties.

“Jaehyun?” You call. He looks up at you, and when you hold out your hand to him even though there’s still quite a few feet of empty space between you and him, he raises his eyebrows. “Come here?”

Jaehyun slides smoothly onto his feet, and you scoot into more of an upright position, making room for him to join you in the oversized armchair that you’ve been reclining in. He plops right into the spot with you, and you shift around, getting comfortable, which ends up meaning that you’re tucked against his side, one leg thrown over his. Jaehyun takes your hand, lifts it to his lips, and then brings your intertwined hands back down to rest atop the leg you have thrown over his.

“Yes, my love?” His voice is low, soft, and a bit scratchy as you know he’s at the tail end of a cold.

“I just wanted to be close to you,” you tell him. “And I feel like we haven’t really talked much recently. I miss you. Have you been sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

Jaehyun’s nose crinkles as he laughs. “Mom instincts already kicking in? Yes, I’m getting plenty of those things. I’ve been busy, but I’m managing. What about you? I heard you’ve been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. Taeil hyung said that you toss and turn. Mark said that you were sleep talking about some weird shit last night.”

You snort. “Yeah, last night I had a dream that we were all out eating at a restaurant, like one of those weird ones you’ll find sometimes in America with the fresh seafood tanks? With lobsters and stuff in them? And we were waiting for our food to be served, and it was taking forever, so Doyoung asked the waiter how much longer it would be, and the waiter pointed at me then at the fish tank and said, looks like you’re almost done. And there, in the giant tank, was me, looking like one of the people from Avatar in that big tank, my belly all big. It was fucking weird, that’s for sure.”

Jaehyun gives you a weird look, but laughs. “Your imagination is something else. But other than that weird dream, you’re doing well? Morning sickness still bad?”

You nod. “I walked past Jisung and Chenle earlier after they got home from practice, and they were eating like spicy teokbokki and all those smells combined, I couldn’t take it. Also, I guess my weird food cravings are starting too, because I really wanted crunchy peanut butter and watermelon earlier? I have no idea where that craving came from.” You shrug, and look at Jaehyun’s face again. “But I think morning sickness might be going away soon, that’s what the blogs I’ve looked at say. That the sickness starts to wane at the end of the first trimester and goes away for most women. Hopefully I’m not one of the ones that it continues for, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that.”

He’s looking down at your belly, and you bite your lip. Was he even listening while were talking? He looks miles away.

You bump him with your shoulder. “Jae? What are you thinking about?”

Jaehyun blows out a heavy breath. “You’re really pregnant, huh?”

You sit up a bit more, lean away from him so you can look at him more straight on. “Yeah? Duh. Thought we went over this like four weeks ago? Confirmed by an ultrasound and everything. And even before that you were totally on board when all I had was one positive cheap pregnancy test from a convenience store. Why the tone of, like, surprise?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, it’s not-- I’m just still thinking about it a lot. Like, it’s amazing, honestly. Thinking that one of us is a dad, and we don’t really know it. I know,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he says, “That I’ve been a bit of a jealous asshole in the past. And I’ve tried working on that, right? I love you and of course I want this baby to be mine, like, fuck, how many times have I talked about that. But I want you to know that, uh, even if it’s not mine, I’m just excited and amazed that in a few months you’re going to have a baby. When do you get to find out the sex?”

“I think about at 20-ish weeks.”

“And have you started thinking about names yet?” Jaehyun strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

Before you can answer him, Yuta appears, perching himself on the arm of the chair beside Jaehyun. “What are we talking about?”

“The baby,” Jaehyun answers, “and if she has any names that she’s thinking about.”

“You should definitely give the baby a Japanese name,” Yuta teases. “Since I’m probably the father.”

Jaehyun’s head turns so fast that you’re surprised you don’t hear his neck crack. “Why do you think that?” The look he gives Yuta is so sharp, the glare so powerful, you just hide your face against Jaehyun’s neck, trying to soothe him with some physical attention. So much for working on his jealousy. It looks could kill, Yuta would be six feet under.

“I’m just joking, Jaehyunnie.” Yuta pats the younger man’s hair. “But one of the fourteen of us is the father, and considering how often you sit out and just watch the rest of us fuck her, I’d say your odds are pretty low.” Yuta says that with a smile on his face, but Jaehyun frowns and slaps Yuta’s hand away.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you.” You place a kiss lightly on Jaehyun’s neck, and put your hand on his head, comb your fingers soothingly through his hair. “I literally slept with every single one of you right around the time that this Little Blob was made, so therefore, it really could be any of you. And, about names, I don’t think I’m really going to choose until after the baby is born. It’ll be my choice.”

“How are you going to choose which of us goes with you to have the baby?” Yuta asks.

“Maybe I won’t take any of you along.” You tease. “Maybe it’ll just be me and my mother. Speaking of which, I still haven’t told them.”

Jaehyun freezes then turns to look at you slowly. “What do you mean you haven’t told them yet? Aren’t you, like, twelve weeks along? Babe, you need to tell your parents.”

You know that, you completely agree that you need to tell them. But you know they’re going to ask who the father is, that they’ll definitely judge you harshly when you tell them that you don’t know who the father is, and they won’t understand if you attempt to reassure them that it’s okay that you don’t know who the father is because you know that it’s for sure one of your fourteen boyfriends, because your parents likely will disapprove of that too.

“You can tell them I’m the father, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jaehyun says softly, tipping his head gently against yours.

You bite your lip. “Thank you. That would help, for sure, but also, like you said, I’m twelve weeks along. My mother will be pissed that I waited so long to tell her.”

Yuta shrugs. “Tell her that you just found out. It’s not like you’re showing. So you say that you’ve been feeling weird, and you finally went to the doctor to get checked out, and found out you’re pregnant.”

“Just text her, tell her you’re pregnant, and that you don’t want to answer a lot of questions.” WinWin appears behind the chair, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. “At least you can tell your parents that you’re adding a grandchild to the family now. One of us is going to have to wait to tell our family about the baby until after it’s born when we find out who the father is.”

You hadn’t thought about that either.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, resting your head again on Jaehyun’s shoulder.

“Don’t apologize for that.” Yuta stands up. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Time to eat!” Johnny shouts as he comes through the door, carrying a platter piled with grilled meat. You catch a whiff of it.

Covering your nose, you shake your head. “I can’t deal with that.” Johnny catches sight of your face and whisks the plate back outside, not that it takes the smell with it, and your stomach rolls. “I’m going upstairs. I’m not hungry.” You pull yourself out of the chair and hurry up the stairs, gladly breathing the air up on the top floor that’s untainted by the smell of meat.

You shut yourself in the room you share with Taeil, and as you sit in the bed, your back to the headboard, you stare nervously down at the phone in your hand.

It takes a few moments to build up your courage to finally press the contact for your mother, and you hold your phone up to your ear.

When she answers, you take a deep breath. “Hi, what are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing. Just watching your father try not to burn our meal.” She laughs, and you can hear your dad laughing in the background too. “What are you up to? Dinner plans tonight?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Um, no. Actually there’s something I want to talk to you and dad about.”

“Are you okay?” Your mother’s voice suddenly grows sharp, concerned.

“I’m fine. Definitely. Can you put me on speaker?” You wait a moment until your mother gives you a confirmation that she’s done just that. Your dad’s speaking over your mother, both of them with concerned tones that you finally silence by speaking over them even louder. “Do you remember me saying I’m seeing someone?”

You had, several months ago, told your parents that you were seeing someone after your mother had repeatedly tried setting you up with a young man that owned her favorite bakery. Up to that point you didn’t want to even tell them that you were seeing someone so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. You’d not given them many details, and they didn’t push.

“Yes, we remember.” Your mother says.

“So, things have gotten pretty serious with him. Especially recently.” You can hear your voice shaking with nerves. This is not how you ever imagined telling your parents you were pregnant. You’d always thought that cute reveals to new grandparents were very entertaining videos to watch online, but now that you’re in this situation, you don’t think you could do it, not given the circumstances.

“Serious?” You father repeats. “How serious?”

You’re quiet for a few moments as you try to think of the best way to phrase it, but you wait so long that you mom says your name, checking to make sure that you’re still on the line.

“Um, so, I’m pregnant. About twelve weeks along, according to the doctor.”

“Twelve weeks?!” Your mother gasps. “Oh my! You’re pregnant! Honey, she’s having a baby! And your boyfriend... he knows? Is he excited also?”

“Do we finally get to meet the boy?” Your dad asks. “Now that he’s got a baby in you?”

Your mother hisses your dad’s name, and you hear her slap his arm. “But really, do we get to meet our future son-in-law?”

“Well, that’s another thing. Don’t.... I don’t want you to think that he and I are getting married now because of this.” You cradle the phone in your hands. “Nothing like that is set in stone. Right now, we’re just focusing on having the baby. And I suppose you should meet him.” But you’re not sure about that. It doesn’t seem fair for you to choose one of your boyfriends, one who may not be the father, and have him be the only man in this relationship that gets to meet your parents.

“Oh, well, I suppose you’ve never been so much of a traditionalist, have you? So, it’s not terribly much of a surprise that you’re not necessarily going to marry him. But a baby! Our baby’s having a baby!” Your mother cries out in excitement.

You spend the next half an hour to forty-five minutes talking with your parents, catching them up on moments in your life, talking about your pregnancy, dipping into details of how your mother’s pregnancy with you had gone. By the time you end the call, you feel much better, much lighter.

You feel as if the transformation happens suddenly. One day you look just as you have usually done, and then the next.... you’ve popped, the bump evident when you look in the half-fogged mirror of the bathroom.

You can’t help touching your belly, feeling the mound that certainly wasn’t there just weeks before.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks, coming up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, hands covering yours on your belly. His skin is still wet and warm from the shower that’s still running in the background for you to step into. His hand is such a welcome presence, the heat of him against your bare skin. “You’re starting to show.”

You’re about fifteen weeks at this point, right in the timeline your doctor had told you that you might start showing. After that moment in the bathroom, you start wearing looser clothing, and just find it increasingly difficult to hide your pregnancy from anyone that you’d still been trying to keep it from, and your body is changing in a way that other people certainly take notice of.

“Shit, look at you, baby.” Mark whistles when he walks into the kitchen late one night, and he finds you standing beside the refrigerator with a midnight snack. You’re just wearing a pair of shorts and a low-cut camisole. Your belly standing out in evidence of the life inside of you, but you’re quickly made aware that that’s not exactly what Mark is pointing out.

He steps closer to you, and instead of touching your belly (as all the others have done as soon as they realized you were starting to show), Mark cups your tits.

“They’re bigger now.” His eyes are wide glued to your chest.

“Of course they’re bigger. Once this little blob comes out I’m going to have to feed it with these.” You nudge his hands away. “They’re not just toys for you all to play with, you know. They serve a purpose.”

Mark smiles at you and kisses your cheek. “I know, baby.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he stands there watching you eat, apparently entirely forgetting the reason that he entered the room himself. It’s quiet for a moment before Mark finally asks, “When’s your next appointment? Don’t you get to learn the sex of the baby soon?”

You nod. “Soon. I’m not sure if I actually want to know what we’re having though.” You drop a hand down to touch your little barely-there bump. “I might want it to be a surprise.”

Mark steps closer again, and this time he touches your belly too. “This little angel’s going to be full of surprises for us, isn’t it?”

You push your fingers into Mark’s hair, enjoying having him so close to you and the way he melts into your touch. Mark’s eyes flutter shut as you comb your fingers through his hair, he leans his forehead down against yours.

“Mark?” Your voice is very quiet even in the silence of the kitchen. “Mark, what do you want from this?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, not pulling back from you at all, but staying right there with his eyes closed and his forehead against yours.

“I mean, do you want to be the dad? Or are you secretly hoping it’s one of the others? Do you want it to be a boy or a girl? Do you think this is going to really fuck up this relationship?”

“I think if it was going to mess this up, it would’ve already done so, right?” He stands up straight again, putting a few inches of space between you. “We’re all still here, excited about the baby. Hell, even the others are excited and they’ve not got any DNA in the game.”

You know he’s talking about the younger members, the ones not in this relationship. They’ve all been excited and supportive too. You’d taken several exhaustion naps on the sofa between Renjun and Jeno; just the other morning as you’d been looking at a pregnancy book at the kitchen table, YangYang had sat down beside you and started asking you questions about it. Haechan swore that he’d be glad to help babysit in the future. You’d heard Chenle and Jaemin offering to take bets on the paternity of the baby.

“And I don’t know about being the dad,” Mark says, “I don’t think it matters too much to me one way of the other. I don’t mean that in a bad way! I feel like that sounded kinda bad, but like, if I am the dad then that’s awesome and I’m going to try my hardest to be the best dad I can be, but even if I’m not, I’ll still try my best to be here. But I guess it also depends how you want to raise the kid, like, fourteen dads? Or are those who aren’t the dad just going to be Uncles who occasionally share mommy’s bed?”

You wrinkle your nose at that. “That’s exactly what I mean, Mark. This relationship is going to change, and that’s scary. I don’t want this to change, I love how we all are together, but after this, then what?”

“Hey.” Mark cups your face between his hands. He tilts your face up toward his, and when he kisses you softly, almost chastely, for just that moment in time you forget your worries. “That’s a problem for when we get to it, but it’s miles and miles away in the future. You don’t need to worry about that now, okay?” He kisses you again, and this time the kiss isn’t so sweet or tender.

Your midnight snack is entirely forgotten on the counter beside you. Mark envelops you--his smell and his taste, the heat of his skin against yours-- and you lift your hands to his arms, first touching his wrists up near your face, and then your fingertips dance down his forearms, resting for a moment against his elbows as Mark twists his fingers into your hair, tilting your head to a better angle as your mouth opens to his, and you gasp quietly.

His tongue touches yours, springing another moan from you, and Mark smiles, his fingers tightening in your hair.

It doesn’t take much more kissing than that to have you craving a midnight snack of a different sort. The hunger grows inside you, the heat building, and soon you can feel your shorts are damp with arousal and your fingertips itch to undress Mark, your body aching with the need to have him inside you.

“Mark,” you mumble, planning to ask him to fuck you, but your hands are already moving. Your hands drop from where you’ve been holding onto his arms, instead gripping the bottom hem of his shirt which you tug at until your fingertips find skin instead.

Mark groans, feeling your cool skin against his. And when your fingertips move across his abdomen, quickly dipping inside the waistband of his sweatpants, Mark inhales sharply, breaking the kiss for a moment, just to ask, “Here?”

You nod. “Yeah, why not?”

That’s good enough for him.

Mark dives back into the kiss, making little noises of contentment as you push his sweatpants lower, as you dip your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your hand around his cock. It doesn’t take long for him to start chubbing up in your hand.

“Mm, baby,” Mark pulls out of the kiss, his hands shaking to detangle his fingers from your hair, and his hands fall to your hips instead. Mark lifts you carefully up to sit on the edge of the countertop you’ve been leaning against, and now you’re at the perfect height to spread your legs and pull his cock free of his boxers to rub at the already damp fabric over your pussy.

You remember the time you almost did this with Kun in here. Things got hot and heavy with him, but the younger boys were just in the other room, so you moved things upstairs instead. But tonight there’s no one around. Everyone’s either out or upstairs in their rooms. There’s nothing to stop you from having sex with Mark right here in the kitchen with the lights on and everything.

Mark thumbs the middle of your shorts out of the way as you keep jerking him off, rubbing the tip against the material, which he’s tired of, craving the direct wet heat of you on him.

“Fuck, baby, why aren’t you wearing any panties?” He almost whines. His thumb glides along your slit, and you shift forward, wanting to have him just slip his thumb inside you, but he pulls it away, putting his hand back to the safe distance of your thigh. “That’s dirty. Looking so sexy already with your belly growing and your tits too, then no panties either. Shit, it’s like you knew this was going to happen.”

“Maybe I’ve just been hoping.” You lean in, capture his lips in a brief kiss, and then say, “You’ve all been so careful with me. I don’t get fucked nearly as much as before, and while this pregnancy has messed with my sex drive a bit, I do still want to have sex, I just think you all should know that.”

“So no panties because you’re horny, hoping to entice one of us into fucking you?” Mark grins crookedly, looking down at your pussy, which you finally bring his cock closer to, and you dip his tip against your clit, moving it in circles.

You smile and try to stifle a moan.

“Do you want it?” Mark asks you.

“Yes, Mark,” you sigh, and you guide his cock to where you need him most, and Mark lifts a hand to tilt your mouth up to meet his once more.

Mark enters you smoothly, slowly, in one thrust. Your toes curl at the slow feeling, the stretch and glide, the way that you’ve barely had anyone touch you in weeks, since Jungwoo, probably. You don’t think you’ve been with another one of them since him, not having one of them inside you like this--just you helping them out with a blowjob maybe and then possibly a bit of fingering, but most of them were still treating you like some fragile porcelain doll--and that was probably a month and a half ago when you were with Jungwoo, the last time you’d had one of their dicks inside your vagina.

“Oh, fuck,” Mark groans. “I swear you’re tighter than normal.”

“Shh,” you shush him, laughing as you try to kiss him quiet. “It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve had more than a finger or two inside me.”

Mark moans, deepening the kiss, silencing you as he thrusts slowly, each push of his cock deeper inside you feels incredible.

You both take it slow, in no rush to get off right now, it’s just good enough to have him inside you, to kiss him, and Mark seems to feel the same. Kissing and hands slipping under clothes, just touching, hips rolling, everything slow and warm and you feel so wet, growing wetter with each glide of Mark’s cock inside your pussy, pants and moans rising in frequency.

Your goal isn’t to cum, just to have Mark so close to you, but soon there’s no denying that you’re both getting close. It’s been too long since either of you had this kind of sexual release. Mark’s thrusts start to grow faster, sloppier, and he pants against your lips, “Can I cum inside you? What about---?”

“It’s fine, Mark.” You gasp, dropping your head back. “Please, I want to feel it.”

Happy to oblige you, Mark ducks his head to kiss at your neck. His hand sinks to the apex of your thighs, his thumb tracing quick, careful circles on your clit as he thrusts into you, chasing his quickly rising high. The sound of your breathy sighs and moans, soft whimpers of his name, all seem to drive him on, and you cum just moments before him.

“Mark, fuck!” You gasp. You clutch at his shoulders, holding yourself close to him as the sensation pulses through your body, dragging Mark into his orgasm as well. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, muffling his moans as he spills inside you, his cum making you feel warm and full, and you don’t want to move from right here like this, just want to stay here with Mark inside you, close as he can be to you, his body pressed fully against yours, your baby bump against his belly.

You don’t want to move, and you probably wouldn’t have for quite some time, but suddenly there’s the tapping sound of someone jogging down the stairs.

Mark pulls away from you, stuffing his cock back inside his sweatpants, and he reaches out to tug your shorts back into place. He even rearranges your hair so it falls over your shoulders, hiding the mark he’d just sucked on your throat. And then he steps away, leaning against the stove and pretending to study a box of cereal someone had left out.

WinWin walks into the room, his eyes puffy from sleep. He yawns as he looks between the two of you, walking across the room toward you to reach the sink.

“Were you just messing around in here?” He asks, opening a cabinet door to pick out a glass. “Because that’s gross. We all eat in here.”

He looks away as he fills the glass with water. Mark’s eyes go faux-innocently wide, and he opens his mouth, prepared to give some excuse.

You cut him off. “You’re one to talk, Dong Sicheng. Are you forgetting the time I rode you right over there at the kitchen table? You weren’t so concerned about this being a place where we eat then. I’m pretty sure I remember you specifically pulling me into your lap and telling you that this is where we eat, so you wanted to eat me.”

WinWin coughs, almost choking on the water. Mark laughs loudly.

You smile at them both, and then push off the counter, landing on your feet, and you wrinkle your nose at the feeling as a bit of Mark’s cum begins to trickle down your thigh. WinWin reaches out to you, as if worried that the look on your face is due to some discomfort of the baby.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You walk the few feet over to Mark, kiss him, and then you turn to WinWin, kiss him as well, and turn to walk away, calling back over your shoulder, “Good night!”

Their returned well-wishes of sweet dreams follow you upstairs as you crawl into Hendery’s bed.

He stirs a bit when you slide in beside him. He fell asleep watching videos on his phone, and the phone’s laying facedown on his chest, the edge of it still outlined from the light of the screen, so you move it off, rolling back to the side of the small bed to plug his phone in before you re-situate yourself on your side, and Hendery moves up to spoon you from behind.

He murmurs your name sleepily and drapes his arm over you, nuzzling his nose against your neck before he falls immediately back to sleep. And you soak in the warmth of his bed, his body curled against yours, wishing you could fall asleep, but somehow you just can’t.

You stay awake, staring at the shadows in the room, praying for sleep to claim you as it’s claimed Hendery behind you, Xiaojun across the room.

Nothing.

You hear footsteps climbing the stairs up to the floor above, hear the creak of movement, and then the closing of a door. A few moments later, the door to this room opens as well. The dim glow of a nightlight in the bathroom down the hall casts a streak across the room, right over you in Hendery’s bed.

“Sorry,” WinWin whispers as he comes inside, tiptoeing. “Did I wake you up?”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t sleep.”

WinWin sits on his bed, and in the darkness, you can just barely make out the shape of his shadow patting his bed. “You can come over here. I can help you fall asleep.”

You don’t see what he’s going to do to help with that, but you carefully extract yourself from Hendery, tiptoe across to WinWin’s bed, and slide in with him.

He props himself up against the headboard with a few pillows, and then you feel him draw you in, resting your head on his chest, leaned back against him. His cheek rests against your head, an arm casually curled around your waist, his hand touching your belly, and he whispers, “I think we just need to tire out that busy mind of yours. What is it that you’re thinking about? Tell me?”

So you start talking, telling WinWin in whispers all of these worries and wonders in your head. Concerns for the future, for the state of this relationship, how they’ll all react when the day comes that you do find out which of them is the father because you’ve long since accepted that you have to find that out, though you had briefly entertained the idea of just not doing any paternity test at all. You talk to WinWin until you’re certainly tired out, or at least your voice is.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize then. “You’re probably tired, aren’t you? But I just keep talking.”

WinWin mumbles something that never quite makes its way to words. Then, “It’s fine. You need to sleep too, though. Aren’t you tired yet?”

Not quite.

“Alright then.” WinWin sighs and shifts his head, his lips right beside your ear, and he starts singing to you quietly in Chinese. The song is familiar, but you can’t place it; it’s a relaxing tune, and WinWin’s deep voice works wonders, lulling you into such a state that you don’t even notice when exactly you fall asleep.

One moment you’re awake in his arms, and then you’re dreaming.

You’re walking down the hallway, passing by the door to Lucas, Ten, and Kun’s room, climbing the stairs, you walk along until you reach a door just beyond Taeil’s room. A faint golden light outlines the door which looks shiny and new, recently installed, and from behind the door you hear the cries of a baby.

Your heart leaps in your chest.

Just a touch of your fingertips, and the door opens on a nicely decorated nursery -- creamy white walls and gauzy curtains decorated in stars and moons, a crib is tucked in the corner under a gently spinning mobile, and that’s the source of the crying.

The baby’s crying. Your baby. You walk closer, and making shushing noises as you approach, you look down into the crib and see your baby.

But it’s not only one baby. There are multiple babies, a whole row of them side-by-side, waving angry fists up at you. A baby wrapped in blue with Johnny’s face. Another that looks like Yuta. A little girl who has Hendery’s big brown eyes, one that looks exactly like Taeyong.

You blink.

There’s only one baby, cooing up at you happily with an undeniable resemblance to ---

You wake with a jolt. WinWin, still curled there together with you, strokes his fingers over the back of your hand, mumbling something in his sleep to comfort you. In the dark, you stare at his face in front of you, but all you can see are the faces of the little babies in your dream.

You shift closer, pressing your face against WinWin’s chest.

At work, you try to avoid talking about your pregnancy. Not an easy thing to do when many of your coworkers are women, including older women who just want to offer up advice based on their own pregnancies. And they’ve all got so many questions: how far along you are, who’s the father, are you still dating that guy who came to briefly visit you once so many months ago, are you learning the gender, and many more questions.

You can’t help thinking about that dream again and again.

Previously, you didn’t think you really wanted to know the sex of the baby until the birth. But after that dream, you can’t stop thinking about it.

Sometimes you’ll find your mind wandering back to that dream or mulling over what you think you’re going to have. And after your coworkers repeatedly asking you who the father is, you keep thinking about that too, trying to run through your mind the encounters you’d had with your boyfriends around that exact time that this Little Blob was conceived. The younger boys are actually taking bets on which of your boyfriends is the father, whether it’s going to be a boy or girl, and all sorts of silly bets.

And it’s not only them; the last time you spoke to your mother she was making guesses on gender based on family history and invasive questions into your sex life, which she’d followed up with an inquiry about meeting the father-to-be that you’d edged out of by feigning an incoming call from your doctor.

But you know you can’t put it off forever. At some point your parents are going to want to meet the man who impregnated their daughter. You just have to choose one of the possible men to introduce to them.

“I wouldn’t mind, I don’t think.” Xiaojun tells you late one morning.

The house is quiet. When you left Taeil’s room this morning as he woke to go to Inkigayo, you sat downstairs in the kitchen, drinking a morning glass of water and taking a handful of recommended prenatal vitamins, watching as half of the house cleared out, your boys going off to work.

You were excited, getting to see them work in different combinations than normal.

After they’d all left, piling into multiple vans, it’d just been you, Xiaojun, Jisung, Haechan, YangYang, and Taeyong left in the house. Haechan and Jisung were firmly shut inside their room, probably not likely to wake until at least the afternoon, and YangYang was similarly probably sleeping. Not that any of them would give you the company you wanted.

Sure, you enjoyed hanging out with the younger members, playing games and watching movies, and teasing them endlessly. But you didn’t want to just be entertained, you didn’t want to just go back to sleep now that you were awake.

You were horny.

You’d been dreaming nicely up until the moment that Taeil jerked awake at the sound of their manager’s voice calling from the doorway. It was a rude awakening, considering how just a second before you’d been in the midst of sucking off Doyoung while sitting on Jaehyun’s face, having the absolute time of your life. But the dream had faded in moments, leaving you with only the ache between your thighs, the heat that needed to be quenched.

So now, with all of the others gone, you were left with three choices. One, you could just take care of it yourself, which is the least fun option. Your second option was Taeyong, but you knew he had only dragged himself home from the studio a couple hours ago because he’d climbed into bed with you and Taeil, snuffling and clingy, just wanting a cuddle. A third option was Xiaojun, an eager, always good option.

So you went to Xiaojun’s room.

He was awake on his phone, and the sight of you in his doorway brought a smile to his face. You stepping inside and closing the door behind you made him smile brighter and start to sit up in bed. And when you reached down and pulled the long shirt of Lucas’s you’d stolen to sleep in over your head, Xiaojun’s smile melted into liquid desire pooling in his eyes.

“I’m horny, Dejun. Please help me.” You drop the shirt on the floor, and in seconds you’re on your back in Xiaojun’s bed, his mouth hot on your skin, lips on your breasts then your stomach, taking his time trailing slow kisses over your increasingly noticeable bump. And then he’s on your thighs, kissing, nipping, and when he licks at your pussy, your body glows with lust and pleasure.

Xiaojun performs oral sex right then like he’s going to be graded on it. Soon you’re shaking in his bed, thighs closing around his head, hips rocking against his face, and Xiaojun just keeps licking until you whine and whimper his name, knotting your fingers in his hair. He moves quickly up to kiss you.

You stay like that, kissing as the morning passes by outside, soft kisses that turn hot and passionate with your hand down the back of Xiaojun’s sweatpants as he grinds against your thigh, kisses getting softer as you spread your legs for him to fit between them and push his sweatpants down just enough that he can thrust into you. And it’s slow, soft and lazy sex in the haze of the golden rays of sunlight shifting across his sheets from the window above his bed.

Xiaojun cums and uses his fingers to get you off, and then keeps kissing you even as he rolls off to the side, holding you there in his bed even though you both feel gross and sticky sweaty.

The kissing tapers off eventually. He holds one of your hands, and your other hand absentmindedly goes down to your belly, and you start talking about the appointment you have in next week where you can finally find out the sex of the baby, and how your mother wants to come, and she wants you to bring your boyfriend.

“I’m serious,” Xiaojun says. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to introduce me as the representative for all of us. Your singular boyfriend, father of your baby.”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

Xiaojun smiles and hides half of his face in his pillow. “I think I’m probably not the dad, like, it’s just a feeling I have, but who’d be better to meet your parents than me? I’m nice, polite, handsome, funny, smart. Not to mention modest.”

You laugh and push at his shoulder, and Xiaojun dramatically rolls away and then stands up off the bed.

He looks down at you, still smiling. “And also, I think one of us should be there with you at that appointment. I think one of us should always go with you, because you need the support, it’ll be nice, right?”

“I don’t know. I cried when I first heard the heartbeat.” You sit up and look down at your belly. “Pretty sure several of you would have teased me about that.”

“Pretty sure several of us would have cried right along side you. You played us that recording of the heartbeat.” Xiaojun shakes his head. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but there was quite a bit of excitement and emotion that day among all of us.” He reaches down and strokes his thumb along your cheek. “Just think about it. I’m gonna go eat, do you want some?”

You don’t, so you stay there wrapped only in Xiaojun’s sheets and mentally draft up a conversation to have with your boys.

You put it up to the boys to decide which of them would accompany you to your next appointment at eighteen weeks, and who will also be the one to meet your parents.

“Whether you vote or play rock paper scissors or draw straws or something, I don’t care, as long as you’re all aware that it’s perfectly fair no matter who wins. I don’t want any of you feeling jealous, like I’m playing favorites or anything ridiculous like that.” You gave them this task right before you walked out the door to go grab dinner with some friends, hoping that by the time you arrived home later, they would have the answer.

Dinner was great. Since starting the relationship with the guys, you’d seen less and less of your friends just because it was a full-time kind of thing being with multiple boyfriends, plus it was difficult having this love life and not being able to openly talk about it with friends for various reasons such as being in a fifteen-person relationship was not at all common and also because your fourteen boyfriends were idols who could have their careers damaged if word of your relationship with any one of them got out.

Your friends were excited to see you and your not-so-little-anymore baby bump. They’d seen what you’d posted on social media -- the sonogram photo when you decided to finally post about the pregnancy, Snapchats and Instagram stories complaining about the woes of morning sickness and other symptoms -- and it was really great to catch up with your friends, and by the end of the night they were already telling you that they couldn’t wait for the baby shower.

“And we can’t wait to meet your baby daddy!” One of them cries, flinging her arm around your shoulder in a one-armed hug. “Like, you’re dating him right? You’re always so secretive with your love life; I can’t remember if you were dating someone, or was this just like a fling kind of thing?”

“Yeah, who is he? When can we meet him?” Another says.

You look around at your friends. “He’s just really private. But, yes, we’ve been dating for several months. But it’s also kind of complicated.”

“Complicated? Does he not want the baby?”

“Complicated and he’s private? What, is he an idol or something?” One laughs, and everyone bursts into laughter. You try to laugh along, but then you catch the eye of one of the girls and quickly look away. She’s been with you the time that you ran into Taeyong in public while you were broken up; you wonder if she’s thinking of him.

Another friend gasps, “Oh my god. Bitch, he better not be married!”

You try not to look like you’re caught in the spotlight, but you definitely are. “He’s not married!” Is the first answer you can think to give them. “And, no, it’s not that he doesn’t want the baby. He’s very excited, I mean, like, they’re excited.”

That raises several eyebrows. One of your friends nearly chokes on her drink.

“They? Like personal pronoun they or they, as in like, multiple people they?” One friends seeks clarification, and you take a deep breath and stare down into your water glass at the ice cubes clinking together before you give her the quiet confirmation of “multiple people.”

There’s giggles and teasing catcalls from around the table. You feel on fire, like you’re being roasted alive, and even gulping down the cold water doesn’t really help. There’s a fluttery feeling in your belly, so you lay a hand over it and just swallow down another mouthful of water, hoping to quell the nerves of having all of their attention on you after admitting this.

The friend beside you who’d been hugging you, squeezes your shoulders in what is probably meant to be a comforting motion. “So do you know which one of them is the dad?”

You shake your head. “No, but it doesn’t really matter. Like, they’re all excited and this relationship has been going on for a while. It’s serious, and I do love them, and it’s very unconventional, like super unconventional, but I’m happy.”

“That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” One of them says. “You’re happy and in love and having a baby! Damn, I wish I could be so blessed.”

After that the topic turns away from you and your love life for a bit, and you’re glad for that, but you’re also glad to have opened up just a tiny bit about the relationship. To have finally told someone that you’re in an unconventional relationship that includes more than two people, though you’re sure your friends think that it’s probably just you and two boyfriends, and you truly don’t feel like enlightening them any more. But it’s nice to have put it out there.

And when you do get home later, with a box of dessert that Ten had texted you begging you to bring home about halfway through your dinner, you find that half of the boys are still sitting around the table in the kitchen debating, but a handful of them are sitting in the living room.

Mark is sitting on the sofa with his laptop, Chenle leaning his head on Mark’s shoulder. Ten is in the armchair with Miso tucked in the nest of his legs. Hendery laying on the floor, his chin propped up on his hands, and Yuta’s sitting right beside him, watching a soccer match on the TV. Haechan, Jisung, and Jeno are also sitting on the second sofa, slouching down on the cushions, either on their phones or also watching the game.

You look around at them, before you glance toward the doorway into the kitchen.

“We lost,” Ten explains to you. “They’re still deciding.” He strokes Miso’s head, and then looks up at you, squinting in faux-anger, “You know, it was pretty rude of you to put us at odds with each other like that, and then you dip out to a fancy fun dinner with your friends. And did you even bring us anything tasty to eat?”

You stick out your tongue at him and pull the box out from behind your back.

“Do you think I don’t love you or something?”

When you hold it out to him, Ten eagerly reaches for it, but you pull it back quickly.

“You have to share it, you know.”

Ten whines, but nods, and as you start to hand it over again, Kun sweeps in out of nowhere, and takes the cake, then brushes a kiss on your cheek. Chenle laughs loudly, watching all of this, especially when Ten snatches the back of Kun’s shirt and jerks him back, nearly tumbling him into Ten’s lap on top of your poor cat.

Miso bristles and flees Ten’s lap to the comparative safety of the stairs where he begins grooming himself and glaring at the ruckus below.

You end up with Kun and Ten squeezed together in the chair, you perched on Kun’s lap with the box of dessert open in your lap, the three of you taking turns with a single fork. Your feet rest in Yuta’s lap on the floor, and after a bit, he leans over and rests his head against your knee, his actions sleepy but his eyes are wide awake following the moves of the players on the screen.

You can’t seem to relax, nervously glancing toward the kitchen doorway every few minutes. And thinking about who it’s going to be, which of them is going to be the one to meet your parents, to come to your appointments with you, it makes you nervous. While you sit there you feel flutters in your belly multiple times, and that just makes you feel even more nervous.

When the other boys finally come out of the kitchen, Taeyong whines, seeing the nearly finished dessert in your lap, and he comes over to beg a bite.

“What did you decide?” You ask him as Taeyong takes the box from you and settles on the arm of the chair. “Which of you is it? Whose egos do I need to soothe?”

“Probably Jaehyun,” Taeyong mumbles around the cake. “He’s pouting.” He jerks his head toward the other side of the room, and you follow the move just to see Jaehyun standing behind the sofa where Mark and Chenle are sitting. Jaehyun’s got his arms folded across his chest, his jaw tense, his eyes deadset on the TV, though you can tell he’s not actually watching the game.

Taeyong clears his throat and whispers, “Johnny won; we figured he’d be the best in these situations. He’ll charm your parents for sure, and he’ll be good at the appointment too.”

You catch Johnny’s eye as he comes around the sofa to sit down beside Chenle. He immediately starts tickling Chenle’s sides until he’s squirming and making loud squawking laughs while Johnny just laughs at him and calls him cute.

Eventually Yuta lifts his head from your knee to shush them, his eyes still glued to the screen as one of the teams makes a goal. You look over at Johnny again as he’s petting Chenle’s hair while the younger settles back down. And then you look up at Jaehyun. WinWin’s now standing beside him, his arm slung around Jaehyun’s shoulders, and they whisper to each other, but after a moment Jaehyun seems to feel you watching them, and he catches your eye with a sweet smile.

“How do I look?” Johnny asks, nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt. You’re about to leave for the appointment, and as you sit on Johnny’s bed watching him get ready, you fight down your own nerves.

“Handsome. As usual.” You sigh, fluttering your hands over your belly. “What about me?”

You push up to your feet, standing right before Johnny. He smiles warmly, a hand sneaking around to the small of your back, and you step just a bit closer to him.

“Sexy as always,” Johnny says with a grin. “Pretty and cute and beautiful too. If your mother looks anything like you, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Yes, the source of all your nerves. Johnny meeting your mother. Your mother coming to your appointment with you both. And then there’s the late lunch you’re having afterwards with Johnny, your mother, and your father.

“Hey, don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” Johnny cups your face in his hands. “I’m great with parents. By the time we come home later, they’re going to absolutely love me, we’re going to know if you’re having a girl or a boy, plus we have a little surprise the others should have ready for you by the time we’re home.”

Now, that makes you more suspicious than nervous.

Typically you don’t have a good history of your boyfriends trying to surprise you with things. Seven times out of ten the surprise ends up being an orgy, and the other three times out of ten are just a failure on their part. So as you and Johnny walk out of the house, you watch the others suspiciously, such as when Taeil kisses you on the cheek as you pass him on the stairs, when Renjun pipes up from the sofa to tell you that they’ll all be anxiously waiting to see who has won the first of their series of bets, and when Doyoung hurries up from behind you to give you a few words of luck and calming for the appointment and for introducing Johnny to your parents.

“Thank you, Doyoung.” You press up on your toes to meet him for a brief kiss. “See you later!”

As you turn to follow Johnny, Doyoung’s hand falls reluctantly from your arm, and you look back at him to offer him a reassuring smile because he’s pouting.

“Doyoung also really wanted to come with you today,” Johnny tells you a few minutes later. “Him and Jaehyun were really duking it out there toward the end of our debate. Both of them were pretty pissed when I was the one who was decided on.”

You don’t know what to say to that. If it were possible, you would happily bring every single one of your boyfriends, but that is neither practical nor realistically something that your parents would ever possibly approve of. Your parents are not like your friends; your friends think it’s different and sexy that you’re in a relationship with more than one man, but your parents would think that something like that is disgusting and wrong and would certainly try to influence you to choose just one of them.

So you fall into this rabbit hole of thinking, and it’s not until Johnny puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly as he says, “We’re here,” that you snap out of your thoughts.

You’re at the doctor’s office, and when you look up through the windshield of the car, you can see your mother standing beside the door into the office, somewhat awkwardly smiling at passersby, looking nervous as well.

“This will be wonderful, okay?” Johnny reassures you. “Are you ready?”

You nod, and then push the car door open.

The moment that your mother sees you, her face lights up, and then her eyes fall down to your belly, the definite mound of your belly, and she breaks into a smile so wide that you think she also might start crying.

“Oh, my baby!” She pulls you into a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Mom. Taking good care of myself and the baby, with some help of course.” You pull out of the hug and turn to Johnny. He’s standing a few feet back, not wanting to intrude on the moment with your mother, but when you hold out a hand to him, he steps forward.

The second his fingers interlace with yours, you feel confident and happy, and you turn back to your mother. “Mom, this is Johnny. My boyfriend.”

She looks at him. Looks him up. Looks him down. You can tell she’s analyzing everything about him, filing away little details that you’re sure she’ll want to discuss with you later.

And then Johnny holds his hand out to her. “Johnny Suh, ma’am. It’s great to finally meet you. I was just telling her this morning that --” You elbow him sharply in the side and glare at him, not wanting him to finish that sentence calling your mother hot. He laughs, and holds his hand out to your mother again. She shakes his hand, still watching him appraisingly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, finally. She’s always been secretive about relationships, but I think this is the longest we’ve ever had to wait to meet someone she’s dating.” Your mother glances at you. “Why’ve you kept this one a secret?”

“He’s too charming for his own good sometimes. Come on, let’s get inside.”

As you sit in the waiting room, nervously tapping your foot as you wait, you look around at the other women in the room. There are some whose bellies are huge, looking ready to pop at any moment. Some who aren’t showing at all. There’s one woman wrangling two toddlers along with her big pregnant belly, looking increasingly frustrated at the two children climbing over her and over and under the chairs.

You don’t even notice that you’re shaking your leg so much until Johnny’s hand comes to rest on your knee. His voice is low, soft so no one else can hear it when he asks, “You okay?”

“Fine. Just ready to find out.” You place your hand on his, and that’s when you notice your mother watching you very observantly.

The three of you chat a little bit, and she tells you that your father is all ready to interrogate your boyfriend, especially since you’d given them no information about him. “She wouldn’t even tell us your name.”

“I can’t talk too much about us, you know. We’ve got to keep it a little bit of a secret.” You whisper to her. “Maybe you don’t recognize him, but he is an idol. Other people might recognize him, and we can’t let word get out.”

Johnny’s wearing a mask and a hat now that you’re in the doctor’s office together, keeping his head down somewhat just on the off-chance that someone could recognize him. But now, with the way your mother is staring at him in surprise, you think it might draw some attention.

When you go to the restroom a few minutes later, leaving the two of them alone, you worry that you’ll come back to find things in a disastrous state, but to your surprise, after an extended bathroom break due to the number of others trying to use the single restroom available off the waiting room, you return to see them laughing and talking more comfortably with each other, and just a few minutes after that you’re called back to meet with your doctor.

Now, it’s not like the appointment jumps straight into finding out the gender of the baby, but that’s all the matters, all that you can focus on while you and your doctor talk, while she examines you, while your mother and Johnny sit nearby, but then it’s time and you’re on your back with your shirt pulled up over your belly and a technician spreading the cool gel over your belly.

You don’t remember reaching for Johnny’s hand, but suddenly you’re holding onto it while you look at the screen. Your mother’s leaning forward eagerly too, all three of you plus the doctor staring at the screen at the inside of your body, searching for your Little Blobby.

“Ah, here we are.” The technician pauses for a moment, and you can hear the heartbeat inside you--not the one that belongs to you, but the second smaller one, the faster tiny one--and you can see it on the screen.

“That’s the baby?” Johnny squeezes your hand and leans closer to see the screen more clearly. “That’s our baby?”

“It sure is.” The technician moves the device a bit more, trying to get a better view. “Is this daddy and grandma’s first time seeing the baby?”

“It is!” Your mother says excitedly. Her hand briefly touches your leg as she shifts closer to see as well. “It’s just too exciting to learn the baby’s gender, don’t you think? How could we miss the appointment for this?”

She’s right, you realize. It’s very important for the father of the baby to be there when you find out the baby’s sex. And as much as you love Johnny, you look back up at him right then, and you realize that he very well may not be the father of this baby. There are thirteen other men who it could be, and it’s not fair to rob them of this experience.

“Wait,” you say. The technician stops, and when she looks at you, you clear your throat. “I don’t think I want to know today. If you can just, like, write it down and put it in an envelope?

“Honey, what?” Your mother picks up your hand from where Johnny’s just dropped it. “You don’t want to know today?”

You shake your head. One look at Johnny shows you that he’s a little bit hurt, but that he understands the thought process behind this decision. He wanted to be the special one here with you for this momentous step in your pregnancy. But worse than Johnny is your mother. She wants to be here for this.

“We can have a reveal party, Mom. I thought I wanted to know today, but I just think it’ll be more exciting to be surrounded by family and friends, you know?” Well, by that you mostly mean with all of the potential fathers there as well. “So, can you do that?”

The technician happily agrees. “Of course, once I verify the sex of the baby, I’ll be glad to do that for you! Your little one isn’t exactly in the right position for this, but let me try to move around, see if I can get a better angle.”

Your mother sits back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest, seeming very disappointed, but Johnny stands right at your side and puts his hand on your shoulder. You meet his gaze, and Johnny smiles.

“What are you hoping for?” You whisper. “When you’ve thought before about having kids, what were you deep down hoping to have?”

“Honestly?” Johnny turns his attention back to the screen, though at the moment there’s truly not much to see. “Growing up, I was an only child, you know. I always wanted a little brother, and then when I moved here I found my little brothers. Mark and Haechan, Chenle, Jisung, the other kids. And I realized that boys are such a mess, such a chaotic hassle, but that’s easy for me to understand and handle.” Johnny’s voice dips lower as he says, “A boy. I hope you’re having a boy.”

Later that day as you and Johnny return home with a sealed envelope tucked safely in your purse, still filled with happiness from the success of the long lunch with your mother and father (who in the end both loved Johnny entirely and were very charmed by him), you just want to tear open the envelope and share the news with all of the boys inside. It’s been hours since the appointment, Johnny had kept up conversation with your parents, and then he’d insisted on stopping to grab some stuff from the store on the way home.

By the time you walk through the door of the house, you’re buzzing with nervous excitement. You want to tear open that envelope to find out the sex of the baby, dive into the bags of candy you’d begged Johnny to buy for you, and be with the men you love. But as soon as you’ve stepped out of your shoes and tucked them away in the entryway of the house, Johnny reminds you that the boys all have a surprise for you.

“We’re back!” He calls, taking you by the hand and leading you into the living room.

You leave the grocery bags sitting beside the sofa. The house is suspiciously quiet and still. You frown.

A voice calls down from somewhere high above. “Just a moment!”

“Johnny... What is the surprise? You know usually, it’s...”

“It’s not a sex thing, don’t worry.” Johnny places a soothing hand on your head. “A good surprise.”

“You can come up!” Another voice calls down, and Johnny leads you by the hand up the stairs. By the time you reach the top floor, you can hear that all of the boys are up here, not just your boyfriends but the younger boys too. And once you’ve climbed the last step, you can see them all gathered around in the hallway.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on?”

“We have a surprise for you.” Taeil says, stepping out of his room and joining the others right in front of him. “Come here.”

Johnny lets go of your hand, and you walk forward slowly. You know that there’s no need to be suspicious of your boyfriends or the others, yet you can’t help it with them all being so mysterious.

“We all worked really hard today,” Jaehyun explains to you. “We honestly weren’t sure that we’d have it ready by the time you got home, so we had Johnny distract you a bit longer.” You frown back over your shoulder at Johnny, but he’s smiling down at Ten who’s whispering something to him. Jaehyun continues, “But we did finish. And it’s for you.”

He steps forward and lays his hand on the door to Taeil’s room.

“What did you do?” You look around at all of them assembled around you.

Tired of waiting, Yuta steps forward and pushes the door open. It’s not what you expected.

In place of the usual massive bed that occupied the space just earlier that morning is a more normal-sized bed. And, on top of that, it’s pretty, prettier than any boys room.

You take a step inside and look around a bit more. The walls have been repainted--three of the walls in cream, one in a dark shade of green. The room’s been redecorated entirely, and then as you turn and take a look in the corner of the room you see a crib and an armchair, a dresser with a stuffed polar bear toy that you recognize from Doyoung’s bed sitting on top of it.

“What is this?” You ask, then to Taeil, “Where will you sleep?”

“I moved down the hall.” Taeil grins. “We just thought that you need a space. For just you, for the baby.”

“You guys...”

You don’t know the exact moment when you start crying, but then you’re just suddenly in tears, bawling into the shoulder of whichever boy sweeps you first into a hug. They wrap around you, trying to comfort you, but you don’t exactly need comfort, you just need to outpour all of these emotions.

“It’s lovely, thank you all.” You eventually manage to get the waterworks under control, and as you wipe at your tears, you lift your head, catch sight of the crib again, and you remember. “Oh, I forgot! Johnny and I, at the appointment, I decided I didn’t want to find out right away, not then. I felt like you should all be there when I find out. My mother wasn’t too thrilled with that, but we can have, like, a gender reveal party, with my parents, some friends.”

“A party? Here?” Doyoung asks, ruffling his hand through his hair. “When? It’s almost Christmas.”

“Next weekend? Do you think that’s too soon?” You look around at all of them. Ten and Taeyong glance at each other, looking doubtful. “It is too soon, isn’t it. What about the following weekend? The, what would that be, the thirteenth?”

There’s murmurs around the room, the boys talking over their schedules, and after a few moments the general agreement is that they do have that day, for the most part, free for a party.

“I’m hungry.” You groan, sinking down onto the edge of Kun’s bed.

He looks up from his phone, frowning in confusion. “Why did you come in here instead of just going to the kitchen?”

“Because I don’t want to go all the way downstairs.” You shift, trying to get more comfortable, but that’s easier said than done.

“Oh, I get it.” Kun laughs. “You want me to go down there, make you something, and bring it back up here for you to enjoy?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” You finally lay down on your back, pillowing your head on Kun’s arm. “But, mostly I came in here because I know you have snacks. And snacks, plus cuddling in your bed is always going to be much, much better than walking downstairs to the kitchen.”

Kun rolls his eyes playfully and sits up, moving around you and bending over the edge of his bed to get at his snacks. You shift around, getting comfy, and tell him “I’ve been craving something salty. This baby just wants salty food.”

“Well, this baby convinced you to come to the right place.” Kun sits up again, dropping a bag of perfectly salty snacks into your lap. He settles back into place beside you, and after a few moments filled only with the sound of you crunching on your snacks, Kun asks, “Do you really not know what the baby is? Boy or girl?”

You shrug. “We really didn’t find out at the appointment, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I believe you. But what do you think it is? Or what are you hoping for?” Kun steals his hand into the bag in your lap.

You shrug, stuff your mouth full so you can buy yourself some time to think.

“I don’t think I really know. I had a dream a while ago, though, with a baby boy. But I think a girl would be good too. Little girls always have such cute clothes, and I know more about girls than boys. ”

“That’s what we’re here for, though. Me and the guys.” Kun puts a hand on your belly. “I want the baby to be a girl. I think raising a daughter, getting to spoil her, treat her like a little princess, that would be great.”

You snort. “No matter if this baby’s a boy or a girl, I’m sure it’ll be spoiled rotten by all of you. Chenle’s already bought a few things, he told me, and then I’ll never want for babysitters, with all of you around. But I don’t think I’ll be disappointed either way, boy or girl.”

“And what about names? Have you seriously thought about that yet?” Kun asks, once again dipping his hand into the bag, stealing away a handful of the snack. And because he’s Kun and avidly listening to you as you both relax and snack in his bed, you tell him all of the names you’ve been considering, he makes suggestions, you both fall off in a tangent about naming your child after characters from movies or dramas or books.

You’re still talking about it when Jaehyun peeks his head through the door. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” You sit up a little in Kun’s arms. “Were you looking for me?”

Jaehyun glances around the room before his narrowing eyes fall to Kun’s hand on your belly. “Yeah. I mean, no, not really. I was just... missing you. I didn’t need anything.” His hand flexes around the edge of the door.

“We were just talking about baby names,” Kun says. “And talking about what she wants the baby to be. Boy or girl.”

Jaehyun steps inside the room then, closing the door back behind him as he comes over to sit on the floor beside the bed. “Definitely a boy. An athlete.”

“You just want a mini-you.” You reach into the bag (which has drastically lost most of its contents since Kun first gave it to you) and toss a few pieces in Jaehyun’s direction.

“No, I just want a sweet baby with you.” Jaehyun tosses it right back at you, then lunges up to kiss you briefly. You twist your fingers in the front of his shirt, holding on even as he backs away. “Yeah, I hope you’re having a boy, but I bet you’re hoping for a girl, aren’t you? Taeyong told me he’s hoping for a girl because he’s already watched a boy be raised with his nephew, and he just thinks a girl will be easier.”

He’s probably not wrong. You often hear about the hijinks and mischief of little boys, and you imagine any son of yours, raised in a house like this, would definitely be chaotic, an uncontrollable whirlwind. Though, you’re sure that due to the influence of all of these men, a daughter might turn out equally as mischievous.

Kun and Jaehyun begin playfully bickering back and forth about names, and you zone out a bit, only snapping back to reality when Jaehyun puts a gentle hand on your knee.

“Sorry, I’m feeling tired.” You shake your head, and move, trying to push yourself to sit up. “I should get to bed. Growing a baby is tiring, and I have to work tomorrow.”

Kun reluctantly watches you leave his bed, but you kiss him before you go. Jaehyun walks with you upstairs to your door, and he leans against the doorway as you go inside, his hand quickly snatching yours to keep you there a moment longer.

“Goodnight.” He smiles, a loose, easy, happy expression. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You drape your arms over his shoulders, your hands tangle behind his neck, and you lean up to kiss him. Jaehyun smiles into the kiss, pushing it to be more than just a goodnight kiss, which you entertain for a moment longer. But you truly just want to sleep tonight, so you slide your arms from his shoulders, pressing your palm against his chest as you pull away.

“No,” Jaehyun moans greedily, giving you one, two, three more little kisses.

You bite your bottom lip and hold his gaze. Jaehyun’s warm eyes soak through you, heating you with a gentle radiant glow. Your stomach flutters, like the giddy butterflies you’d felt early on in this relationship.

“Goodnight, Jaehyun.” You pat his chest over his heart. “Love you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jaehyun’s hand clings to yours, only slowly letting up his hold so your hand can slip out of his.

“Go to bed,” you whisper at last, stepping inside and beginning to draw the door shut. “Go to sleep and dream about the baby. About me.”

Jaehyun laughs, steps close just one last time to kiss you, and then, as he pulls away, he murmurs, “You know I always dream about you.”

It doesn’t feel practical to be having a threesome when you’re twenty weeks pregnant, with a big round belly, yet that’s exactly what you find yourself doing.

Jungwoo and Hendery are goofing around together while the three of you are shopping together. Laughing, pushing each other, being loud enough that they draw attention to the three of you, but the weather’s recently turned very cold as the winter season truly takes hold in these days leading up to Christmas, so they’re covered up with hats and scarves, and Hendery’s wearing a mask as well as glasses. You find it unlikely that anyone could recognize them, but you continuously try to calm them down just in case.

You’re shopping for a few things to decorate your nursery, for some last minute Christmas presents, and originally you’d intended to come alone or to ask your mother or some of your friends if they wanted to come along, but at the last minute, Jungwoo volunteered and Hendery said he also had a need to go shopping.

You’d done Hendery’s shopping first, which had perhaps been a mistake as he was now weighed down with his own bags of new clothes. The emptying of his wallet had been encouraged by Jungwoo who was in a very bright mood, and suggest that Hendery buy everything he tried on, from a large fuzzy Nike jacket to a beanie that had cat ears, and even an umbrella that Hendery commented was pretty as the three of you passed by the store selling it. And now that he had all of these things, Hendery was distracted, and neither of them were helping you find the store you were looking for while you walked.

“Jungwoo!” You whine, clutching his arm and clinging to him when you have to turn around because the two of them stopped to play-fight right in the middle of this shopping mall.

An older man sitting on a bench a few feet away watches them somewhat fearfully, but a small group of young girls who are clustered together in front of a makeup store are hiding their giggles behind their hands.

“Sorry,” Jungwoo laughs. “Hendery’s just so cute, I can’t help but play with him today.” He reaches over as if to pinch Hendery’s cheek, and that just starts them off again.

“Ya!” You cry out, slapping at whichever of them is nearest you. “Focus!”

This time it’s Hendery’s turn to apologize. “Sorry, sorry.” He dramatically moves about six feet away from Jungwoo, well out of arm’s reach. “I promise to be good for the rest of this shopping trip.”

“Please. I just want to finish up and then go home.” You curl a hand over your belly as you feel something like bubbles, almost like you’re feeling gassy. And you know the sooner you get home the better if that’s the case. You refuse to use a public restroom just because you truly can’t be sure of how clean it is, and the risk of infections freaks you out, especially now that you’re pregnant and have another being's health to worry about.

“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asks, stepping closer, the light mood gone in an instant, replaced with concern as he notices you touching your belly.

“I’m fine, let’s just go so we can head home.”

After that, they’re both still somewhat goofy, but they stop messing around so much. Even as you’re in the baby store so you can find some cute decorations, Hendery sticks close to you, smiling awkwardly when another pregnant customer starts chatting with you about some things he’d rather not hear about.

But at some point in the chat she asks you, “How far along are you?”

“Twenty weeks.” You place your hand on your bump. “It’s crazy when I think about it, like, it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since I found out.”

She smiles. “Yes, but you should definitely enjoy it while you can. I remember my first one. Experiencing everything for the first time. Feeling my son kick for the first time was the strangest but most wonderful experience. Have you felt your little one yet?”

“Oh, I’m not really sure.” You look down at your belly while Hendery and Jungwoo whisper to each other a few feet away, looking at a selection of baby shoes. “I definitely haven’t felt like a kick.”

The woman laughs. “I don’t expect you would at only twenty weeks. The baby’s probably still too small for you to feel a big kick yet. For me it felt like butterflies in my tummy at first. Just little movements, kind of like gas sometimes, honestly.”

“Really?” You rub your hand over your round belly, thinking back to that feeling just earlier, thinking back further a few weeks, feeling random bouts of what you’d thought were nervous flutters. But maybe they were more. “Then I think I have.”

Almost as if it knows you’re talking about it, you feel it again. That little ripple of movement inside you that could almost be mistaken as something else. You look up at the woman in front of you, probably wide-eyed with surprise, and a smile breaks across your lips.

“Did you feel it?” She asks, her own smile rising to her lips.

“Yeah.” Quickly, you turn to your boyfriends. “Guys, I felt the baby move!”

They both reach for you at the same time, hands on your belly. The woman laughs, “They probably won’t be able to feel it yet. But soon. My husband first felt our son kicking through my belly when I was about twenty-five, twenty-six weeks.”

You hurry to finish up in the store, but you can’t stop touching your belly, can’t stop trying to feel the baby moving. By the time you’re back at the house, you can think of nothing else.

You take your purchases up to your room, and Jungwoo follows you.

“What does it feel like?” He asks, trying to put his hands on your belly again as soon as you’ve laid the bags down in the corner by the crib.

“Just a little flutter.” You tell him, moving to lay down on your bed. You pull your shirt up, exposing your belly to the room. Jungwoo comes closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s a soft knock on the door, and then it cracks open, Hendery comes inside, his eyes eagerly falling on your belly. “I agree with that woman earlier. You probably won’t be able to feel it yet. When I feel it, it’s not that strong yet.” You move your hand over your belly, thinking, this is so weird.

You knew that there was a baby inside you. Obviously. You’ve dealt with the morning sickness and the sore tits and everything else. You’ve watched and felt your body changing to accommodate this new life. You’ve heard the heartbeat and seen the sonogram.

But now you’d felt that life moving within you. And that was the realist thing yet.

“That’s amazing.” Jungwoo caresses your belly, leaning in to drop a kiss right below your belly button. “Do you remember what I told you that night, when we were in the living room after our date?”

“Hmm?” You sink back fully into the pillows and glance over at Hendery as he comes closer.

“About finding you pregnant very, very sexy.” Jungwoo kisses your belly again. “Your belly, your boobs. This glow.” His hands slide along your thighs and you shiver. He turns his head to the side, looking up at Hendery then back at you as he says, “I just want to make you feel good, princess. You’re doing so much, you deserve to feel good.”

“I do, don’t I?” You smile, lifting your hips a bit to encourage him.

Another kiss to your belly. His fingers at the waistband of your pants.

“What about me?” Hendery asks. “I want in, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt her.” Jungwoo tugs your pants down from your hips, bringing your panties down too. “She’s not made of glass, and it’s not like she’s been abstinent since the baby was made. The baby’s going to be fine, she’ll be fine. Want me to show you how, Hendery?”

Hendery makes a face. “I know how to--”

“Then kiss her or something.” Jungwoo watches hungrily as you sit up just enough to pull your top over your head, then you reach back and unfasten your bra, and once that’s fallen away, you’re bare in front of the two of them.

“Your boobs.” Hendery groans lustfully.

You feel Jungwoo’s lips hot on your belly, moving higher to the top of your bump. His hips drop against your leg, and you feel his erection, and when you reach for Hendery, wanting to drag him into a kiss, your fingers brush against the front of his pants, and he makes such a desperate sound, pushing his hips forward into your touch.

Jungwoo nuzzles against your breasts, breath tickling along your skin.

Hendery pulls his shirt over his head, sinking down to the bed with you, and his lips connect with yours in a messy, uncoordinated kiss as you plunge your hand down the front of his pants to touch him.

Hendery’s always easy like this, so easy to work up, to touch him and get him going quickly.

You moan when Jungwoo touches you, slicking a finger between your folds, teasing. Hendery hurries to wiggle out of his pants, and his hand takes over from yours as he kneels up on the edge of the bed as soon as he’s free of the pants. Jungwoo flicks his tongue over one of your nipples and then sits up, kneeling back between your legs and looking at Hendery, then at you, then back at Hendery.

“Wanna suck you, Hendery,” you mumble, stroking down his thigh. His hand squeezes around his cock. “Please, you know I’ve missed your dick, the taste of you.”

“Fuck, princess, you’re wet.” Jungwoo enters you with two fingers, the glide easy because you truly are so wet right now. “Give it to her, Hendery. She’s clearly drooling for it.”

Hendery shifts forward on the bed, and you open your mouth for him. His eyes all but roll back in his head with pleasure as he sinks his dick between your lips. And while you’re distracted in getting Hendery’s dick wet, Jungwoo’s fat tip presses against your pussy, and with just a push, you stretch open around him, taking him in just as well as Hendery.

It feels so good to have them both inside you. It’s been months since you last got double-teamed; the boys are scared enough when having sex with you one-on-one, but doing it like this, the closest you’ve had to this was when rolling around with Xiaojun he’d given you his fingertips to suck on while he was inside you.

“Oh, god.” Hendery moans.

You wrap your hand around him, and bobbing your head on him, focusing on just the tip, it’s easy to get him close. Hendery’s been without any action except for himself for so long, since at least a couple weeks before you realized you were pregnant.

You drag his cock between your lips, push down once on him, taking him deep. You hungrily lick and suck, working your very best to get Hendery off while Jungwoo thrusts into you.

Hendery’s cock falls from your lips, and his breath comes out raggedly as his hand jerks over his length, carrying him to his orgasm. You feel it splash warm across your chest and your chin, striped across your breasts. You moan, stretching up to wrap your lips around his tip again, licking, lightly sucking, and you snake a hand down your body to touch yourself, fingers on your clit as Jungwoo pulls out, running his hand over himself.

And when you feel his cock rub against your belly, you get what he’s doing. His kink for your pregnant body doesn’t end with just fucking you, he wants to cum on you, mark up your pregnant belly with his semen.

“Jungwoo, Jungwoo, please!” You pant, sliding your own fingers inside yourself, trying to reach your orgasm. “Wanna cum!”

“Ah, baby.” Hendery pets your hair. “Want me to help you?”

You nod, already grabbing his hand, bringing it down your body, but his hand slows as it passes your belly, and before he can even touch you, Jungwoo swats his hand away.

Jungwoo fucks back into you, his hands touching your belly, driving into you again and again.

The orgasm shudders through you, powerful and good, and Jungwoo pulls out a second later, and his cum stripes across your swollen belly. Carefully, so as to avoid landing on you, Jungwoo drops off to your side and pushes his face into your pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Hendery disappears into the ensuite bathroom, emerging a few moments later with a damp cloth which he uses to wipe the drying cum from your chest, chin, and belly. He gently wipes between your legs, and then runs it once more over your belly.

“That was the first time I’ve had sex in this bed.” You sigh, wiping your hand across your forehead, brushing away some hair. “Thanks.”

Hendery laughs. “Oh, anytime.”

It feels very strange having your parents there in the house along with all of your boyfriends and the younger boys. If your parents think this is an odd location for your sex reveal party, they don’t comment on it. They don’t ask you why Johnny’s parents aren’t there. They certainly don’t ask why all of the older boys are eagerly introducing themselves to your parents, or question why your mother walks in on you holding Kun’s hand in the kitchen.

If your parents find any or all of this strange, they don’t say a word, and for that you’re very grateful.

Because the day has finally come to learn the sex of your baby.

It’s been two weeks since the appointment, and Johnny has sworn up and down that he hasn’t looked at the envelope. He hid it away where no one would find it, so no one else would be tempted to open it until the party.

As you’d begun setting things up for the party the day before, cleaning the house, organizing, you’d entrusted one of the boys’ managers with picking up a gender reveal cake for you. She’d been supportive of your pregnancy since the boys had told their managers about it, so you trusted her to do it well.

And then there’s your friends. Your close group of friends who already had suspected your baby daddy to be an idol after that last dinner. It had started out as a joke, obviously, but as you wanted to invite them to the party, and after talking with the boys, you’d texted your group chat with your friends and told them that the father actually is an idol, you can’t say who, just that he is.

So naturally, after telling them and inviting them to the party, they were all asking you all over again who the father was, and you refused to tell them, just made them promise that if they came to the party, they wouldn’t talk about it. You didn’t want to ruin any careers over this pregnancy. And you trusted them a lot.

Having all of them here--you parents, your friends, your hoard of boyfriends, and the other members--was very odd.

Especially when you overheard Mark and Ten and YangYang giggling together about you inviting your parents to a sex party. “Sex reveal party! A reveal! Not a sex party.” You’d cried out in exasperation.

As everyone showed up to the party, they were dressed in either pink or blue, depending on whether they thought you were having a boy or a girl. It was interesting to finally see what each of your boyfriends thought as they emerged from their rooms wearing either color.

“I just don’t own anything pink,” Taeyong tells you, tugging at the strings of his blue hoodie. “But I think it’s a girl.”

Your friends arrive in their various shades, the majority of them wearing blue. As soon as their eyes land on Mark, you hear gasps.

“What the fuck, I knew it!” The friend that had been with you when you ran into Taeyong during your break wraps her arm through yours.

“NCT?” Another of your friends cries, pulling you even closer into the midst of them. “The father of your baby is a member of NCT? How the fuck did you manage that? Why have you kept this a secret for so long?”

The hungry eyes and titters among a few of the girls is reason enough, you think. There’s a jealous flare in your belly as one of them tries to catch Lucas’s eye as he passes by wearing a gaudy pink sweater.

“It wasn’t easy, I promise you. Just, don’t flirt with them, okay?” You try to slip away, wanting to go hide in the balloon bouquet of blue, purple, and pink that someone had placed in the corner by the stairs.

“What? You want to keep them all for yourself? Babe, that’s just not practical.” One of your friends laughs, and the others laugh too. You feel warm now because that’s exactly what you want; all of them for yourself. It might not be practical, but it is reality. “So which one of them is it? Which one are you dating?”

You praise the universe in the next moment when your mother comes over, all smiles and her second mimosa in her hand. “That Doyoung is so polite. Girls! You’ve made it! Goodness, when was the last time I saw you?” She pulls your friends into hugs, and in that time, you escape.

You sit down beside Jisung (in blue) and Ten (in pink) at the kitchen table where they’re picking through the snacks, nibbling and now watching your friends warily.

“How much do they know again?” Ten asks you.

You reach for his glass of water, gulping it down to calm yourself. “They know that one of you is the father, I haven’t given them any name or anything. I did, however, make them promise not to talk about being here today. God, I’m nervous.”

Ten covers your hand with his, squeezing gently, and says, “Don’t be” at the same time as Jisung asks, “About what you’re having or your friends finding out that you don’t even know who the dad is?”

You just groan and drop your face into your arms. Ten laughs but puts a soothing hand on your back. “It’s okay. You know it’ll be fine.”

Your nerves just continue to increase as you notice your father trying to chat with Johnny (in blue) even as Mark (also in blue) keeps trying to get your father to talk with him, and your mother is simply being charmed by Kun (wearing both pink and blue, unable to decide) and Jaemin (wearing an unhelpful shade of pale purple that could almost be pink) and Taeyong. And then there’s your friends, dispersing among the boys, sometimes huddling together in pairs to whisper, sometimes they’re all over the place-- one talking to Lucas, while another blushes as she asks Taeil to hand her a napkin to wipe up the drink she spilled, while another stands beside Ten and Yuta to admire Ten’s tattoos.

“Relax.” Jaehyun comes up behind you, startling you. His hands settle on your shoulders. “You’re so tense, I feel like you need some cake. Then for this party to end, then maybe a nap or at least a footrub, right? Nice bubblebath?” His hands massage your shoulders, thumbs digging in wonderfully to the tense muscles.

You drop your head back with a groan. “That sounds great.”

“I’ll go get the cake,” he whispers. His lips just barely brush against your cheek in a kiss, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the kitchen to fetch the cake from where their manager left it chilling in the fridge.

“Everyone!” You call, but your voice shakes and gets lost in the din of other voices. Doyoung notices you though, so he shouts instead, “Everyone!”

The attention in the room shifts to Doyoung beside you until he waves at you, passing all of the attention right onto you. Nervously you rest your hands on your belly.

“We’re going to cut the cake now.” You move over toward a small table that had been moved into the living room, in front of a wall of blue and pink streamers and balloons and golden string lights that Ten and WinWin had hung up earlier that morning.

Jaehyun emerges from the kitchen, carrying the cake in front of him. Renjun’s right behind him with a knife and a stack of plates.

As soon as Jaehyun sets the cake down and Renjun’s handed you the knife, you stand alone up there.

You’d decided it was best if you stood up there alone. Yes, as far as your parents are aware Johnny’s the father, but you don’t really want your friends to think that because it’s simply not a certainty. So all of the boys stand back, and you clear your throat.

If your parents and friends can feel the pure excitement and anticipation radiating off of most of the young men in the room, they don’t seem to think twice about it. But every eye is on you as you lift up the knife Renjun handed you, as you make your first slice into the cake. An excited ripple moves through the room as you make the second cut. And then you slip the knife under the slice and carefully bring the slice out of the cake, revealing the color inside.

Cheers around the room.

Pink! Pink! The cake is pink!

You throw yourself into the arms of the first boy who approaches you. Jungwoo, Johnny, Lucas, Jaehyun, Kun, they all pile in.

“Careful! Careful!” You hear your mother crying. “Be careful with her!”

The boys all back away, giving you just enough space, and Johnny’s hands fall to your round belly. Doyoung touches the back of your head, his fingers wandering down through your hair, settling on the back of your neck. WinWin stands right beside you, nearly bouncing in his excitement.

Your mother rushes forward and your friends, all gathering around you to touch your belly. Already your mother’s suggesting names to you. One of your friends, who’s already had a daughter, is offering you hand-me-downs. With everyone around you like this, the heat of everybody surrounding you, your head begins to buzz, and you look around, searching for anything to steady you.

“Cake? Who wants cake?” Mark asks, and you turn to see him right beside you, a slice of cake on a plate in his hand. He starts slicing and handing them out, getting people to move away from you, offering you more space to breathe.

You sit down at an empty spot on the sofa. Johnny sits down beside you, grinning, handing a delightfully pink slice of cake to you. He bumps his shoulder against yours.

“A girl. A baby girl. What do you think about that?” He asks.

You put a gentle hand on your belly, feeling the baby--your baby girl--stir inside you. Lately you’re more in-tune to those movements. You can tell the difference between butterflies and gassiness and her moving inside you.

“Eat up, baby. Let this little girl taste her celebratory cake.” Johnny taps the plate, and then stands up, clearing the space beside you for your closest friend to slip into. Johnny goes over to Jaehyun and Hendery, throwing his arms over their shoulders, all three of them cheering.

“Congratulations!” She folds one leg over the other. “A sweet baby girl. And with a daddy like this, she’ll have life made.” She grins and looks around the room, scanning over all of the boys, your other friends, your parents. “But really, which one of them is it? I’ve been watching you, trying to figure it out, but I can’t tell. You seem really close with all of them.”

You push a forkful of cake between your lips. “I am close with all of them.”

“Right, but which of them got you pregnant?” And then her voice drops lower. “And at dinner you said they, so like, is that they two of them that you’re with, or one of them with someone else?”

“I can’t tell you that.” You reply, keeping your voice low so no one else hears. “I can’t risk it getting out.”

She smiles again, amused and victorious even though you didn’t really tell her anything. “I’ll take that as you’re having sex with two of them. You don’t have to tell me, but I just hope that you’re happy with them.”

“I really am. Happy.” You lean back, stroking your bump. “They make me so happy, how could they not when because of them I have this to look forward to.” You feel like you’re probably smiling like a fool, looking down at your belly, unable to block out the daydreams that pour through your mind. A life with your daughter. You feel that little now-familiar flutter. “I’m having a girl. A daughter.”

You look up from your belly, catching Yuta’s eye from across the room. He winks at you, and you can’t help the giddy feeling that rises up in you, so you just laugh, sinking back in your seat, feeling more relaxed, lighter, happier.

Good Thing <- Previous || Next -> gimme that: a drabble

a/n: oof this was a long one, now I hope y’all see why I split the last one and this one into two parts instead of keeping it as one long one. I’m not really sure when the next part is going to be posted, but I do have a drabble to post probably a week from now. I hope you enjoyed this part, like that resolution to Mark proposing, I really enjoyed seeing everyone’s reactions to that ending of Good Things. Please let me know what you thought, as usual, reblogs, comments, likes are super appreciated!

#nct smut #wayv smut #nct #wayv #nct2020 #poly smut

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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years

Text

Satisfied Curiosity (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Bartender!Reader does everything she can to get the cute FBI agent’s attention.

A/N: This wasn’t suppose to be so long or late, but my mind got the best of me. Big Thanks to @spencer-reid-in-a-pool and @reidetic for being amazing Betas (you guys are precious!). This story would be utterly unintelligible without them. Also thank you to everyone who showed love to my first fic. I didn’t expect for it to receive half of the attention it was given. I’m super grateful and I hope to provide more for you all. Enjoy!

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Sexting, Oral (Male Receiving), Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation

Word Count: 9.1K (sorry, not sorry)

Masterlist

I’d like to think that I’m able to read people pretty well. Since working as a bartender for the past five years, I can examine an individual and have their personality down pat. Facial expressions, body language, posture, gestures. All these things are basically words to a story that I am able to put together.

My thought process was cut off when I noticed these two guys sitting at the end of the bar. I regarded them momentarily. They don’t look like the typical bar patron, their clothing a little too unseemly for a place like this. They were surveying the area as if looking for something.

I got a side profile of the tan Hispanic man. He had dark curly hair and trimmed facial hair. He was talking lowly to the man he was sitting with, their eyes still skimming all over their surroundings. I couldn’t get a good look at the other guy since his back was to me.

They sat tall, their bodies alert to any movement. It was as if it was their first time at a bar, but I know they were not uncomfortable here. There were no jittery movements from what I can see; no telltale signs that they were nervous. They also were not paying much attention to the people around them, focusing more on random spots within the place. Weird. Are they inspectors? Nah, that can’t be. Drew always gives us a heads up when visitors come. Plus, we got checked a few weeks ago.

The two finally turned towards my direction, and I was able to see the other guy. Wow, he was hot. Like very hot. Loose brown curls sat wildly on his head, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. He had a light stubble going on, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. Damn, I bet I’d cut myself just touching it. He had a beautiful pair of pink lips. I quickly turned my attention to his left hand, noticing the lack of a ring. No wife, good. Now I need to make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend or fiancée waiting for him at home.

I trailed my eyes upward, noticing that he was staring at me as well. I felt my face heat up when I saw him smirk. Damn, he caught me checking him out. His companion was also looking at me expectantly. They probably have been trying to get my attention for a while now, most likely to order some drinks. I made my way towards them, smoothing my hands over my jeans.

“Evening fellas, would you like to see a menu?” I asked as I placed some napkins in front of them.

“No thanks, but my partner and I would like to ask you some questions…” said the Hispanic man with a small pause. He quickly looked at my name tag before looking back at me “…(Y/N)”

The fuck? Partners? I didn’t think they were a couple. I did a quick glance over at them. Two Alpha males in a relationship rarely ever work out. They were not physically close to one another either. Sigh, you always fall for the ones you can’t get.

I didn’t answer them, still mentally distraught over this taken man. I’m sure they took my silence as confusion because the Hispanic man went on to explain, “I’m Luke Alvez and this here is Dr. Spencer Reid,” they flashed their badges, showing me some credentials. “We’re with the FBI.” Oh. I glanced toward Dr. Reid, a smile tugging on my lips. Score, we’re back in business.

I figured I might be here for a while so I got myself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as I can get standing behind a bar. I leaned towards them, my hands resting on the bar top. “Well, in that case, fire away.”

“Have you noticed any males here who arrived by themselves? This man likely sits alone, only interacts with women. He presents himself as a charming gentleman. His head would be facing downwards if he were sitting at the bar and he would probably wear some kind of hat to shield himself,” asked Luke.

“That’s roughly 50% of my male patrons, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Yea, I should have figured that is not much to go by.”

I turned my attention back to the doctor who has yet to say a word, noticing that he was once again looking at random spots around the bar. “Your friend here is awfully quiet.”

At my comment, Spencer finally looked at me. I am sure that time stopped as his honey-colored eyes stared deeply into my own. If it wouldn’t come off strange, I’d stared at them all day.

He eventually turned away from me, “This place has a lot of blind spots.” He pointed to one corner by the back and another near the billiards table. It took a moment for me to comprehend what he was saying since I was distracted by the sound of his voice. He could probably recite Shakespeare and I’d think it was erotica.

He continued talking, oblivious of my swooning. “The man we are looking for does not want to be seen, he’ll know where to be so that the camera can’t spot him. He’ll likely bring the woman he’s talking to there or even over there,” he pointed to another spot, this time it was a small crook partially hidden behind a wall.

“The area by the restroom entrance also has no camera at all so he’ll possibly spend some time there as well,” he finished.

“I’d think I’ll notice some creep hanging near the bathrooms all night,” I remarked. “However, we have a security room in the back if you want to look over some footage.” I pointed to a door opposite the kitchen’s entrance.

“That’ll be very useful, thanks,” Luke reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He turned to Spencer saying “I’ma call Garcia, see if she can run some facial recognition on this guy.” With that, he walked to the security room.

I focused my attention back on Spencer, hoping he’ll stay here a bit longer. “May I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he said, the damn smirk on his face once again. Smartass.

“Haha, I’m serious,” He didn’t say anything, which I took as my cue to continue. “What exactly does someone like you do in the FBI?”

“Someone like me?” he repeated.

“Well, you do not look like a typical agent,” I stated, and he just raised a single eyebrow at me. “Not to say that you’re probably bad at your job. I’m sure that you’re amazing at whatever it is that you do. I’d just like to know exactly what it is. Like what does your job entail…” Great, out of all times for my motor mouth to talk off, it chose this moment.

Spencer didn’t say anything and the awkward pause was killing me. I wanted to grab his gun and shoot myself in the foot. He probably thought I was insulting him. He continued to watch me as I fidgeted under his stare.

Finally, he decided to show me some mercy. “I use psychology to profile and find people,” he put it simply.

“That’s it?” I questioned.

“Pretty much,” he stated evenly, focusing his attention on the napkin in front of him. His body was slightly tenser than before, telling me that he was uncomfortable. I decided to drop the topic.

I scanned his being in an attempt to find something, anything that would allow me to continue talking to him. He beat me to it. “Which Sherlock portrayal are you a fan of?”

I was momentarily confused as to how he knew I was a fan. “Um, I started watching BBC’s Sherlock but I find the books to be much more interesting than the show. Are you a fan?”

“Of the books, yes. I haven’t had the chance to watch any of the series or films. I always find that reading offers a better experience. That’s a nice pin you have by the way.”

Pin? I looked down and remembered my “I am Sherlocked” pin clasped next to my name tag. Gosh, I feel like an idiot. Just when I was going to reply, I saw Luke stepping out of the security room.

I turned back towards Spencer, who was digging his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a card and gave it to me. “The number of the precinct we are helping is on here. If you have any further information, you should contact them.”

What, no. I don’t want him to leave yet. “But what if I want to talk to you more?”

“My number is on the back.” I flipped the card around and was greeted by a ten-digit code sprawled out in blue ink.

A smile adorned my face as I looked back at him. “How did you do that?” There’s not even a pen near his hands. Unless he carries all these cards with his number on it, which I severely doubt.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he stated.

“I’m a naturally curious person.”

He paused for a moment to dart his tongue across his lips. He made sure to look into my eyes before saying “You know that curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

He gave a low laugh, “Touché.”

Just then Luke walked back to us, his phone to his ear. “C’mon man. The team needs us back at the station. There’s been another victim.”

“We’ll talk later,” Spencer said to me. My heart skipped a beat at his words. I felt like a kid who had a childhood crush.

Spencer got up and with one last glance at my direction, the two of them headed out the door.

Well, there goes the best part of my day. I’m being selfish wishing that he would have stayed behind. The man is here to find a criminal, not get his dick sucked. I folded the card and slid it into my pocket before grabbing a rag. These shot glasses aren’t going to clean themselves.

●The Next Day●

I spent the last few hours debating on whether or not I should text Spencer. I tried to distract myself with mundane activities. I watched TV, did my chores, even attempted to read a book, but nothing kept my interest. I grabbed the card that was sitting idly on my dresser, pondering on what to do.

You shouldn’t. But I’m bored and he’s cute. He’s an FBI agent for crying out loud. He got important things to do. What’s the worst that can happen? You could get arrested for obstruction of justice. Or I can get closer to him and find out more about him.

It is settled. I added Spencer’s number to my contacts and perched myself on my bed before sending a short text.

‘Hello Dr. Reid.’ I waited a minute, then two, then three, anxiously hoping for a response back. This was a bad idea, he’s probably at another bar trying to catch this guy. I should just delete his number and make myself a sandwich.

Right when I was going to do just that, my phone vibrated. I never opened my messages so fast in my life.

‘(Y/N). Is everything okay?’

A smile broke across my face as I pondered on what to send him. Should I keep everything cute and sweet? Nah. That’s boring. Should I send some salacious texts? No, he’ll probably think I am some kind of skank. Perhaps I should go for the playful persona?

I finally decided to type out a message, not wanting him to wait any longer. I don’t need him thinking that I’m in actual danger because I don’t know how to respond to a simple text.

‘I’m more than okay now that you’re here.’

I didn’t have to wait long before his next text came in. ‘Is there something that you need?’

Oh Spencer, if only you knew. However, what I want cannot be attained at the moment. I quickly typed across my keypad, ‘That’s a loaded question.’

Apparently he did not like that since his next reply was, ‘I don’t have time for this. I am working right now.’

Well shit, should I stop? Hell no, we are in too deep. Besides, he could always choose to ignore my messages instead of responding. And he did give me his number instead of just leaving me with the precinct’s. With that in mind, I typed out a text and quickly pressed send before I started second-guessing my choices again.

‘So you don’t want to talk to me?’

Again, I didn’t have to wait long for his next message to come through. ‘You should only contact me if you have information pertinent to the man we are looking for.’

That’s bullshit. Why give me your number if you didn’t want me to talk to you? ‘You said we’ll continue the conversation later. It’s later.’

‘Later, When I am not working.’ he clarified.

If I were a smart girl, I would have left this alone so that he could work peacefully. But I’m not. ‘All work and no play makes for a grumpy doctor. Don’t you want some entertainment?’

‘You’re acting childish.’

I couldn’t help but grin at his statement. If only he knew. Well, I could drop him a hint or two. ‘I’ve been compared to a brat before.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I’m a glutton for punishment, agent.’

‘Do you want me to deliver?’

My breath caught in my throat. Could it be? Does Dr. Reid have a darker side to him? Or maybe I’m reading too deeply into this. I don’t care, I’m having too much fun at the possibility of this man having a more unhinged side to him. I wanted to see it. I decided to be cheeky with him, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Sir.’

‘What are you trying to get at?’ One step forward and two steps back. I guess profiling and mind-reading are not one and the same if he has to ask me this. Or maybe he isn’t used to someone asking him to dick them down without outright saying they want him to dick them down.

‘I said it already, I just want to talk to you.’

It took a couple of minutes for his reply to come through. ‘We’ll talk later.’

I decided to give Spencer a break. I got what I wanted with his earlier comment. I ended everything with an ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ and put my phone down. I looked at the clock on my bedside table and saw that an hour had passed. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. I might as well start getting ready for work.

●●●

Four hours into my shift and the crowd near the bar was barely manageable. I’m not a big fan of working Friday evenings. I easily get annoyed with the sloppy drunks who think they could hook up with any of the workers but the tips usually make up for it at the end of the night.

I was grabbing some bottles of beer when all of a sudden I got a twisted feeling in my gut. I felt the hairs in the back of my neck stand up, and not in a good way. Call it a sixth sense, but I suspected that something was wrong, very wrong. I placed the bottles down and looked at the countless customers littered around the bar top. My eyes landed on this man who was giving off some creepy vibes.

I’d like to think I had a pretty good memory and this guy was definitely new. He was hunched over, eyes looking at the menu on the table. He was rapidly tapping his finger on top of the table, so I assumed he was feeling uneasy. Every once in a while, his head would peek up, as if he was searching the crowd for someone. He had a baseball cap on, the hat pressed tightly down on his head, his blond hair barely peeking through.

From what I can see he was attractive enough. A full-on beard decorated his face. He had on a leather jacket and a fitted shirt; seemingly trying to give off bad boy vibes. I started making my way towards him, “Is there anything you’d like to order?”

“That depends, are you on the menu?” Ugh. Gag. If I had a dollar for every time some Casanova wannabe used that line on me, I could pay for two months of my rent. He had a smile on his face that could be charismatic but I just found it downright disturbing.

“Food and drinks only. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s fine sweetheart, I’ll have whatever beer y’all got on tap.” As I walked away, I could feel his eyes leering at me. Should I text Spencer? No, I dealt with creeps before, this is nothing new.

I turned back to where Mr. Creepy Guy was previously sitting but he was no longer occupying the seat. Fuck. I took a look around the crowded pub, hoping to spot him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, I did. He was near the bathroom entrance talking to some girl who hardly looked like she could keep herself up.

Shit, I should get Spencer right now. I pondered on whether I should call him but figured that he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the volume of the crowd. I hurriedly pull my phone out of my pocket, trying my best to send the message as fast as my shaky hands can manage.

‘I’m pretty sure the man you’re looking for is here. You should bring some officers ASAP.’

Come on, Come on, Come on, have your cell on you. My phone vibrated, alerting me of a message. Oh thank god yes. ‘Are you serious?’ it read.

What the? Does he think I’m pranking him or something? I angrily typed on my screen, ‘This isn’t exactly something I will joke about Spencer.’

‘We’ll be there soon’ came his simple response. Okay, good. Now I just need to make sure that this guy doesn’t try to escape.

I looked back up and saw Mr. Creepy Guy still near the restrooms. One of his hands was holding on to the girl’s arm and I just knew he was trying to get her out of here. Spencer and company won’t arrive fast enough. I have to do something to make him stay longer.

I turned to my co-bartender, Manny, “I am going to take a 10 minute break.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I opened the small door dividing us from the crowd and made my way to Mr. Creepy Guy.

Once I got to the two of them, I spewed the first thing that came to mind, “Uh, excuse me. You um, forgot your drink. You know, the beer. That you ordered. At the bar earlier. About 10 minutes ago.” God, I looked like an idiot, but I couldn’t risk saying something that made him apprehensive.

Mr. Creepy guy sneered at me, “Yeah. I didn’t want it anymore.” Well, who shit in your cereal, mister. Oh right, that would be me. I gotta keep him a bit more distracted.

“Well if you order something, you gotta pay for it. Bar’s policy.” He continued to glare at me upset that I was being a cockblocker. Or more appropriately a murderblocker. Realizing that I wasn’t going away soon, he pulled a bill from his pocket before throwing it at me. Wow I wonder where his pleasant attitude disappeared to.

I turned my attention to this poor girl and noticed she wasn’t looking too good. I assumed she was drunk but she looked way off it; as if she had been drugged or something.

Fucking hell, she probably has been. She can’t stand on her own two feet and she could barely stop her eyes from drooping downwards.

“Your friend here doesn’t look too good,” I commented, my hand already going towards the arm he wasn’t currently holding on to.

“She’s fine. We were just about to leave, right Sarah?” he asked the girl. ‘Sarah’ didn’t say a word, too busy trying her best to not crash down on the floor.

“Nonsense, we can’t have you leaving in such a state, it would look bad on us,” I improvised. “We’ll give her something real quick to help sober her up.” I hastily scanned the room, spotting Hannah, one of my coworkers, a few feet away.

“Hey Hannah,” I shouted, garnering her attention. I gestured for her to come here and she started walking over. When she stood in front of us, I pried ‘Sarah’ out of Mr. Creepy Guy’s hold and gently ushered her into Hannah’s arms.

“This is Sarah and she’s not feeling all that well. Can you tell Manny to give her the Queen’s special?” Hannah instantly knew what was up. The Queen’s special is our code name for helping those who we believe are in an uncomfortable or dangerous situation. Most of the time, the person is coherent enough to ask for help, but for these kinds of scenarios we’ll have to rely on our own wits.

The two walked, or in Sarah’s case, stumbled away. Hannah managed to give Mr. Creepy Guy a glare which he openly returned in my direction. I gave him a small smile, hoping he didn’t get suspicious and try to leave.

“She’ll be right back, would you like that beer while you wait?” I asked.

“No, you did enough,” He jeered, taking slow steps back. I could have sworn he muttered ‘fucking bitch’ as he disappeared in the crowd, no doubt hightailing it out of here.

Crap, I should follow him. At least I’ll be able to tell the cops what direction he went or what his license plate number is. I started walking to the exit, shoving my way through the sweaty mass of people.

Once I got to the door, I pushed it open feeling the cool air hit my face. I looked around, trying to see if I could find Mr. Creepy Guy but to no avail. I walked a few steps down, searching to see if he went down an alley or something.

The place was eerily quiet and my nerves were starting to get the best of me. I suddenly felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and let out an ear-piercing scream. I whirled around, my hand already in a fist to punch the living daylight out of this person.

Right when my hand was going to make contact, a hand closed around my fist. No problem, I’ll just kick you in the shin. My leg was about to leave the ground when I heard a stern “Calm down (Y/N).”

I know that voice. For the first time, I looked up and saw that it was Spencer behind me. I never realized beforehand how easily he towered over my form. He released my hand and I leaned my body against the wall next to me. The adrenaline from earlier leaving me.

“What the fuck Spencer, a little warning next time,” I angrily shouted at him. “You could have said my name before grabbing me or just tapped my shoulder. I don’t like being manhandled.”

“I severely doubt that,” he whispered. Wait, what. “Is the man still inside?” he asked in a louder voice than before.

“Um no. That’s the reason why I came out here. I was trying to find where he went.”

“And you decided to check an alleyway.” I casted my eyes down, paying attention to a piece of gravel on the floor. The tone of voice he was using made me feel as if I was in trouble. “Do you know what kind of danger you just put yourself in? What if it was him behind you instead of me just now?” he chastised.

“I was fighting back,” I retorted.

“And you were losing that fight. You had no weapon of any kind to help defend yourself. You are no match for a fully grown male who sees girls like you as nothing but property,” Spencer snapped.

I felt miffed that he was scolding me about my safety but a pathetic part of me was turned on as well. I decided to switch this conversation back to what was important. “He’s a Caucasian man. About 5’9 with dirty blonde hair and facial hair. He had a Salem Red Sox cap and a faux black leather jacket. Burgundy henley shirt with black washed jeans and white Adidas,” I recounted from my memory.

He recited everything word for word into his radio. “Go back inside, we’ll take care of it from here.”

“You’re fucking welcome by the way,” I sarcastically stated. Before I could blink, Spencer slammed his hands on either side of my head and was staring intently into my eyes. I felt my heart rate pick up instantly. I didn’t know whether to be scared or horny so my body decided on both.

He had a carnal look in his eyes and I felt a light shiver run down my spine. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. It was as if it happened in slow motion, my eyes hungrily following the movement. He opened his mouth to speak and I was eagerly anticipating his words.

“Reid, come in. We need you for backup.” What the..? It was then that I noticed his comms were still on and one of his team members was trying to get his attention.

“Go back inside,” Spencer repeated, “We’ll continue this later.” Yeah fucking right. This is the third time you’ve told me this in the thirty hours I’ve known you. Nevertheless, I obeyed but it wasn’t because he told me; it was because I got paid by the hour and I was already gone for over fifteen minutes. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I walked back inside.

I turned around to get a glimpse of his retreating form but he was already gone.

●●●

It was past midnight and I had about forty-five minutes left until my shift ended. The place was a lot emptier right now, which is pretty shocking. However, I’m guessing no one wanted to be around and get wasted when the cops were roaming about barely an hour ago.

I was pouring some shots for this couple when I felt a vibration in my pocket. I finished serving the duo before fishing my phone out, opening my messages straight away. ‘We caught the guy.’

I didn’t bother reading the name, knowing already who it was. Is it wrong of me to be a bit upset? I’m happy there’s one less criminal on the streets but I wanted to see Spencer some more.

Hmmm. There’s still a chance to make something happen, but I can’t mess it up. I quickly typed, ‘I should get a reward. I did help you catch the guy.’

I assumed that I’d have to wait a few minutes for him to respond but that was not the case. ‘And what is it that you want?’ It’s now or never.

‘You.’

I’m guessing he had his phone glued to him right now because his reply was immediate. ‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

‘I’m not scared Spencer.’ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he didn’t want me. But all the heated moments we had shared thus far had to have meant something.

‘You should be, I’m not the man that you need.’ was his reply.

I decided to be a bit cheeky, remembering that it gave me some results when I was messaging him earlier today. ‘You’re a man and I am in need, that’s more than enough for me. Save the rest for the pillow talk.’

I didn’t even get to put my phone down before his next text arrived. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

Damn, this man is a hard nut to crack, but he has made me stubborn for him. I guess I’ll have to use my ultimate weapon.

Taking note of my surroundings, I dimmed the brightness of my phone and made sure to keep it close to my body. I don’t need any of the customers or coworkers to have a sneak peek into my secret album. I opened the app that holds all of my inappropriate photos, pondering on which one I should send to Spencer.

My eyes landed on one I took pretty recently. I’m not trying to sound conceited or anything but I looked fucking hot. It was erotic and sensual, but not overly so.

I was lying on my bed, one hand holding onto my chest while the other held the phone up. My fingers were spread apart, allowing for the taunt nipple of my left breast to peek out. The dim lighting of the lamp helped accentuate the curves of my body. The picture includes the lower half of my face, where I was biting down on my lower lip. I was wearing a white lacy thong that barely left anything for the imagination.

I quickly clicked on the photo and made it so that he’ll have to download the image before seeing it. I added the caption Warning, it’s a bit NSFW, before hitting send. Crossing my fingers, I hoped for a reply soon.

I waited and waited but my phone did not notify me of any new messages. Five minutes have passed and I was shit out of luck. Welp I tried. Now I gotta pick up my pride from the floor.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrate and I felt happiness immediately taking over. At first, I thought it was a text message, except the vibrations kept going and going. Realization hit me, it’s an incoming call. I grabbed it quickly, a small squeal leaving my mouth when I saw Spencer’s name appear. I accepted the call and put it towards my ear.

“Hello Dr. Reid, to what do I---“

“When does your shift end?” he interrupted. Well hot damn, no waiting around now huh.

“20 minutes,” came my simple reply.

“I’ll be outside,” and with that, he hung up the phone. Wow, I can’t believe that actually worked.

The next 20 minutes were by far the slowest time has ever went. I kept glancing at the clock, watching as each minute passed at a pain strikingly slow pace. Once it was 12:58 A.M, I already had my bag on my shoulder with my hand on the dividing door.

I made a quick mental check on the inventory I had in my purse. Wallet, check. Phone charger, check. Travel toothbrush, check. Bobby Pins, check. Condom, check. Deodorant, check. Extra panty, check. Yup, I’m ready. I’ve had too many spontaneous sleepovers to not be prepared for evenings like this.

I looked at the time and saw that it was finally 1:00 A.M. I zipped right out of here, making sure to shout my goodbyes as I made my way to the exit. Once out the door, I turned towards the corner and immediately spotted Spencer waiting for me.

I made my way towards him with the biggest smile on my face. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Get in,” he demanded.

“Why the haste?” I asked with a teasing tone behind my words.

“I’ve wasted enough time when it comes to you.” That’s a good enough reason for me. He got in the driver seat while I made my way to the passenger’s side, placing my bag on the floor near my feet.

“My house is a 20-minute drive,” I informed him. “You’ll just have to make a lef—“

“No,” he cut me off. “The hotel I am staying at is 10 minutes away from here.” And this is why I always pack the necessities.

“Alright, you’re in charge, Sir.”

Spencer didn’t respond to my little quip, choosing instead to turn the car on. Fine, play that game of yours. As soon as I put my seat belt on, he pulled out and started driving.

We’ve only been in the car for a couple of minutes before I got a bit antsy. I never did like quiet rides. I turned to him “What took you so long to get Mr. Creepy guy?”

His eyes fleetingly dashed towards my direction before focusing back on the road. “Who?”

“The man that you were looking for,” I clarified.

“We had to be sure it was him,” he stated.

“My description wasn’t enough for you.”

“It was helpful but we had to be certain. He eventually confessed to the crimes while under custody.”

“Oh,” I said. “Umm do you have a girlfriend?” A girl gotta make sure that she wasn’t becoming a homewrecker.

“A. What,” he asked. I’m pretty sure he heard me but I repeated myself anyway.

“A girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Somebody waiting for you at home?”

“I do not. I am not in a committed relationship.”

“That’s cool. Neither am I if you’re wondering,” I said. “So did you like my picture?” Apparently, my mouth does not know when to stop. Although I must admit, I’m curious to know what he thought of it.

We stopped at a red light and he gazed at me before saying “I was with my team when I got your little message. They were wondering why I got quiet all of a sudden.” I would have laughed if he didn’t have such a dark look on his face. “I did not appreciate their curiosity as to what was going on.” The light turned green, and he started driving faster now. Do FBI agents get speedy tickets for booty calls?

“Does that mean you did not like it?”

Spencer didn’t respond and I was about to ask him something else when I realized the car was parked. Oh we’re here, that was fast. He got out and went to open my door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” Still no response from him. I picked up my bag and hopped out while he closed the door behind me. He made sure to lock it before grabbing my hand and leading me to the hotel’s entrance.

I couldn’t even appreciate the interior of the place since Spencer was dragging me to the elevators. He finally spoke after pressing the button for the doors to open. “I’m giving you one more chance to turn back.”

“And miss out on the fun, no way.”

The doors to the lift opened and we stepped inside. They didn’t even close fully before he pushed me against the wall and crashed his lips against mine. Fuck, the moan that left my body was embarrassingly loud; I am sure the receptionists heard it.

I went to put my arms around Spencer’s neck but he grabbed my hands and pinned them to the wall before my fingers could even touch his shoulder. His knee drew my legs apart, resting in between my thighs. A shudder ran through me, which caused him to tighten his hands around my wrists. I liked that he was releasing the wilder side of him; the side that he kept hidden from others.

He sucked my bottom lip between his and bit down on it. Instinctively, I opened my mouth which he took as a green light to plunge his tongue inside. It was sloppy, it was raunchy, but I loved it.

I was about to start grinding my pelvis against his knee when the elevator doors dinged open. As quickly as he came upon me, he pulled apart. Spencer grabbed my hand once again and tugged me down a hallway. After a few steps, we stopped in front of the door and he went to grab his key from his pocket.

I took the moment to admire him. He was still wearing what I assumed to be his work clothes. His hair looked even more messy than usual. I’d like to think that he was running his hands through it while debating on what to do with me. His eyes seemed darker, no longer the honey orbs I was captivated by the day prior. Nonetheless, they were still beautiful. His lips, my god those lips of his. Puffed out and more pink than normal. I just wanted to kiss him again.

Spencer opened the door to his room holding it open for me. Once we were inside, with the door fully closed this time, he pulled me into another hungry kiss. One of his hands held my face as the other landed on my waist. I dropped my purse on the floor, my hands promptly losing themselves in his hair.

My mouth immediately opened up, wanting to feel his tongue pressed alongside mine once more. He used the hand that was holding my waist to pull me closer until I was flushed against his body. I felt hot. Too hot. I wanted to rip off my clothes and his at this very moment.

Suddenly his face pulled away, much to my disappointment. We were trying to catch our breath as we looked at one another.

“I want you on your knees,” he rasped. I’d love nothing more but we wouldn’t be here if I were obedient.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

“Don’t pretend you’re some kind of bad girl because we both know that is far from the truth.”

“Your profiling skills need some work if you think I am a good girl who follows the rules.”

He tightened his grip on my waist. “I never said you were a good girl.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re a cock hungry dirty whore who is going to get on her knees or be bent over mine. Your choice.” Well, who am I to argue against such logic. Although the idea of being spanked by him is exciting, I rather see him come undone by me. And on me.

I slowly sunk down to my knees as Spencer started removing his belt and unbuttoning his slacks. I helped him drag his pants and boxers down, low enough to unveil his hard dick. My mouth salivated at the sight of him and I pressed my thighs closer together. Maybe I am a cock hungry dirty whore.

I placed one hand on him, feeling the heated skin against my cooler palm. His dick gave a slight twitch at the difference in temperatures. I closed my hand, delighted by the fact that I couldn’t fit my whole first around his cock. Leaning forward, I placed a small tentative kiss on the head. I glanced up, seeing that he had his poker face on.

Now that wouldn’t do, I want to see Spencer Reid lose control because of me.

I pulled my hand back and brought it to my face. I licked the length of my palm before placing it at the base of his cock again. My opposite hand settled on his thigh to help balance myself. I leaned forward once more and lightly licked the tip before placing it inside my mouth. I sucked gently while firmly grasping the base. He rewarded me with a small grunt.

I moved down, slowly taking him inch by inch. I made sure to get him as wet as I can while gliding my lips against him. My hand pumped the remaining length that couldn’t fit in my mouth. He started to become more and more erect.

“You like this don’t you?” Spencer groaned out, “You’re such a filthy slut for me.” How is it possible that the sound of his voice is making me aroused? He placed his hands on my hair, fisting his fingers among the locks.

I moaned at his words, bobbing my head up and down at a faster pace. I moved my hand to cup his sac, giving him a gentle massage between my fingers. He gave out a choked sound as he started to slowly thrust his hips.

I drew back and kissed my way down his cock until my lips met my hand. I placed my mouth on one of his balls and gave one a light suck before running my tongue around it. “Fucking hell,” Spencer loudly exclaimed, as I returned the same ministrations to the neglected one.

I pulled away with a small pop and dragged my tongue from base to tip. My eyes looked up at him, and the sight was sexy as fuck. His mouth was opened as he was trying to catch his breath, his face slightly flushed. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the veins on his neck were more prominent.

I made sure Spencer’s eyes landed on mine as I wrapped my lips around his now full length. He started thrusting more earnestly this time as my hand went back to massaging his balls. I continued eye contact as I bobbed my head up and down on his cock.

He tightened his hands on my hair harshly, which made me more wet. Great, on top of being a cock whore, I am a pain whore. This man is bringing the worst out of me and I’m loving it.

I made sure to hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue around his head every time I returned back up. I didn’t think I’d have this much fun with a cock in my mouth. Once I dipped my tongue against his slit and firmly clasped my hand over his sac, it was over for him.

Spencer took over and held my head in place as he started to thrust within me. I tried my best to maintain eye contact, despite the tears swelling up. My other hand clutched at the skin of his thigh, raking my nails over him. His groans were a sweet symphony to my ears. Just when I thought he was about to release himself, he stopped and pulled away from me.

“Why’d you stop?” I pouted, my lips feeling very sensitive as they moved against each other.

He panted heavily and loudly, “I don’t want to cum yet.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the sight of him. He was a mess and it was all because of me.

“But I wanted to taste you.” My hand went back to grab him but he stopped me with a sharp tug of my hair.

“Behave or you won’t get a reward for sucking my dick so well,” he said flatly.

Ohh, I’m curious as to what a reward from Spencer Reid entails. He pulled me up and I had to place my hands on his chest for balance. As my legs were regaining feeling, he was staring at my face. I can already imagine what he sees. Tear stained face with puffy eyes and swollen lips. Apparently, he liked the sight because he pulled me into another kiss.

This one was much more tender than our previous kisses. His lips were soft, as if afraid they would irritate my already swollen ones. His hands cradled my head, gently tilting it up so he has better access. His tongue swirled against mine and I was surprised he wasn’t repulsed by his taste on me. So many guys would find this to be disturbing.

Spencer slowly pulled away from me. He looked into my eyes as he said, “I want you to strip then bend over the bed.”

“What if I don’t?” His once gentle hands on my face are now gripping my cheeks, making my lips pucker. He continued to stare at me and it took everything within me not to moan at his actions.

“I think you know what would happen if you don’t, do you really want that?” As much as I would have loved to mess with him some more, I did not want it at the expense of my orgasm. I’m too horny to be acting recklessly.

I started stepping away from him, doing as he requested. I would have taken my time removing my clothes, but I was too impatient. As I pulled down my panties, I noticed how damp they were. This man has made me wanton and soaked without even touching me yet.

I went over to the bed, placing myself in the desired position. The bed was tall enough where my feet were still firmly on the floor but I didn’t need to bend my knees to keep my stomach flat against the mattress.

I watched Spencer strip out of his clothes, making note of the mismatched socks he had on. Aww cute. Once he was bare, he walked up behind me and placed his hands on my hips. For a few seconds, he did nothing while I was readily anticipating his next move.

Finally, I felt his hand cup my mound and I gasped at the feeling. “You’re so wet. All of this because you had my cock in that dirty mouth of yours.” I shuddered at his words, the hairs on my arm rising up.

He started rubbing at my lower lips, spreading the arousal that has already formed all over me. “You have nothing to say now that I got my hands on you huh,” he continued, stroking his fingers against my core.

Just when I was about to say something, he sunk a single finger inside me. I inhaled sharply and buried my head into the sheets. I tried my best to move against him but the hand resting on my hip kept me at bay. He was methodical with his actions, pressing his finger against my walls as he moved in and out.

“Your pretty little cunt is taking my finger so well. You think you can handle another one?” I still couldn’t reply to him, too busy trying to even out my breathing. He then entered another finger. I moaned as he started diligently working those dexterous digits inside of me. My pussy was throbbing while he was working wonders.

A loud moan was torn out my body as Spencer’s fingers curled against my G-spot. “Oh you liked that, dirty girl,” he growled out. He curled his fingers once again and I let out an equally loud whine. He continued this every time he returned his fingers back inside of me; my throat releasing a moan whenever he did so. You’d think with all the time I spent staring at his hands that I’d be ready for him but that’s a big no.

My body was warming up and I could feel the heat pooling within me. I was a goner when a third finger entered me. He tightened his hand on my hip and I prayed that it would leave marks. I wanted to admire the bruises when this was all over.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pleasure racking my body. I was so close to finding my release. The way I was pulsating around his fingers was a telltale sign that I was upon my release.

“You want to come, dirty girl, you want to come all over my hand?” he fiercely whispered. All I could do was nod against the comforters, my voice long gone by now.

I felt myself pulse and tighten around him. With just one more curl of his fingers, I was about to climax. But he suddenly pulled out and released me.

“What the fuck?” I screeched, voice coming back with a vengeance. “You said I was going to get rewarded you teasing bastard.”

“And you are. Now shut up before I change my mind.” For once, I stayed quiet, only because I really wanted an orgasm. It is the least he could do after making me all hot and bothered.

I turned my head back, wanting to see what Spencer would do next. I whimpered when I saw him put his fingers in his mouth, licking my essence off of him. I watched as he took his time, my pussy continuing to throb at the sight.

“You taste pretty good for such a whore,” he remarked once he was done. I saw him walk towards the nightstand and grab a foil packet. Excitement coursed through my veins, my body barely staying still.

He was behind me once again, and I was ready for him. I felt him rub the head against my lips, pressing down when it met my clit. He continued doing this, moving up and down against me, making sure to coat himself in my arousal. I started to wiggle my hips against him, hoping to gain some more friction.

A loud moan was torn out of my throat when Spencer suddenly grabbed my hips and buried himself inside my pussy. He let out a groan as he stilled within me. We had a moment to adjust to one another before he started rocking against me. He was hitting me deep, touching places that I didn't know were possible.

“Spencer, you feel so fucking good,” I mewled out, enjoying the feel of his cock against my walls.

He kept a steady rhythm, making sure to pull halfway out before pushing back in. Small moans left my mouth as I tried my best to return his thrusts. His hands on my hips did not allow for much movement, reminding me that he was the one in charge of my pleasure.

My body moved rhythmically against the bed, my sensitive nipples rubbing against the sheet, adding to this blissful feeling. I was burning up from the sensations wrecking my body.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Spencer growled out. I let my hand trailed down my stomach but paused when they got to my lower abdomen. I felt a bump form at my lower abdomen every time he entered me, which only added to my desire. I tightened around him and he let out a groan before giving me a powerful thrust as a warning.

My hand continued its descent to my clit, fingers rubbing against it once they met. Spencer increased the pace, slamming his hips against my ass. My legs started to tremble, my orgasm looming over my body. My hand continued to play with my clit while the other gripped the sheets tightly. I bit down on the comforter, trying my best to quiet down my moans.

One of Spencer’s hands grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “None of that, I want to hear you. I want everyone in this hotel to know what a filthy little bitch you are. My filthy little whore,” he grunted out.

It was all too much for me. His voice, his cock, his hands. I felt wave after wave of pleasure as my release washed over me. I cried out his name; submitting to the ecstasy my body was experiencing. My muscles went limp as I attempted to return air into my lungs.

I heard Spencer grunt as my pussy pulsed and creamed around him but that did not stop his relentless pace. “Keep touching the clit of yours, I want you to come one more time.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered. I was still recovering from the powerful orgasm I just had. I won’t be able to have another one so soon.

But Spencer Reid was nothing if not diligent. “You can and you will.”

His hand that was in my hair joined mine between my legs. His fingers were so much better than mine. He pressed firmly against my clit, keeping a steady motion against me. He snapped his hips harder, the slight pain making me feel that familiar coil in my stomach.

“I know you have one more in you for me. I want you to give it to me” he uttered. I’m not sure how he is able to do it, but I felt my body start rising again.

“Sp-Spencer. Please.” I didn’t know what I was begging for as I stammered those words out. His hand between my legs pressed harder and his rhythm against me started wavering. I knew he was close to his release, but I was right there with him.

When he pinched my clit firmly against his fingers, I mewled out his name once more. The coil snapped and I couldn’t help the way I trembled once more. My body quaked against his as the shock waves overcame me. I felt as if lightning was running across my nerves.

Spencer thrusted three more times before tensing against me. I felt him jerk and spill himself inside of me. He dropped down, pressing his chest against my back and whispering my name in my ear. We both tried to catch our breaths as we came down from our high.

After a few minutes, Spencer pulled out of me and walked to a door which I assumed led to the bathroom. I’m guessing he went to dispose of the condom. I continued to lie on the bed, trying my best to catch my breath. My body was still on an all-time high, still reeling from the aftershocks of my climax. I fought against the drowsiness of my eyes, wondering how the hell I am going to stay alert on the cab ride home.

“How are you feeling?” I couldn’t even jump in surprise. I had no idea he returned and was standing right next to me. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“Best. Sex. Ever,” I drowsily responded. Spencer picked me up and maneuvered my body so that I was lying on my back. He grabbed a bottle that was standing on the nightstand; squeezing some cream into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his hands together and started massaging the lotion onto my legs. He focused his attention on my knees and thighs.

“Do you want some water? He asked. I nodded my head and he immediately went to the snack bar area. He grabbed a bottle and what looks to be a granola bar. He uncapped the bottle and gently fed the water to me.

“Do you want some food,” I shook my head at his question. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Cuddles” came my whispered response. Spencer smiled at me before settling on the bed next to me. He draped the blankets over our bodies and wrapped his hand over my waist, pulling me close.

“Goodnight Spencer.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

The last thing I felt was the press of his lips against my neck as my body surrendered itself to the sweet bliss of slumber.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #mgg #reid smut

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice [Max Lord x F!Reader] — Chapter 12

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter: food mention, tooth rotting fluff. Our story comes full circle.

Author’s note: Here it is. The final chapter of Sugar and Spice. The Epilogue should be coming soon. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did, and I'd like to thank you all for supporting me and my writing. This was my first ever series and the love I got for it was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I love you all so much. (PS— i’m still sick with COVID so I am really really sorry if this is a poor chapter. I tried my hardest. Happy valentines day.)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWELVE - EPILOGUE [coming soon!]

The second Maxwell engulfed himself amongst the soft satin blankets of his bed, he knew he was glad to be home. You climbed in beside him, and his eyes raked your body as he took in the sight of your baby pink slip on silk nightgown that you were wearing. He swallowed, and reached over to grab your waist and pull you on top of him. So there you were, straddling your sugar daddy after not seeing him for over a month. You pressed your palms against his bare chest and looked him in the eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you." Maxwell announced, knowing it had to be now or never. He couldn't keep hiding it. After the month in London and Alistair being brought back into his life, a lot had changed for him. He wasn't the same man he was back in December.

"About Ali?" you asked, tracing circles into his skin.

"Well, yeah. But— something else." Maxwell replied, shuffling around slightly. You sensed it was serious due to his tone of voice and your movements paused as you stared dead into his eyes.

"You don't have another secret child, do you?" you deadpanned.

"No!" Maxwell said defensively and you smiled softly. "It's about us."

You braced yourself. He'd been gone for a month, come back with a kid, and you were certain he was going to break the arrangement off with you. You pulled your hands off him and went to crawl off his lap, but his large hands landed on your thighs to hold you down.

"That night after the annual Black Gold Christmas gala… I saw you with Bruce and I got drunk and— my mom— and… I told you… I told you everything. About my father and having absent parents and. I said— I said— I said I was in love with you," Maxwell gulped and it took him every ounce of strength to not break his eye contact with you. He wanted to remain strong. You remembered the night like it was yesterday; clear as day. Of course, how could you forget the moment he said those words? And he hadn't spoken of it since, until now. Between you being held hostage by Tristan and Maxwell being whisked away to London, there'd hardly been an appropriate time to bring it up. "I swore that once I returned from the UK we would talk about this. So, Y/N, I have to tell you that my feelings haven't changed. It's been months, we've been together and apart. We've argued and fought but we've laughed and made love too. We've had distance— hell, I've been on the other side of the world for the past month but not a second has gone by where I haven't thought about you. About loving you, and kissing you, and even if you don't feel the same way, I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you?" You asked after a brief silence. You'd been waiting for what felt like a lifetime to hear these words, and yet you were struggling to comprehend them. It didn't feel real.

"For not doing anything or saying anything sooner. I should've said something sooner. I wish I had. I wish… I wish…" Maxwell rambled but you placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"No," you told him sternly. "No wishing. You don't need to make a wish because— everything is fine just the way it is," Maxwell's heart sank at your words and you watched as his chest deflated. "No!" you cried before trying to clarify. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "You have a successful business, and a son, and Max, you have me. You'll always have me. Because I love you too. I'm in love with you Maxwell Lord."

Max's chocolate coloured eyes widened at your confession as disbelief bolted through his body. Never in a million years would Maxwell expect that you would truly love him back. How could he expect anyone to love a man like him? Kitty hadn't. His mother hadn't. But you…

"I love you so much Max," you sighed before pressing a kiss into his lips. You caught a tear slip down his cheek and you quickly wiped it away. "Don't ever apologise for being you. Our story has been a whirlwind so far but it's not over. It's not over Max. I love you."

"I love you too." he whispered, wrapping his arms tight around your body when you kissed him again.

By the time Valentines Day rolled around, you swore it was like Maxwell and Alistair had never spent any time apart. The six year old boy was the spitting double of his father— personality and all.

He dived into your bed and jumped up and down.

"I got a card! Look daddy! I got a card!" Alistair beamed. Maxwell groaned and rolled over, holding a pillow over his head. You smiled tiredly and pulled the little boy into your arms.

"Good morning Ali, where did you get that?" you asked.

"It was on the kitchen table! Look mama, it's for me!" He squealed, pointing at the name that was inked in perfect calligraphy. Your perfect calligraphy. Your heart melted slightly at the little name he'd given you. "Mama". You figured it was something Maxwell had pushed, but he swore he hadn't, and that Alistair had decided that you'd be his mama from now on anyway. Kitty was out of the picture for good now, and you were nicer to him in the past two weeks than Kitty had been to him his whole life. That was the sad truth.

"Oh, so it is." you giggled, pressing a kiss into Alistair's forehead. You rolled over slightly and pat the middle of the bed, gesturing for Alistair to come and lay down in between you and his father.

"I only ever get cards like this on my birthday and Christmas. And today is neither of those days." Alistair pondered out loud, tapping his index finger against his chin as he thought. Just like his daddy.

"Do you know what day it is, Ali?" you beckoned.

You realised Maxwell must've finally woken himself up when his hand reached over to hold yours, his thumb circling your skin. You glanced over to him and saw that his big brown eyes were watching his son.

"Ummm…"

"It's the only day of the year where I can do this," Maxwell interrupted, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you. His sudden action was enough to take your breath away and Alistair went to make a noise of disgust. But Maxwell pulled away from your lips and placed a hand over his son's mouth. "And you, mister, can't do that!" he chastised, wiggling his finger with a chuckle.

"But daddy, kissing is yucky!" Alistair frowned, sticking his tongue out in dismay. You rolled your eyes, pulled the little boy on top of you and pressed another kiss into his forehead. Since you had a hold of him, Maxwell took the opportunity to tickle Alistair, erupting a scream of laughter. "Dad-daddy! Aaah daddy please!" Alistair laughed, kicking his legs and flailing his arms around.

"Have you worked out what day it is yet?" you asked the little boy once he'd settled back down. A small blush crept upon his cheeks.

"Va-valentines day?" Alistair asked, his voice timid.

"Are you telling me that my son Alistair has a valentine?" Maxwell gasped jokingly and Alistair's grin only grew wider with excitement.

"Can I open it?" Alistair giggled happily.

"Go on!" you laughed, giving him a small nudge.

You and Max both watched intently as Alistair opened the card. Of course, you had purchased the card and wrote it out. But seeing the excitement on Alistair's face when he read ‘love from your secret admirer’ was undefeatable. It was magical, and it filled your heart with so much love and joy. Alistair was new to your life, just as new as he was to Maxwell's, but if one thing was for sure, it was that you loved him just as much as you'd love your own child. And that wasn't lost on Maxwell.

He honestly expected you might have left him. Or grown distant upon learning that he had a son. But once again, you had proven Maxwell Lord IV wrong. You were unlike any other woman he'd ever met, and now that he had the two most important people in his life, he felt like he could accomplish anything. Nothing else mattered anymore. Just you and Alistair.

"My son, only six years old and already has a secret admirer!" Maxwell chuckled, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Alistair. "But you'll always be my boy, won't you Ali?"

"Yes daddy." Alistair smiled a toothy grin.

"Us Lord men… we always get the ladies." Maxwell told his son, causing you to belly laugh. Maxwell shot you a joking glare and you tried to stifle any more of your giggles.

"On that note," you rolled your eyes and slid out of bed. "How does pancakes for breakfast sound?"

Both Maxwell and his son cheered with joy at the thought of pancakes. You remembered you even had some strawberries and cream left over from the night before which would go well with it. You pulled your silk robe over you and padded to the kitchen.

"Do you remember the plan?" Maxwell whispered quietly once you'd left the room, cradling his son.

"I do." Alistair beamed snuggling into his father's chest. Maxwell smiled a little.

"Tonight, yeah? After dinner." Maxwell reminded his son.

"Do you love her?" Alistair quizzed further, and Max's smile grew even more.

"I do," Max confessed. "More than anything."

"I think she loves you too." Alistair said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I see the way she looks at you," Alistair mumbled. "Like how Ariel looks at Prince Eric."

"Wh-who?" Max furrowed his eyebrows together and Alistair's jaw dropped slightly.

"Okay daddy. We're all watching The Little Mermaid after dinner." Alistair decided in that moment, his tone of voice leaving no room for question.

Maxwell quirked an eyebrow. "Really? And who put you in charge?"

"I'm a Lord," Alistair said proudly. "Besides, someone has to watch over you two lovebirds. Make sure you don't get yourself in trouble."

Maxwell couldn't believe the six year old boy. Alistair was definitely Maxwell's son, that's for sure.

Just as you were finishing up frying the last pancake, the kitchen phone began to ring. You answered it, surprised to hear the voice of your lawyer— or more accurately, Maxwell's lawyer. You had been using him to defend yourself on the case between you and Tristan. He had told you that Tristan was going to be locked away for a very long time, and that you'd won the case. A wash of relief flooded over you, and finally, things were beginning to look up for you and your little family.

You called down Alistair and Maxwell once breakfast was ready, and you served the heart shaped pancakes at the table. Maxwell came down a few minutes later than Alistair and he was holding on envelope. When he sat down opposite you, he passed you the envelope with a smug grin on his face.

"What's this?" you asked curiously, and Maxwell shrugged his shoulders casually as he sipped on his black coffee. He hadn't stopped smirking though. "Maxie, we agreed on no gifts this year?" you sighed, already feeling bad for not getting him anything.

"Baby, it's not exactly a gift. I mean, it's something for both of us. Something that's important to you and well… just open it, please." he urged.

You hesitated, exchanging a glance between Max and Alistair (who was already neck deep in pancakes), before sighing and opening the envelope. Inside was a letter from a retail agent? As you read the letter, your heart began to slam against your chest. No way.

"Max… you bought my old apartment building? The whole building?" you gasped, slamming your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "You bought it in both of our names?"

"Because I knew how much it meant to you. And how much your neighbours meant to you. They were all mistreated by Tristan, and that isn't okay. I bought the property from the council so we're the rightful owners now. And we won't overcharge rent like Tristan did. We don't need to. We'll refurbish the whole place. We'll give the families who live there a safe place that they can call home, and they won't have to worry about any abuse from Tristan, or their utilities falling apart, or bills… it'll be wonderful."

"Maxwell I- I don't know what to say I…" you were utterly speechless, tears filling your eyes. Obviously this was going to cost him a lot of money and a lot to upkeep, but for the first time, it felt like it wasn't even about money. It was a grand gesture, sure, but it was also the most thoughtful and unexpected thing he'd ever done for you.

"I love you." Max revelled and you smiled.

"I love you too." you replied, leaning over the table and pressing a kiss into his lips. You glanced back down at the letter, admiring the way your surname and Max's surname looked together on the sheet of paper.

At the start of December you didn't even own a car. You couldn't even pay rent. Now you were living in a suburban manor with your perfect little family. Amongst a little bit of sugar and a little bit of spice, you had found love, meaning and purpose. You'd found your soulmate.

Just as you thought your life was good and couldn't get any better, you didn't realise what Maxwell Lord had in store for you this evening. Your whole world was about to change.

---

Sugar and Spice taglist: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @drinkingwhileblogging @kesskirata @honestlystop @promiscuoussatan

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @martellthemandalor

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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vibraniumwing · 4 years

Text

back to you.

a harry potter x reader blurb wherein harry attempts to break things off, but you’re making it harder to do so.

WARNING: a bit of angst but mostly fluff

A/N: so this is another anon request from my 100-follower celebration, and this time, it’s about our golden boy harry !! this was quite hard for me to write since i’m still new to writing about our precious hero, but i hope you guys like it!! (i know i said angst but idk if i should even consider it as that)

request: “could i get a 🥳 with harry and the sentence ‘every part of me finds myself back to you’ with a bunch of fluff?”

---

You were the ray of sun that Harry Potter looked forward to every time he woke up; for every day that passed by with the impending terror of the Dark Lord returning, you were his safe space. For every little thing he does, he’s reminded of you.

But there are times wherein people have to let their loved ones go, even if it meant breaking their hearts, just to protect them.

---

Harry was sat in his dorm one night, staring out the window, watching the moon reflect down on the Black Lake as he pondered his thoughts quietly, “What the bloody hell are you doing, Harry?” Ron’s voice suddenly interrupting his thoughts, startling the wits out of the boy.

“I was thinking of ending things with (Y/N).” He bluntly said, eyes still trained on the calm ripples of lake, “Voldemort’s back and I just want to protect them. I can’t shake off this feeling that he might get to them one day, you know?”

Ron was confused, seriously questioning his best friend’s actions, “Are you sure about that? Can you really do that?” He asked, raising at eyebrow at the brunette who just looked at him with a dead serious expression.

“There’s always a first for everything, Ron.”

---

The next day was your trip to Hogsmeade, which meant it was your date with Harry. You sat down by the Common Room waiting for your lovely boyfriend to come down from his dorms.

Soon enough, Harry strolled down and saw you patiently wait by the fireplace. He briskly marched up to you and said, “W-We need to talk.” internally cringing at the fact the stuttered because of his heart pounding against his chest.

You looked at him with a rather calm look and gave him a wide smile. “Alright then, how about we discuss it over a mug of butterbeer, my love?” You offered, holding out your hand as you motioned for the portrait hole.

He looked at you rather surprised, unsure as to why you were so calm despite of him saying that he had to talk to you about something. Normally, when he would see people say that, the receiving end would be frantic and panic, but you were the exact opposite.

Unbeknownst to him however, was the fact that you already knew what he was going to say. You accidentally overheard a certain ginger rant to a rather curly headed girl about “him breaking it off” with the response of “he won’t last a week without them, that’s just not going to happen.” So you were going to test that theory out.

Arriving at The Three Broomsticks, you pulled him in and sat him down for a mug of the delicious drink and looked at him expectantly, “So, what do you want to talk about, Mr. Potter?” You asked, taking a sip of the sweet drink.

He looked around for any spectators before looking at you nervously, “I- I think we should go our separate ways, (Y/n).” He said, his lips turning into a slight frown as your expression never changed, taking a sip from his drink once more.

“Alright then.” Was you could answer, albeit knowing that he was going to do this, it still stung quite a bit since you can’t even imagine a life without him in it; your gut however, wanted to test that out and let him just have his way, trusting that he wouldn’t even last a day without you in it. “I’ll be going off then, Harry. It’s been a fun ride.” You answered, breathing in deeply as you stood up and left, leaving the male confused as ever.

---

“...And then- And then they just walked away! They didn’t even cry or anything.” Harry continued to rant, Ron just nipping away at his pack of jellies as he stared at his friend.

“Isn’t that an advantage though? They didn’t make a fuss about you being gone.” He reasoned out, shrugging at him lightly as he stared at his distressed mate.

“Y-You’re right, Ron. Maybe it’s better like that.”

---

Harry was roaming around the school corridor, laughing with Ron as students passed them left and right, pointing to a student who was struggling with the rather large amount of books she had to carry to class.

“Hey Ron, remember when (Y/N) was struggling with their books as well? They looked so cute back then-” The male soon paused himself, realizing that he wasn’t even with you anymore.

Ron just laughed at him softly, “Regretting your decision already, mate?” He asked, patting his friend’s shoulder gently as pointed to his right, causing him to look over to that direction.

Right then, Harry saw you laughing softly with Hermione as you walked down the corridor, a wide smile on your lips at whatever she was saying.

A frown made its way to Harry’s face as he watched your retreating figure, remembering how that smile of yours would always show up when you see him, even when the two of you were just walking down the corridor beside him.

“Oi Harry, are you coming? We’re going to be late to potions.” Ron said, nudging his friend as he jumped down the bench. Harry just looked him before making his way down wordlessly, off the mood as he made his way to class with the ginger.

---

“Say (Y/N), What are the properties of- Oh right.” Harry caught himself mid-sentence as he stared to the empty seat next to him, frowning lightly as he remembered you while working on the essay he had for Herbology, knowing that you had a keen love for the subject.

“Missing them already, aren’t you?” Hermione spoke up, eyes still trained on her book as she wrote down her answers, dipping her quill in ink as she continued, “They miss you, you know.”

Harry wanted to believe that, but your reaction that day makes him believe otherwise.

As if you heard them, you jumped in through the portrait hole, a few books hugged tight to your chest. Looking up, you met eyes with your “ex” lover, showing him a rather bright smile, you made your way to the front of the couch and settles on the floor, making yourself comfortable as you started to read.

“Now’s your chance, go.” Hermione whispered once more, pushing Harry off his seat and towards you. He stumbled out of the chair and walked awkwardly, hand rubbing against his nape as he opened his mouth yet no words came out.

“Yes, Harry?” Your voice rung out, causing him to visibly tense up, his awkwardness taking over as he sat beside you, making you look at him with a curious gaze, yet an excited grin was on your lips.

“W-we neet to talk, please.” He started off, taking a deep breath in as he adjusted his glasses, licking his lips briefly as he gave you a brief smile, to which you returned with a slow nod, urging him to continue.

“I think I may have reacted rather irrationally, with my words the other day.” He said, coughing lightly as he brushed his hands over his pants, glancing back at Hermione and Ron who just nodded at him.

You tried hard to bite back your smile and hug you awkward boy tightly, accepting him back just like that. “Is that what all you have to say, Mr. Potter?”

He sighed softly, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I made a mistake of breaking things off. I’m just concerned for you, love. With Voldemort back, he has his eyes on me and it’s not far-fetched that he might get to you as well. I just thought distance might do us good, you know?” He said, giving you a sheepish grin, you pursed your lips as you motioned him to finish what he has to say.

“Turns out I was wrong, I couldn’t even last a day without mentioning your name. I tried, (Y/N) but every part of me finds myself back to you.”

By the end of little speech, you just settled your book down and opened your arms for him, “Come here and give me a hug, you big baby.” You teased, laughing softly as Harry crawled into your arms, sighing softly in relief as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. Your hand finding its way into his hair, playing with his locks gently.

“Do you seriously think I won’t accept you back, love?” You asked him, breaking away from the hug to cup his cheeks with both of your hands as he nodded, a sad yet playful pout on his lips. You rolled your eyes gently, placing a quick peck as you continued, “I overheard a certain duo talk about you planning on doing so and how you wouldn’t even last a day without me.”

Harry looked back at his friends who had wide eyes, returning back to their homework and pretended to not know what you were talking about. “I trust you too much but I wanted to see if that was true. Do you really think I’d let you walk away that easily from me? After you getting over that awkward phase when you ran up to me after the Yule Ball?”

He rolled his eyes at you laughed out loud at the memory, brushing your hair gently as he whispered, “But seriously, love. I’m really sorry for what I did.” and you leaned into his touch, gently kissing his palm as you smiled.

“There’s no need to apologize, my golden boy. I’ve already forgiven you right from the start. I love you too much.”

“And I love you as much.”

#vea hits a hundred #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter fics #harry potter fluff

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ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

❝𝕒𝕣𝕥❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ jungkook takes yoonmi to get his birthday/christmas gifts for her

⇢ set in mid january 2021

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

Yoonmi excitedly bounced in her seat, making Jungkook chuckle.

He was currently driving her to his tattoo artist because of his promised Christmas/birthday gift for her.

Her tattoos.

“Would you sit still?” he placed a hand on her knee to keep her from moving. “If you’re like this until we get there, your tattoos might end up looking weird.”

She laughed but stilled herself. “Sorry, I’m just excited. A little nervous, too. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Think of it as training,” Jungkook told her. “It’s painful, but we get used to it and eventually get a great outcome.”

Yoonmi nodded at that and looked back out the window at the buildings passing by. She couldn’t believe she was finally getting her tattoos. At first, she was pretty hesitant because she didn’t know if fans would take it well, but, with Jungkook’s encouragement, she decided it was fully her choice and nobody else should be able to dictate whether she gets a tattoo or not.

Well, she’s getting four.

One was going on her right pinkie, one on the side of her right hand, one on the side of her left wrist, and one under her left arm just below her shoulder. They were pretty small, so she and Jungkook both figured they could do it all in one day.

“Do you think it’ll look nice together?” she asked Jungkook.

“I’m absolutely positive it’ll look amazing,” he reassured her. “We tried it out, remember? It all turned out pretty well. Look at that, we’re here.”

Yoonmi’s face lit up as soon as Jungkook parked the car. She turned and grabbed her bag from the backseat. Her jump made Jungkook laugh when she turned back towards the door only to find that he had opened it for her. nearly eleven years of living with boys who always do this for her, and she’s still always surprised.

He led her into the building and towards the receptionist who smiled at him.

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook,” the receptionist smiled at him before turning his smile to Yoonmi. “You, too, Yoonmi. You weren’t here last time Jungkook came.”

“She’s been busy with her boyfriend,” Jungkook laughed.

She whined at him. “Oppa, that’s not fully true. We’ve been busy with our music.”

“I heard,” the receptionist chuckled as he checked his computer. “It says here that Yoonmi’s getting four tattoos? Wow, and on your first time, too!”

“They’re all pretty small, and I’ve been thinking about them for a long time, now,” she smiled back.

“Let's get you settled in, then.”

Not ten minutes later, she finds herself settled in the tattoo parlor chair with Jungkook, upon his and Yoonmi’s request, placing the stencils on the same places he’d been drawing her tattoos for the past year and a half. The tattoo artist tied her hair as she watched the two in the mirror.

“Those are interesting tattoo choices,” she started a conversation with Yoonmi. “If it’s alright, may I ask who came up with them?”

“I kinda conceptualized them, but Ggukoo oppa drew them,” Yoonmi smiled proudly before Jungkook lightly smacked her arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay still when I’m drawing your tattoos on you?”

“You aren’t even drawing them, and they’re cold, okay?”

“Just sit still!”

The tattoo artist laughed at the two of them bickering before taking her seat next to Yoonmi. She gently sanitized the areas surrounding the stencils placed by Jungkook and the needle that she would use. Jungkook stood on Yoonmi’s other side, a hand on her head as reassurance.

“We’ll start with the coloured ink on your arm, alright?” the tattooist told the younger. “Then we’ll do the black one on your wrist then move over to your right side for the hand one and the pinky one.”

“Sounds good,” Yoonmi nodded.

Jungkook leaned forward a little to ask a question. “Is it okay if I get a touch up on my pinky tattoo as well?”

Yoonmi laughed alongside the tattooist at Jungkook’s inquiry. She grinned when the tattooist agreed to do it, and for free. It was their matching tattoo that she was sure Jungkook would show off to the rest of Bangtan as soon as they got home.

The next hour was spent with Yoonmi telling the tattoo artist about why she chose those specific tattoos while Jungkook watched the whole process of everything from as close as he physically could without disrupting anything. He’d gently pat her head whenever she flinched from the pain, but her overall ability to hide her pain kept her from reacting too much. It didn’t take as long as she expected. Pretty soon, everything was finished, and the tattoo artist gave her some time to look at them before she wrapped them up.

“Woah,” she murmured as her eyes scanned over the dark lines over her slightly red skin. “This is unreal.”

She reached over her lap to touch the word “breathe” on her hand, but Jungkook lightly gripped her arm to stop her. “Not a good idea, Mimi. How about you take a look at the one on your arm, yeah?”

She gratefully accepted the handheld mirror he handed to her and angled it so she could see her tattoo. The heart from their Love Yourself series settled proudly on her harm, it’s pastel colors standing out against her skin. Her jaw dropped, and he lifted her hand to touch it.

“No,” Jungkook gently pushed her arm down, “no touching, remember?” Not yet.”

“Right,” Yoonmi laughed before turning back to her tattooist, “sorry about that. They look amazing!”

“Thank you,” the older smiled while taking Yoonmi’s arms to cover her tattoos in a clear plastic wrap for protection. “I like to think I bring my clients’ ideas to life well. Now, I know you know the aftercare procedure because Jungkook says you help him with his, but I legally still have to give it to you. Actually, go up front and they’ll explain over there. I’ll just touch up Jungkook’s pinkie then get you your aftercare products.”

Yoonmi nodded as she left the room and headed to the receptionist who gave her a smile and sat her down to begin explaining. She nodded along to the steps, refreshing them in her mind so she wouldn’t forget. It was a little hard to concentrate, though, considering she has little pieces of art finally ingrained into her body.

“That’s everything you need to know,” the receptionist told her. “Jungkook’s on his way out here, so let me go help look for the moisturizers and soaps.”

She bowed at the receptionist as he walked towards the back. Jungkook took a seat next to her and observed her for a second before leaning forward. He lifted her right hand and folded all her fingers except her pinkie. He stuck his out as well and smiled.

“Looks like this is real now,” he pulled out his phone to take a photo. He then turned his camera to take a video of the two of them, to which she smiled towards. “Hyungs! Guess who has tattoos now!”

“Me!” she giggled while showing off her wrist.

Jungkook smiled and sent the video to their group chat. She couldn’t contain her excitement as the tattooist came to hand her a little paper bag with a moisturizer, sun cream, soap, and ointment while Jungkook stood by the counter with the receptionist to pay. Her smile did not leave her face at all. Not while she took a photo of each of her tattoos and sent them to her parents and to her older brothers. Not while she got into the passenger’s side of Jungkook’s car. Especially not when she saw how excited the other Bangtannies were in the group chat to see it in person.

Jungkook laughed at her excitement. “You send then to Mark yet?”

“No,” she shut her phone while shaking her head, “I asked him, and he wants to see it for the first time in real life.”

It was then when she turned to Jubgkook, widening her eyes and jutting out her lower lip. Her actions made Jungkook chuckle. It was clear she was asking Jungkook to drive her to her boyfriend’s dorm.

“How about this,” he began, “I take you home, and we leave your tattoos to heal fully for the next week. Then I’ll take you to their place, alright?”

“Okay!”

#yoonmi.jungmi #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai,

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason.

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise.

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames.

Back and forth.

Your body moves without a second thought.

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something.

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature.

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family.

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city.

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret.

All but you, anyway.

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public.

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it.

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city.

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city.

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri.

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think.

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now.

The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone.

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall.

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off.

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?”

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri.

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you.

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak.

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with.

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings.

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions.

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.”

Dammit.

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip.

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances.

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug.

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life.

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care.

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply.

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one.

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day.

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself.

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom.

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space.

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans.

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai.

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well.

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation.

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless.

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space.

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment.

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer. “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet.

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening.

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere.

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly.

“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs.

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection.

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer.

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry.

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip.

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate.

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him.

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence.

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table.

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago.

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating.

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise.

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium.

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen.

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet.

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction.

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks.

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?”

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground.

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow.

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes.

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering.

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life.

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see.

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off.

“Thank you, Chisaki,”

You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books.

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?”

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen.

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke.

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind.

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine.

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm.

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts.

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct.

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder.

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother.

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled.

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered.

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you.

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak.

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out.

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look.

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly.

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities.

This was about population control.

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with.

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh.

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family.

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it.

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact.

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home.

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface.

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen.

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact.

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response.

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore.

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve.

Love.

Those were the words you associated with him now.

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved.

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him.

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain.

As if this was never going to happen ever again.

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him.

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink.

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones.

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear.

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all.

Maybe you didn’t.

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him.

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end.

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair.

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans.

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.”

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside.

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to.

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface.

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea.

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever.

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you.

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that.

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours.

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked.

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs.

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones.

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments.

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?”

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in.

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him.

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was.

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine.

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it.

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.”

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response.

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything.

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely.

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence.

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach.

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer.

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along.

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything.

“I found you.”

“Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back.

Enough was enough.

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you.

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?”

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within.

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain.

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one.

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band.

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

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