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wooltoesocks · 9 days ago

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Shirahama Kamome interview at Desucon 2025, Finland

had the honour of attending her live drawing/interview last weekend, it was an absolute blast and i still cant really quite believe i got to see that. didnt win an autograph ticket, but what i did do was take notes from the panel, so if anyone's interested to read, here they are <3

feel free to share, but please credit :)

[] means stuff the panelists have said, () is me rambling

text version/ALT under the cut since it's a lot

14.6.2025 Desucon

guest of honour's program: Kamome Shirahama and the magic of drawing

disclaimer: might contain mistakes even tho i've tried to be as accurate to my notes and memory as possible <3

on the table she was going to be drawing at there were the usual 2 brushbugs wearing qifrey and olruggio's hats, but also a hattifatten

*a picture of shirahama's two brushbugs, wearing olruggio's and qifrey's hats, and a hattifatten on a table (from tongariofficial's twitter)*

the program schedule hadnt included a live drawing, so i dont know if that was going to be a surprise for us of if it was a last minute decision. shirahama said "unfortunately the hat is in the way of seeing", since she had the iguin mask on the entire time. since we had a lot of time, she would be drawing coco and qifrey. (i initially took this to mean she could draw them both since she had time but my friend interpreted it as being "BECAUSE we have time she will be drawing" so idk. she had a cool ring, which looked like it could hold ink or smth.

[did you read manga growing up and what were your favorite manga and mangaka as a kid?]

- like all kids she read manga, but also liked novels and movies

- her favorite were x-men and star was comics- she read manga that was maybe targeted to an older audience

[did you always draw as a kid?] (didnt write down this question but i think it was smth like that)

- according to her parents yes, and also she's drawn since she herself can remember

[when did drawing become your job?]

-she studied design (? and smth else idk i accidentally wrote design in english and finnish lmao) in university, and alongside that she got small jobs to draw atuff for for example teaching materials and games, and realised you could actually make a job out of drawing.

[what did you learn alongside your studies?]

- she had graphics as her major, but was also interested in accessibility design and something else (i think this had smth to do with the environment, maybe environmental design? but i had just written "something")

[how did you end up a mangaka?]

- self published manga drawings, and at some point a publisher reached out to her like hey do you wanna come draw for us

[what kind of material do you like to draw with?]

- the sketch she does with a pencil, and then the actual drawing with an inkpen- corona has chabged stuff a bit because you have to take into account how much can you meet with your assistants, so more of the drawing is done digitally nowadays

- she prefers drawing on paper, but for example if a design is going into a game (=onto a screen) she will draw it digitally to fit

- she's also been challenging herself recently by drawing more stuff digitally

[do you draw all the details in the sketch, or just at the inking part?]

- the pencil marks distract the drawing process, so she will add the details in the inking part

- "you are going to see it yourself with this"

[where have you taken influence from to your drawing style?]

- fantasy, rpg, europe (i think i meant western here??)

- okay so i had written "role-playing-game-styled" but idk what that rly means lol

- the style of wood carvings is medieval[your works have been published in maby magazines, is there a difference between magazines what kind of manga you draw?] (i think that meant her drawing style depending on magazine not the manga's story)

- it's not really the magazine that changes stuff, the drawing style changes depending on the story

- witch hat atelier is story-book-like

- style will accommodate what suits a game the best

[where does the style come from for each story?]

- no (???? what he fuck did i mean by this im sure it made sense in the moment)

- if it's a digital media, she will draw with a computer, a japanese story she will use a brush, and for a western story she will use harder pencils

[do you change your style depending on the target audience?] (more in the ways of a country a person is from, for example western/japanese)

- she will draw what will be enjoyable regardless of the target group/audience

[does your style change depending on the age group of your audience?]

- it's more in the language then, so the dialogue's difficulty changes

[where did you get the idea for enidewi?] (this just read "enidewi idea?")

- she likes european gothic angels and devils and wanted to write about them. there are a lot of things she likes in enidewi- she likes to tell stories with girls in them

(no idea what the actual question was, i just write "enidewi memories?")

- it's about 2 girls on trips and they get into shenanigans

- she has travelled a lot so she pulled stuff from her own experiences/stuff related to her own experiences

- she does hope that she hasnt been as much of a difficulty as those 2

[when did you get the idea for witch hat atelier?]

- she was thinking of it while drawing enidewi

- the idea has been with her for surprisingly long, 6 years before publishing

[were you imagining the story or the worldbuilding then?]

- no plot, but the setting, world and themes

[was the drawing part of magic in the story since the beginning?]

- it's been in the story since very early on

- there are some people who are incredibly talented at drawing in our world, but everyone can draw at least a certain amount, so she wanted a world where the magic is in everyone's reach so to say

[how did you design such an intricate magic system?]

- first she wanted a simple system that even a child could copy but wanted there to be some logic to add extra effects

[what is your favorite symbol?]

- the one coco uses a lot, meaning sylph shoes

[i think we would all want a spell to fly with our shoes]

- shirahama would want a spell to easy stiff shoulders (she was i think showing a v bad posture drawing position lol)

[too bad those are forbidden]

(no idea about the question here lol i missed it bc i was explaining the previous laughing to someone, she also had to read the question again from a paper she had so hell yea me too)

- the fears of how to get better at drawing

- there would be a feeling of relatability

[so the series has the "good guys" wearing a pointy brimless cap and the "bad guys" a brimmed cap, so a different philosophy means a different cap. where did you get the idea/why is it like this?]

- she was vaguely pointing at her iguin hat and doing the muscle flex pose like woo

- she cant say, and it will be revealed as the series progresses (she had her hands clasped at her chest i had written that down soecifically)

- wait with excitement for the upcoming chapters (i THINK she meant like any future chapter but tbh i for a sec thought the translator said NEXT chapter but dont get ur hopes up. ANYWAY WHAT THE FUCK)

(smth about the desig of characters again was distracted by the whole thing before)

- she think it's fun to make the character designs, it's it's becoming hard because there are so many characters

- she will sometimes go to her artist friends with a character idea like hey this is what this character is like what would they look like

[all the fans here would probbaly go crazy for a finland inspired outfit, what would it be like?]

- well it would be warm at least

[furhat]

[does qifrey's hat tell something about his character?]

- it's a modified version of his hat as Beldaruit's apprentice so not really

[how has it been like creating the rules within the world?]

- it's been fun thinking of the fashion styles and clothes (literally the note says "fashion styles and clothes fun so nice to make <nonsense> that was fun" so idk take of that what u will. the nonsense might have been "work" but i honestly dunno)

[what has been difficult to get to fit?]

- she says the weaknesses and holes are hard to work into the system so that it's noticable that things are wrong but not too much into either direction

- bring to light something about the differences in people ("bring forward motivation into that different people kinda" what. anyway not sure what i meant here, also not sure if this is still to the same question but i didnt at least write a question in this part so idk)

- she thinks a lot (about what, idk i think there was a question here too i missed about maybe magic?), magic is a technology that tries to make human lives easier

[do you intend to raise awareness of real life problems?]

- partially, and that magic is a positive depiction too so that might inspire to fix the real life problems[inspiration for witch hat during the creation of the series?]

- during middleschool/high school/university she liked lord of rings movies, and peter jackson films (idk if it was like she liked those during that time and they still inspire her or like was this just not answering the question but anyway)

[are there any spcific details inspired by other serieses?]

- ghibli, the idea of nausicae (? not sure about this but like those were mentioned)

[witch hat atelier is peculiar/unique with it's use of art deco. do the page compositions come to your mind as they will be or are they modified as you work?] (notes said to the first line just "wha unique, art deco" so i think that's what it meant?)

- there are both instances, some will be completed like they first came into mind, and others get elements and other stuff added while drawing[how does it feel getting recognition outside of japan too?]

- she is very happy about that, that people enjoy and read her stuff and she is very honoured overall, and it's nice that that's the case also in other countries

[reading pictures is pretty universal, is it kind of like the manga's magic that it's for everyone?]

- she said it's kinda of funny with japanese because kanji are pictograms so they are also pictures in a way

[so your series has an official spin-off called witch hat atelier kitchen. where did the idea for that come from?] (a lot of thumbs up from shirahama at the mention of kitchen yay)

- she was approached by the publishing like oh hey we have this idea to draw a witch hat food series is that okay with you[are you how deep in the creation process of kitchen, or is it just sato's work?]

- sato creates it, sometimes they might workshop some world related stuff, for example the names of vegetables, and how to connect kitchen with the main series more

[do you have a favorite character or do you love them all equally?] (she was looking between the translator and the audience and reaching for the brushbugs like tadaa kinda)

- brushbug is easy to draw so that's why, and especially drawn with a brush

[there's also a very cute hattivatti]

- she had bought it immediately after arriving to finland

[hattifattener are probably the closest finland has to a brushbug]

- "yeah that's how it is"

[you have worked with marvel, DC and star wars. how did this start?]

- she liked american comics and attended cons in the usa too, and showed some sketches for a producer/editor (idk the word but like someone in the industry)

[have you gotten to draw any of your favorite characters?]

- her first crush was wolverine

- she also like batman a lot

- she at least hasnt had the opportunity to draw them together in a work

- she draws a lot of female characters for her work usually too

[what's the process for cover art, do you get precise instructions or do you have more free hands with the design?]

- she gets mostly free reign, and does something to suit the character

- sometimes there will be instructions/asks to include something, for example if the story takes place in japan to put fitting elements there

[is there much of a difference working with foreign works compared to japanese ones?]

- not really, most differences depend on the work itself

[how much time do you get to making a cover?]

- she's been busy lately (👀👀👀) but usually the deadlines arent super specific, she will usually make one a month

[you worked in character design for the star wars: visions -series. how was the experience?]

- on top of all, the series is an animation, it was nice to get to work with other people

- also amazing to get to see her designs come to life

*a sneeze*

[do you have to take into account that the characters will be animated when making the design?]

- there wasnt as much creative freedom since star wars is a established franchise so a lot of the design elements already exist

- okay so i didnt hear if she said "you didnt have to simplify the designs" since it's animated or that "you did have to simplify the designs" so like uhhhh sorry for not being able to answer that :( i feel like it mighta been "you didnt really have to simplify" but oh well

[do you draw witch hat characters from a reference at the beginning until you memorize the design, or does the design change along the story?]

- she had made a few designs beforehand (i think this meant like of one character like a few versions)

[you also drew the comic adaptation for Star Wars: Visions. did you get strict rules for it of were you allowed to change stuff?]

- the story was completed so that wasnt changed- she kept the same visual spirit as in the animation

[is there a foreign work you would still like to get to work with?]

- a lot of eeeeeee pondering noices, she was holding her hand on her chin like when you think bout something

- she said it's a difficult question, but she would like to work with a tabletop rpg or boardgames (excited hand gestures)

[well im sure everyone here would at least love to play those]

- she mentioned she's done work with Pokemon cards and Fate/grand order

[there is a witch hat anime coming. what's your role in its production?] (excited hand gestures again)

- she says she checks the stuff the animators have done, and gives corrections if needed

- since the manga is black and white, she gived advice on the colourschemes, for example with what kind of coloring techniques the characters have access to and therefore what the clothes will look like

[is this the first time you've thought about the colours of some stuff?]

- there have been a lot, for example coco's dress in chapter 1

- she will ponder with the team what would work best

[how (much?) are you waiting for the anime?]

- "a lot, and also very excited that all of you will get to watch it"

[are there any serieses/games you like right now?]

- magus of the library (someone from the audience provided the english translation, the translator said "big wizard of the library" (in finnish). thumbs up from shirahama at that), it's very interesting

[well nice we're getting recommendations here]

[the world of witch hat atelier is rpg-styled, is there any videogame elements?] (something about videogames and witch hat world at least lol i kinda missed this bc of again the previous question)

- there's not really any video game elements, since there is no level ups or magic points

- more closer to fantasy literature

[you said you read manga before becoming a mangaka yourself. has making your own manga changed this hobby, are you tired of manga outside of work?] (many excited hand gestures again)

- she actually reads more manga now than as a kid- as a kid she didnt dare buy a lot if she didnt know the story that well (or like being way more cautious of what to buy), but now she feels like "she has permission" to read manga

- "oh it's part of the job i can buy and read manga"

[do you look back to your works and think a lot about what succeeded and could have been done better?]

- when she starts a new part in the series, she will read the previous one and think about what might have been left unexplained and try to broaden and explain the stuff later

[has the way you engage with and judge other people's manga changed after becoming a mangaka? do you think like "oh this could have been done differently" "oh this was really cool"?]

- she said she isnt "skipping school" when reading, she does look at novels too with new eyes now

[is it good to read others' fantasy works, or do you do it just because you like it?]

- she does keep up with what other people are writing, and says it's good to know what's going on so as not to write absolutely similar stuff

[oh it does look like the drawing is finished now.] (this was 12.17, the panel started at like 11, a few minutes over most likely)

- you could really see how she added the details with the ink pen and not with pencil (dont remember if this was shirahama or the panelists, but still so true and amazing to watch)

- "i erased the pencil marks out of the way"

- "thank you for having the patience to watch me draw"

[well this is going to turn into a thanking contest but i do think the pleasure is completely ours/thanks are completely on our side, thank you for drawing for us] (literally no thank YOU tetia core interaction)

[does anything come to mind that the finnish manga and anime -fans would be interested to hear that we havent realised to ask?]

- "thank you so much", she says it's nice to feel that people like the same stuff as she does, that even if we're from different countries that we are all fans of manga

[how has it been visiting finland for desucon?]

- she arrived a few days ago in helsinki, and the food and weather has been very good (this is hilarious she managed to come here on the 4 consecutive days when it's been sunny and so warm and not raining at all this whole year i feel like what. anyway glad she liked the food yayy)

- she still hasnt had time to properly visit desucon yet

when she left the stage she waved the hand of the brushbug that had oru's hat at the audience <3

#wha #witch hat atelier #kamome shirahama #interview #desucon 2025 #i wrote the notes basically blind since i wanted to watch the drawing and it was pretty dark in the audience #so like it's a miracle my handwriting was at all legible lmao #i thought it would look suspicious if i was on my phone since you werent allowed to take pictures so that's why handwritte notes #anyway translating these into 1. coherent text and 2. english took me like 4 hours lol this was 4 A4 worth of notes #tbna #tongari boushi no atelier #still insane about the “oh lol read more and you'll find out” WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS SUCH A SIMPLE QUESTION #like that woulda been the last question i'd thought would be a plot point #goooooooooosh #villasukat.

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robustcornhusk · 4 months ago

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due to the circumstances, fell into a hole of reading through the archives of a blog that got deleted ~8 years ago

Reminds me of research on how ‘gaze aversion’ (e.g. avoiding eye contact) helps people think by removing the cognitive and emotional load of face processing, etc., so teachers who get caught up in forcing students to make eye contact are missing the point. Likewise abstract doodling while listening helps improve recall. Speech is so bad for conveying information, people need all the help they can get when forced into speech-based learning scenarios, really.

the writer has a bone to pick with lectures & orally-delivered information: they don't like 'em. i don't disagree from personal experience but i don't know enough to agree in the general case. maybe other people do learn well from lectures.

the gaze aversion link led to me to this paper on gaze aversion in adults with and without autism, williams syndrome by the same researcher.

[...] in phase 2 participants were required to maintain eye contact with the experimenter at all times. Looking at faces decreased task accuracy for individuals who were developing typically. Critically, the same pattern was seen in WS and ASD, whereby task performance decreased when participants were required to hold face gaze. The results show that looking at faces interferes with task performance in all groups.

to listen to some people talk about it, you'd think that only autistic people suffer do worse from being made to maintain eye contact. ... actually, given the rest of the wording in the paper, you might be able to say that NT people don't suffer from it, they just suck more when made to maintain eye contact, whereas the autists suffer. but i think more research is required.

this is only one paper and i haven't bothered to look into replicability or reliability or literally anything else about it. perhaps the author has been kicked out of the profession for making shit up. perhaps they are a pioneer. idk. i bring it up only as 'some authoritative-looking people have this position, so it's probably not completely without basis'.

....

perhaps one issue with lectures is that the audience can't fidget without causing a problem. (i can't sit still to watch movies but can watch them for hours with a treadmill)

---

less thought out position: i think people as a whole are bad at teaching.

i tried to look up why the fuck every curry i cook at home sucks, and instead i got a bunch of people talking about how it's impossible to learn to cook it if you haven't grown up there copying your parents' (=your mother's) cooking. that which can be destroyed by women's liberation should be.

went to a certain woodblock studio once. as i recall, the owner talked admiring about how the traditional way to learn to do the prints was to 'steal' the techniques from the person working next to you; very little direct instruction, but pick it up from noticing. it takes years and years to get good.

this works okay -- i mean, i suspect a large part of it was hazing, so i hesitate to say it worked well -- if you don't have better options, but what happens when there's no one able to take years and years to get good?

transmitting information is hard! it's really, really hard! i can't blame the people writing it down (or lecturing, or otherwise) for stopping at 'good enough'.

but like....

Have you ever had a book like this—one you’d read—come up in conversation, only to discover that you’d absorbed what amounts to a few sentences? I’ll be honest: it happens to me regularly. Often things go well at first. I’ll feel I can sketch the basic claims, paint the surface; but when someone asks a basic probing question, the edifice instantly collapses. Sometimes it’s a memory issue: I simply can’t recall the relevant details. But just as often, as I grasp about, I’ll realize I had never really understood the idea in question, though I’d certainly thought I understood when I read the book. Indeed, I’ll realize that I had barely noticed how little I’d absorbed until that very moment.

though given how many (nonfiction) books suck (=get the facts wrong, make logical jumps that are unjustified, etc), perhaps it's for the best we don't remember much

It’s easy to attend a lecture and feel that you understand, only to discover over that night’s problem set that you understood very little. Memory feels partly to blame: you might sense that you knew certain details at one time, but you’ve forgotten. Yet we can’t pin this all on memory. When you pull on certain strings from the lecture, you might discover that you had never really understood, though you’d certainly thought you understood during the lecture.

partner had a beloved professor in university who had a particular reality-warping field; it was so easy to come away from the lectures on a very hard topic believing one had understood everything! everything!

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rose-tries-to-write · 2 months ago

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Humans are Space Orcs Idea

Okay so hiii, i had an idea so i kinda ran with it.

This was inspired by me eating an orange and thinking 'man, i wonder if aliens would find it weird watching me pull off all the strings like this' and it kinda ran from there. this might have a few parts later on if i get inspired, but mostly whatever is made here will be odd human behaviors that i think would be funny/interesting from an aliens perspective.

Writing under the cut!

Day 1 in alien captivity

I'll be honest, I've been here much longer than a day—perhaps four or more by now. This is the first time I've been given something resembling paper and writing tools, so to make it easier to remember, this will be labelled day one.

I couldn't tell you why I'm here or how I got to where I am. Most of it's a blur by now and even if it wasn't, I'd rather forget anyway. I won't bore you with that.

The aliens I'm with now are tall creatures largely covered in fur except for the horns protruding from their heads. Of the few I've seen its safe to assume that these horns come in many different variations—one having a pair similar to a goat and another having ones reminiscent of the classic devil horns. (There are two portrait drawings beside this passage, one of a fluffy creature with goat horns and another a slick-furred creature with devil horns. They both have smiley faces.)

Whatever these aliens are, they seem very interested in what I am. Studying what I am, that is. They treat me like an animal, trying to replicate a natural environment within a small cell and giving me food and objects that I assume are for entertainment purposes. I can see them in a window at the top of the cell, watching and writing and talking amongst themselves as I go about my day. Researchers, I assume. Scientists.

I don't know what their plans are and they seem largely uninterested in hurting me or even coming close. For now, I'll just continue what I've been trying to do from the start—make them realize I'm not an animal but a fully cognizant person who would really like to go home soon.

Day 2 in alien captivity

They keep giving me these fruits that I've taken to calling oranges due to their resemblance to the fruit. It has a peel, purple and sectioned similar to a pumpkin, that's thick but easy to pierce. It comes off in the previously mentioned sections like a banana and leaves strings behind like an orange.

This is where the name comes from—the gross and annoying strings all over the flesh of the fruit. It takes half an hour to get them off due to the size of the thing, but eating it with them on isn't an option. Taste aside, they make me nauseous. Best to avoid that.

The aliens seem amused at me painstakingly removing all the strings, like they think it's a silly behavior of an animal rather than a necessary evil. I can see them writing something down and chattering between themselves every time I do it where they can see. A voice inside me wonders if they find my methods odd—the piercing and removal of the outer peel, the long process of de-stringing the flesh, then pulling apart the sections to eat them one by one. The voice wonders if they see intelligence in those actions. If using my fingers skillfully to remove the inedible materials says I'm more than just the animal they think I am.

I've learned to ignore that voice.

The flesh of the fruit is orange, ironically, but more of a burning red shade than the brighter color of its namesake. It tastes oddly like an apple, sweet and acidic, with the texture of a grape. I can't decide if I hate it. I can't decide if I should. For now, it's food and as long as they're willing to feed me like this for free, I'm happy to eat.

#humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #my writing #creative writing #writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #feel free to add on!!

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dragonnarrative-writes · 3 months ago

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Generative AI Is Bad For Your Creative Brain

In the wake of early announcing that their blog will no longer be posting fanfiction, I wanted to offer a different perspective than the ones I’ve been seeing in the argument against the use of AI in fandom spaces. Often, I’m seeing the arguments that the use of generative AI or Large Language Models (LLMs) make creative expression more accessible. Certainly, putting a prompt into a chat box and refining the output as desired is faster than writing a 5000 word fanfiction or learning to draw digitally or traditionally. But I would argue that the use of chat bots and generative AI actually limits - and ultimately reduces - one’s ability to enjoy creativity.

Creativity, defined by the Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary & Thesaurus, is the ability to produce or use original and unusual ideas. By definition, the use of generative AI discourages the brain from engaging with thoughts creatively. ChatGPT, character bots, and other generative AI products have to be trained on already existing text. In order to produce something “usable,” LLMs analyzes patterns within text to organize information into what the computer has been trained to identify as “desirable” outputs. These outputs are not always accurate due to the fact that computers don’t “think” the way that human brains do. They don’t create. They take the most common and refined data points and combine them according to predetermined templates to assemble a product. In the case of chat bots that are fed writing samples from authors, the product is not original - it’s a mishmash of the writings that were fed into the system.

Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) is a therapy modality developed by Marsha M. Linehan based on the understanding that growth comes when we accept that we are doing our best and we can work to better ourselves further. Within this modality, a few core concepts are explored, but for this argument I want to focus on Mindfulness and Emotion Regulation. Mindfulness, put simply, is awareness of the information our senses are telling us about the present moment. Emotion regulation is our ability to identify, understand, validate, and control our reaction to the emotions that result from changes in our environment. One of the skills taught within emotion regulation is Building Mastery - putting forth effort into an activity or skill in order to experience the pleasure that comes with seeing the fruits of your labor. These are by no means the only mechanisms of growth or skill development, however, I believe that mindfulness, emotion regulation, and building mastery are a large part of the core of creativity. When someone uses generative AI to imitate fanfiction, roleplay, fanart, etc., the core experience of creative expression is undermined.

Creating engages the body. As a writer who uses pen and paper as well as word processors while drafting, I had to learn how my body best engages with my process. The ideal pen and paper, the fact that I need glasses to work on my computer, the height of the table all factor into how I create. I don’t use audio recordings or transcriptions because that’s not a skill I’ve cultivated, but other authors use those tools as a way to assist their creative process. I can’t speak with any authority to the experience of visual artists, but my understanding is that the feedback and feel of their physical tools, the programs they use, and many other factors are not just part of how they learned their craft, they are essential to their art.

Generative AI invites users to bypass mindfully engaging with the physical act of creating. Part of becoming a person who creates from the vision in one’s head is the physical act of practicing. How did I learn to write? By sitting down and making myself write, over and over, word after word. I had to learn the rhythms of my body, and to listen when pain tells me to stop. I do not consider myself a visual artist - I have not put in the hours to learn to consistently combine line and color and form to show the world the idea in my head.

But I could.

Learning a new skill is possible. But one must be able to regulate one’s unpleasant emotions to be able to get there. The emotion that gets in the way of most people starting their creative journey is anxiety. Instead of a focus on “fear,” I like to define this emotion as “unpleasant anticipation.” In Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown identifies anxiety as both a trait (a long term characteristic) and a state (a temporary condition). That is, we can be naturally predisposed to be impacted by anxiety, and experience unpleasant anticipation in response to an event. And the action drive associated with anxiety is to avoid the unpleasant stimulus.

Starting a new project, developing a new skill, and leaning into a creative endevor can inspire and cause people to react to anxiety. There is an unpleasant anticipation of things not turning out exactly correctly, of being judged negatively, of being unnoticed or even ignored. There is a lot less anxiety to be had in submitting a prompt to a machine than to look at a blank page and possibly make what could be a mistake. Unfortunately, the more something is avoided, the more anxiety is generated when it comes up again. Using generative AI doesn’t encourage starting a new project and learning a new skill - in fact, it makes the prospect more distressing to the mind, and encourages further avoidance of developing a personal creative process.

One of the best ways to reduce anxiety about a task, according to DBT, is for a person to do that task. Opposite action is a method of reducing the intensity of an emotion by going against its action urge. The action urge of anxiety is to avoid, and so opposite action encourages someone to approach the thing they are anxious about. This doesn’t mean that everyone who has anxiety about creating should make themselves write a 50k word fanfiction as their first project. But in order to reduce anxiety about dealing with a blank page, one must face and engage with a blank page. Even a single sentence fragment, two lines intersecting, an unintentional drop of ink means the page is no longer blank. If those are still difficult to approach a prompt, tutorial, or guided exercise can be used to reinforce the understanding that a blank page can be changed, slowly but surely by your own hand.

(As an aside, I would discourage the use of AI prompt generators - these often use prompts that were already created by a real person without credit. Prompt blogs and posts exist right here on tumblr, as well as imagines and headcannons that people often label “free to a good home.” These prompts can also often be specific to fandom, style, mood, etc., if you’re looking for something specific.)

In the current social media and content consumption culture, it’s easy to feel like the first attempt should be a perfect final product. But creating isn’t just about the final product. It’s about the process. Bo Burnam’s Inside is phenomenal, but I think the outtakes are just as important. We didn’t get That Funny Feeling and How the World Works and All Eyes on Me because Bo Burnham woke up and decided to write songs in the same day. We got them because he’s been been developing and honing his craft, as well as learning about himself as a person and artist, since he was a teenager. Building mastery in any skill takes time, and it’s often slow.

Slow is an important word, when it comes to creating. The fact that skill takes time to develop and a final piece of art takes time regardless of skill is it’s own source of anxiety. Compared to @sentientcave, who writes about 2k words per day, I’m very slow. And for all the time it takes me, my writing isn’t perfect - I find typos after posting and sometimes my phrasing is awkward. But my writing is better than it was, and my confidence is much higher. I can sit and write for longer and longer periods, my projects are more diverse, I’m sharing them with people, even before the final edits are done. And I only learned how to do this because I took the time to push through the discomfort of not being as fast or as skilled as I want to be in order to learn what works for me and what doesn’t.

Building mastery - getting better at a skill over time so that you can see your own progress - isn’t just about getting better. It’s about feeling better about your abilities. Confidence, excitement, and pride are important emotions to associate with our own actions. It teaches us that we are capable of making ourselves feel better by engaging with our creativity, a confidence that can be generalized to other activities.

Generative AI doesn’t encourage its users to try new things, to make mistakes, and to see what works. It doesn’t reward new accomplishments to encourage the building of new skills by connecting to old ones. The reward centers of the brain have nothing to respond to to associate with the action of the user. There is a short term input-reward pathway, but it’s only associated with using the AI prompter. It’s designed to encourage the user to come back over and over again, not develop the skill to think and create for themselves.

I don’t know that anyone will change their minds after reading this. It’s imperfect, and I’ve summarized concepts that can take months or years to learn. But I can say that I learned something from the process of writing it. I see some of the flaws, and I can see how my essay writing has changed over the years. This might have been faster to plug into AI as a prompt, but I can see how much more confidence I have in my own voice and opinions. And that’s not something chatGPT can ever replicate.

#fandom and ethics #writing meta #anti ai #creativity #mental health #dragonnarrativewrites essays

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anundyingfidelity · 8 months ago

Text

HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses.

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud.

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?”

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist.

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

—

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

��Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

PART TWO

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine angst #james logan howlett #x men fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman wolverine

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 4 months ago

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The assistant

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this one shot of Lewis x assistant, ngl I was blushing so hard writing the last part. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

The moment I stepped into Ferrari’s Maranello headquarters, I knew my life was about to change. The air buzzed with a mixture of history and ambition, the scent of oil and polished metal filling my lungs as I hurried down the halls, clutching my tablet and notepad close to my chest. Today was my first official day as Lewis Hamilton’s new assistant, and I was determined to make a good impression.

It still felt unreal. Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, the man whose posters had covered my childhood bedroom, was now my boss. I had been warned—he was meticulous, demanding, and didn’t suffer fools lightly. The fact that I was young, inexperienced, and admittedly not the brightest when it came to all things technical probably didn’t help my case. But I was dedicated, eager to learn, and I refused to let anyone down, least of all him.

I reached his office and knocked twice, heart hammering in my chest.

“Come in,” came his deep, smooth voice.

I stepped inside, nearly tripping over my own feet in the process. “Good morning, Mr. Hamilton!” I chirped, a bright smile plastered on my face.

His eyes flicked up from his laptop, sharp and assessing. Even seated, he radiated effortless charisma. The Ferrari red suited him, adding a new edge to his presence that was almost overwhelming.

“It’s just Lewis,” he corrected, leaning back in his chair. “And you are?”

“Oh! Right. I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” I held out a hand, which he shook briefly, his grip warm and firm.

His lips twitched. “You seem… enthusiastic.”

“I am!” I nodded eagerly. “I won’t let you down. I have your schedule ready, your coffee order memorized, and I even took the liberty of organizing your inbox.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. “Organized my inbox? That’s ambitious.”

“I color-coded it,” I said proudly.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright, Y/N. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The weeks passed in a blur of early mornings, frantic note-taking, and adjusting to the fast-paced world of Ferrari. Lewis was… intense. Every meeting, every training session, every interview had to be managed with absolute precision. But he was also patient in his own way, never raising his voice even when I fumbled through things or had to ask the same question twice.

What I hadn’t expected was how easy it was to be around him. Beneath his disciplined exterior, there was a warmth, a dry sense of humor that surfaced when we were alone. I found myself looking forward to our moments between obligations—the brief exchanges of banter, the way his lips curled when I made a silly mistake, his teasing remarks about my tendency to trip over my own feet.

And then there were the looks.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. The way his gaze lingered a second too long when I handed him his morning coffee. How his eyes darkened when I absentmindedly chewed on my pen during meetings. The barely-there smirk whenever he caught me flustered, which, unfortunately, was often.

I told myself it was nothing. He was Lewis Hamilton—he could have any woman he wanted. Why would he be interested in his clueless, bumbling assistant?

But then, one evening, he shattered all my illusions.

It was late. The Ferrari offices were nearly empty, the only sounds coming from the hum of overhead lights and the occasional rustle of papers as I went through the last of Lewis’s schedule for the following day.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.

“You don’t have to stay this late, you know,” he murmured.

I glanced up, blinking. “Oh, I don’t mind! I just wanted to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow.”

He exhaled, a hint of exasperation in his gaze. “You work too hard.”

I grinned. “So do you.”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. The silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken. Then, in a move that sent my pulse skyrocketing, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along my jaw.

My breath caught. “L-Lewis?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “I—um—I don’t—”

His fingers ghosted down my arm, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Every time you walk into a room, all sweet and eager to please, I have to remind myself you’re off-limits.”

A shiver ran down my spine. My mouth was dry. “Am I?”

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly. “I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.”

“But?” I whispered, emboldened by the way his breath hitched at my voice.

His eyes flicked to my lips, then back up. “You make it very hard to be good.”

A flush spread down my neck. My heart pounded against my ribs as he took a step closer, the air between us crackling with tension. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably male.

He sighed, raking a hand through his curls before stepping back. “Go home, Y/N. Before I do something we both regret.”

I bit my lip, nodding as I gathered my things, but as I walked out, I knew one thing for certain: resisting this temptation was only getting harder for both of us.

Next part

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you

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dr-solomon · 2 months ago

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DRAMA CLUB [2/2]

literature and dirt, snow and sweat, cigarettes and philosophy, rotten arts with cold urges and pure desire.

w: professor!yeonjun × f!reader, teacher-student relationship, smut*, angst, age gap, possessiveness, jealousy, manipulate, overthinking, smoking

*dom/sub, protected sex, face riding, choking, slapping, size kink, public fingering, mention of breeding kink, mention of birth control pills

- a long period of time was written in fragments and memories -

! be sure to read part 1 ! enjoy!!

Sleet fell on the city on a dry morning for the first time in a long time, and you watched it longingly for minutes, standing in front of your window. Close enough for them to float in the mirror of your eyes.

Fragile art is the strongest, he said. For it keeps with it what will one day kill it.

And so when that day comes, it will be the artist who dies, not the art.

Choi Yeonjun's essays on abstract immortal things seemed to be the most fitting detail of the morning. Understanding him, and sometimes just trying to understand him, felt different. It was as if there were tons of things on this planet that you didn't know, instilling an endless eagerness to learn them all.

And when the artist gets used to this chronic dying process, they will realize that their art is always there. With them.

You could feel the snow approaching.

But you already felt it on you before it wrapped the city like a white blanket. When the professor's fingerprints were all over your skin, when they turned into a tiny drop of water a few seconds after touching you.

For two days, wild frozen flowers kept coming to your lower body for you to thaw them.

Just two days.

A peaceful wind blew through all your worries about not being able to see and reach him again, and those two days became the shortest distance you have ever been away.

You felt another gust of wind when he told you outside the door of his office that you could do today's work at his house if you wanted.

There has always been something constant in his features. Like the fact that even when he invites you to his home he seems quite calm.

But he no longer hides his eyes.

“Qua...” You were looking at the dawn that Yeonjun's desk lamp made on your paper. “Qualia.”

The professor thought your sigh gave the word a second literary value. He lifted his chin upwards and let you slide a little over his mouth and hummed for you to continue.

Is that possible?

Only five minutes after you sat on his mouth, you started squeezing your pencil like you were going to break it. In fact, ever since he told you that whatever was going on in your head wanted you to do it while he tasted you.

The tip of his tongue was gently flicking your entrance and pulling flick in and out of your entrance. He was eating you as slowly as possible out of respect for your art.

“Yeonjun...” his upper lip moved down, poking your clit, and then up.

“Mhm?”

You swallowed, dropping the pen on the desk, too late for that. Your mind was empty, numbing your brain, which could normally trap you endlessly, and it was okay not to be able to write a word on paper in this chilling peace.

You flinched as you felt his tongue penetrate further into your hole, your hips lifted from his mouth in a momentary reflex, but this small distance was prevented by Yeonjun grabbing your hips and pressing you back into his mouth. You put your head in your hands and closed your eyes, his warm mouth moving left and right, settling nicely between your lips.

“Ah...” your stomach twisted with an intense sensation, his hands moving comfortably over your skin, grasping and releasing your legs.

Qualia.

To experience directly.

The thin paper slid under your elbow as Yeonjun rocked you a little, and the ornate cloud that descended on it didn't dissipate but kept recombining. At the same rate as the knot in your stomach.

A sweet tear dripped on its surface.

“Y-yeonjun, I can't...” you begged him needily as you tugged your hair a little between your fingers.

Yeonjun's hands traveled from the soft surface of your hips to your thighs and cupped them. Started to move you slowly over his mouth and encouraged you to openly ride his mouth.

His delicious rhythm made your hands weak, the small friction creating a cheeky pulse in your clit for more. With each movement you unconsciously began to make low, plaintive noises, making Yeonjun go a little harder.

He adored your sweet sounds.

Your hips lifted and a drop or two dripped down his chin and ran down his neck. You called his name with the same need, with different intensity.

He gripped your hips tightly and helped you down over his chest to his crotch. One hand went between the two of you to hold his cock for you. A sharp breath escaped his open mouth as you slowly took him inside you.

“Ahh...” Your hands instantly pressed against his chest. The intense sensation of taking him almost up to his balls forced you to stay still a little as your skin pressed together. The way he stretched your walls beautifully, the way he could easily touch every part of your little pussy... He let you feel everything.

But you saw his tongue pushing his lower teeth because as soon as he was inside you, you started to clench around him.

“I-I can't stop it...” your thighs trembled.

Yeonjun forced a smile despite his frown. “That's okay...” But you could feel how his fingers dug into your skin.

You started to move without accidentally teasing him any more.

Up and down nicely in his lap.

Go up to his head and press your hips hard into his lap just before he got out of you.

“Ah, yes...” Yeonjun murmured before his head fell backwards, you heard the 's' go on a little too long.

His cock was hitting different spots each time because of your messy riding. Not being able to find your pleasure spot as easily as he did encouraged you to go harder and turned you on a little.

Your hands became small fists on his chest, the sound of your skin hitting each other getting louder and louder.

“Ah-” he pressed his crotch against you with a growl. “Ah...”

Yeonjun rose slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sight of his bangs flying left you breathless.

His one hand reached out to brush back the hair from your face. “So pretty.” His warm touch scattered the field of beads on your forehead.

“A-” you felt a warm liquid sliding between you, coming from you right after the praise. His lips parted slightly and when he directed his gaze down you were sure you would definitely drip more.

He seemed pleased that he had tasted you first.

“You like to be praised, don't you?”

His deep, low voice made your arms weak. Your hips slowed a little to avoid falling into his face.

Your juices stained his crotch, you saw him licking his bottom lip as looked at this image.

He took your hands in his and leaned his head back on the bed and now let you bounce on his lap a little more comfortably as you squeezed his hands.

He was lifting his head to see your mess or to see how well your pussy was doing and there was always that thing in his eyes that made you shiver like the first time.

Then you saw him gritting his teeth for only a second.

He pulled you by the hands and laid you softly on his chest and his hands found your hips.

He pressed his feet into the bed and started to pound his hips against you.

You are gripped tightly by him, your open mouth touching his chest messily with the speed of his thrusts.

Yeonjun rode the last and most violent wave of pleasure hard inside you for minutes. You were absolutely sure that you didn't come only once.

You fucked so many times that you knew he was coming when his fingertips dug into the soft skin of your thighs and his tongue flicked a little in his mouth.

In just a few days. Maybe a week.

It felt warm, the way his palms rubbed up to your waist, wrapped tightly around it and didn't move until your sweet dizziness had passed.

Maybe it's just because he loves it when you breathe heavily.

And then to watch him with half-eyelids when he gets out of bed to tie a knot in the condom.

Once you had tasted it, it was a disappointment in your stomach that you could no longer feel him filling you up. But seeing that he was really strict about it made you often remember that intense moment in his office.

He later went and bought birth control pills for you.

You had an influence on him. You saw that. Shattered boundaries.

An effect that weakens a part of him.

The primal feeling of not being able to control your desires that day was the same for both of you.

Yeonjun took your hand.

This relief healed everything in your life so quickly that you were afraid of it. The energy was so strong no matter how close you were. It felt suspiciously heavy in your chest, yet it felt wonderful.

You were not thinking about it yet.

Not when Yeonjun kisses you from your elbow to your shoulder and nuzzles into your neck and murmurs that you smell so good.

Not when you find out how he likes coffee and try to explore his kitchen one morning.

Not even on his refrigerator when a few quotes pasted there make you admire him again and again.

Not when you are sitting on his lap, in one of his clothes, while he caresses your skin heavily as if he is the only person you have ever needed in your entire life.

In just a few days. Maybe a week.

"Ghostfires from heaven’s far verges faint illume,

Arches on soaring arches,

Night’s sindark nave."

Yeonjun murmured in a tired, hoarse voice, taking his time. The sweetness of the way you pressed your cheek against his chest and regulated your breathing opened optimistic doors in his dark philosophy.

His hand touched your face to caress your exposed cheek.

You raised your head slightly as you realized that these lines were the poem you had used in one of the first works you had given him.

“You...”

He nodded, running his fingers gently through your hair and watching what he was doing. “I keep everything you give me.”

Your lips parted slightly. He smiled slightly as your chest resting on his chest transmitted the rhythm of your heart directly to him.

He tilted his head to look into your eyes and this happened at the same time as you approached him. His hand in your hair cupped your cheek, gently brushing your noses together. “You are a very smart girl.”

His whisper touched your lips, your hands trembled for a second on his chest. You felt that you would believe everything he said blindly.

“Almost all of them were good enough to present to the jury.”

You had witnessed a couple of times that he was not happy with the choice being left to him, but at the time you didn't think it was out of admiration at all. Having the opportunity to talk about that cycle, where you often wondered what he thought, made you move a little bit on him. “So how did you choose?”

Yeonjun's hand finally touched your cheekbone before it was removed from your face and then turned into a pillow under his own head.

You saw what an organized and meticulous man he remains, even in his own home. A huge drawer reserved only for ties and watches. Five pots with the same kind of tulips on his small balcony. Paintings on the wall, arranged by width and height. Not even a dirty mug on the kitchen counter and everything else you missed.

But above all, there was now his messy hair, his sleepy voice, his tank tops, his shampoo, your lighting his cigarette and of course your hair clip on his desk.

You're starting to smell more and more like him and his house.

“You usually looked nervous around me.” Yeonjun murmured. “At least when you're giving me your work.”

He was silent for a while before he spoke, and then he took his eyes away from the window he was watching and looked at yours. “That's why the first time you smiled, I drew a star on the paper you gave me.”

His gaze returned to the sweet smile on your lips as your pupils tried to grow a little bigger for each of his words.

Just like that day.

“I took that smile to mean that you were somewhat confident and happy with your work.”

The fact that he presented to the jury the work that you liked and felt good about, not the work that he liked, took a bigger place in your mind than you expected.

Maybe it was his maturity.

All this confidence, all this sweet ache in your chest.

Even if the first time you saw his world was blurred by the time you were in his arms, you always knew there was something there that had no answer.

You sighed deeply as you rested your cheek against his chest again:

"Maybe I smiled so you could smile back too."

The snow decided that it liked to fight with the rain and continued to disappoint all its lovers.

Ever since you got into the habit of pressing your fingertips against the droplets on the professor's jacket, this stopped being a problem.

Winter was never calm here.

Instead of creating a brand new feeling, it magnified something that was already inside you.

That day you called your inner restlessness a paranoia and pushed it into the space in your head and just kept doing puzzles with him.

Yeonjun was so quick to know when something was wrong that you were hurting your face to keep the smile there.

Until a few weeks ago, sitting on his lap, you believed that you would never fall into any trap in your head. That your mind couldn't trap you.

Without taking into account that it is his lap that feeds everything good and bad in your head.

"Tree of the olive family."

"Ash."

"Mardi Gras City."

"New Orleons."

"Kimono Sash."

"Obi."

He was the same.

He gave answers in his usual calm voice. He commented like the professor of literature that he was and showed you that interest that you melted under.

Everything was the same.

And you wished maybe it wasn't a little bit like that.

Maybe a little more special.

As soon as you felt his warm palm on your knee, you lowered your head and quickly read the first question in the puzzle.

“Oden's crows in norse mythology.”

The first time Yeonjun was silent, you knew it was definitely not because he didn't know the answer to the question.

“They asked about Nyx last time, didn't they?”

His thumb moved on your knee, he looked directly at your face with the same expression when you were silent and now when you spoke.

You weren't sure if he noticed your nervousness and ignored it, or if it was a way of continuing the conversation to say that everything was fine.

You only thought of crows while he said something about how much the puzzle creators love mythology.

“Do you think it's because of winter?”

“Winter is nothing more than cinnamon.”

Yeonjun's mug touched the table, followed by your sweet chuckle. “Cinnamon is definitely better than the ice stalagmites.”

The not-so-old memory or memories created a small silence.

You could be really sweet together. Despite the age difference, you found that the conversations you had could be extremely enjoyable. It made you feel like you didn't need anyone else and it definitely made you more confident for the rest of the world.

There was no question of wanting the world and the rest of the world.

You saw the professor's lines, you crossed them, but there is more.

“How is the writing going?” he asked.

“I'm trying.” You replied without taking your eyes from where you were staring, unsure how sincere the small smile that was still on your mouth now seemed.

“Mm?” Yeonjun gripped the mug again but didn't bring it to his lips.

You felt uneasy as you realized that you had entered a phase where you were losing inspiration.

There was no big deal about the question, he always cared about your writing.

It's just a matter of not being in the same situation every time he asks.

“When was the last time you wrote?”

The gentle tone in his voice was there, but more serious.

You weren't sure how to explain to him the possibility that your hands had disappeared with the rest of the world.

“Actually... I didn't have any work to complete after the competition.”

Your lips closed as you finished your sentence. Your body filled with a foreign sensation on top of his, you could feel it in your blood.

The loosening and re-tightening of his grip on the cup.

After the competition.

And in telling him, you solved the problem.

Probably by getting him to figure it out too.

That evening, at his house, you cried, feeling that everything was coming together. He hugged you, you didn't have to make excuses for a few lessons. Combed your hair with his fingers as if you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

Without saying a word.

You didn't get off his lap until your already hoarse sobs subsided. And then when you try to laugh about how ridiculous things you cry about.

His lap was the safest place you've ever felt.

No kisses, no sex, no recounting of any detail you caught in the sky, no philosophical reminiscences of Yeonjun... That night ended somehow.

And tomorrow, you realize that night is not over in your mind.

A fear that has been there for a long time, long overdue for reflection.

Nothing has been the same since the overwhelming thing declared its freedom in your chest.

This time you couldn't push away the idea that all this nervousness was because of him.

Even though he is holding you in his arms more than ever before, it's getting worse and worse.

Yeonjun was always one step behind.

And it seemed that something was happening in his chest too.

But on the contrary, something was trapped in him, not liberated. You feared that more than anything else.

One by one, photos of all those desperate moments when he seemed to be in something that was going to end anyway appeared in your mind.

You wondered if he knew what he was doing.

The fact that you had never talked about it brought the idea that you were being paranoid into your mind relentlessly.

But you certainly didn't know how to silence that new voice in your head.

It was just another Thursday when a dry melancholy combined with sage and snowflakes and started to get a little wet. You didn't even look at the new NY Times. Only blank stares accompanied the brief but beautiful sight of snow on mountains whose names you don't know or have forgotten.

It was hard to tell who the ghost was.

It took a while to realize that the competition was doing something to your identity at school. It was sweet and felt good to have enthusiastic students you didn't know trying to get to know you and talk to you, but they also made you realize that there was something wrong with the current state of your passion.

You felt that it was still there, living with its own rhythm somewhere in your head, like another little heart. But was it more subtle? What was your philosophy behind it, or why were you writing?

Why couldn't you write?

On the day Choi Yeonjun's boys were added to the ranks of those eager students, it rained less than on other days. They called your name in the hallway to his office and pulled you into a conversation with lots of laughter.

After greetings and a few questions that felt like the interview you are used to, the conversation turned into a gossip about the professor when one of the boys said he was 'like a fucking Tim Burton character.'

Learning that he only made them read classics written by women gave you a smile, not a surprise. It was the moment when the conversation felt more alive, with the desire to know more about him.

You had heard several times that he had certain concepts and this was confirmed by his students who knew him best. It was nice to listen to the memory of a cozy atmosphere with a bottle of wine passing around the rows. You felt you wanted to do something like that with him. It was of course not new to hear how gently he insulted, and one sentence uttered by the tallest of them towards the end stood out above everything else in your mind.

“The more he interferes in the process, the worse you are.”

You needed a little silence to remember that the process you shared with him was very gentle and quiet. It was the same feeling you had felt when he told you that you were challenging him, but a little more intense.

And now that you knew a little more about him, it was even more exciting when he appeared at the beginning of the corridor in his familiar coat.

He was never late, but his steps were quick, bringing a cold wind in that direction.

As he pulled his scarf around his neck, he gestured to the boys to his office. You waited patiently in the corner for them to finish their 'Afternoon' conversation.

The relentless curiosity inside you, which was very difficult to silence, was feeding your shyness, but you hated being alone with your feelings and interest in him from the beginning. There was also the fact that your last days had not been the brightest. When his eyes found yours, you could find nothing of that in his face yet. He didn't smile until he was within two steps of you.

That feeling you always had in your stomach for him certainly didn't always feel good.

“Can I join in?”

The smile on his face grew at your question, and a little at yours. With a slight frown. “Why?”

Even after all that, your communication was not like normal people do. You never got any of those little words of welcome and kisses from him.

Your reaction was just to be okay with it and get used to it quickly.

“I'm curious.”

You hesitated a little about your answer and the slight change in Yeonjun's face made you bite the inside of your cheek. His smile turned into something smaller but his hand moved to cup your cheek. “Trust me, you don't need it.”

“Not that I need it...”

You stopped as quickly as you started the sentence and that was enough to create a silence between you.

You caught the slow change of expression on his face and it took your breath away. You were not used to his emotions being reflected in his facial expressions.

His thumb moved across your cheek, waiting for you to continue talking.

Something that suddenly climbed into his eyes made you tremble with such guilt that no words came to your tongue. When his grip on your cheek loosened, you grabbed his arm, not knowing what to do.

Corridor.

How long has he been there?

You saw his eyebrows slowly furrow, you squeezed the thick fabric of his coat. His hand slid slowly to your neck, making you breathe nervously through your lips.

A feeling overwhelmed you, as if he was pressing you against something, or as if his shadow was falling, darker than usual.

You blinked, asked him again in a weak voice. “Can I?”

As soon as he heard your voice, he looked at your lips. His gaze stayed there for a while. He seemed to be drifted away. With a silence that made your guilt even more intense and with his eyes that looked thoughtful.

Was it only a few seconds? What he did to your heart certainly didn't last that short.

Yeonjun's frown disappeared as his eyes found your eyes again, and so did the dozens of indecisive emotions you had just seen on his face.

He licked hid lips as gently withdrew his hand from your warm skin. When he took half a step back, you reflexively took a small step towards him.

But this time it was just before he uttered the sentence that would make dozens of emotions flash across your face and make you frown.

“If you have something under your skirt.”

“Not wanting to talk about serious things is not not thinking about serious things. You certainly have one head, but even the ugliest letter has a sandbox.

The most broken arm of love. It doesn't change that smoke can kill you when you can't smell it. On the other hand, there is seeing the smoke, realizing that your body continues to breathe freely because you cannot smell it, but knowing that you will die.

And why can't you smell?

Is it because your senses have already accepted to live under the yoke of your newfound celestial sensation? Is it because it is easy enough to extinguish and burn a few constellations there?

Common blindness comes into play here, but if the hands over your eyes were your own you would recognize them.

Are you going there or are you being led there?”

“We need to talk.”

Your letters were pushed by your pulse, half of the anger in your blood was at yourself. For still having tears in your eyes at his dry expression when it had been obvious for a long time that you were not in a healthy relationship.

But there was still, above all, only a very heavy love.

“I'm so beautiful, I'm so smart, but until someone else comes near me?”

And it's there even when you get angry.

“Are you going to start ignoring me? Like you always do?”

First Mr. Darcy and now his students.

Your words came out weak and hoarse in contrast to the strength of the emotion inside you. You didn't want to yell at him or fight with him anyway. The relationship always felt like a glass surface prone to breakage and you always walked on eggshells to avoid losing him.

You hadn't planned to get it out of your chest here today, and even talking about it was scary in itself.

Because the feeling that you could distance yourself from everyone if Yeonjun wanted you to, was there deep inside you in a way you didn't know how it got there.

Which should have been only one of the main problems.

“Y/n,” his voice was as low as yours. You hated how small the mature look in his eyes made you feel.

“I think I hurt you.”

“What?”

Your eyes widened slightly, you forced a smile to keep them from tearing up. “Are you going to be an asshole this time?”

One by one, the houses in your body, built by feelings you didn't even know you had, began to shake. You didn't know what came out of your mouth, but you didn't have time to regret it. Was he realizing this now? That he was hurting you?

Your head spun violently, either from anger or fear of losing him.

Yeonjun's hands moved in his pockets. Your words made no change in his facial expressions, so you wished that little swallow meant something. He lifted his chin up slightly and opened his mouth.

“No.” you interrupted him with a broken voice, almost whispering as you unconsciously took a step or two closer to him. You did it as if begging him not to tell you that. You knew what the slightest regret in his eyes could do to you.

Because just as you knew you would never find another one of him, he had already told you that he would never find another one of you.

And you believed it with all your heart.

“I didn't expect you to put a ring on my finger, I-”

“Didn't you?”

This time he interrupted you. In that lovely gentle voice you are used to now, with its different tones.

That thing in his eyes, directed towards your eyes, was exactly the opposite.

“I guess I can't make that sentence.”

Your lips remained open after the sentence you could not finish. You felt the key words echoing in your mind. Just as quickly as your blood boiled, it calmed down.

A sensation so intense that it made your ring finger itch.

You blinked as he pushed himself off the table. His confession stunned you and maybe even made you regret not being honest.

Or the possibility that he feels more than you think.

His hand rose to your neck, noble as always.

“You're-” Your heart clenched as your words was interrupted by him pushing your cheek to the right with two fingers.

“You-” you tried again but this time you were silenced by a slap, your face remained still in that direction for a while.

The sound of your shaky breathing hit the wall behind you, a terrific throbbing started between your legs. You turned slowly towards his face as he placed one hand on the wall next to your head. You felt your pupils flutter under his gaze. He saw how his brute force made your cheeks flush, but the steady dark look in his eyes didn't leave, not even for a sneer.

His hand rose again, this time slapping you near the mouth, more slowly, because he knew you liked it.

A few strands of your hair fell to the corners of your eyes. The thought that your cheek was flushed from his slaps made you feel weak.

He was doing it again. He was silencing everything again.

Your back was pulled away from the wall for a kiss but as soon as you got close to his face his warm fingers wrapped around your throat.

Your lips parted with the sound of a breath. He held you close to his face, close enough for your noses to brush. Enough to feel all your sweet breathing on his face.

“You didn't expect?” he asked, keeping this topic alive in his mind kept doing something to your heart.

“I... I lied.” you whispered, his grip on your neck tightened for a moment. “And,” he whispered while looking at your lips. “What did you just call me?”

Now as he brought you a little closer to his face, his eyes flashed with something sharp, as if he wanted you to say it again.

Your hands dropped to your sides and you looked at his lips for a second. He reminded you of your anger but took away the strength to sustain it.

“Asshole.”

Your sharp whisper hit his face and you watched his lips slowly open. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. Just like Yonjun's fingers, which he hadn't yet removed from your neck, pressed lightly against your pulse.

Seconds later your mouths collided harder than ever before. Your mouths fell victim to poorly constructed lust.

He kissed you as if he wanted to tear something from your taste, and he moved his hand to your cheek, sure that if he grasped your throat any longer he would leave you breathless.

You squeezed his wrist as he pushed his warm tongue into your mouth. Feeling your skin becoming more and more sensitive came with his hand sliding down your neck.

“A-” You added a desperate sound to the wet sound of your tongues parting. Yeonjun felt the need to pull back and look at that, your eyes and your red lips.

He narrowed his eyes, pulled his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your chin. He pressed your body against the wall and leaned into your mouth again.

And no, you've never kissed so hot before.

Not even when you completely undressed in front of him before sitting on his lap on the terrace of his house.

Was anger as glorious a feeling as he wrote, or did all these obstacles make you desperately want to touch his skin more?

“A bunch of boys,” he whispered breathlessly, your foreheads pressed together. “With the same interests as you.” his hand slid slowly under your shirt, sliding over the warm skin of your waist. “About your age.”

“No-” you groaned, eyes widen even more. His hand squeezed your waist in an almost possessive manner. “No?” he tilted his head slightly to the side and kept looking into your eyes, his hand stroking your stomach messily, his fingertips slipping under your underwear.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you closed your eyes tightly. In his arms, out of the world.

“And it wouldn't be impossible, would it?” his warm lips brushed your ear. He arching your back as he gently pressed you against his desk then slid a finger inside you. “Wouldn't it have to be a secret?”

“Yeon-”

You really wanted to call him. You wanted to repeat his name a billion times for everything you couldn't say.

His lips brushed against your cheek, the feeling of how beautifully you wet his finger made him close his eyes for a second. You tried to find something in his quiet sigh and then it felt like he was talking to himself and not to you all along.

And it wouldn't be impossible, would it?

His second finger slid slowly inside you, your knees slightly bent. He rested his other hand on the table and caged you. You put one hand on his hand on the table, needing a little more contact, while your other hand grasped his wrist and accompanied his movement.

Your cheeks touched as he continued the slow rhythm of his middle and ring finger sliding in and out of you from behind. He listened to the small needy sounds between your breathing as he took his time stretching out your warm walls.

Cause of him.

Just for him.

His low moan added to the wet sounds coming from down there. On the table, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

His pushed fingers inside you again, stopped somewhere deep inside and pressed hard there.

“Ah...”

Your head fell back.

“Why did you want to join?” he whispered in your ear. His voice, thick with desire and anger, closed your eyes. He kept pressing his fingers against one of the sensitive spots inside. He kept his eyes on you for an answer as he continued to curl his fingers heavily.

You felt the desire overwhelming you.

“For you.” you barely said, in a breathless whisper.

You felt him swallow behind you. He pulled his hand off the table without leaving yours and put it on your stomach. He used it to glue you to his body.

“Are you sure?” His fingers moved again as he pressed you a little more against the table.

“Yes...” your head dropped a little, your face contorted with pleasure, but you were also flustered, feeling that you had to talk to him. “How did you lecture-”

You lost your voice as he began to pump his fingers hard inside you. You saw his hand on your stomach slide down as well, disappearing under your skirt, and you cried out as his fingers found your clit.

“Shit...” he whispered sharply, his brows furrowed, he went harder to hear more of your needy sounds. He continued to press his fingers hard against your walls without stopping as he quickly rubbed your clit.

“A- Ah- Please...”

The knot in your stomach hunched your back, making you lean forward even more. The hot drops running down your thighs made you moan with the need to hold on to something and you found his wrist again.

Yeonjun tilted his head and looked down at your hands, which were now swaying together. He bit his lip to keep from letting out a string of curses for what the realization that tears were glistening on your cheeks had done to his mind.

Your upper body touched the table with the hot liquid you felt on your thighs. His fingers made you dizzy, continuing to fuck you as you came. Your eyes rolled back.

Your whole body was overwhelmed by pleasure under his shadow, and for a second something like concern appeared in his eyes.

Not satisfied with cleaning you gently in his office, he said he wanted to take you home, and there, for the first time, when it took him a long time to get a response from you, you already knew.

That something in your chest had given up.

When the late afternoon sun decided to let the snowflakes have a little more time, it was another wonderful sight for the afternoon.

No matter how warm it was inside, if it was snowing outside, it was snowing everywhere.

Something they wrote on the wet roads, that you have less than a second to read. And they say poetry is more powerful when it contains the need for a person.

Maybe they were right.

Because his voice and his presence were comforting despite everything.

“I remember you had a life,” he murmured, his fingertips sliding slowly from your shoulder to your arm. “When I saw you with your peers.”

You heard the small sound of his hand entering the water to hold yours and you closed your eyes.

“I remember that I couldn't keep you to myself, that the whole world needed to hear you...” he leaned his head against yours, his voice lower now.

This was never the scenario you created in your mind when you realized there was a bathtub in his house.

Your legs between Yeonjun's legs were wiggling timidly and you kept sighing quietly. There were so many questions to ask, answers you really needed to get. You knew that every second you didn't speak would haunt you later. And how long it could take.

The cruel thought that you weren't about to lose him, that you never had him in the first place, made you want to just live in the moment.

You couldn't count the number of times he said you had a style that put you over the top. You didn't know if it mattered anymore.

Where was the passion in that?

“And you,” he kissed your temple, his warm lips spreading a small wave of sun on your face. “You can't ask me to be selfish.”

He interlaced your fingers, you squeezed his hand. You leaned into the kiss you felt on your head.

“I know what I feel.”

When his voice was at its lowest, it made you open your eyes slowly. His lips lingered on your hair.

You slowly turned your head back and found his eyes. He loosened his arm around you, making it easier for you to turn to him with your body.

You put one hand on his bare chest.

“What do you feel?”

And you asked.

There was a delicate tone of curiosity in your voice, but there was also the hoarseness of a question asked without waiting for an answer. One that clearly made him part his lips slightly.

When his eyes felt different now, you wanted to believe that they really looked different. When his fingers slipped softly between yours and settled on your waist.

You heard his breath in the silence.

His gaze fell to your lips as your other hand moved to his chest, adding to the warmth there. And seeing them slowly parting, he moved his fingers from your waist, pressing lightly against your skin.

All it took was a little pull away from the warm wall of the tub, and he leaned down to your face and kissed you.

It was not because he was a coward, but because he respected you.

He explained in the quietest way how otherwise he would have claimed you and kept you for himself. You knew that you already belonged to him and would continue to belong to him for a long time. When he told you that he couldn't ask you to be selfish, he was reminding himself that he shouldn't be selfish.

No other student would solve crossword puzzles in that schoolyard except you. No one else would blossom in silence like you.

There isn't another one.

He kissed you so gently that he didn't even have to show that he was as ruined as you are.

And the pessimistic literature that clung to you in exchange for a glittery page was eerie. Even if Oden's crows had warned you about what they saw, you weren't sure if they could have changed anything.

Because it wouldn't be called murder for a long time.

Now it was hard to tell whether the snow was actually writing something or trying to fall harder to the ground.

“I know you will be a very successful woman and I will follow all your work.”

The smoothness of his voice was felt on your chest.

“And to have once held you in my arms...”

The fact that you felt his warm arms around you for the last time stopped his sentence there, making the bitter silence he had interrupted meaningless for the moment.

“I promise it will feel amazing.”

A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star

Piercing the west,

As thou, fond heart, love’s time, so faint, so far,

Rememberest.

The clear young eyes’ soft look, the candid brow,

The fragrant hair,

Falling as through the silence falleth now

Dusk of the air.

Why then, remembering those shy

Sweet lures, repine

When the dear love she yielded with a sigh

Was all but thine?

After all that, the fact that you couldn't write as often as you used to brought the thought that your art wasn't raw every day. Choi Yeonjun once gave you everything to protect and nurture your talent.

That's what makes you still stand tall.

That makes you feel like you have to stand still.

With your respect for him, your belief that he created your tomorrow, and your admiration that has never been damaged since day one.

But he certainly should have taught you something about the few tears that glistened on your face when you locked eyes with him on one of the coldest days of last week, even though it was so brief that you could only catch a few snowflakes on his eyelashes.

thanks so much for reading! and don't forget that anything that contains sodium is a salt🤞🏼

+ all quotes that are used in the fic are belong to james joyce

#txt hard hours #txt smut #tomorrow x together imagines #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fanfic #txt yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #dom!yeonjun #txt x reader #yeonjun hard hours

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unboundprompts · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!!! I hope you don't mind doing this one,

Can you help me write a traumatized person who's having trouble talking because of past trauma? (They can still interact with people, but only with signs and movements, not voice) and also a little anxious

Tell me if you need more details =)

How to Write a Mute / Non-Speaking Character

-> healthline.com

-> verywellhealth.com

-> descriptionary.wordpress.com

Types of Mutism:

selective mutism: having the ability to speak but feeling unable to.

organic mutism: mutism caused by brain injury, such as with drug use or after a stroke.

cerebellar mutism: mutism caused by the removal of a brain tumor from a part of the skull surrounding the cerebellum, which controls coordination and balance.

aphasia: when people find it difficult to speak because of stroke, brain tumor, or head injury.

What Causes Selective Mutism in Adults?

having another anxiety condition, like separation anxiety or social anxiety

experiencing physical, emotional, or sexual abuse

having a family history of selective mutism or social anxiety

having fewer opportunities for social contact

having an extremely shy personality

having a speech or language disorder, learning disability, or sensory processing disorder

parent-child enmeshment, or lack of clear boundaries in the relationship

traumatic experiences

Traumatic Mutism vs Trauma-Induced Selective Mutism

if you have traumatic mutism, you may be unable to talk in all situations following a trauma.

with trauma-induced selective mutism, you may find it impossible to talk only in certain situations-- for example, in front of the person who hurt you or in a setting that resembles the circumstances of your trauma.

Different Ways Individuals with Mutism May Choose to Communicate:

Nonverbal Communication: they may rely on facial expressions, gestures, eye contact, and body language to convey their thoughts, emotions, and intentions.

Writing or Typing: they may use a pen and paper, digital devices, or communication apps to write messages, notes, or responses.

Sign Language: they can convey meaning, emotions, and engage in complex conversations through hand signs, facial expressions, and body movements.

Augmentative and Alternative Communication (AAC) Devices: these devices provide individuals with a range of tools and technologies to support their communication needs. They can include speech-generating devices, picture boards, apps, or software that allows users to select words, phrases, or symbols to generate spoken or written output.

Communication Boards and Visual Aids: Communication boards or charts with pictures, symbols, or words can assist individuals in conveying their messages.

Assistive Technology: various assistive technologies, such as speech-to-text apps, text-to-speech programs, or eye-tracking devices that aid individuals with communication.

Tips on Writing a Mute / Non-Speaking Character:

Explore the vast array of nonverbal cues such as facial expressions, body language, gestures, and eye contact. Use descriptions to convey their intentions and reactions.

Utilize internal dialogue. Offer readers a window into their internal thought process, and turn their internal dialogue into a narrative that reveals their inner struggles, triumphs, and complexities so that reader can connect with the character.

Establish a communication system that is unique to your character (Sign language, written notes, telepathy in a fantasy setting, etc.). Having a communication system allows your character to interact with other characters and contribute to the narrative.

Surround them with Understanding Characters that can aid in communcation and fostering meaningful relationships.

Establish the Barriers/Conflicts They'll Experience. Don't forget to be realistic.

Your character is not defined by their inability to speak. Make sure you do not write stereotypes and cliches. Being mute is only one aspect of their identity rather than their defining trait.

Do your research! Seek out firsthand accounts, experiences, and perspectives. Check out online forums and resources to gain insights into their unique challenges, adaptations, and strengths.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #how to write #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writing help #writing tools #how to write a mute character #how to write a non-speaking character #how to write characters

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thebookbin · 5 months ago

Text

TimKon Fic Recs Part 1.

So I mentioned in a reply to @oneswordstyle that I had a ton of TimKon fic recs and I was about to spam them with a million comments in the replies, but then I figured it was probably easier to do in a post. So here it goes. It also got too long so I split it into 2 parts.

Scions by Winterlive (Explicit) 2008 - 63K words - Complete

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Gotham mogul and secret vigilante Bruce Wayne, shows every sign of being his father's true successor - by day, and by night. Tim sets his sights on a valuable Metropolis lab for merger with Wayne Biotech, and all that stands in his way is the city's own rising star: Conner Luthor.

Note: I really love when characters get to grow up. I think Tim was a really fun teen to read about, and this fic explores him as a young business man and true heir to the Wayne legacy. Kon is Luthor’s son and prodigy in this, and it makes them interesting foils.

⭐️ call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu (Teen) 2024 - 80K words - Ongoing

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy. This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

Note: Kon is fresh outta the test tube in this one, and despite the author’s facetious use of the word “sugar daddy” this is actually really sweet. Make sure to drop a comment and let the author know we’re excited for the next chapter!

Baby, Talk Me Down (Take Me Out) by sage (Teen) 2020 - 90K words - hiatus

Tim has been working too hard lately, and everyone is starting to notice. Bruce takes it upon himself to help Tim do some self-care and ships Tim off to the Kent farm for the summer, forcing him to take a well-earned vacation. Naturally, things get out of hand.

Note: This fic is on hiatus, so make sure to stop by and leave an encouraging comment, so we can get the ending this sweet story deserves. Tim finally gets a minute to breathe and really process all that’s been happening. He also gets to experience small town life but also he’s Tim so he gets himself into trouble. I find in a lot of fics, Kon always feels out of place or like he doesn’t quite belong, but he’s very settled and has really taken the time to learn who he is in this one, which I appreciated very much.

The Classic Shenanigans of Two Idiot Boys in Love by MashpotatoeQueen (Teen) 2021 - 94K words - Complete

In which the papers get hold of the fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is dating another boy, Kon is all chill, Tim is no chill at all, the internet is flipping out, and Dick Grayson is quite possibly the greatest big brother of all time.

Note: An attempt to explore the public side of their relationship, a story told in vignettes.

⭐️ Stars Over Gotham by madaliz (Explicit) 2025 - 170K words - ongoing

Kon is tasked by the Planet to write the defining piece on Gotham City (no pressure). As he learns more about the city's first family and its criminal underbelly, he finds himself increasingly entangled with the mob and the vigilantes he's supposed to keep away from.

A story about how Kon and Tim grapple with their family legacies, fall in love, and team up to foil a conspiracy to ruin Gotham's hard earned order.

Note: Adults! Self-assured Kon! A really interesting world in which the Bats and the JL are completely separate and do not mingle. They are aware of each other but maintain strict rules. When Kon goes to Gotham in his civilian identity as a reporter his and Tim’s game of cat and mouse quickly turns into a Romeo and Juliet situation and I AM OBSESSED. There’s only 3 chapters left and I love this fic so much I’m dreading saying goodbye to it. Make sure to leave a comment to let the author know!

I’m alone here, I think by unluckyloki (Teen) 2019 - 93K words - Complete

Superboy is fighting robots in San Francisco and remembers something that wasn't. There's a new priest in the Naxos temple appointed by Dream of the Endless. Kon is missing something. Tim is missing everything. One day Krypto practically drags Superboy to a remote island in Europe and there's a dark haired guy smiling at Kon like he knows him.

Maybe he does.

Note: I’m not usually a fan of fics set in the cartoon Young Justice world, but this one is really special. The prose is exquisite, and it feels like reading an epic poem. Even though it’s kind of in the blurb it took me way too long to realize it was a Sandman crossover, but honestly you don’t really have to know anything about that. I’m also not usually a fan of ‘Tim Drake has magic AUs’ but again, I can read anything if it’s executed well, and this writer executes basically everything perfectly.

I Want it That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky (Series) - 140K words - Complete

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

Note: Series says “not complete” but the series currently has 3 fics, which are all complete. Set int he 90s, which I think is perfect for superheroes. A lot of the mythos collapses with modern day technology. Fresh outta the test tube Kon is sort of held hostage by Lex Luthor, and young Tim realizes this and decides to save him. The 90’s setting is what MAKES this series something truly special.

buy back the secrets by sundiscus (Teen) 2024 - 90K words - Ongoing

He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.”

Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy.

Note: 1 chapter left! Don’t forget to leave a comment so we can let the author know how much we’re anticipating the last chapter. This is another love-square AU, I can’t help myself. In this one, they’re both skewed a bit younger, but they deal with the more heavy side of vigilantism.

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2021 - 22K words - Complete

‘Drake?’

Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow.

‘Damian?�� He managed.

Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And-

Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t-

How had he been so stupid?

Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Note: Not usually a fan of Damian/Jon but I think this fic handles it well and is more of a puppy-crush than anything. This is a coming-out fic that deals in all those tropes, and I think handles it really well. Again, I’m not usually into the more fanon interpretation of Tim as a timid, neglected, anxiety-ridden wet cat, but this fic explores some insecurities without, I feel, straying too far from his actual characterization.

⭐️ First Kontact by Chiyana

Two years after a disastrous first encounter with an alien entity called Necros, Captain Tim Drake is given his first mission back in the field. The simple six-month exploration mission babysitting a group of LexCorp researchers goes abruptly downhill upon the discovery of a missing colony ship, landing Tim directly back into the horror that took him out of the field in the first place and leading him to his second first encounter with an alien race. Usually he's all for over-achieving, but even he finds this to be a bit excessive.

At least this time one of the aliens is more interested in him alive than dead.

Note: This may be my favorite fic I’ve ever read, like ever. This is a sci-fi au, where Tim is a captain, and the Kryptonians are space refugees after the destruction of their planet. The WORLD BUILDING is exquisite. I absolutely love Bart in this world. Also, despite the new world building, the explanation for Kon’s ostracism from the House of El is fantastic. This is one of those stories that has dug into my brain. Although, please mind the tags, it can be intense.

What happens in Vegas by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2022 - 92K words - Complete

57 missed calls.

Bart_ahhh tagged you and one other in a post

The Gazette (4 hours ago)

Bruce Wayne’s youngest eligible bachelor is off the market: Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped in Vegas [EXCLUSIVE pictures]

63 unread messag-

Tim jolted upright. His eyes scanned over the headline again. Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped… Timothy Drake-Wayne what?

And with who?

Or: Tim and Conner accidentally get married in Vegas and decide to stay that way until they can get quietly divorced. It’s simple. Except the Bats are detectives and the press is relentless and oh, Tim is hopelessly in love with his best frie- husband?

Note: classic accidentally married first, then fall in love. Obsessed with this fic, and the author has indicated it’s supposed to be a series, so I canNOT wait to see where this AU goes. Honestly Cassie is the most relatable person in this fic, because she totally believes that these two idiots would do something so ridiculous but what she can’t believe is the audacity to get spontaneously married on her birthday.

#TimKon #fic rec #dc fic rec #Tim drake #kon el kent #superboy #Red Robin #my fic recs

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ravenstargames · 4 days ago

Note

Are there any wedding customs in Limbo? And do the LIs have their own image of their dream weddings?

✦ Are there any wedding customs in Limbo?

(I purposely left out the second part of the ask because this is gonna be long enough OTL im sorry...)

There are wedding customs in Limbo! However, the Sovereigns "officiate" the "weddings".

Limbo's weddings are referred as Bonding Ceremonies or Trials and require to overcome a few...well, yes, trials. Every Sovereign has a different way of approaching this. They themselves don't get bonded with anyone. It's not seen as fair neither to the people of Limbo nor to the people they'd want to be bonded with. Which doesn't mean it hasn't happened befo—

Also, you don't have to be bonded to anyone to be considered legal partners. That can be done signing a few papers!

To quote myself from the Discord server a while ago where we briefly discussed what a bonding trial would entail if you were to ask for The Mindbender's blessing...

It's seyl yapping time with some corrections :^)

Each Sovereign focuses on certain blessings and "rules" you have to follow for them to agree to bless the ceremony. When it comes to blessings, for example Raeya is Strength in the face of adversity, Amon is Determination in the face of failure, and Gael is Knowledge in the face of ignorance.

If you ask for Gael's blessing you basically have to prove him you and your partner/s have the drive to learn from each other constantly. You have to accept your naivety and your ever-changing nature. You have to be willing to accept actions and reactions (independently of if they're considered morally right or wrong) are born from the knowledge (or lack of) you've acquired throughout your experience as a living being. So basically it requires a long period of meditation, self-discovery and understanding of those you want to be bound to forever. People prepare for this for years.

As for the trials—first of all there's a cleanse of the soul and mind done by "priests". Each participant is taken to a small empty room with no windows and no external stimuli with only a priest, covered from head to toe to not be recognized. I'll save the details of this ritual for the sake of not literally writing the whole lore of the ceremony.

Then the participants are evaluated personally by Gael; this process is a bit painful as he basically gains access to any relevant memories and is able to explore them at will. For this he manifests in some sliver of his true form, which can shake the soul of the participants, in which case they're deemed unworthy by the priest. Gael can protest to this, but it has rarely happened.

The rest of the memories have been temporarily cleansed by the priest, beforehand, to preserve the participants' intimacy to an extent, so Gael only has access to things related to the Bonding Trials.

He then decides if they're adequate or not to receive his blessing. If they fail, they are welcome to try again in the future.

If they're worthy, their memories of the previous ritual are completely erased by Gael himself for their safety. Basically the participants just remember they have been deemed worthy.

Then we move to the soul-linking ceremony! This can be public or private. This step is vital for every ceremony in every "pantheon". All the participants kneel down, hands linked together between them with a special rope / tie. Every participant has to be personally linked to the others so in ceremonies with more than one participant this process can take a while as the tying of the rope is very specific.* This is done by another "priest".

*if all the participants want to be linked to each other. if there's two participants who don't want to be linked to each other but they want to be linked to the third participant, that's doable too!

(There's more stuff happening but we'd be here until tomorrow and I have to work or my team will kill me) (I wrote this in the discord message and it's still relevant)

Then Gael extracts a fraction of the essence of every participant as well as blood (this done again by the priest) and mixes it together. It's then solidified in an essence crystal (or more than one if not all participants want to be bound together) that he breaks in as many parts as participants in the ceremony. The crystals symbolize the permanent, unbreakable union of the participants. When Limbo claims their souls in death, they'll travel back to the Great Void together, which is seen as the utmost declaration of love among Limbanians.

After this, everyone is free to celebrate how they see fit!

Some people describe the bond as being able to understand their partners to a deep, spiritual level, or feel them. Others don't notice anything changing.

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #about the world of limbo #seyl rambles

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cmncisspnandmore · 1 year ago

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All Hands on Deck- Part 2

Pairings: Poly!141 X Wife!Reader.

Warnings: Smut, this whole things is filth, some angst and fluff thrown in.

A/N: I had no intentions of this Poly141 one shot i wrote turning into a series, but i couldnt get their family out of my head so i started writing and now look at us. 9k words into a part 2. Ooopssss. This is also not beta read, all mistakes are mine.

Word Count: 9713

Part 1

“It’s really not that complicated, Johnny,” Simon sighs, resting his head in his hands, his fingers pushing through the unkempt blonde locks.

“Sod Off,” the scotsman huffs as he grabs the three strands of hair on Kira's head again. You watch over the top of your mug. Two of your husbands are sitting on the couch, your oldest twin Kira sitting on the floor between her Da’s legs. One of your middle children, Isla sat between Simons. Johnny had been trying to learn to braid her hair, something you or Simon did most days.

“Left, over middle, right, over middle, and just repeat,” Simon coaches him, showing him once again on Islas long brown hair.

“Yeah yeah,” Soap grumbles as he tries again, earning a yelp from Kira.

“Ouch! You pulled my hair!” her hands on top of her head as she turns to glare up at her father.

“Sorry hen, didn't mean ta,” Soap apologizes leaning down to kiss her forehead. Simon finishes the braids in Islas hair, the 6 year old leaning back against his shins.

“Daddy i’m bored, can i go play with Theo and Joseph now?” She whines, batting her lashes at him. Simon gives her a small nod, and her smile grows. “Thank you Daddy, good luck Da!” she calls as she scrambles to her feet and flees from the room.

“Isla lets play cops and robbers!” Joseph yells as he meets her in the hallway, he peeks into the room giving you and the others a small wave before he bounds off after his sister.

You take a small sip of your caffeinated beverage, the warm liquid warming your stomach as you drink. John had made you a cup and promptly deposited it into your hands as you walked down the stairs this morning,you were still in your sleep clothes. He had murmured about having to go finish some papers in the office on the 3rd floor before he disappeared.

“Aye! Look at that!” Johnny exclaims as he ties the hair band around the end of the horribly loose and uneven braid going down Kira’s back. Kira’s hands go to the braid, small fingers running over it, she looks over at Simon, a frown on her face.

“Well you tried,” Simon laughs, before motioning for Kira to sit in front of him. His large hands carefully pulled the hair band from her hair. He runs his fingers through it and quickly re braids it into a neat french braid.

“You make it look so easy,” Johnny sighs, looking over at you, “both you and Si can work some witchcraft on their hair that I just can't get the hang of.”

“It’s alright love,” You smile as you walk over, sitting on the couch next to him. Satisfied with her braid Kira slips from the room, off to join her siblings in their games.

“I just want ta help,” Johnny mumbles, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you into his side.

“I know, but hair is not your thing, and that's okay, you help in many other ways,” you press your lips to his cheek, earning a small smile from him. “It took Simon a while to learn too.”

“Really?” Johnny murmurs his lip brushing across your cheek.

“Oh yeah, after we found out about the twins, and that we were having a girl, I think he spent every night until they were born practicing on my hair. Don't let him tell you he’s just good at it, there were lots of terrible braids and my hair being pulled,” you narrow your eyes at Simon and he gives you a small smirk.

Simon had spent almost every night braiding your hair, or well, trying to braid your hair. The first few weeks he mainly just yanked your hair out while you tried to explain the process to him. Once he made such a huge knot in your hair you were afraid you were going to have to cut it out. Kyle had found you sitting on the bathroom counter, sobbing because you couldn't get the snarls out. Thankfully after an hour of you and Kyle working on the knots you were able to get it out.

Simon had felt terrible about it, and didn't touch your hair for a week after that. It took you begging him to try again for the man to even brush your hair for you. Eventually he got good at the basic braid and you taught him how to do a french braid and a few other hairstyles.

“Does that mean i can practice on ye?” Johnny's big blue eyes flutter at you, earning a harsh roll of your own.

“Maybe, if you're good.”

Simon stands from the couch, stretching his large body, black tee shirt pulling taught against his chest. “I’m gonna go shower, Lovie, do you need anything?” He looks down at you in Johnny arms, your head resting on his shoulder.

“No, thank you,” you flash him one of your signature smiles, his own lips curling up slightly at the edges. Simon leans down, his large hands cupping your face as he presses a long slow kiss to your lips. Love, adoration and happiness poured into the kiss, he nips your bottom lip gently as he pulls away. Johnny letting out a low groan at the display.

“Steamin’ Jesus..” the Scotsman groans, his head flopping back against the couch as Simon walks away, your cheeks flushed.

“Such a perv Mactavish,” You laugh, and he lifts his head, narrowing those baby blues at you.

“Can’t help it Mo Chridhe, watching you kiss the others does something to me,” he whispers, large calloused hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his muscular thighs. Your hands resting on his shoulders as he blatantly stares at your breasts. “Shame, Hope’s weaning, I fuckin’ love your tits like this.”

Air rushes from your lungs, your eyes fluttering shut as Johnny nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts. Your forehead rests on top of his head as his lips tease at the tops of your breasts, “Johnny…” you breathe.

“Miss you hen,” Johnny’s breath tickles your skin as he trails kisses up your chest to your neck. His hands knead the flesh of your waist as he pulls you down against his lap, his cock pressing against you through the fabric of his jeans.

“The kids…” You breathe, your breath coming out in small pants as his lips sucks on the curve of your neck and shoulder.

“The others can watch em’ they got their turn with you last night,” He mumbles.

He wasn't wrong, last night Kyle and John ravaged your body like it was lost treasure, the pair of them having cornered you in the kitchen after the kids had gone to bed. Simon was trapped in Theo’s room with the toddler sleeping against his chest, Theo had a cold and had been right miserable all day. Needing to be held by you or one of his dads. Johnny was putting Hope to bed, the now 14 month old going through a sleep regression, needing to be rocked to sleep. You werent exactly quiet as John and Kyle fucked you over the kitchen counter. Taking turns slamming into you, your screams and moans floating up the stairs. You know Simon and Johnny heard you, and it only added to your pleasure.

A startled squeak leaves your lips and Johnny shifts you, tossing you over his shoulder as he stands from the couch. His hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack. He carried you through the house, you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You passed the kids in the playroom, Kyle sitting in a chair in the corner, his eyes lifting from his book as you pass.

“Da? Why is Mama up there? Was she naughty? Is she going to time out?” Isla wonders, coming to stand in the doorway of the playroom. Her big blue eyes gazing up at you, although your view is mostly upside down you still see Kyle's smug smirk from the chair.

“Aye Bonnie, She needs a time out,” Soap ruffles her hair with the hand that isn't hooked around your knees. “I’m just bringing her to her room, go play with your siblings. Maybe Dad will bring the lot of you downstairs into the basement for a movie in the theater.”

“Can we watch Encanto?!?! Please Dad!!” Isla yells, bounding over to her Dad. Kyle glares at Johnny, as your children swarm him all calling out different movies they want to watch. Even hope babbles happily at his feet. You give a small wave as Johnny carries you up the stairs towards the master bedroom.

He flops you down in the middle of the giant bed you had custom made for all of you. You bounce slightly on the light green duvet, a laugh floating through the air. Johnny kicks the door closed, his hands finding the hem of his light blue shirt as he drags it off him. His toned stomach and chest are on display. He stalks towards you, like a lion hunting prey, his blue eyes dark with desire.

Your cheeks flame, heart pounding against your ribs. Johnny cage's you against the bed, strong arms locking your wrists above your head. His lips brush against yours as he slots his knee in between your thighs.

“Mmm.. want me all to yourself Johnny?” You whisper, looking at his face through half lidded eyes.

“For now.. Haven't had you all alone for a while. Not that I mind sharing you with the others… I love watching them work you up, making you moan, bring you to the edge with their fingers, tongue and cocks…” His soft pink lips brush against your skin with each word. A shiver shudders through your body at his words.

He shifts to hold your wrists with one of his hands, his other coming to squeeze at your breast. He kneads the soft flesh there, a moan dragging from your lips. A small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Steamin’ Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he groans, pressing his face into the side of your neck. Your hips lift to brush against his, earning another small moan your Scottish husband. Johnny kisses up your neck to your mouth, his tongue invading your mouth. Your tongue tangles with his, your breath mingling. Heat sweeps through your body as you grind yourself on Johnny knee between your legs.

“Need you Johnny…” You whine softly as he slips his hand under your shirt. His cool fingers toying with your nipple. You’ve never been so glad you didn't wear a bra in your life. Your hands are numb from the tight grip he has on your wrists. Body trembling as he kisses you senseless.

Johnny wasn't always gentle with you in bed, he loved to overstimulate you, pushing you to the edge. He’d love to watch tears roll down your cheeks as you begged him to let you cum. He was probably the worst when it came to edging you, he would go for hours if one of the others didn't step in and save you. He was too impatient for that today, his large hands travel down your body, over the curve of your hips. Fingers slip into the waistband of your sleep short as he harshly tugs them down your legs.

“So wet for me already, want me to stuff you with my cock? Make you cum all over it?” His voice is raspy as he slides a finger into your slick heat. God those fingers were something else. He always knew exactly where to touch you to make you squirm.

“Please…” you pant, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

He curls his fingers inside you before adding 2 more. Your legs tremble as you peek up at him from the mattress. His blue eyes burn into you, white teeth flashing behind his pink lips as he smiles at you.

“‘M gonna fill you up, put another baby in you just so i can watch your gorgeous tits grow again,” he shifts letting go of your wrists. Your hands tingle and burn as blood rushes back into them. The sound of a belt hitting the floor, the bed dips under his weight as he climbs back over you. His calloused hand grabs the puffy flesh of your thigh, hooking it over his hip.

Johnny moans softly as his hand glides over his thick cock a few times, the tip red and swollen. Precum leaking onto the bed between your thighs. You swore each of your men were hand carved by gods. Your cheeks burn as Johnny looks down at you, your shirt bunched up over your breasts, pupils blown wide.

“Can’t wait anymore Hen, I gotta be inside ya,” Johnny moans, leaning over you once again, his chest brushing yours. The smooth skin of his chest sends tiny jolts of pleasure through you as it drags across your sensitive nipples. You gasp as he slips through your wet folds, a low groan pulled from his lips as he thrusts into you.

“Fuck, harder,” you moan out, eyes rolling back into your head as he stretches you open.

You didn't have to tell him twice, he picks up speed, sitting back on his legs as he grips your hips in his large hands. He uses his hands to pull you up his thighs, pounding into you mercilessly. Red hot desire burns in your core, your walls fluttering around his cock. Each thrust brings you closer and closer to your release. He pushes one of your knees to your chest, changing the angle to hit deeper. His right hand leaves your hip so he can use his fingers to circle your swollen clit.

“You’re like a vice grip on me, dinnae if i can last long Mo Chridhe, you feel too good wrapped around me,” he breathes, his pace brutal.

“Cum for me baby,” You whimper, your own high teetering on the edge.

His expert fingers circle your clit faster, adding more pressure as he slams his hips into yours. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re tumbling over the edge, Johnny groaning his release as falls forward. Shaky arms on either side of your head as his face dips into the curve of your neck.

You both lay there on the bed, Johnny half hard cock still nestled inside you, your chests heaving as you both catch your breath. You trail your hands up his back, fingers sliding into the hair of his mohawk. The damp strands catch on the diamond of your ring.

“You alright?” you laugh slightly, Johnny's entire body weight resting on you. His large form crushing you, but in the best way.

“Think i died and ended up in heaven, must be my guardian angel,” his lips brush against your neck, his stubble tickling you.

“Get off my wife, MacTavish,” Price's voice breaks through your post orgasm haze. The older man stands in the doorway, his back against the white wood door. His arms crossed over his chest, a teasing smile on his lips as he looked over your half naked state and Soaps bare ass.

“Sorry Cap’n, something about this vixen makes me wild,” Soap laughs as he gently pulls out of you, and rolls off you. He flops over on his back, lower stomach glistening with your mess. John rolls his eyes, and leans down plucking a towel from the half full laundry basket by the door and tosses it at Soap.

“Clean yourself up, Kyle’s stuck in the theater with the kids watching some princess film, and Hope needs a nap.” John walks to the bed, his thighs hitting the edge of the mattress as he wraps a hand around your ankle and yanks you down the bed to him. His light blue eyes trail over your body, his gaze settling on the glistening apex of your thighs. A flare of desire passes over his face before he meets your gaze again.

“I’ll rescue him, need me some baby cuddles anyways,” Johnny laughs as he pulls on his clothes. He leans over the edge of the bed and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, giving you a wink. “I love you Mo Chridhe,” he smiles, his hand ghosting over your lower stomach as he stands.

You blink a few times, head still fuzzy from your activities with Johnny. The bedroom door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with John. His rough fingers trail up the smooth skin of your calf to your thigh. Skimming over the curve of your hip and settling on the side of your ribcage. His palm rising and falling with each of your breaths.

“Johnny take care of you Darlin?” He murmurs, thumb brushing over the side of your breast.

“He did, are you here to have your way with me too?” You breathe, teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip as you blink up at him.

“I wish I could Darling, I want nothing more than to make you scream my name, have my cum dripping out of you. But I have to get to base, Laswell called and said she had something for me to look at, but couldn't discuss it on the phone.” He sighs, his fingers trailing to your hands and he gently pulls you up.

God he hates the way your brows furrow, a small frown on your beautiful lips. He hates that he has to go, but they’ve been home for almost 5 months now. It was only a matter of time before something like this came up. He wished he could retire, the entire task force. But they were needed. He knew it. The rest of them knew it. You knew it. But it didn't make it any easier, knowing that one day your perfect bubble would pop. That your men would have to rush out the door at some ungodly hour to run headfirst into danger. It seemed to get harder and harder as each kid grew to understand what their dads did. How they might not come back.

You let out a long breath, and force a smile onto your face. “I understand, can I entice you into a shower with me before you leave?”

The look on your face was enough to make any man fold, let alone one as hopelessly in love with you as John was. He couldn't resist your big wide eyes blinking up at him, thick long lashes fluttering. He couldn't say no to you, even if he would get his ass chewed out by Laswell for being late.

“Simon better make room,” He chuckles, hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his arms. Not caring that your bare cunt is leaking cum all over his shirt and jeans. He tosses his boonie hat onto the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as you press your face into the side of his neck. His beard tickles your skin, as he shoves open the bathroom door.

Simon glances up in the mirror, a light gray towel slung low on his hips. Board chest and back on full display as he watches his captain carry you into the steam filled bathroom. His brown eyes track you in the mirror until Price sets you down on the cool quartz countertop next to him.

“Hi Lovie, you look thoroughly fucked, did John do this to you?” Simon muses, his chapped lips brushing your temple.

“No,” you chirp, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Johnny got his hands on me, John’s going to shower with me. Care to take another?” You muse, earning a small chuckle from the tall blonde next to you.

“Wish i could Lovie, but I promised a very persistent 7 year old I would take her and her twin to the library so they can get a new book,” he roughly towel dries his hair with a smaller towel before he hangs it on a hook.

Yu jut out your lower lip, “okay, fine,” you pout.

“Don’t pout, your mouth is far too pretty for that. I’d much rather it be wrapped around my dick tonight,” Simon practically purrs in your ear. His teeth nipping your earlobe in promise. Price returns, and shares a look with Simon in the mirror before he stacks a fresh set of clothes for the both of you on the counter.

“Be a good girl, I love you,” Simon kisses your lips softly before he leaves the bathroom.

“Love you,” You call after him as steam starts to billow out of the large walk-in shower, hot water cascading from the multiple shower heads. John settles between your thighs and grips the hem of your pajama top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your own hands travel to the buckle of his belt as you quickly unlatch it, yanking it from the waist of his jeans and letting it tumble to the floor with a metallic clink.

Your deft fingers quickly undo the button and fly, one hand slipping into the opening to palm his half hard cock through his boxers. Your tongue darts out as you notice the wet spot on the front of his jeans from your and Johnny's mixed releases. John inhales sharply, large hands wrapping around your wrist.

“Darling,” he warns, his voice low and tight.

“What?” You blink up at him, feigning innocence.

“We have to shower now if you want me to join you, can’t keep Laswell waiting all day..” He warns, but you don't stop. His cock growing under your tender touches.

“We can shower…” You purr, leaning forward your lips gently grazing the top of his boxers. John's abs contract as your breath tickles his happy trail, the smattering of dark hair that disappears under his boxers. Your tongue pokes out, licking a small wet line over his boxers, his now hard cock jumping as your warm tongue flicks over the tip through the fabric.

The growl that leaves John's lips is almost feral as he grabs your hips and yanks you off the bathroom counter. He spins you, your hip bones hitting the edge of the counter, a delicious sting as they bite into the corner. John's gaze meets your in the mirror, his jaw set in a hard line, one hand pressing into the space between your shoulder blades. He forces you to bend over the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You spoiled brat, you want to be fucked is that it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. “Want me to fuck you into the bathroom counter like the slut you are?” He tugs sharply on your hair, a gasp forcing itself from you.

“Yes, god, yes,” You moan, nipples hardening as they slide against the cold counter.

“I won't be gentle with you, I have things to do, I'm a busy man,” he warns, but it does nothing but excite you. It wasn't often you pushed John, you usually understood when he said he had things to do. But a part of you craved it when he was rough with you. John was most always gentle with you. As if he was afraid to break you, treating you like something to be savored. It was Simon who you often turned to when you needed someone to throw you around, leaving bruises on your skin. But there was a side to Price only you could draw out, when you knew he was stuck in his head of the things he needed to do. Lost in the responsibility of being Captain to the others, the one who inevitably makes the call for them to leave your home and storm into a warzone.

It didn't take much sometimes, just a little bratty behavior when you knew he was in a hurry. If you had been a good girl like Simon suggested you would have climbed into the shower without protest. Let John wash you tenderly under the stream of the shower and kiss you goodbye as you blow dried your hair. But instead you had pressed him, edging the line of his control by palming him through his boxers. The kitten lick through the thin fabric was the final straw for him.

Now as he pulled his shirt off, and shoved his jeans and boxers down to the floor you can't help but pant. You never take your eyes off him as he glares at you through the fogging mirror. One hand gripped in your hair, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“This what you wanted? Getting me all worked up when you know I have to leave?” He asks, giving himself a few harsh strokes. Your eyes trail over his hand, your brain short circuiting as you watch him jerk his cock.

A sharp sting across your ass makes you yelp, johns palm cracking across the silky smooth flesh. “Asked you a question, I expect an answer,” he grinds out.

Y-yes sir,” your words tumble from your dry lips, tongue feeling stuck as he lines himself up with your still wet pussy. He nudges your entrance, and your eyes flutter shut. The tip of his cock slipping between your wet folds.

“Eyes on me,” he demands, and your eyes fly open at the exact moment he slams his hips home. A loud moan falling from your lips as he pounds into you. His hand is still gripping your hair. Your hip bones bite into the rounded edge of the sink. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the bathroom along with the water in the shower. The mirror starts to fog with your breath and the steam from the hot water. The mix of John’s cock driving into you and the humid air of the bathroom makes you dizzy. Your fingers dig into the smooth sink, grasping for purchase. John's cheeks flush as he continues his harsh assault on your body.

“You take my cock so well, such a good little cum slut,” He rasps. Your eyes roll back into your head as he releases your hair. His hands wrap around the curve of your hips so he can thrust into you harder. You were definitely going to be bruised later. But you didn't care, the sight of John losing himself in you was everything to you.

His fingers dig into your hip bones, short nails leaving small crescent shapes on the delicate flesh. “You like it don't you? Huh? Like the feel of my cock filling you up, want my cum to drip from your tight cunt like Johnnys, huh Darling? Want us to fuck another baby into you?’ his hand comes down on your already red ass cheek, a biting sting, he doesn't bother to soothe the red skin. His smile grows as his hand print leaves a raised welt, if there was one thing in common between all of your husbands was they loved marking you.

Whether it was Kyle leaving tiny love bites across your stomach and thighs. Simon's finger prints bruised into your waist. John's handprints on your ass. Or Johnny's teeth marks across the plains of your breasts. They all had their subtle or well not so subtle ways of letting the others know they were there.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum already, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” John pants, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets closer to the edge. “Touch yourself, make yourself cum all over my cock like the good little slut you are.”

Your eyes watch his face in the mirror as you slide a hand between your thighs and rub fast, tight circles on your clit. Your fingers gliding effortlessly over the swollen nub, the mix of you and Johnny making the perfect lubricant. It only takes you moments to work yourself to the edge, your body practically humming already.

John shifts his hips slightly, hitting that spot inside you that drives you crazy. You both fall over the edge with a shout. John's hips slamming into yours with one last rough thrust as he stills inside you. His cock twitching, your walls milking him. You collapse forward, gasping breaths wracking your body.

John reaches forward, brushing the hair from your cheek. His fingers tuck the loose strands behind your ear. “Didn't hurt you, right?”

Your other cheek is pressed firmly against the smooth bathroom counter, the overhead lighting reflecting off the mica embedded in the white quartz. You give a small shake of your head. “No, I knew what I was getting myself into,” You push yourself up on shaky arms as John slips from between your legs. The mixture of his and Johnny's cum dripping down your thighs.

A harsh knock on the bathroom door breaks the moment.

“Price? Laswell called again, said she couldn't get ahold of you, asked me to tell you she needs you on base Asap,” Kyle's voice drifts through the bathroom door and you groan, turning to face John.

“Rain check on the shower, Darling?” Price’s fingers grab your chin softly.

“Rain check,” You agree leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth. He pulls away all too soon for your liking, wiping himself off with a towel before pulling on his clothes. Pulling open the shower door you step into the hot stream, your body shaky and numb from the mind blowing orgasms. You tip your head back allowing the hot water to wet your hair, your eyes closed.

A soft hand slips around your waist, your eyes popping open to see Kyle. His short black hair is dotted with water that bounces off you. A smile forms on your lips as he gently pulls you toward him. The hard expanse of his chest is a welcome home for your head. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just holds you under the hot stream. His fingers absentmindedly stroking your soft skin.

“It sounds to me like you had a very eventful morning,” Kyle teases, his lips brushing your forehead.

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You know how Johnny is after he gets his way with you, he's like a kid in a candy store. He’s put Hope down for her nap and then proceeded to offer to bake cookies with Isla and Theo. Knowing full well he was going to have to clean the kitchen after that fiasco.” Kyle laughs, “and you weren't exactly quiet with John a moment ago.”

Your cheeks grow hot, even after all this time you still couldn't help but feel shy when the other men knew what happened without them. It's not that you were ashamed, it was more to do with your upbringing. Your parents were strict, sex was a taboo subject, you didn't even know the basics until they taught you in health class. Your parents weren't a huge part of your life, they chose to put distance between you and your family when they found out you were dating 4 men.

They showed face at your wedding though, playing the doting parents of the bride. But the cold shoulder your mother gave you when you told her you were expecting her first grandchildren told you everything you needed to know. They weren’t okay with how you chose to live your life, they just cared more about their image.

“Where did you just go?” Kyle asks, his fingers under your chin tipping your face up to his.

“Hmm?” you hum, brows furrowed.

“You got stuck in your head, where did you go?” His own brows furrow as he studies you. His long fingers brushing a drop of water from your cheek.

“I was just thinking about my parents…” you shrug halfheartedly. You tried not to let them bother you, telling yourself that you were better off without them. That your kids didn't need that in their life, they had 2 sets of wonderful grandparents who loved them more than anything. Johnny and Kyle's parents would find a way to give the kids all the stars in the sky if they could.

“Baby,” Kyle breathes, his face coming closer to yours. “You don't need them, don't get lost in their ignorance.”

“I know.. Just.. I don't know,” You mumble, biting the inside of your cheek hard, the coppery tang of blood distracting you.

“Let me make it better,” he whispers, lips skimming yours. Kyle's kisses were always soft and sweet, just like him. His lips are as smooth as butter, as soft as cotton candy. He always took his time with you. Each movement is carefully thought out to bring you the most pleasure. His hands tangle in your wet hair, but unlike John there's no sharp sting. Just tender touches along your scalp as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

The low moan that vibrates through your chest is enough to encourage him to continue. Kyle's fingers trail down your neck and spine to the curve of your ass. His fingers knead the soft flesh there, soothing the raised handprints left by Price. His fingers grip your thigh softly as he hikes it up over his hip, allowing his hard cock to brush against you.

“Kyle… please,” You whisper, rolling your hips into him.

“I’ve got you, Baby,” he whispers against your mouth. He turns you slowly, your back hitting the cool tile wall of the shower. He captures your swollen lips in another searing kiss, as one arm lips behind your back, causing you to arch into him. His other hand wraps around his thick cock as he slides into you. You moan into his mouth, your kiss becoming more clashing teeth and harsh breathing than before. Your hand grip his muscular shoulders, your nails biting into the smooth brown skin. You can feel his muscles flex and contract under your fingers as he languidly slides in and out of you.

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers against your skin, ‘always taking care of us, take such good care of our babies when we're away. You’re ethereal, a true goddess on earth just for us.”

Kyle's praise brings tears to your eyes, what did you possibly do to deserve him? Or any of them? Kyle drags his hips along yours, and your legs begin to shake. Your body was spent, between Soap and Price, you weren't sure if you had any more in you. But it doesn't stop Gaz, he just picks up his pace slightly. Nothing compared to either of the men before him, but enough that the coil in your stomach is now twisting tighter, and it’ll only be a matter of moments before you shatter in his arms.

Gaz’z lips trail down your jaw and neck as he sucks along the smooth skin there. Quiet pants being coaxed out of you with each one. His lips seal around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity skittering across your skin.

“Fuck, Ky- I cant,” you whine, the burning in your core too much, as he drags his cock out of you before pushing back in at an agonizingly slow pace. His teeth graze your nipple as he pulls away. His mouth peppering your chest with wet open mouth kisses. His saliva mixes with the warm water leaving your chest shiny under the bathroom lights.

“Yes you can Baby, I know you can. Just one more, for me,” he coaxes, his hand slipping between you, to rub your overly sensitive clit. His fingers tapping with the lightest of touches, and you break. Your walls are clamping down on him. Tears roll down your cheeks as you come with his name on your lips.

His hips stutter as he follows you over the cliff, his own orgasm ripping through him as he lets your leg fall. Both your feet now firmly on the ground as he presses his forehead to yours. You both pants, the air between you becoming stifling with the humidity from the shower. You wrap your arms around his chest, allowing your head to lay over his rapidly beating heart. Your hair clinging to his skin as he adjusts the shower head above you, allowing more hot water to pour over the both of you.

You stay like that until you're both able to breathe normally, and Kyle begins to gently wash you. He brushes the plush washcloth that's lathered in vanilla scented body wash over your body. He kneels in front of you, gliding the cloth up your legs to your thighs and ass. He's gentle where prices hands have left a mark.

He presses small kisses to the bruises that are forming on your hips from the countertop. Before he stands, pouring some strawberry scented shampoo into his hands and working a rich lather into your hair.You both enjoy the quiet, neither one talking much except for when giving instructions to rinse off.

After you return the favor of washing Gaz, he gets out of the shower, pulling two towels from the warming rack and wrapping one around his waist. The other he secures around yours. He spends the next 30 minutes lathering you with lotions and blow drying your hair. He glances at you through the bathroom mirror as he pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. His white teeth flashing at you as he smiles.

“You alright baby?”

You nod, pulling on one of Simon's oversized black hoodies. It falls to the tops of your thighs, and you have to roll the cuffs of the sleeves up so you can use your hands. Kyle presses a kiss to your cheek, his warm lips lingering on your cheek for a moment.

“You look tired. Why don't you lay down for a nap?” he suggests, his fingers twirling a piece of your hair.

You could use a nap, but you have things to do. Anxiety gnaws at you, you know that they’ll be leaving soon. It's not hard to interpret the messages behind Kate wanting to see John on base. That's how it normally went, she would ask him to come to base to discuss something. John would disappear for a few hours, sometimes late into the night before he came home. He would talk to the others first, usually Simon, then Kyle or Johnny whoever he could find first. Then he would seek you out. He’d pull you into him, his beard tickling your cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses.

Then he’d lay it on you, tell you that they were shipping out, either in the morning or in the next few days. You always tried to be strong, to put on a brave face especially if the children were still awake. Then you would watch as he told each of the children what was going on. Kira and Joseph would hold their younger siblings as they cried, begging their fathers not to go. Your heart shattering in your chest as you watch the four men in your life try to reassure them that they would be back. Eventually the younger kids would settle, the twins distracting them with games or snacks.

It wasn't until they had left, and the kids were all in bed that you allowed yourself to fall apart. Huddled alone in your giant bed, surrounded by their pillows that you would let the tears fall. Sometimes one of the kids would climb into bed with you, their own attempts at comforting themselves. The time where your husbands were gone felt like wading through chest high mud. Each action needs twice the amount of effort than normal. You didn't have enough hands it seemed, there was always someone needing something. Someone had practice or a project they needed done. A baby was sick or going through a milestone. A faucet would leak or you’d forget entire meals when grocery shopping. You chew your bottom lip, spinning your engagement ring and wedding band around your ring finger.

“No i'm okay, I’m gonna go see if Johnny needs any help with Theo and Isla,” you smile softly pressing a quick kiss to Kyle’s cheek before slipping out of the bathroom.

You can hear Johnny talking with Isla and Theo, his accented voice easy to pick out. You pad down the hallway to the kitchen. From the large archway you see Johnny standing behind Isla and Theo who stand on little helper stools. Theos light brown skin is dusted with flour, and his brown curls are pushed out of his face with a pair of bright purple bunny ears. Isla peers over the bowl, her finger dipping into the dough. A glob of cookie dough makes it way into her mouth, a sly smirk on her lips as she thinks Johnny didn’t see her.

But the demolition expert did see it, you can tell by the way his mouth slants upwards, the slight shake of his head. Theo reaches into the bowl, his little fist gripping the chocolate chip cookie dough like it was a life line. But instead of shoving it into his mouth he uses his other hand, attempting to roll the dough into a ball. It squishes through his fingers and lands with a wet plop on the counter. His big brown eyes look up in panic as the sticky dough clings to his hands.

“Oi lad made a fine mess of yerself don’t ya?” Johnny laughs, scraping the excess dough from Theos outstretched hands.

“Da, do you think mama will like the cookies?” Isla wonders, using a dough scoop to scoop out portions of cookie dough, she plops them on a baking sheet. A little too close together but Johnny just moves the small mounds over a bit.

“I think she’ll love em, your mama loves everything you make for her,” he ruffled her hair with his clean hands. Coming to stand behind Theo as he helps him scoop out his own dough with another scoop.

“Sometimes when all of you leave, I can hear Mama crying… Papa left to go see aunt Kate.. that means you’ll leave again soon…” Isla looks down at the cookie sheet, her bottom lip between her teeth. You can see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay to be sad when we leave, lala girl. Sometimes Mama’s get sad too,” he crouches down next to her, his finger hooking up her chin as he looks at her.

“Why do you leave if it makes Mama and us sad?” She leans into his hand, her smaller hands coming to rest on his cheeks. Theo jams the cookie scoop into the bowl too young to understand the conversation.

“Well, papa, Daddy, Dad and I have really important jobs. And those jobs sometimes make it so we have to go far away to capture bad people, and stop them from hurtin others. Like how Batman stops the joker, and police officers catch bad guys.”

“Olice Officer! Wee woo wee woo!” Theo yells, the scoop clattering to the counter, as he claps.

“That’s right, “ Johnny laughs, “but we’ll always come back to you, you guys and your Mama are the most important things in the world to us. So we try our hardest to always come back. Can you do me a favor tho Lala girl?” He asks, and Isla nods eagerly.

“The next time you hear your Mama cryin’ I want you to give her the biggest hug ever okay? And don’t be afraid to tell her it’s okay to be sad too. I think sometimes Mama forgets she can be sad, because she’s so busy trying to make sure none of you bairns are sad.” Johnny gives her a soft smile.

“I can do that Da, can we finish the cookies now?” She grabs the scoop again and looks at Theo and Soap.

“Of course,” he smiles again and you duck out of the archway, just out of sight. Your eyes burn, but you blink back the tears and take a moment to compose yourself. You didn’t realize that Isla had heard you crying. You tried desperately to be quiet, but Islas' room was across the hall and she must've heard you while she went to the bathroom.

You take another deep breath and step out into the kitchen with a smile on your face as you walk to the large kitchen island.

“Mama! Mama!” Theo yells, “We are making you cookies!”

“Cookies? For me? Thank you baby,” You lean down pressing a kiss to his messy curls, the purple bunny ears poking you in the face. You look over the 4 large cookie sheets that are dotted with cookie dough.

“Wow it looks like you guys made enough for everyone, huh?” You smile at Isla and she nods.

“Yeah! Da said we had to triple the recipe because there are soooo many of us,” She explains, scooping another ball of dough from the large metal bowl.

“That's true, there are a lot of people in our house. Do you know how many?” You slip into a bar stool, your eyes catching Soaps above Theos head. He gives you a panty dropping smile and a wink.

“Uh,” Isla thinks hard for a moment, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “Theres Me, Theo, Kira, Joseph and Hope, that's 5… Mama, Papa, Dad, Daddy and Da. That's 5 too… and 5 plus 5 makes 10!” She beams. “There's 10 people who live in our house. Right Da?” She looks over her shoulder.

“That's right Lass, 10 people so far,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“So far? What does that mean? Why are Mama’s cheeks so red?” She scrunched her brows looking between you and Johnny.

“Nothing baby, Da is just being silly,” you roll your eyes. Isla shrugs and goes back to her job. Between her and Theo it doesn't take long for the cookie dough to be laid out on every cookie sheet you own. You help Johnny by putting them in the large commercial size stove, even with your giant oven you can only fit 4 cookie sheets at a time. After Johnny cleans up Theo and Isla he starts to work on the dishes, you perch yourself on a bar stool and watch as he methodically washes each dish.

The sounds of Theo and Isla playing floats through the house as they play in the large playroom at the front of the house. Kyle comes into the kitchen and places his hands on your hips, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“The cookies smell good, good to know Johnny didn't mess them up,” he teases. Johnny looks over his shoulder narrowing his eyes at Gaz.

“Oi, it was one time, and it wasn't even my fault!” He huffs.

“No you’re right you just decided to let the twins measure everything out and they put half a cup of salt instead of a teaspoon,” Kyle laughs.

“Shall we talk about your lasagna, then?” You look up at Kyle and his smile drops.

“You said you wouldn't bring that up,” he grumbles, his hands squeezing your waist softly.

“Did i?” You feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

“Cheeky woman,” Kyle mutters, peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“Keep that up and I might have to steal you for round 2..” Soap's voice is rough and low as he looks at you and Kyle.

Your cheeks blush for what feels like the millionth time today, and you shake your head. “You’re insatiable,” you roll your eyes, slipping from the stool and walking towards the door. “Don't let the cookies burn!” You call over your shoulder.

“Ah Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny curses.

You walk down the hall, peeking your head into the playroom, to see Isla and Theo sitting in a large bean bag chair, Theo peering over the edge of the learning tablet Isla is playing with. A smile plays at the corner of your lips as you walk towards the staircase. You slowly climb the stairs, pausing briefly at Hope's bedroom door to look in. The 14 month old lays on her stomach, her bum up in the air, stuffed bunny tucked in her arms as she sleeps. You quietly close the door and climb the second staircase up to the 3rd floor of your house. There were 3 rooms up here, a small half bath, John’s office, and a guest room used only when Kyle or Johnny's parents came to visit.

You pull open the french doors to John’s office, stepping into the warm room. The hunter green walls lined with heavy oak bookshelves, his large desk sat in the middle of the room facing the floor to ceiling window. An old leather couch sits along one wall and you sink into the soft brown leather. Your fingers brushing across the cracked and worn material. You pull the fluffy green blanket off the back and wrap it around yourself. Your knees pulled up to your chest, your chin resting on top of them as you stare at the landscape outside the window.

Your fingers picking at the loose threads on the blankets. You came up here to get some alone time. No one usually ventures into John's office when he isn't home. Your mind drifts as you watch the fluffy white clouds roll by. Your eyes grow heavy as you enjoy the quiet.

You must've dozed off, your body jolting awake when a hand touches your shoulder. Your head whips up, eyes meeting a pair of dark brown ones.

Simon. Those eyes belonged to Simon.

The tension leaves your shoulders as he crouches next to the couch, his broad shoulders block the light from the window. His blonde eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. Those dark eyes studying every part of your face.

“Hi,” you whisper, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi Lovie, you alright?” He asks, his large hand taking your much smaller ones.

“I’m okay, tired,” you shrug, your fingers wiggling against his palm. “How was the library?”

“Good, Kira and Joseph got 2 books each, and they brought home a few for the younger kids. They’re all in the kitchen eating cookies with Kyle and Johnny. Are you sure you’re okay?” He squeezes your hands again.

You sigh, Simon had a way of seeing right through you. Your other husbands did too, but they often erred on the side of caution when it came to confronting you about it. At some point or another they had pushed just a little too hard when you were having a bad day and you snapped. Basically chewing their heads off before you burst into tears. The other 3 had panicked, not sure what to do, their efforts to comfort you had ended with you hitting their chest as you told them to go away. Cursing at them for pushing you on things you weren't ready to talk about. They had quickly learnt that you would come to them when you were ready. But Simon on the other hand didn't care. He welcomed your outburst, taking each emotion with stride. He’d let you beat on his chest until your arms hurt. Until your anger gave way to your true emotions.

“No.. im not okay,” you relent. Simon just looks at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I know you're going to be leaving soon, and I know at this point I should be used to it. It's been 8 years of deployments. But it doesn't get any easier.. And now the kids are starting to get to the age where they ask questions, wanting to know what you guys do while you're gone. They're starting to understand that what you're doing is dangerous. I don't know how I'm supposed to explain to them what happens if one of you doesn't come home…” you trail off, feeling a weight settle on your chest.

“I can't promise we’ll come home, I won't lie to you and tell you that we will. I’ve never sugar coated that. But you’re stronger than you think Lovie, I know that you can handle everything here. You’re an amazing Mum to our kids. You’re so kind to them, so patient. I know it's hard when we're away. But I promise we won't be doing as many missions as before. Price has had a few meetings with Kate about us stepping back, training a new team to take our place. We don't want to lose any more time with you and the kids. Besides, I've heard through the grapevine that we have a more important mission here.” He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh? What's that?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Something about knocking you up again,” he smiles like a cat who got the canary. He shifts forward on his knees. Large hands pawing at your sides as he drags you down the couch. His hand flicking open the button of your jeans. Your chest heaves as he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to the skin below your navel. Goosebumps erupt on your skin Simon flicks his tongue out, wetting your skin.

“Simon…” You breathe, your hands tangling in his soft blonde hair.

“I know Love,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. You reach for his own waistband, undoing his belt in one swift motion. His brown eyes burn into you as he slides his hand up the inside of your thighs and drags them through the wetness that pools between them.

“Such a good girl for me, always so ready for me,” Simon praises, his eyes straying to the bruise marks on your hips from when John fucked you into the bathroom counter. “Looks like someone already played rough with you today. How did that to you Love? Those weren't there when i left you in the bathroom this morning, tell me was it Kyle or John who bruised that pretty skin of yours.” He slips a finger into you, and you groan, your inner walls fluttering around his thick digits.

“John..” you moan as he curls his fingers into you hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“Did Kyle fuck you too?” He asks, his other hand palming his hard cock through his boxers.

“Mmmm, yes..” you pant, your hands wrapping around his wrist as he fucks you with his fingers.

“Must be my turn then, huh,” he kisses you softly, his lips slanting over yours for a moment, stealing your breath away. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you full of my cum like the others? Fuck a baby into you?”

“Ahh- yes, Si.. Please,” you gasp and pant. Back arching off the couch as you press your hips into his hand. Grinding your clit against the heel of his palm.

“Fuckin’ hell, such a good girl,” Simon groans as he pulls his hand from your dripping pussy. Shoving his jeans down his thick thighs, he grabs your ankles spinning you on the couch so your back presses into the cushions. Your thighs spread, ass hanging off the seat. He leans up on his knees, his cock nudging your tight entrance. One hand grips the flesh of your thigh as he holds you from falling off the couch. The other wraps around the column of your throat. He gives it a gentle squeeze, not enough to cut off oxygen just enough to restrict it as he bullies his cock into you.

Your vision blurs as he thrusts into you, his pace steady and even as he fucks you into the couch. Loud moans tear from your throat as he pounds into you. Your body trembles as his cock rubs against your walls.

“Cum for me beautiful,” He grunts, applying more pressure to your throat. Tiny black pin pricks dance in your vision as he picks up his pace. Your legs trembling, Simon's brown eyes stare into you, his hips faltering as he gets closer to the edge. You moan loudly, air flooding your lungs as he releases your throat, and rubs tight fast circles on your clit. Your body tingles from head to toe as your orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck!” Simon shouts as he stills inside you, his release painting your walls with thick white ropes of cum. He leans down pressing his forehead to yours as he breathes heavily. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath as your legs stop trembling.

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his once more.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

You and Simon change into your clothes, and he settles you in his lap, big arms wrapped around your waist as you snuggle into him. Your quiet moment doesn't last long, the tell tale sound of boots on the stairs causes both of you to look over at the glass doors. John stands just outside of them, Hope resting on his hip, a small smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Simon on the couch. Hope babbles happily in his arms, her chubby fingers grabbing at the brim of his Boonie hat. He pulls open the doors and steps into the room. Hope clapping her hands as she sees you.

“Mamamamama” She babbles, reaching out to you, and you open your arms for her. John carefully puts her in your lap and brushes his fingers along your cheek. You glance up your eyes meeting his own, and that's when you see it, the hard lines around his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw as he watches you.

“When do you leave?” You ask softly, focusing your attention on the baby in your arms as she yanks on your shirt.

“Later tonight, after the kids are in bed,” he sighs, “I'm sorry Darling, I tried to get out of it. But Laswell needs us.”

Simon presses his face into your shoulder. There goes your bubble. Popped.

Next: Part 3

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