#i have been doing this method for years but never had it put into words

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

book on habits told me putting good things in clear view encourages you to engage and form good habits

and putting bad things away in cupboards and such lessens the chance of you engaging with related bad habits

basically what I’m learning is you might have object permanence but your habits don’t so. hide that shit and the habit will baby mode ITS GONE!

anyway I’m contemplating if hanging my walking shoes from my ceiling is too obvious or if it’ll help me get the hint

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[pleasantboatpress]

so, you wanted to start bookbinding?

so @princetofbone mentioned on my post for "factory settings" about wanting to know more about the binding style that i used for it. so i thought i might make a post about it.

i was as terrible as i always am for taking in progress shots, but i can link you to the resources i used in order to make my book. i would also like to point out that "factory settings" is my 120th bind, and i have been doing bookbinding as a hobby for just over 3 years now. unfortunately this means some of the methods that i used for that bind aren't particularly beginner friendly, just in terms of the tools and methods i have used, but i would love to point you in the right direction when it comes to resources. i dont say this to sound pretentious which i fear i might come across, just so that youre fully informed. getting into this hobby is fun and rewarding, but it can definitely be intimidating.

with that caveat, heres a list of links and resources that i have used for bookbinding in general, with additional links to methods i used specifically in regards to this bind.

ASH's how to make a book document. it gives you a great introduction into typesetting fics (where you format the text of fics to look like a traditionally published books) and then turning them into a case-bound book (the style i used for "factory settings"). it is comprehensive, and explains how to use microsoft word to do your bidding. it was invaluable to me when i was just starting out! currently i use affinity publisher to typeset/format my fics for printing, but i only bought and learned how to use that after i had been binding books for a year and a half. i made some beautiful typesets with word, and some of my close friends use it still and design stuff that i never would be able to in my wildest dreams (basically anything by @no-name-publishing)

DAS Bookbinding's Square Back Bradel Binding. a great style to do your first bind in! this method requires, when making the case, to attach the cover board and the spine board to a connecting piece of paper, which makes it so much easier to match the size of the case to the size of the text block (your printed out and sewn fic). using this method is what allowed me to get much more accurately fitting cases, and made me much more confident with the construction of the books i was making. a well-made book is something that is so wonderful to hold in your hands!

DAS Bookbinding's Rounded and Backed Cased Book. This is the specific method that i used to create my bind for "factory settings"! even before i could back my books, i found that watching DAS's videos in particular helped me see how books were traditionally made, and i was able to see different tips and tricks about how to make nicer books.

Book Edge Trimming Without... i trim the edges of my text block using my finishing press and a chisel i have sharpened using a whetstone and leather strop with buffing compound on it. i follow the method for trimming shown in this video!

Made Endpapers. i follow this method for my endpapers, as i used handmade lokta endpapers, and they can be quite thin, but they look beautiful! i used "tipped on" endpapers (where you have your endpaper and then put a thin strip of glue on the edge and attach it to your text block) i used for a very long time before this, but these feel like they are much more stable, as they are sewn with your text block.

Edge Sprinkling. this is the method that i used for decorating the edges of my text block. but the principle is basically clamping your text block tight and then sprinkling the edges. i do not believe you need to trim the edges in order to do sprinkles on the edges, and that's what makes it accessible! i personally just use really cheap acrylic paint that i water down and then flick it onto the edges with my thumb and a paint brush.

Double-Core Endbands. i sew my own endbands, which i followed this tutorial for. that being said, it's kind of confusing, and this video is a bit easier to follow, but it is a slightly different type of endband.

Case decoration. i used my silhouette cameo 4 to cut out my design for "factory settings" in htv (heat transfer vinyl). i also used my cameo 4 to cut out the oval of marbled paper on the front, as i honestly didn't want to try my hand at cutting an oval lol. i also glued some 300 gsm card with an oval cut out of the centre of it onto the cover before covering it with bookcloth, to get a kind of recess on the cover. i then glued the oval of marbled paper onto the top of the recessed area once it was covered with bookcloth, so that it was protected. the images i used were sourced from a mix of rawpixel, canva and pixabay. a more accessible way to get into cover decoration is by painting on a design for your cover as described in @a-gay-old-time's tutorial just here. or even doing paper labels, which look classy imo.

physical materials. sourcing these will depend on your country. i am located in australia, and have compiled a list with some other aussie bookbinders of places to buy from. here is a great post describing beginning materials for getting started binding.

@renegadepublishing. this tumblr is great! its what got me started bookbinding, and being in the discord has been inspiring, motivating, and honestly just one of the best online experiences i have ever had. it is full of resources, and most people in there are amateur bookbinders, with a couple of professionals thrown in. the discord is 18+, and anyone can join!

i'm sorry this post got so long, but i hope that this has a lot of information for you if you would like to get started bookbinding. its one of the best hobbies ive ever had, and i genuinely believe i will have it for the rest of my life.

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.

f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!

word count: 898 // read on ao3

a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match

this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!

“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.” 

If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment. 

“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”

“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.” 

Ah, there it is.

Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels. 

There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.

The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.

Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday). 

Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land. 

But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight. 

And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.

It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.

He gets a hmph! in response.

“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?” 

The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”

Oh, he knows. 

“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out. 

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble. 

You don’t sound so sure of yourself. 

Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

“I lied.”

“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek. 

“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”

You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?

Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?

“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”

“You mean it?”

“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”

And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”

“So I am. Ow.” 

You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.

But also something else. Something shiny. 

He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[mamayan]

★SWEET★

Yandere! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Secret Santa 2023 Event!

Word Count: 4k+

Welcome to the Secret Santa Event, hosted by @ectologia (thanks for throwing this together ♡)

My Secret Santa is… @wilderuby ♥️ I hope you enjoy your Christmas present even if it’s not really Christmas themed~

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Yandere Themes • Stalking/BNE • Dubcon • Dabi • PIV • Fingering • Praise/Degradation • Kidnapping • Psychological • Dacryphilia

It keeps happening.

No matter how many times you’ve visited the local police station, or how often you knock on the door to your neighbor’s home, you keep finding them.

Innocently resting beside your head when you wake up, whether you sleep in your room, the living room, or even your bathroom, is a single red rose.

Never intact either, the delicate scarlet petals singed in one way or another, to the point now it seems to have become an art form. The dark veins running along inside the thin petals blackened until the rose takes on nearly a new color of ashen burgundy.

You went to the heroes, the police, your friends and family, and yet nothing has come about stopping it.

“It is odd but maybe it’s nothing?” Your friends had said, claiming it was seemingly harmless.

How could it truly be though? You locked your doors, all of them, from the front door to your bedroom door to putting padlocks on the windows. You’d awake to everything intact how you left it, not a single thing out of place… except the addition of a single burnt rose.

It was breaking you down mentally and emotionally at this point. Seemingly being haunted by a ghost, faceless and voiceless, no physical form to blame and scream at. You do scream though, after a year of it occurring despite all efforts—even moving to a new home in a different city. No matter what, when you wake up, there’s a rose. Whether you sleep in a hotel, your friend’s home, your parents, even on the damn subway.

There’s always a fucking rose. Every. single. morning.

It’s to the point where you stopped sleeping, staying up to see with your own eyes if you’re truly insane. You blink and it’s just there, even when you search, and search, and search. A rose, a little crispy, rests in front of you without fail.

It was possibly a new method of torture, but soon enough your nervous system no longer perceived it as a threat. You’d awake to the rose, roll over, and start your day. You stopped mentioning it to family and friends, and eventually it became as normal as breathing. You’d place the roses in a vase, comical at this point, and change them out weekly. A few you even preserved, out of sick humor more than actual appreciation. You’d be certain to mention you wanted no roses at your funeral, at least not red ones, and especially not scorched ones.

You became complacent, as you set your keys down upon entrance to your home, to see an entire bouquet of flowers resting on your kitchen counter. Singed red roses, and one singular black rose in the middle… this time there’s a card. A small folded note about the size of your palm, attached to a silken ribbon wrapped around the thin neck of the vase. Condensation slowly slid down the side of the intricate glass, and for some strange reason, your heart felt dread seeping into its core. Your blood felt icy and your farthest appendages chilled as you shakily lifted the delicate paper up. Several seconds ticked by as perspiration dotted your brow before you eventually sighed and unfolded the note.

Ready to come home, doll?

It was motionless in your home. Deathly silent and still but nonetheless your body shook as tears welled up in your eyes while the foreboding words registered with you. You were home, weren’t you? You knew that much. You also knew you’ve never been called the nickname doll a day in your life, at least by no person you knew.

Was it a joke? Your instincts screamed it wasn’t. You did a pathetic job of staying calm, dropping your keys noisily on the floor as you trembled and dropped to pick them up. You’d leave, stay somewhere else tonight and figure it out in the morning—

“Going somewhere?” You hadn’t head even a footstep. You could see in front of you now a pair a beat up leather boots. Dark jeans lazily bunched up around them with a few nicks and tears in the denim fabric. Your eyes continued up until you were staring at a man.

Bright blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stared down at you. His skin was like patchwork, staples actually pierced through healthy looking flesh while connecting what looked like chard leather to it. His skin you realize after a moment. Some healthy, some burnt, while he stood casually over your crouched form with his hands shoved into the dark trench coat he wore over some ratty band t-shirt. You didn’t watch the news often, hardly ever since your stress was high enough dealing with your own issues, but you knew who this was.

What villain this was.

“Dabi…” you barely even breathed his name, almost inaudible despite your close proximity, but it seemed he heard just fine as a slow forming Cheshire grin spread his lips wide open, revealing his white teeth and sharp canines.

“What’s that doll? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost, speak up, can’t hear ya down there.”

You were right to feel dread. This was likely the worst scenario possible, one you truly hadn’t even thought of. A notorious villain leaving roses for you? Who’d believe such a ridiculous thing? Even you were struggling to believe it.

“Th-the roses…?”

“Hn? Thought I said speak up.” The waning of his smile shouldn’t have your blood pressure spiking as it did, but you scrambled to speak louder as those violent blue irises blazed.

“Did you—uh, a-are the roses from you?” You slid back, nervous as he stepped forward, eye lids growing heavy as he settled for a smirk on his lips.

“Bingo.” He confirms, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his laxidazical tone.

You heart hammered against your ribcage, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the bouquet on the counter, mind running faster than a hamster in a wheel. He seems fine just staring at you, expression unreadable besides shallow amusement. He’s giving you time to think, and something in your gut is telling you to tread with caution.

What does it mean to leave roses for over a year for you, every single day? No matter how difficult it was made to do?

Someone in love or someone with a grudge. He doesn’t look the part for either, but the bouquet and strange note having you leaning towards some kind of affection for you. However disturbingly he shows it.

Swallowing thickly, nails scraping on the tile floor, you give a wobbly smile.

“T-they’re very pretty… thank you.”

His eyes briefly widen, head tilting as he observes you with a keener interest than before.

“Yeah? Y’like ‘em, doll?” Doll, that nickname again, you wonder if that’s how he refers to you in his mind. You never likened your appearance to a doll.

You nod with a short jerk, smile still plastered even as your bottom lip wobbles minutely.

“I-I do,” it’s more nerve wracking to be staring up at him from the floor, so you make a show of moving incredibly slow, standing on fawn like legs as you reorient yourself with your own feet again. “You gave me a bouquet this time…” even standing you’re forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I did.” He confirms, and the sweat sliding down your spine begins to cool as you shiver. You keep wetting your dry lips, struggling to truly grasp how you’re supposed to get the hell out of this situation.

He seems to visibly enjoy your panic and nervous ticks, watching you pick at your nail bed while he makes you stew in confusion and unanswered questions.

What do you do when the country’s top villain stands in your kitchen? You don’t have a quirk that can compete with him and you sure as hell regret squandering the times your friend encouraged learning some self defense.

He’s not in a hurry it seemed either, leaning a hip against your counter while he continues to observe your every movement. His presence made the space around you appear smaller, like he was sucking the energy from the room.

“Are you…” you look down at your feet, “…going to kill me?”

He snickers, catching your gaze again as it flicks up briefly.

“Nope.” He pops the p with a smile.

You don’t feel relieved.

“Are you going to hurt me?” A better question in all honesty.

“Maybe, probably.” He admits casually, shrugging as if it can’t be helped.

Then the best question for the evening, one still festering in your mind, “Why me?”

The air shifts, the scent of smoke like a campfire, wafting over to you.

“Asked myself that question a lot,” he stands up straight, removing his hands from his pockets. He ignores your flinch, coming closer even as you backed up into the counter. “Asked what the fuck is so special ‘bout you,” he jabs a finger into your chest, eyes flaring as he immediately flattens his palm and lays it over your heart. “To make me like this.”

He smells like campfire and something with chemical undertones, his breath held traces of menthol and tobacoo.

“Y’know what conclusion I came to sweetheart?” The way he said sweetheart was laced with venom.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“W-what?” You don’t really have an option but to ask. He looks manic, languid expression sharpening into something dark and terrifying as he smiles.

“That it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. That I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, how I want. Not you, the heroes, or the shitty cops can do a damn thing to stop me.” He leans back, face melting again into something akin to pure satisfaction.

“Why you? It’s your own fault, doll, should’ve tried harder not to catch my attention, don’t’cha think?” It’s like he’s mocking you, eager to get a rise from you as anger and humiliation burned in your soul.

You shook in rage. Fists clenched at your sides as you urged the tears in your eyes away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry like this.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He laughs as you bite out the insult, a deep belly laugh, nearly doubling over as if you’d told the funniest joke possible.

“Wrong move,” he fakes at wiping a tear, eyes crinkling at the corners before your scalp is suddenly on fire, a gasp yanked from your lips as you're hauled up and back to the floor. “Said I’d probably hurt ‘ya, didn’t think you’d sass me so early. That’s okay, I’m good at breaking people, fix that mouth real quick.” He murmurs, as if he’s not using your hair like a lead and making the tears you’d fought back so hard earlier fall.

“Hurts!” You grunt, now putting up a decent struggle as you fight back.

He ends that quick with a flick of his palm, blue flames lighting up your darkened kitchen and striking horror into your soul as he waves it around in your face.

“Think I won’t do it ‘cuz I won’t kill ‘ya?” He asks, his eyes matching the flames he produces, filled with a sick sort of glee.

“I’ll make your face look like mine if you keep acting up.” That shuts you down quickly, going limp even as he releases your hair to grip your arm, dragging you through your home with confidence to where everything is, going straight to your bedroom.

“W-wait—! Dabi please, I-I’m sorry,” he stops in your doorway, looking down at you with over-exaggerated sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he coos, no less gentle as he drags you to the bed and pushes you down. It’s a gentle landing, but your panic gives you energy as you try to quickly crawl away. He grips your ankle, his palm heating so quick you hardly realize you’d been burned until you screech, teeth clenched tight as you struggle to even breathe. It hurts so much.

Your will to fight ends as he climbs above you, shrugging off the trench coat and yanking his t-shirt over his head while grinning at you.

“Too early for cryin’ doll, that one won’t even scar.” He looks disappointed by that fact. “Now, I can be nice ‘n sweet if you’ll be good for me…or I can push your fucking face in the mattress and take you like a filthy whore. Pick or I’ll pick for you.” His shift in tone as he tells you to choose how he’s going to rape you instills a strange sort of hopelessness inside you.

He doesn’t care when the water works start up again, rolling his eyes as he watches you weep and tremble like he’s done anything worth crying over yet to you.

“Well babydoll? I’m so fuckin’ hard right now you won’t like the choice I make for you.”

“Sweet…” you’re all curled up like a kitten doused in water beneath him.

He’s unbuckling the belt around his hips, tugging the denim down and his boxers along with it as he grunts.

“C’mere” he all but growls, yanking you up again and pulling at your clothing, quick and efficient in stripping you despite your actions mimicking the nickname he’s given you. Acting like a doll in his embrace as he tosses each article of clothing you wore off to the floor until you were down to your bra and panties. He’s yanking at your bra first, eyes greedily drinking you in as he leaves your top bare finally.

You sniffle pathetically, any attempt at hiding yourself useless as he uses his knees to knock yours open, fitting himself in between as he messily licks two fingers and shoves aside your panties to rub at your folds.

“Hgn!” Your eyes open wide as he crassly works two fingers into your dry cunt, his saliva barely enough to grant him access to the tight confines. “D-Dabi—,” your nails are digging into his arms, tearing at a seam of staples and causing a few small trails of blood to stream, but he’s too focused on you to truly mind.

“Y’asked for sweet doll, means you need to relax and let me in,” he explains, like he’s not stretching you open and jabbing his thick digits inside you despite your weak protests and groans of pain.

Your body gives way to the intrusion after a few minutes, adrenaline fading and leaving you almost exhausted as your cunt lubricates itself to ease his passage.

“There ‘ya go,” he murmurs almost hoarsely, letting you go when he sees you’re being obedient enough and using that freed hand to grip his leaking cock.

Your eyes track his movement, watching him grasp the thick appendage hanging heavy between his legs.

You note before even his size the piercings, not just one or two but a multitude lined his cock like a weapon more than a sexual organ.

Dabi notes the hitch in your breath and where your eyes lay, proudly running his thumb over the ladder of piercings up the spine of his shaft to the tip where two small stainless steel balls rested.

“Scared?” He teases, relaxing himself as he jerks his cock and relieves a little of the ache which had been building in his balls. Curling his fingers up, you gasp in surprise at the pleasant feeling which accompanies the action.

“Nah, you ain’t scared, doll. Not a coward, y’would’ve run a long time ago but you stayed ‘cuz you like this. You like knowing someone is out there willing to do anything to have you,”

“I don’t—,” he cuts you off with a sharp thrust up, pressing into the rough textured spot along your gooey walls.

“Shh, y’should know I don’t like liars, especially not ones who get exposed by their cunt dripping all over the bed.” His smile is filthy, lecherous gaze running along your sweaty exposed skin as he just keeps hitting that spot inside which makes your toes curl.

“P-please stop, Dabi I can’t—,”

“Still lying?” He asks, more amused than angry as you try your best to twist away from the pleasure now wracking your body.

“How’s this doll? You drop the Dabi bullshit n’say Touya when you’re about to cum, okay? Y’listening?” He stops working himself over, freeing his hand again to tap your cheek and catch your clouded watery gaze.

“Try it out.” He orders softly, sweetly, like he’s trying to be gentle but the way his fingers fuck you is anything but sweet or kind. The loud lewd squelching exactly as he said earlier, a confession to how much your body at least enjoyed his careless attention.

You huff, mouth opening to choke on a moan as he adds another finger, fingers wrapping around his wrist where they attempt to halt the sudden oversensitivity inside you.

If anything he jams his fingers inside you harder.

“T-Touya!” You hope he’ll stop. Hope he ends this strange psychological torture as your stomach coils up tight.

He doesn’t, Dabi merely groans in delight and chuckles over you, leaning down to slot his lips over yours in a kiss as messy as he’s making you down below.

His soft top lip is contrasted by the rough feeling of his bottom, but his kiss is hot and you can taste the menthol now. His scent is strong, and you catch a hint of his natural odor beneath the smoke and tobacco. Your cries are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you open to complain. You shiver as you feel the drag of a piercing on his tongue, the light touch somehow more erotic. He parts sloppily, saliva connecting your lips for a moment before you flinch as he spits in your mouth.

“Open your fucking mouth.” The tone he uses and language are harsh, and you tearily do as instructed. “Stick out your tongue.” He murmurs a bit more nicely this time, humming in approval as you obey with shaky hesitation.

You won’t hesitate soon enough, if he has anything to do about it. He’ll make his words gospel in your cute brain and have you eager to listen to his every command.

Dabi lets his spit hit your tongue slowly, watching you pant like a dog with your tongue out as he brings you closer and closer to your release. The way your walls clamp around his fingers and constrict makes his cock weep to sink inside you already. “Touya—!”

You cum when he finally allows you to swallow, gushing and throwing your head back while he fucks you through it, laughing as you tense up and beg for mercy and try to escape the pleasure he’s delivering relentlessly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, say my name baby, let me hear it.” Dabi nearly loses it himself watching you shatter, eyes wide and wild as he keeps going. “Touya pl-please…hn!” You keen almost like you’re in pain, fingers digging into his shoulders now while your legs kick out.

“Y’asked for sweet, doll, means you get to cum as much as you want tonight.”

That wasn’t what you’d thought it meant, even as you choke and cum again, this time more softly as he slows his furious pace to something manageable now.

Dabi smiles at the fucked out expression you now wear, pliant in his hold as he maneuvers your body, hoisting your legs up and pressing them to your chest as you whimper in protest.

“You can stay nice ‘n pretty like this doll, doing so good f’me.” He’s not very assuring as he murmurs to you while positioning the weapon he’s armored on his cock at your dripping entrance, tapping his tip a few times on your puffy clit as you moan and twitch, view perfect to watch how he slicks himself up. “T-Touya…” he moans as he catches on your entrance only to slip up, eyes looking at your face as he licks his lips and tries again, enjoying the soft warm feeling of rubbing on your cunt.

“Yeah doll? Need somethin’?” He grins, his cock finally breaching that tight ring of muscle that lets him sink into your hot welcoming depths. “Fuck, been dreaming ‘bout this cunt for so long. Y’know how many times I’ve had to just cum on your sleeping face instead of fucking you? All the times I could’ve just woken you up and had you?” He moans, laughing at the horrified and almost strangled look you gave him, his chest vibrating with a laugh as you mewl like a cat in heat when the first row of piercings sinks into you. “Like ‘em baby? Fuckin’ looks like you do, they feel good in your little pussy?” He moans again when you accidentally bare down on him, the tightness increasing painfully as you whine when his piercings dig in too much.

“Easy doll, let me in,” he murmurs, dark hair falling into his face as he braces above you with one arm, lithe muscles taunt as he works his hips a little at a time into you, enthralled with how you fit around him enough not to slam himself inside all at once.

When the top balls of his piercings kiss up against your cervix, you’re ruined, face a mess as you struggle to adjust to the stretch and sensations.

“S’too much, Touya—” you can only cling to him, eyes drawn to where he’s sunk his entire fat cock into your depths, the way your body contorted giving you the best view.

Your words have the opposite effect though, his groan guttural as he drags himself out, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and lost to it.

“Keep sayin’ my fuckin’ name, lemme hear ‘ya scream babydoll,” you go to protest again, when he slams each inch back into you, the ribs along his cock now working in tandem with his thrusts, effectively shutting you up as you squeal and dig your nails into his shoulders for purchase.

Dabi fucks you hard and deep, speed unnecessarily to keep the air from your lungs as each thrust feels like it’s hitting up in your stomach, the pain and pleasure blending until you aren’t sure if it truly hurts or not.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching your body shake each time he lets his hips fall like a hammer, seeing his cock swallowed each time by your greedy cunt until he’s delirious at the sight.

“Pretty fucking slut, look how your pussy takes me.” He’s spewing filth at you, but when it should offend, it instead makes you burn hotter, his name falling from your swollen pouty lips like a chant.

“This cunt want me to breed it? Fill your pussy full until you can’t take anymore?” You shake your head in denial, unable to truly form words anymore as he picks up his pace, fucking you hard enough to make your headboard slam into the wall. Each thrust accompanied by a symphony of wet slapping, his balls tapping your ass each time his groin kisses your own. “Bet it does, huh doll? This greedy little cunt keeps begging for more.” He loves the dichotomy between your sloppy pussy and the way you shake your head. “No? Y’sure doll? Think it does. Don’t like lyin’ baby, remember? You want me to punish you?” You shake your head again, a bit frustrated when he slows, letting you feel all of him inside you like this, his weight keeping you pinned.

“Shakin’ your head ain’t an answer doll, I’ll be nice ‘n give you another chance, but I expect a fucking a verbal answer this time.” He’s like a light switch. Either on or off but much more terrifying when he flips it on, eyes and voice menacing as you cough and answer in a husky voice. You don’t want to test him on the punishment, truly you don’t, as your ankle still fully throbs in the back of your mind as a reminder of what he’s capable of and who he is.

“I-I like h-how you do it now…” he cocks a brow, sinking deep and then pressing even further so you whine and try to push back further into the bed.

“Y’like how I’m fuckin’ you now? That it, doll?” You go to nod before remembering his warning, swallowing thickly and voicing a soft agreement.

“Hmm… then y’oughta say it, right? Tell me how good I’m fuckin’ this pussy.” He growls, bright blue eyes lighting up as you moan, his pace increasing again as you blabber out whatever nonsense you can to satisfy him. Whatever would make him be sweet, because you have a feeling you don’t want him any other way.

“S-so good! Mhn, f-feels so good Touya, pl-please, ah,” he’s being too rough, your eyes watering and tears spilling as he drills into you, but even still you feel yourself close to coming again as those piercings rub perfectly inside you.

Dabi lifts up, letting your legs fall to either side of him as he grips both your hips tight and fucks you more aggressively. Jackhammering into your gummy walls like he’s eager to imprint the shape of his cock inside you, mouth open and brows furrowed while he groans feeling you tense up again, this time around his dick.

“T-Touya—! M’coming, oh fuck—!” You look painfully suprised when you realize how much it all becomes as you cum, the peircings becoming more prominent as you spasm and clamp down on him, eyes rolling back as your vision slightly blurs.

“Yeah y’are doll, fuck, that feel good? Looks like it did.” He chuckles, chest swelling with a deep satisfaction as he fucks you harder despite your weak whines, overstimulated cunt begging for a break despite how he bullies himself inside you.

“Tell me where you want it,” he’s close, panting and overheating even as he nears his end.

“N-not inside…” he laughs at the soft reply, thrusts only getting deeper as he resorts to simply humping into you for friction after you tighten up so much it hurts to go harder.

“Can’t pull out though doll, look how tight you’re gripping my cock.” You aren’t paying attention, mindlessly moaning as he finally gasps and cums, cock twitching deep inside you and filling you up despite your earlier request.

He nearly collapses on you, chest rising and falling quickly as he regains his breath and relaxes on your soft chest for a moment to recouperate.

When he’s caught his breath, he leans up, slowly pulling out and watching his heavy load immediately spill from your hole.

“Tsk,” he uses two fingers to scoop up what dribbled out, stuffing it back into you as you sleepily huff and press a hand against his chest.

You’re helpless to stop him, too exhausted to fight more and figuring it better to let him have his way than risk his wrath right now.

Once he’s satisfied he’d stuffed you back up well enough, Dabi is quick to leave the bed and begin redressing, speaking casually with you despite your lack of answering.

You watch the villain act as if nothing had occurred, face the same smug arrogant grin when you’d first spotted him.

It’s when he returns his attention to you that fear begins to trickle back into your blood stream.

He seems to notice too, smile growing with your apprehension.

“Now doll,” he crosses back to where you’ve sat up and covered yourself with a blanket, weary gaze locked with his.

“Ready to come home?”

Then it’s dark, your vision going out with your consciousness as Dabi catches you in his arms, dragging your limp figure from the bed and into his arms quickly.

He’s kind enough to wrap you in a sheet as he takes your house keys and phone, shoving them in his pocket as he leaves your place with you in his embrace.

He whistles on his way home, a bit eager to see your expression when you wake.

He figures you’ll learn to like your new home once you realize you’re never leaving it.

He even decorated for the season, the tree a little burnt but he’s sure you’ll appreciate the sentiment.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[igbylicious]

marked [jwy x reader]

pairing: Wooyoung x gn afab reader (briefly feat. Yunho & background poly ot8)

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff, werewolf AU, found family

summary: Wooyoung is the newest member of your pack, and under tonight’s full moon you will claim him as your mate. (OR: Wooyoung knots for the very first time and you fuck him through it 👀)

wc: 8.1k

warnings: sub Wooyoung, dom alpha reader, reader is physically stronger than Wooyoung, predator / prey play, knotting, breeding kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex, creampies, stomach bulge / cum inflation, biting & marking (w/ light blood mention), cunnilingus, face-sitting, cum eating, reader has a mild possessive streak, implied m x m, Wooyoung is called ‘good boy’ & ‘pup’, a sprinkling of hurt / comfort

a/n: @wooyoungisbaby asked me if i would turn Wooyoung into a werewolf & then i blacked out and suddenly there were 8k of words on my screen ฅV•̀ᴥ•́Vฅ

a/n²: idk how to put this in the warnings but werewolves have an estrous reproductive cycle in this fic, and there is an off-hand mention that the reader is not currently fertile. just to balance out my own ‘love breeding kink, squicked by pregnancy’ conundrum ^^

Sunlight trickles through the cherry trees overhead, a light canopy of pastel pinks looking down on you and Wooyoung. The gentle sunlight warms you with the glow of spring, a blossom swirling down the breeze to land right on Wooyoung’s nose.

He barely even notices, too busy fussing in your embrace. You’re curled up against his back, and your arms have him pulled into your chest, legs tangled together. There is a blooming tapestry of red marks on his neck; gentle indents of your teeth, slow bruises sucked into his delicate skin.

You blow the cherry blossom off his nose with a giggle, and the pink petal flutters down into the grass, luscious green brimming with white and yellow daisies. The flowers give off a pleasantly sweet waft but you are not interested in floral aromas, only in the alluring scent radiating from Wooyoung’s heated body.

You burrow your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep as Wooyoung whines in your hold.

“Easy, pup,” you coo at him, and lightly pinch his waist in warning. “Don’t want to wear yourself out before tonight, do you?”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he says, wiggling in your arms. He hisses when your teeth sink into the tender skin of his neck again, the noise morphing into a breathy, pitched moan as you lap at the bite. “Just wanna play…”

You giggle at his protests; Wooyoung is easily the most rambunctious pup you have ever dealt with.

Sometimes you find it most effective to fuck the misbehaviour out of him, to burn off all his frenzied energy as you ride him — or to make him wear himself out on your cunt, your fingers tightly wrapped in his hair as you hold him down, his mouth eager to please.

But sometimes, that feels like just a bit too much of a reward for his mischievous ways.

For those moments, you prefer your current strategy; to force Wooyoung into a cuddle, spooning him as you playfully gnaw on his neck and shoulder. If you hold him down long enough, his endless squirming will tire him out just the same as any other method. Wooyoung might be energetic — but he is a young pup, turned only four weeks ago, whereas you are a born wolf, and he cannot stand up against your superior strength.

It’s hard to believe he has been in your life for barely a year; Wooyoung was all alone in the world when you stumbled on him during a hunt; a lonely, pitiful creature with no-one else to turn to. Your wolf had demanded for you to grant him protection and you listened, never led astray by your canine instincts. You brought him into the pack, where your mates welcomed him with open arms.

At first, it was just a visit; so he could catch his breath, rest up and decide what to do next. But when Wooyoung decided to extend his stay indefinitely, he soon decided he wanted to be turned as well.

(If there’s one thing you quickly learned about Wooyoung, it’s that he never does things halfway. It was you and your mates who talked him into waiting for a while, until he was absolutely sure, but Wooyoung never wavered.)

You were the one to do the honours, pinning him down under the light of the full moon, your seven mates surrounding you in a wide circle. Wooyoung had seen you in wolf form before; he’d even napped while curled up against your huge lycan body, engulfed in dark fur — but it was never like this, never with your jaws snapping right in his face, clawed paws heavy on his chest as your scorching breaths fell down on his vulnerable, tiny figure. You were careful not to crush him, of course, but he needed to keep still; no matter how willing he was, a human’s instinct runs deep when a predator’s maw closes around their weak flesh.

Wooyoung was not immune to those instincts, and your chest ached when he cried out in pain at your bite. His hands pushed uselessly against your head, but you are strong even for a wolf; and the limited capacities of his fragile human body stood no chance against you at the height of your power, basking in moonlight.

You had lapped at his wound afterwards, easing him through his shakes as your saliva mixed with his blood, broken skin mending under your raspy tongue into a darkened scar as the first seed of his transformation took hold.

For four weeks now, Wooyoung’s body has been changing under the surface. It comes with restless agitation, giving him more energy and stamina than he knows what to do with, yet the process is also exhausting; a slow adjustment to his heightened senses, stronger muscles, an increased sensitivity to the presence of others — your presence especially, as the one who turned him.

And tonight is an important stage in Wooyoung’s lycan life; the next full moon. His first complete transformation, catalysed by the moon’s bright luminescence.

The reshaping of his human body into a wolf is a symbolic milestone, but it will also unlock Wooyoung’s full potential, allowing him to grow into his full strength. With time, he will even learn to transform regardless of the night sky — though only few werewolves are powerful enough to deny a full moon.

(You are, but you see little reason to ever deny the celestial body that has given you so much.)

Now, lazing in the sun together, you lap at the scar you left on Wooyoung’s skin that night. All your other bites always heal rapidly but this one lingers, and always will. You are eager for tonight, when you get to add a second permanent mark to him. To imprint on him as your mate.

Your neck and shoulders are already littered with the seven bites of your other mates, binding their spirits to yours, but there is always room for one more; especially if that one more is your Wooyoung, your playful, mischievous pup whose sensitive heart bursts with love and easy affection.

Of course, you have laid with Wooyoung long before tonight — as have your other mates. You always needed to treat Wooyoung like glass, knowing how easily you could break him; but Wooyoung never made it easy to hold back.

Loneliness had carved a deep, dry well in his chest cavity; never realising the depths of his emptiness until you and your mates submerged him in a lake of care and devotion, replenishing his marred soul. Hungrily, Wooyoung had taken anything that you felt safe to give him, while he freely gave back all he had.

These past four weeks, you have tested his limits together, watched how they stretched further and further as Wooyoung slowly grows into his powers — and tonight, you won’t have to hold back any longer.

“Wanna play…” Wooyoung whines again, and you follow his gaze to San and Mingi, who are laughing and rough-housing by the edge of the nearby brook, just down a gentle slope of grassland.

You hesitate, not wanting to let go of Wooyoung. But… are you still holding onto him just to keep him well-behaved? Long years of sharing your mates have taught you to recognise a possessive streak when you feel one, and the resistance against releasing Wooyoung from your arms feels awfully familiar.

Maybe it’s nothing but greed; your urge to trap Wooyoung in your arms, to flood yourself in his scent, to keep his neck littered with your bites.

You had found Wooyoung, you had turned him, and a primal instinct calls out from deep within you, to always remind the others that you claimed him for his first full moon.

But from somewhere deep underneath the possessive wolf, you know very well that it would do Wooyoung good to stay bonded with your other mates — his future mates. They will respect your claim.

You tip Wooyoung’s chin, lightly pecking his lips. “Promise to save some energy for me, my sweet pup,” you smile at him, and loosen your grip.

Wooyoung perks up when you release him from your hold — but instead of immediately bolting off to San and Mingi, he turns around in your arms to dive in for a deep, heated kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip, repaying your bites with one of his own. You yelp in surprise at his sudden passion, and Wooyoung giggles at the undignified noise, his laugh bright and filled with adoration.

“I will,” he breathes between kisses. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His lips brush against your neck and shoulders, against the seven marks that he will join tonight. “Wanna be with you. So badly.”

“But first you wanna play,” you tease him, and lightly push him away, before your possessive nature takes over and you can never let him go ever again. “Go. They’re waiting for you. Just like I will.”

Wooyoung presses one final kiss to your neck, then lets himself be pushed away and joins San and Mingi. You watch them with an odd mingle of jealousy and joy; joy to see Wooyoung’s happiness with your other mates, jealous to see them without you.

It is a familiar maze to navigate; you are no stranger to possessive urges, yet you also feel blessed beyond measure that your mates love each other as much as they love you. The two feelings are in conflict yet forever intertwined; they are less two sides of the same coin, and more the sides of the same mobius strip; inherently connected, endlessly feeding into one another.

However, you are broken out of your musings by a gentle breeze from behind you. It brings a familiar scent that effortlessly tears the mobius strip in half, halting its flow through your emotions.

You turn around to see Yunho standing underneath one of the cherry trees, a few blossoms sticking to his dark hair and a faint smile on his face as he observes how the good-natured wrestling between San, Mingi and Wooyoung has turned into a rowdy cuddle pile. Yunho notices you looking at him, and he gives you a slow nod, eyes twinkling. You reach out a hand, beckoning him closer, and his smile deepens.

Yunho’s long fingers wrap around yours, never letting go as he sits down next to you in the grass. Immediately you take advantage of his proximity, wiggling yourself between his legs to curl up against his warm chest.

Yunho chuckles at your need for touch, loosely putting his arms around your waist. It’s a stark contrast to how you held Wooyoung earlier; Yunho does not fear the loss of you, resting in the tempered confidence from years of devotion. His mark on your neck is the oldest, and your eyes flutter shut as you luxuriate in the comfort of his scent, like earthy woods and petrichor. You didn’t realise just how badly you missed the grounding familiarity of him until right this second, and you sigh out in bliss, leaning deeper into him.

For just a moment, you let go of your possessive jealousy over Wooyoung — but Yunho does not.

“Gotta admit, didn’t think I’d see you separated from Wooyoung’s side anytime this month. Especially not today,” he chuckles, rubbing a lazy hand over your waist.

A self-conscious warmth flushes under your skin. Yunho does always see you clearest. “I got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

“No more than last time,” he says, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. “Or any time before. Remember Hongjoong? Yeosang? We practically had to drag you off of them to give those poor guys some peace and quiet.”

“I was taking care of them!” you huff, even if you know Yunho’s right.

“And you’re taking good care of Wooyoung now,” Yunho says, and he presses a soft kiss on your temple. “I’m not saying it’s bad — I’m so happy that we have Wooyoung now, really,” he murmurs, gathering you a little closer in his arms. “But… I did miss you these last weeks. Especially knowing there won’t be a hunt tonight…”

“Oh? You think you would’ve been the one to catch me?” you tease Yunho, poking his chest. “Confident, aren’t we!”

“Think I would’ve had a good shot,” Yunho says, grin widening.

A faint heat sparks inside you at his easy confidence, bringing back memories of how he earned that confidence over and over again. “I missed you too,” you admit, feeling apologetic. You had promised to lead your mates on a chase under the full moon again soon; but through your refusal to share Wooyoung with the others, you also stopped sharing yourself. “We will make up for time after Wooyoung has settled, I swear.”

“I know we will,” Yunho hums. “For now, keep taking care of our Wooyoung first. The pup needs you to get through tonight.”

You glance up at Wooyoung — but the first thing you see is San, who is face-down in the grass, yelping as Mingi and Wooyoung playfully got him pinned down; Wooyoung’s teeth are locked around San’s bicep while Mingi laughs, nipping at his mark on San’s neck.

“…Or maybe San is the one who needs you?” Yunho says, cocking his head at the chaos in front of him.

San laughs helplessly, resigned to his fate, until he realises they are being watched. He wheezes out a weak “help!” as he reaches out to you and Yunho, a desperate dimple poking at his cheek.

Yunho muffles a laugh with his hand, and gives you a sideways grin. “I’ll get Mingi, you handle Wooyoung?”

You grin back at Yunho. “Oh, I’ll handle him alright.”

The day’s warmth has cooled in the hours of dusk, but there is nothing to cool the blood pulsing through your veins, running hot with canine hunger. The wolf inside you is utterly transfixed on Wooyoung; your senses are growing ever more keen as the moon bathes you in her light, and the scent of Wooyoung is almost overwhelming now. His sweetness permeates the air so thick that you can taste him on your tongue; his excitement, his impatience, his need to be taken and claimed by his alpha. By you.

Wooyoung turns his head, eyes glittering darkly as they meet yours, an agitated energy crackling around him.

This is all new to him, you remind yourself. He does not know what to do with all these untamed impulses that pound against his chest and growl in the back of his head. You will teach him, show him exactly how to control the wolf, and how to let it run free. You will show him everything.

And Wooyoung may be a predator now, but you shall devour him all the same.

You stand together at the forest’s edge, but your gaze lingers on Wooyoung’s exposed collarbones, already contemplating where to leave your mating bite. Right next to the mark of when you turned him? Or do you want to cover as many different parts of him as you can? Both options are tempting in their own ways.

For now, you simply cup the back of Wooyoung’s head and pull him close so you can kiss your first mark on him. “Remember the clearing we picked out?” you murmur, tongue darting out over the old scar tissue. “Let’s make a race of it. You get there before I do, I’ll have a nice surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Wooyoung says, his eyes shining with eager curiosity. “You’re on.”

Without warning, he bolts deeper into the forest, giving himself a generous head’s start as he leaves you behind. Your most rambunctious pup, for sure.

You grin, pleased at the challenge he gives you.

Just to give him fairer odds, you wait a little longer. You breathe in deeply as you pull the lingering scent of Wooyoung into your lungs, and clench your muscles, feeling your lupine power in just a simple contraction. You can still hear him in the distance, twigs breaking underfoot, the rustling of the underbrush. He is getting farther now, embracing his newfound agility; perhaps even thinking he stands a chance. You lick your lips at the thought, knowing how misguided it would be… then you leap into motion, starting your pursuit.

The wolf revels in this opportunity to show off its full power, and you dart through the woods with nimble swiftness. A faint cloud-cover hangs in the sky above, but the moon still pierces through to provide ample light. You do not need it, not with your keen senses guiding you; but for Wooyoung the illumination will surely be helpful to try and beat you to the clearing.

You can smell Wooyoung’s excitement in the air; you can hear him pant for breath as he pushes his body to new limits, fevered blood rushing through him with every pump of his heart, and his eagerness to outrun you feeds right into your own thrill of the chase.

Because for you, it’s not about whether Wooyoung beats you to the clearing.

For you, it’s about the hunt.

You are not as skilled a tracker as your other mates, but you don’t need to be. You know exactly where Wooyoung is going, and he is not subtle in making his way.

It does not take you long to catch up with Wooyoung, spurred on by your need to pounce on him, to finally claim what is rightfully yours. Wooyoung does not notice your presence immediately; he may be empowered by the moon same as you, but he is not as practised at making use of his gifts.

But when he does catch sight of you, your sudden proximity goads Wooyoung’s competitive spirit to new heights, completely unaware of the fact that he is not a competitor; he is prey. You revel in his innocent, breathless laugh, the lively spark in his eyes — eyes that widen when you lunge, right at him.

There is no real force behind your tackle, just playfully grabbing onto him to fall into a tumble together — then immediately release him. Wooyoung scrambles back on his feet, staring at you with wide eyes, his heart slamming against his rib-cage. His hair is in disarray, leafs and twigs stuck in the longish strands, a light scratch across his cheek.

“What was that?” he blurts out; miffed, but not entirely displeased. His scent easily gives that away.

“Better keep running, young pup,” you warn him, a light growl edging into your voice, lips curving to expose sharpened teeth.

Something about your grin causes a skip in Wooyoung’s pulse as he finally realises the true nature of your game. His human instincts have not yet faded entirely, a small bump of fear in his throat — but it is mere background noise in the heady waft of arousal that you catch in the air. Wooyoung is excited.

However, he is also not ready to submit to you, his rebellious spirit still burning strong. “Then you better keep up, old-timer,” he says, grinning right back at you.

He gives you no chance to respond to his taunt, dashing off through the woods again. Already Wooyoung is getting faster than before, and for a moment you indulge him again, letting him believe he is pulling ahead. The clearing is nearby; you can see it in the distance, cloud-cover pulling away to bathe the area in radiant moonlight, setting the forest aglow.

Wooyoung laughs in triumph at the sight; it is cute how confident he is of victory… but not cute enough to let him have it.

Again, you tackle him to the ground — and this time, you do not give Wooyoung an easy escape. He yipes, struggling on pure impulse as you wrestle him down, rolling over the rough forest until you pin down his arms and come to a stop, right on a soft patch of moss.

He whines and instinctively tries to throw you off him, but your grip on him is too tight. He stills when you drape yourself over him, breath scorching against his neck. The vein beneath your lips throbs.

“Surprise,” you whisper, and latch onto his throat.

Wooyoung cries out, back arching as he scrambles to grab onto your shoulders, hips jerking upward. He is hard against your thigh.

You draw a shuddering breath at how he squirms against your hold, exuding dizzying arousal from his pores. Already Wooyoung’s nails begin to elongate into claws, digging through your clothes to scrape at your shoulders. You giggle at his lack of control, allowing your teeth to sharpen as you nip at his jugular.

“Not so fast, my sweetling,” you say, trailing your mouth up to his jaw. “No need to rush. Let’s have some fun first.”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut as he trembles, the beast within encroaching on his lucidity. “D-don’t know if I can—”

“You can,” you growl lowly, yanking his arms down to force them against the ground. “You will listen to your alpha, pup, and it’s not your time yet.”

Wooyoung whimpers in submission, tilting his head back as the wolf retreats with its tail tucked between its legs. You lap at the exposed skin of his neck to soothe the harshness of your reprimand, but it needed to be done.

Wooyoung is such an energetic pup; better he burns some of that energy now, to make his transformation easier to control. It’ll be hard enough on him as it is, and you will do anything within your power to smoothen the process.

Just lucky for you that the best way to help Wooyoung, is exactly what your own wolf calls out for; demanding for you to ravish Wooyoung until not an inch of his skin has gone untouched, to mark him as your own. To have him sink deep inside your waiting cunt, and take everything he has to give.

You press your mouth against his in a starved kiss, tongue delving past his willing lips as you pull and tear at his clothes, encouraging him to do the same with yours. Your fingers glide over Wooyoung’s chest, his stomach, his thighs, every part of him you can reach; never stopping the slow roll of your hips into his, hot mouth swallowing every moan wrested from Wooyoung’s throat by your aggressive worship.

His muffled keening makes your blood sing, but it is not enough, not nearly enough to sate you. You tear your lips away from his and Wooyoung whines at the loss, his moans free and loud and delectable.

Your wolf growls sweetly, pleased at Wooyoung’s shameless need for you, and for a moment you simply revel in his existence, his pretty noises, the pitiful way he writhes underneath you. You admire how his tanned skin glows under the moonlight, stars dancing in the reflection of his wide, dark eyes as he stares up at you in desperate reverence.

“Hmgh, w-want— want—” he babbles, a shimmer of unshed tears joining the vibrant constellation in his eyes.

You can’t help but marvel at how fortunate you are, to have found another beautiful mate to add to your devoted family. Your fingers play over his sharp jawline, his striking features merging together into such a pretty face. The face of someone who is so generous with his love and his mischief; using both to take care of his loved ones in all the ways they need — but first needing to be tamed himself.

“Hm? What do you want, Wooyoungie?” you purr at him, pushing away the tattered remains of clothes. His cock is hot and aching against your folds, but you don’t take him inside just yet. “Behave, and I might just give it to you.”

Wooyoung makes a tearful noise, grabbing at your waist and ass with sharpened claws. “Want you,” he whines, and you hiss at how his nails scrape at your skin. He tries not to scratch at you, but Wooyoung does not know his own body right now, struggling to comprehend both his limits and full capabilities. “Please, please, need you, it— it’s too much, I can’t—”

A thin sheen of sweat sets his skin further aglow, and his addled pleas slip deep between your ribs, appealing to the softer side of your wolf — with success. Because you are not only a predator; as an alpha, you are a caretaker as well.

And, looking at your sweet pup, whose lucidity is rapidly slipping through his clawed hands, who is frenzied and disoriented from what’s happening to him; perhaps ‘behave’ is too cruel a demand to make of him right now.

Gently you peel his hands off of you, and lift them to your lips to nip at his knuckles. “Breathe, my good boy, deep breaths,” you soothe him, rolling your hips a little firmer against his cock, giving him much-needed friction. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

Wooyoung tries to follow instructions, drawing hitched breaths — but he chokes on a wretched groan when your hand wraps around the base of his cock, and guide him as you sink down with a blissful sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your body is pliant for him, enveloping him in wet heat, and Wooyoung gasps with sharp, staccato moans as his hips jerk, body trembling. He claws at the moss underneath, leaving deeply etched trails in the dirt.

There is a subtle elongation in his joints, the faint crackling of bones and muscle shifting underneath skin as his veins grow more prominent. You bare your teeth, snarling lowly at his wolf to back off, but you know it won’t allow itself to be repressed for much longer. It’s almost time.

You rest your hands on Wooyoung’s chest to give yourself leverage, and start to move.

Wooyoung’s whines grow more animalistic by the second as you ride him hard and fast. He bucks up to meet your every thrust, pouring all his aggression into the slam of his hips. Your cunt twitches around his cock as he hits deep inside, a pleased growl rumbling inside your chest.

The forest is quiet around you, nothing but a soft rush of wind and rustling leafs; its inhabitants know better than to come near two wolves in their moon’s heat. Nothing except the sharp sounds of skin slapping against skin, of raspy moans and pleased snarls.

The heady smell of sweat and arousal mingles with the freshness of the woods, gentle moss and sweet blossoms. Slick leaks down your thighs and onto Wooyoung’s pelvis, and your own instincts become harder and harder to ignore with Wooyoung laying right there underneath you, flushed and splayed out over the forest ground with the vulnerable column of his neck beckoning for your attention. It’s too early for that, but still you drape yourself over him, slating your mouth over his in something that can’t decide whether it’s a bite or a kiss.

Wooyoung groans against your lips, so tightly wired he might snap at any moment. He is beyond desperate for a quick release of tension and you do your best to provide, relentless as you hump into his lap. His cock drags against your clit with every swerve of your hips, your thoughts becoming hazier with every spike of heat Wooyoung sends through you.

Unable to help yourself, your lips trail to his shoulder; the one unmarred by your other bite from turning him. You lap at the skin, exploratory grazes of your teeth as you kiss and suckle at Wooyoung until this side of his neck is completely reddened with bruises and faint teethmarks.

Wooyoung whimpers and snarls, his clawed hands back on your waist as he convulses underneath, the mounting pleasure just as overwhelming as his primal instincts. His skin is feverish, same as yours, sweat-slicked bodies coiled around one another, muscles rippling under the moonlight with brutal stamina.

Suddenly Wooyoung’s noises rise in pitch, and you can feel it before he can even slur the words out, tongue lolling in his mouth.

“F-fuck, it’s— It’s happening— I’m— I— mngh, ahh—”

He swells inside you and Wooyoung stutters out a broken cry when, for the first time in his life, his knot grows.

His jaw falls slack, voice stuck in his throat and tears brimming on his lashes. You tighten around him, hips forced to a halt by the swollen tissue at the base of Wooyoung’s cock, keeping him locked inside you as he shudders and floods your throbbing walls with white heat.

It’s enough to send you over the edge with him, his knot stretching you out and pressing just right against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your vision whites out with a roar of static as your wolf slips out just a little further, and you sink your sharp teeth into soft flesh, breaking skin as you finally claim what is rightfully yours.

Wooyoung spasms underneath you, his arms trembling as he scrambles to hold onto you, every contraction of your walls draining him further.

Mindlessly, you mouth at the bleeding wound, uncaring of the metallic taste on your tongue as you encourage the skin to knit together into a scarred mark that will never fade. Your head is empty; all you know is to lap at Wooyoung’s tender neck, to grind into him with your limited movement, every instinct crying out to chase down your pleasure, demanding for Wooyoung to surrender all he has to you.

The predatorial haze takes over, and you don’t snap out of it until you taste a faint whiff of distress in Wooyoung’s whimpers.

“Ngh, ‘s too much— Ah, ahhhh, Alpha…” he calls weakly for you, his instincts in conflict with itself; the wolf needs to buck into you until his knot softens and he has nothing left to give — but those final remnants of the human still linger, desperate and overwhelmed by his own body’s hunger.

His distress shakes you out of your daze, leaving you to feel oddly unsatisfied and untethered. The mating is not yet finished; Wooyoung’s spirit tugs at yours but it is one-sided, incomplete. You are incomplete.

But you push your discomfort aside, knowing it is only temporary. You have been through this before; Wooyoung hasn’t. He needs you to be strong, to guide him.

You run a clawed hand through his hair and press a soft kiss on his swiftly healing mark. The bleeding has stopped already. “Do you trust me, sweet pup?” you ask, trying to sound gentle despite the roughened edge in your voice.

“Y-yeah,” Wooyoung sniffles, turning his head so he can nuzzle at your palm.

“You can do this, I know you can,” you reassure him, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Been doing so well, my good boy, need you to be strong for me just a little longer.”

He nods shakily. “Oh-okay, hmnh, I trust you…”

Affection bubbles warmly in your chest, watching how Wooyoung tries to blink away his tears. Despite himself, he can’t stop his shallow rutting up into your cunt; his wolf knows he has yet more to give, won’t let him rest until he has spilled all his seed in your womb, safely stuffed inside by his knot.

There is no stopping this, and so you take him through it, as gentle as your canine impulses will allow; leading his confused body to pleasure with your hands and your mouth on his body, wherever you can reach, wherever makes him feel good.

Wooyoung follows easily, and soon his gasps and whimpers are sweet to your ears again; his body no longer confused. You stop holding back, sucking at his throat and clenching around his cock until he cums again, and again, sobbing and writhing in sublime torment as he generously fills you up, your stomach starting to distend from the sheer volume of his cum.

The shift inside him is gradual. His lupine side slowly grows louder, more demanding, until it is powerful enough to endure the onslaught on his senses. Wooyoung’s whimpers turn to low growls, gritted teeth sharpening into fangs, and a jolt of excitement sears through you.

It is time to bare your neck to him.

You tightly wrap yourself around Wooyoung and overturn the two of you, landing on your back so Wooyoung is on top of you, your legs locked around his waist with him still buried deep inside your wet cunt. Wooyoung yipes, disoriented by the sudden change, but groans deeply when you tangle a hand through his hair, yanking him to where you need him.

Wooyoung shudders as he breathes you in, mouthing at your neck and shoulders, tongue lavishing at the seven marks already there like he can taste your mates (his future mates) through them. He never stops his shallow, clumsy rutting, grinding his pelvis hard into your clit, his knot pressed against your walls.

Your breath hollows at the constant friction, panting at how he tongues your skin, honing in on his chosen spot. Your hand tightens in his hair, pressure building in your stuffed belly.

“Do it,” you rasp, voice hoarse from exertion and your own impending transformation. “Almost there, my pup. Do it, claim me.”

Wooyoung needs no further encouragement, budding fangs sinking into your shoulder, right next to Yeosang’s mark. Euphoric pain bursts through you as he bites down, still humping mindlessly in pursuit of more, more.

You mewl as tension coils and sings through you, every sensation intensified in the heat of the joining. Entangled in body and spirit, fierce desire spilling over into one another as the mating ritual is completed with a forceful rush of ecstasy. You clench around Wooyoung as the heat washes over you, clamping down on his thick knot with a ragged moan. Wooyoung snarls into your shoulder when your walls tighten around his cock, shuddering with yet another release as you pull him into freefall with you, a weightless plunge into searing pleasure.

Wooyoung trembles above you, his body shaking violently as he twitches and spills ever deeper inside your cunt. Humming with gratification, you press his hand against the swell of your stomach, to let him feel how he has filled you up. Wooyoung groans, careful not to dig his claws into your belly, still shaking.

His fangs finally detach from your injured flesh — and he immediately collapses on top of you, worn out from the mating and from cumming inside you so many countless times.

You breathe hard, putting your arms around Wooyoung’s collapsed body. For a moment you think he has passed out completely… but then you feel his raspy tongue on your skin, tiredly lapping at the fresh bite on your shoulder to try and encourage the wound to close up and heal into his mark, binding you together. Your body does not really need Wooyoung’s help, your innate regenerative powers more practised than his own, but you still burst with fondness at his care; pushing through his exhaustion to tend to you.

(You truly are so very lucky, to have found this mate.)

Wooyoung can’t possibly have much more left in him; but his wolf is not done with him yet. You can tell clearly from his scent and, more significantly, from the way his knot has not begun to soften yet.

Your lycan instincts roar at you to keep fucking Wooyoung, to drain him completely empty so he can breed you — but you repay his kindness, tending to him first.

Carefully, you gather Wooyoung in your arms, lifting him as you get up on your feet. He whines, his trapped cock twitching tiredly at the change in position. You are a little shaky from your own exhaustion, from holding your instincts down, but Wooyoung feels light as a feather under the power of the full moon.

You carry him to a sheltered spot right at the base of a cherry tree, where blossoms slowly flutter to the ground in a gentle breeze. There you find slight cover from the moonlight, and you know he can transform here with as much comfort as is possible.

Still careful, you lay Wooyoung down to straddle him again. He is whimpering, thick tears glistening on his cheeks, and a sweet satisfaction rumbles in your chest at the sight. You bend down and indulge in the taste of his flushed, salty skin with sweeping strokes of your tongue, the wet muscle slowly elongating as the full moon’s peak draws closer.

You don’t have much time left, so you slowly continue the shallow roll of your hips, mouth trailing down his neck to suck soothingly at his fresh mark. Your hands run up and down his chest, clawed fingers lightly scratching over his dark nipples.

“We’re not done yet, my sweet,” you hum in his ear, nipping at the lobe. “Gonna take all you have to give, make you stuff me full until I’m leaking around your knot, until I’m well and bred. Wouldn’t that be perfect, hm? My little pup giving me pups of his own.”

Your estrous cycle is not in its fertile phase right now, but that makes the thought of carrying Wooyoung’s litter no less sweet. How he would dote on his little ones, spoiling them rotten when he’s not busy trying to fuck more into your womb.

The thought stirs you up as much as it does Wooyoung; he snarls through his cries, bucking his hips in a futile attempt to flip you back over. You growl back at him in challenge, daring him to try. Making him waste all his excess energy as you ride him for a few final spurts of his seed until he cums dry inside you.

Wooyoung still whines and squirms, but it’s getting weaker and weaker, and his cock finally softens. It won’t be long before his knot follows, and you shower his teary face with tender kisses during the wait. You squeeze around him just one more time, unable to resist teasing a last whine out of your new mate.

He is completely worn out, just as you intended, moaning hoarsely when his knot gradually softens, a translucent trickle escaping past it onto Wooyoung’s lap. He makes a noise between relief and regret when you let his cock slip out, grabbing at your hips to keep you close.

Fur is starting to stand on his knuckles, and you huff in amusement when you realise he is pulling your hips forward while wiggling down himself, trying to get your thighs in his face.

“Greedy pup, haven’t I tired you out enough?” you lovingly chide him, pinching his cheek. You had anticipated for increased stamina, but his vigour goes beyond your expectations; you can only imagine what waits for you as he grows and settles into his full powers in the months to come.

Wooyoung grates out a low whine, an inhuman noise while the beast encroaches further onto his mind and body. “H-hungry…”

It can do no harm, you suppose, and you are never one to tell Wooyoung ‘no’ when he wants to sate his appetites on your cunt. So you indulge, allowing him to nuzzle at your soft thighs, smearing his cheeks with sticky arousal.

Tiredly he laps at your juices and the steady trickle of seed leaking from your cunt, his hand pressed on your belly. The bulge is less prominent without his cock and knot stuffing you full, but there is still a faint swell of his cum, amplifying the curve of your stomach.

You growl lightly at the lazy swipes of his tongue, leaving tingles of pleasure in its wake that are just enough to stir arousal but not enough to lead to a final release. Your own hunger snakes its eager tendrils through your veins, and you tangle a hand in Wooyoung’s hair to steer him, his mouth on your weeping hole and nose on your swollen clit.

He groans at your unspoken demand, fingers digging into your thighs as he slurps noisily and lets you use him freely for your needs. His tongue grows thicker as it elongates inside your velvet heat, and your grip on Wooyoung’s hair tightens with a sharp moan at the coarser texture against your walls, plunging as deep as it can reach.

You shudder and snarl, eyes squeezed shut in the chase for another high, closing in on your quarry with ease. Heat spikes in your core and fresh slick gushes onto Wooyoung’s long tongue as your thighs clench around him, like jaws snapping around their prey.

Panting hard, you ride it out against Wooyoung’s eager face, nudging his nose against your clit — but then the full moon reaches her highest point in the night sky, and Wooyoung cannot deny her any longer, even if you tried to keep him in line. But you don’t try, instead heeding the moon’s call same as him.

You shake off the unsteadiness from your orgasm best you can, and lift yourself off Wooyoung’s face to turn him around onto his elbows and knees, from where he claws at the moss and dirt around him, carving deep gashes into the dirt as his muscles and bones stretch and reshape themselves with loud, visceral noises.

Wooyoung is completely exhausted, so fucked out that he has barely any strength to fight the transformation; no human resistance left in him to make the process more painful and drawn out. Still, you hastily shift into your own wolf form, changes rippling through your body with a swift smoothness from countless moons of experience. It comes as natural to you as breathing, the enormous hulking mass of your canine body as familiar as your human shape.

You use your massive bulk to tower over Wooyoung, mounting his convulsing body to keep him restrained. Your maw gently but firmly closes around the nape of Wooyoung’s neck to calm him, partially shifted and covered with dark fur.

He spits out yowls and other animalistic noises as he changes underneath your, scrambling for purchase as hands and feet make place for clumsy paws. Wooyoung’s body swells in size, pushing against your larger form, but you stay firmly mounted until Wooyoung has completely slipped into his wolf and his shakes have subsided, slowly quieting down.

A hush falls over the forest in the wake of Wooyoung’s very first transformation.

Even you find yourself struck with awe as you clamber off of him, recognising the honour of being his witness. His crumpled form still breathes heavily, and you nudge your muzzle at his chest to help him upright, steadying him on his four legs.

Your sharp eyes take in his appearance with wonderment and admiration. Wooyoung is slightly undersized for a wolf, but with strong limbs and a beautiful shining coat, dark with conspicuous streaks of grey across the lines of his canine face. His eyes are a striking gold, long tongue lolling out of his mouth as he looks back at you with what you recognise to be a grin.

He yelps playfully and without further warning, roils back and pounces at you.

The following scuffle is embarrassingly short; he whines when you pin him yet again, but the sound is pleased, like he’s gotten exactly what he wanted. You huff a rumbling laugh of sorts and bend down to drag your tongue over his snout, overwhelmed with affection for your boisterous pup — no, wolf.

You throw your head back, and a deep howl echoes through the forest. Wooyoung joins you in a lupine duet, and it is not long before your other mates respond to the call with their own voices from elsewhere in the woods, knowing they have been summoned.

Mere minutes pass until they find you in the clearing, small groups of twos and three emerging from the cover of the forest.

You watch how they approach Wooyoung and sniff at each other; your mates are meeting Wooyoung for the first time all over again, while Wooyoung perceives them in greater depth, enriched by his wolf’s perspective.

Wooyoung basks in the attention, ears perked up and tail wagging adorably; your pup may have grown into a wolf, but he is not quite a predator yet. Seonghwa takes the last turn to reacquaint himself with Wooyoung, and immediately tries to groom his future mate, nipping at his fur — but Wooyoung has no patience to keep still, his energy renewed and bursting at the seams from his metamorphosis.

He slips away from Seonghwa and decides to test his newfound powers again with another playful pounce — targeting Jongho this time. Jongho, among the very strongest in the pack, predictably snorts and bucks Wooyoung off him with ease, retaliating within the blink of an eye.

Just like that, you and your mates spent the night together with playfights and chases, with long peaceful interludes where you are curled up against each other in a large pile of paws and fangs and fur, napping and grooming one another. You do not nap however, tireless under the moon and from the exhilaration of your new connection to Wooyoung, who whines affectionately as you lick at his face and lock your jaws gently around his muzzle.

As the night draws to a close, you lead Wooyoung away from your other mates, who seem to instinctively understand your needs. They let you have this one last selfish impulse, to keep Wooyoung for yourself again when he changes back.

You lay pressed together in the grass at the edge of the forest, blossoms scattered around you, watching the sun come up in the distance after the moon has shied away.

The transformation back to one’s human side is much easier, especially after a fulfilling night like this. The wolves have been sated, willing to rest until they are called upon again. It’s not long before Wooyoung’s naked human form rests next to you, half draped over your own body as he nuzzles at the fresh mark on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Are you alright, my pup?” you hum at him, gently carding your fingers through his dishevelled hair. Your skin tingles at the press of his lips against his bite.

“‘M not a pup anymore,” he mumbles against your shoulder, childishly petulant but, strictly speaking, not wrong either.

You breathe out a laugh at his grousing. “Of course, you big strong wolf,” you tease him, “but you are still my good boy, right?”

Wooyoung raises his head, dark eyes glittering in the budding sunlight with an unexpected solemnity in his expression. “Always,” he says, and rubs his nose against yours. “That’s what this means, right? I never have to leave now?”

You swallow down a sudden lump in your throat, resolving yourself to never stop pouring your care and affection into the deep well of Wooyoung’s heart. To make sure he never feels the need to ask that question ever again.

“You could have stayed no matter what. This pack is your home now, whether you are our mate or not,” you press on him, foreheads touching, “…but no, you never have to leave.”

Wooyoung’s worry fades at your reassurance — and makes way for a crooked grin as he cheekily bites his lip at you. “Would you hunt me down if I tried?”

With a good-natured growl, you flip Wooyoung onto his back and sit on his thighs, hands pushing his shoulders down. “Every single time,” you rasp. “We all would, all eight of us. You’d never stand a chance.”

Wooyoung draws a shaky breath, and you are amused to feel him twitch against your cunt. Seriously?

“All eight of you,” he sighs out, almost wistfully. “Doesn’t feel real yet, that you are my mate now. Tonight… tonight was just… yeah. Wish it never ended.” He tiredly grins up at you. “And I got seven more times waiting for me.”

He giggles, clearly not complaining about the prospect, and cranes his neck to reach up for a light kiss. You meet his lips halfway, deepening the kiss with just a touch of possessiveness at the mention of the other mating rituals.

It’s that inherent contradiction once again; even if your possessive streak is fading now that your mating bite clearly stands out against Wooyoung’s skin, a faint echo still rings through you, urging you to keep him to yourself — but you also revel at the prospect of witnessing how Wooyoung accumulates seven other marks next to yours, tightening his bonds into your family until you are one great whole.

It’s the latter emotion that asserts its dominance right now, your wolf humming contently at the thought of you and your family engulfing Wooyoung with such fierce devotion that he will always know that he belongs.

“Seven times,” you promise him in a hush, pecking his lips again, “and then a lifetime more to come.”

[thoughtless-muse]

“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]

“the cdc showers”

a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!

EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.

the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too

c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+

word count: 2.4k

that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.

yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.

how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?

it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.

maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.

you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.

unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.

how long had he been at it?

the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.

of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.

it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.

maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.

“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.

“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.

“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.

your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.

“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”

the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.

daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”

before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.

his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.

“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.

wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?

you couldn’t remember.

“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.

“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”

it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.

your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.

“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”

you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –

a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.

your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.

those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.

when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.

if only your arms would move.

a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.

daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.

when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.

a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.

it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.

“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”

with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,

“in your dreams, dixon.”

the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.

[areyouwell]

Philophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of love. Children or adults with Philophobia may experience cases of extreme loneliness due to this condition.

Ch.3

Ch.1 <--

Ch.2 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: uhhhh mild (?) descriptions of grief, logan romance or Lomance ™️, unfortunate Harry Potter inspiration... you'll see what I mean :(

Word count: 15.6k (oh fuck me)

A/N: i didn't think it would be this long genuinely i am gagged like what in the dissertation is this??? bisexual icon reader because slay boots that's why. also i don't see Logan as this harsh, dominating alpha male he's a sad grumpy man who just craves intimacy in any way he can get it, or he is in this fic <3

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside (lmk if you wanna be added lovelies)

Since when did you gnaw at your cuticles? How long had you been picking at your lips? Anxiety had plagued your body throughout your morning workout, deafening music doing nothing to drown out those starving nerves eating through your insides. Fuck you didn’t want to do this, why the hell had you let him convince you this was a good idea. You’d barely eaten anything all day in fear that if you put anything in your mouth that wasn’t water, it would just come back up again. 

You hadn’t spoken to anyone today. Sure, you’d seen people, and they’d tried talking to you, but you mainly just nodded absently through the conversation, only contributing an occasional hum or bland “Yep.” Rumour had of course spread that you were to begin teaching again today, especially after Storm had caught you leaving the Professor’s office that morning, looking as if you’d just confessed to first-degree murder. Charles had, of course, thought it was a wonderful idea to get you back into teaching. However, he offered you several words of warning around trying to use whatever new extent your powers had reached and had given you strict instructions to only use what you were used to.

In all honesty, you hadn’t intended on using your powers at all, but you guessed it all depended on Logan’s teaching methods. And you had a feeling they were quite hands-on. You pulled again at the loose skin on your lip you’d been picking again, feeling the sharp skin as it came loose, iron dusting your tongue, crimson dusting your fingertips as you could do nothing but wait, listening to the mocking ticking of the clock. You clamped down on your bleeding lip, that metallic taste now flooding your mouth as you absently sucked on the hurt. It helped keep your mind from racing. 

“You look like you’re gonna throw up,”

You loosened a breath as Logan strode down the hallway to the danger room, looking as self-assured as ever. Self-confident asshole. 

“Would you think less of me if I told you I already have?” You half-joked, hoping he didn’t see right through you to the truth in your words. You’d thrown up this morning, after your workout. Though any hope that he took you at face value died when his harsh features softened.

“Never,” he responded, and you felt a wave of calm wash over your chest. You weren’t doing this alone, you had to remember that. You were helping, not leading the class. Nothing more than a teaching assistant. The idea put you at ease, though not more than Logan’s presence did. 

The school bell rang out on the floors above you, and though it sounded distant, it very much sounded like your funeral toll. You scraped your nails through your hair. “I take it back, I don’t wanna do this anymore. Why did I agree? Why did I let you convince me?” You gestured to him wildly, your other hand braced on your hip in an attempt to catch your escaping breath. “I mean, fuck I haven’t done this in years. Years, Logan! And I wasn’t even good at it back then!” you panicked, exasperated at the whole situation. 

Though your entire train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he gently took your flailing wrist in his hands, one of his thumbs smoothing circles against the back of your palm. “You’re gonna be fine. You did this for five years before you left, and teaching ain’t one of those skills you just forget,” he squeezed your hand gently, and you couldn’t find anything else to look at other than his earnest eyes.

“How did you know I taught for five years?” you asked quietly, careful not to make any sudden moves in case he remembered he was still holding your hand and let you go.

Logan shrugged a little. “People talk, and there was a lot of talk around you when those rumours started,”

“Not that you believed them, of course,” you found peace in the teasing, and your heart skipped a beat when you recognised relief on his face.

“Not a single word,” he winked, and you laughed slightly. It seemed Logan had a knack for bringing you back from the brink of whatever kind of breakdown you were moments away from having. You took a calming breath, feeling your nerves settle.

“Alright, what’s the lesson for today then, Professor,” 

Logan rolled his eyes, snorting a laugh at the deliberate use of that title. “Thought we’d start easy, just do teamwork exercises, nothin’ too intense. Thought it might play into your strengths more,” You felt like you could cry. Theoretical teamwork you were fantastic at, teaching others how to work together you could do until the sun went down. There was a small kernel of hope in your heart that you wouldn’t have to put any of this into practice. That was where your teaching fell a little short. 

“Okay… yeah, okay, I can do that, just as long as we don’t have to do it too. More of a ‘fuck this I’ll do it myself’ kinda gal,” you admitted with a sheepish laugh.

If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t peg you as the kind of person to just go off on her own. He didn’t know why he assumed you’d be good at teamwork, maybe it was because you’d been part of the X-men for far longer than he had, so automatically assumed you’d just be inherently good at it. What he hadn’t taken into account, was the fact that you’d been away for two years with nobody but yourself to rely on. Maybe this wasn’t such a good start after all, especially since his teaching methods were very… involved.

“Demonstrations are a part of the class…” he said with a raised brow, though before you could reply fuck a definitive ‘fuck no’, the lift at the end of the hallway slid open, and your students for the day all filed out, deep in conversation with each other and each wearing a black suit, modified and trimmed to fit each mutation. Marie and Bobby lead the small group, followed by Peter, Julian, Jubilee and, to your surprise, Kitty, who sent you an enthusiastic wave.

You cocked your head to the side, wondering why on earth Kitty was still taking classes before Logan leaned down to your ear. “Thought ya might need some moral support.” He’d noticed how close you and Kitty seemed to be, and so had asked her this morning if she’d attend his class. She, of course, gave him a bunch of knowing looks and sly comments but agreed in a heartbeat. And your smile of wondrous disbelief was worth every bite of his tongue. 

Your eyes flickered between his as you searched for the right words, having to settle on a whispered “Thank you,” before turning back to the students, still a little lost in your daze as Logan started to explain the point of today’s class. A comforting warmth had settled around your heart with the complete knowledge and belief that Logan had your back, there was no way you could doubt that at this point.

“Now, Jubilee and Julian, I know you two are newer to this than the rest of the students here, but from what I’ve seen so far, ya won’t have much of a problem. Any questions ‘fore we start?” Logan asked, looking at each student individually, though deliberately missing Kitty out. She knew far too much for her own good, and the sole reason for her presence was for your benefit. The class shook their heads, each of them as eager as the last to start the exercise. And with a quick glance to you, he saw you give him a determined nod. “Alright then, let’s go,” he nodded for them all to make their way inside, the simulation already having started to take shape. 

You took a deep breath, before following suit, Logan closing the doors behind you. “Y’alright bub?” he asked quietly, and you flashed him a nervous smile.

“Never better,” it was an obvious lie, but at this point, you didn’t feel the need to hide it. He’d already proven himself trustworthy with your thoughts.

“You’re doing great,”

“I haven’t done anything yet!”

“And you’ve been great at it.” He smirked at your frown, once again flicking the centre of your forehead. Though you waved him off, it did help to smooth the wrinkles that had formed between your brows. “Trust yourself a little more, yeah?”

Your smile was anything but genuine, and honestly, you hoped he saw how spiteful it was. “I’ll try,” was all you said, before jogging a little to catch up with the others. Logan sighed as he watched you disappear through the dense forest. He’d picked this simulation for a reason. Mainly because the whole mission took place during the night, and through the aforementioned forest. Plenty of shadows for you to disappear into if things got too much or you needed a break. There was a small part of him that hoped you realised that, and an equally small part of him that hoped you’d never catch on. 

“A stealth rescue mission with a time limit, my favourite…” you heard Bobby quip sarcastically, and you silently chuckled. He always did have some kind of comment to make, whether it be helpful or just simply funny. You heard Marie giggle, and looked between the two of them, noticing the way her gaze fell to his lips most of the time. You really fucking hoped you weren’t that obvious with Logan.

Though one look from Kitty told you that you were. God fucking damnit.

“Okay… so how do we go about this? We don’t even know where we’re going or what we’re looking for, and it’s not like we can see much cuz we’re in a damn forest!” Jubilee lamented, and you had the urge to tell her to watch her language. Maybe getting back into teaching wasn’t so hard after all.

“Not one of us has any kind of enhanced sight? Jubilee, can’t you sense electromagnetic fields or something?” Marie asked a little desperately. None of them seemed too keen to fail at the first hurdle.

“That’s not how my mutation works, Rogue. I can produce and wield light and energy, not sense it,” she responded, opening her palm and creating a small ball of sparking, multicoloured light in her hand. 

“Okaaay… Julian?” Rogue turned to the boy, who shook his head in response. 

“Telekinesis,” was all he said. 

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest. Maybe you could help them out, just a little… “So if not one of you can do something, maybe a few of you can?” you prompted, causing the group to turn to you. Taking a breath, you stepped forward, a smile of understanding pulling at your lips. “You’re establishing strengths and weaknesses. That’s good, keep going down that track,” you encouraged, watching as they all formed back into a circle, considering your words. It filled you with an old, familiar sense of pride, and Kitty quickly shot you a double thumbs up, before dipping her head back into the circle.

Logan stood behind you, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. Honestly, he had no fucking clue how they were going to figure out where to go or what to do, and if it were him in this situation, he’d simply just pick a direction or follow his nose. You, however, seemed to already have a plan figured out. It was impressive.

Much like everything else you did.

“Okay, so we all agree?” Marie asked to a chorus of nodding heads. “Right, Bobby you set up the slide, Peter, see if you can find a log big enough to shield Kitty from Jubilee. Julian, you just get ready to catch her,” Each student set about their tasks instantly, Bobby placing his hand on the floor. You observed as sheets of ice started blanketing a wide path in front of him, curling the far end into a slope. Peter returned with a hollowed-out tree trunk that looked more like a bobsled than anything else, and you had a feeling he may have done that on purpose. 

Jubilee looked as if she was about to vomit. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” she asked, wringing her hands out in front of her. You felt for the girl, knowing what that kind of stress felt like. Julian placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded silently, encouragingly. The sight was achingly familiar, and you couldn’t help but glance at Logan behind you.

Though you weren’t expecting him to already be looking at you.

Something you would unpack later.

You turned back in time to see Bobby freezing two sharp blades to the bottom of Kitty’s boots, and the understanding dawned on you. Oh, fucking hell these kids were insane. They were about to launch Kitty above the treeline.

Your eyes widened, hands balling at your sides in a physical display of restraint. This could only end badly. You couldn’t see a scenario where this went well, and you’d fucking encouraged them. To hell with the exercise, you wouldn’t let them endanger themselves like this. You took a step forward to stop them in their tracks before a large hand settled on your shoulder. 

“Give ‘em a chance,” Logan whispered, and you looked over at him. He blinked at your expression, not having seen this kind of fear on your face yet. You told him you worried too much when you were a teacher, but this was heart-stopping terror. His arms ached to pull you in, chest itching to feel you against it, but he couldn’t. Not here anyway. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ‘em, okay? I promise,” his palm moved to cup your jaw, thumb tracing a line from your chin to your ear. 

You closed your eyes, listening to that strange, primal need to be near to him, leaning into his touch ever so slightly and willing yourself to believe him. To believe in them. The smell of him consumed you; pine needles, woodsmoke and whiskey. Was it a deliberate cologne or did he just naturally smell this good? You didn’t know and to be quite honest, at that moment, you didn’t care. 

“Okay…” you voice barely above a whisper, opening your eyes to find yourself instantly captivated in his intense gaze. Pupils blown in the darkness, flickering from your eyes to the rest of your face, before finally down to your lips. And there they lingered, to a point where you could no longer deny that what you felt was just friendship. And you didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to just have a friendship with him. You wanted him in ways you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Maybe ever. “Logan…”

Your voice was a symphony to him, a cooling balm for his ears. Saying his name like that, in a way, he felt like it didn’t deserve to be said, shattered his resolve. Leaning down, he angled his head to the left, shivering at the way your breath fanned his lips. Fuck, he could taste you, taste the cherry-flavoured chapstick you used. He could taste the slight hint of mint where you’d brushed your teeth that morning. Taste something else he couldn’t identify but was distinctly you. 

A hair’s breadth between you, all it would take was a micromovement before his lips were on yours. You wondered if he could hear your pulse quicken. If he could hear your heartbeat race. Could he see the desire in your eyes? Could he smell just how badly you wanted him? 

All these questions you were millimetres away from knowing the answers to before Peter’s voice shattered the illusion.

“Ready?” he boomed, and you jerked your head back, searching his face for an unspoken explanation as to what the fuck was happening before you whipped your head around and finally came back to reality. You didn’t have time to so much as scream before Jubilee extended her hands toward the vertical hollow log, held by Colossus, containing Kitty. Peter stepped back, allowing the blast of explosive energy to hit the centre of the log and send her rocketing forward, the wood suddenly lighting up green as Julian caught it briefly with his telekinesis, leaving Kitty to shoot up the slope alone, her makeshift skates scratching on the ice.

Logan’s hand fell from your neck back to your shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance as you watched her disappear through a gap in the canopy above, your heart in your throat. 

“You got her Julian?” Marie called, and you looked at the boy, his hand outstretched, a low hum accompanying a faint green light above. He was holding her up there, giving her as much time as he could for her to survey their surroundings and find where they needed to go. It was a sight to behold, though you couldn’t quite let out your held breath just yet, Kitty was still a good eighty feet above the ground.  

“Found it!” you heard her shout from the sky before the green glow stuttered slightly. Your eyes flickered from the skies to Julian, who’s hand was trembling from the strain. He was still a kid, effectively, and he still hadn’t developed his mutation properly. Taking a step forward, you made to pull away from Logan, already formulating a plan to catch Kitty with your own mutation. If you timed it right, you could minimise the impact by dissolving and reforming both of you. You’d done it a few times before, but it took a toll on both you and the recipient, having to keep a tight hold on their consciousness whilst in shadow. It took more concentration than you had right now, but you didn’t see any other way.

“Wait.” Logan stopped you, his hand on your shoulder tightening, stopping you from launching forward. He needed you to see. He needed you to see you didn’t need to constantly be worried about them. He’d taught most of these kids for the last almost two years, he knew what they were capable of. You’d been gone for a while, he understood that, but he needed you to see that you didn’t need to step in all the time. You didn’t have to save them anymore. You didn’t have to be scared anymore. Not for them.

Julian’s hand fell to his side, the boy bending at the waist panting as the green glow sputtered out completely, the hum of his ability fading away. You knew Kitty was falling, but how far you couldn’t say, losing sight of her now there was no longer an aura around her. Logan felt you shift under his grip, but he held firm. You had to watch. 

Kitty phased through the canopy, and you hadn’t noticed Peter positioning himself beneath. A shining coat of metal materialised across his skin as he jumped to her, catching her safely in his arms before landing with a heavy thud. 

You couldn’t quite believe what you’d just seen, Kitty safe and sound with her own two feet touching the ground, a wide grin stretching across her face as her eyes found hers, once again giving you another double thumbs up. You weakly returned her smile, but it was fleeting as the group started jogging in the direction she pointed in. 

A pin could drop and you would hear it clatter to the earthen ground in the lingering silence, your breath audible as you stared at the last place you’d seen the students you’d taught for five years. You were aware of Logan’s presence extremely close behind you, but you didn’t have it in you to care.

“Told ya,” he murmured smugly. You couldn’t be mad at him, he had reason to be smug. He’d taught these kids incredibly well in your absence. You had him to thank for that expert display of their mutations. The back of your head rested against his chest as you relaxed, using him one would a wall to lean against.

“Yeah… you did,” you responded, laughing slightly with relief and pride. It was the sweetest sound Logan had heard you make, other than perhaps the way you whispered his name not moments ago. He wondered what could have happened had you not been interrupted. Though he quickly had to stop himself, gritting his jaw against the images his mind conjured. He absolutely couldn’t be thinking about that during class.

“So, this is why you didn’t wanna get back into teaching?” he asked, taking the first steps to follow the students, though he kept his hand on your shoulder as you fell into step beside him, his arm now basically holding you against him. You didn’t seem to move away, and he hoped you were too caught up in your relief to notice.

Though, of course, you noticed. Your entire body was alight with the feeling of his proximity, of the recent memory of what had nearly happened between you. It was fucking stupid, and insanely irresponsible and you were definitely going to beat yourself up about it at a later date, but there was something so comforting about his embrace that you didn’t feel bad about it. “Yeah… mostly. I don’t think I worried quite this much back then, but yeah. I guess…” you trailed off, not knowing how to phrase your thoughts. 

Logan gave you time and stayed quiet as you gathered yourself. From Scott’s reaction yesterday morning after he’d mentioned you opened up to him, he got the impression you didn’t do this often. A warmth spread through his chest at the idea of him being the one you’re comfortable enough to talk to, despite only knowing him for two days. 

“I guess, I’ve known these kids since they were younger, ya know? Most of them came here after some huge traumatic event in their lives and–” You took a steadying breath. “I don’t know, I just don’t wanna see them hurt even more than they already have been, physically or mentally.” 

As if you could be any more endearing to him. Logan took a minute to let your words sink in, not only listening to you but truly hearing you. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly, and if you both weren’t in the middle of teaching a class, he’d pull you into his chest and fuse his lips to yours. Although, being in the middle of a class wasn’t enough to stop him earlier…

“Could you say something before my insides knot themselves further, i’m dying here,” you elbowed him lightly, breaking him from his reverie. He hadn’t realised he’d just been staring at you in awestruck silence, but he understood how since you’d just opened your heart a little, that lingering silence was extremely awkward for you.

“They’re stronger than you think,” was all he could offer, before the two of you finally caught up to the students, and you pulled away from him. Logan knew it was most likely for the best, however, that didn’t mean he was happy about it. 

“You were saying…” you drawled, turning back to look pointedly at him over your shoulder. Logan cocked his head to the side, not entirely sure what you meant, before he heard what you were looking at. Every single one of his students had been caught in one of the various traps around the hidden facility, faceless guards and soldiers pointed guns in their direction. His stomach was full of lead, he looked at you, trying to gauge whether or not you were about to go ape shit. But you just stood, assessing the situation with a sense of professionalism he’d only seen on the rest of the X-men. 

They were all bickering with each other, blaming each other for the situation they’d found themselves in. Peter and Bobby swung upside down from one of the branches above, their ankles tied together and their wrists bound. They were held at such a height that, if Peter was to coat himself in steel, the fall would most likely injure Bobby badly.

Marie and Julian were facing each other, Marie’s hand was dangerously near Julian’s face. One movement and she’d be draining his energy and life force. You could see the fear in both of their eyes. Jubilee was on the ground beneath Peter and Bobby, her hands also tied behind her back. If she were to use her mutation, the two strung from the trees would be blasted to ash. Kitty was nowhere to be seen.

What a predicament they’d found themselves in. You stepped back to Logan’s side, arms folded across your chest, eyes trained on his expression. “We could wait to see what they’ll do…” you suggested though the raise of your brow told him you had another option.

“Or?” he prompted.

“Or, we could show ‘em. What did you say earlier? Demonstrations are part of the class,” you once again tried to mimic his voice, your chin dipping as you reached the depth of your vocal chords. Logan rolled his eyes, refusing to show that he found your terrible impressions endearing. 

“An’ how d’ya wanna do that?” he asked, his disobedient lips morphing into a smile as you winked back at him.

“We teach. And do try to keep up, fossil, I don’t wanna do all the work,” you grinned, and before he could even voice his irritation at you calling him a fossil again, you melted back into the shadows, completely disappearing from his view. 

Logan swore lowly, slowly releasing his claws from his knuckles, keeping his footsteps steady and measured. This was, after all, supposed to be a stealth mission. And who better for stealth than a mutant who could quite literally walk through darkness? Feeling pretty damn happy with himself for his choice of simulation, Logan pressed his back against one of the trees, sliding around the trunk before he had a decent view of the situation. 

He held his position for a beat, preparing himself to move forward again before there was a brief, cut-off scream from one of the masked guards. Torches and guns whipped to where the sound was last heard and found nothing but a discarded weapon and another torch flickering on the ground. 

A beat passed, and this time Logan bore witness to what happened to the other guy. Passing up through the shadows on the ground, a ghostly pale hand wrapped around the ankle of another faceless guard. They didn’t have time to scream like the other before their entire body was dragged into the shadows. He didn’t even know you could do that. You could drag other people into the darkness with you? Since when? You’d failed to mention that little detail.

However as he watched you work, he noticed there was a pattern to your movements. You never went for any of the taller, stockier-looking guards, mainly picking off the smaller ones. Your latest victim fell into one of the trees, and Logan watched as every torch turned to shine against the trunk. From what he knew of your mutation, yes you could move through shadows, but you were trapped if that shadow became isolated, much like the one behind the tree he was certain you were in. 

The way he raced through the forest was both a testament to Logan’s speed and his sudden, overwhelming urge to make sure you were safe, the simulation completely forgotten. Thrusting himself into the light of the torches, Logan branched a gateway shadow for you, throwing his arm out to the side and casting a dark bridge behind the tree. 

Bullets fired instantly, and Logan grit his teeth as his chest and abdomen were used as fucking target practice for these faceless assholes. Though he was used to the feeling, what he wasn’t expecting, was the almost unbearable itching in his back. Were you… wait were you on him? His theory was confirmed when the rounds of gunfire ceased briefly. Logan felt a slight pull against his spine, and the itching stopped as you reformed, your back pressed against his own.

“Thanks,” you breathed, peering around his shoulder, your eyes flickering to each crimson stain on the front of his white t-shirt. “Fuck! Are you–”

“‘M fine. Fight from my shadow,” he instructed, and you nodded once, before dissolving into his pitch-black silhouette on the ground. With a crack of his neck, Logan growled lowly, before walking towards what was left of the armed force. Picking up momentum, he broke into a run, releasing a bellowing roar before tearing limb from limb.

You leapt from Logan’s shadow like a dolphin from water, using his momentum as his own, your foot collided with one of the masked faces before you dissolved back into the darkness he was casting. 

Ducking and diving, slicing and stabbing, you timed every movement perfectly to his own. Logan swung in a wide horizontal arc, and if you’d been a second too slow, he would have sliced you in half. But you soared over his arm, your hands tucked in at your shoulders, striking out with your leg and into another faceless mask, watching as the satisfying crunch of a broken neck snapped their head to the side. You didn’t dive back into his shadow this time as you landed, the clearing around you plunged into darkness as the last of the guards dropped to the ground. 

Breathlessly, you looked over to where Logan was grimacing slightly, the wounds against his chest closing up, various bullets and shrapnel falling to the ground from his body. His eyes met yours before looking at the bodies you’d both just lay waste to. So much for not being able to work as a team.

“Holy shit…” Bobby breathed from above. 

“Language!” Both you and Logan barked in unison before you approached the captured students, a hand on your hip. “Now, can anyone tell me why that worked so smoothly?” you asked, and Logan stood back and watched you in your element. He couldn’t help but think it was a little cruel to teach whilst they were all still in various positions of capture, but who was he to question your teaching methods? He’d never worked so well as a team in his goddamn life. Even he was learning things today.

“You uh, you both knew the capabilities of the other’s mutation?” Julian piped up a little shakily, Marie’s hand still far too close to his face for anyone’s liking. You nodded, raising a brow to Logan in a silent request to free the two of them. He nodded, slicing through the rope around them with one of his claws. Julian stumbled away, and Marie instantly went to put her gloves back on.

“Absolutely. That only worked well because I knew Professor Howlett’s capabilities, and he was aware of my weaknesses. If isolated in a shadow, I’m cornered. He knew that and formulated a plan to get me out of that mess. Thanks, by the way,” you shot him a smile, and he waved you off. 

“Don’t mention it,” he didn’t want to mention how he didn’t know the extent of your current abilities. He had no idea you could drag people into shadow with you. That was very much a surprise for him.

“What else?” you prompted, looking to each student individually.”

“You were aware of the other’s movements. If you weren’t, you’d be sliced into ribbons,” Bobby offered, his voice a little strained from swinging upside down. You sighed, trying to stop your smile. He wasn’t wrong…

“Unnecessarily graphic, Bobby, but yes. I took the time to study Lo– Professor Howlett’s movements from his shadow. It’s important to know how your team operates, and equally as important for them to know how you move.” You explained, before setting about getting them down safely. It took some fiddling before you found the rope that held them up. Logan took it from you, slowly lowering them to the ground. 

“Anything else?” you asked, stooping to free Jubilee. You were already satisfied with their answers, not expecting them to have anything else to offer until a voice piped up from behind you. 

“You trusted each other completely.”

You whirled to find Marie fiddling awkwardly with her gloves, stealing glances at Bobby. You’d been thrown for a loop. The girl was right. That plan never would have worked had you questioned Logan’s judgement at the time, and spent too long thinking about it. You’d put your faith in him, and it worked out for the best. And you found, now you were thinking about it, you’d do it again in a heartbeat. Your only problem was, did he trust you?

“Right,” Logan confirmed. Well, that answered that. “We wouldn’t’ve gotten to that point if we’d spent half ‘n hour bickering ‘bout it. I trust her implicitly,” he looked at you, eyes lingering on your own. “And she trusts me.” He finished quietly, and you smiled in affirmation, offering him a small nod of acknowledgement. The silence dragged on as you both looked at each other, once again completely unaware of your surroundings.

That was until Kitty came barrelling through the stone wall of the facility, sweat beading down the side of her head, her hand clasped on the shoulder of a little girl whose eyes blinked bright yellow, vertical pupils broadening in the sudden darkness. You guessed that was who they were supposed to rescue. 

“Got her! Wh– woah…” she looked around at the carnage littering the clearing floor, her eyes clocking onto the bloodstains on Logan’s shirt and on the leg of your suit. “What’d I miss?” she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Only the sickest example of teamwork by our professors!” Jubilee exclaimed, and you had to blink a few times, unused to being referred to as a professor. But before you could correct the girl, Kitty clicked her tongue. 

“Huh, interesting. Teamwork from two of the most ‘I’ll do this alone’ people I know,” she said nonchalantly, though it was obvious to you what she meant by that, and your brows furrowed into a scowl.

“And where were you? This was supposed to be a teamwork exercise, Kitty.” You set your jaw, jutting out your chin a little defensively. Kitty gestured down to the kid right as the simulation started to pixilate and the girl disappeared along with the forest. 

“We were under a time limit, right? Part of teamwork is knowing when to prioritise the mission over the safety of your team. Everyone knows the stakes, everyone knows the consequences,” Kitty said pointedly. Logan narrowed his eyes slightly, noticing how this was turning into something a little more personal than a lesson. He saw your eyes flicker with an emotion he couldn’t place before your features hardened.

“That depends on the risk you’re taking, and some consequences aren’t worth it. If this had gone badly, you could have lost your entire team.” You gestured to the students behind who were all staying incredibly quiet.

To the untrained ear, it looked like Kitty was just mumbling under her breath, but Logan very clearly heard what she said. “You’d know all about taking those risks, wouldn’t you?”

You tensed, nostrils flaring slightly. Fury and shame swirled in your irises.

“Class dismissed.” You grit sternly, your shoulders more tensed than he’d ever seen them. One by one the students filed out, Kitty sending you an apologetic glance but you were too busy being utterly furious to notice or care. You stared at the ground, and Logan could almost taste your rage. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about this. Should he leave you to it? Follow the students and make sure they’re all alright? Should he stay silent and let you work through whatever it was you had going on in your beautiful head? 

You decided for him. “That went well…” 

He watched you visibly deflate, exhaustion radiating from your very bones, a hand braced on your brow bone. 

Logan crossed to you, allowing his instincts to rein free. Extending his arms, he gently pulled you into his body, smiling as you sighed in what he refused to believe was comfort. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself as you buried your face in his slightly bloodied jacket.

“Quite the display of teamwork we put on, huh?” His voice rumbled from his throat and you had to bite back another sigh. You couldn’t tell if he knew you needed this, or if this was just a happy coincidence, but honestly? You didn’t fucking care. It felt good to be held by him, and after Kitty dragged up memories from the past, you needed to drown yourself in something other than your consuming sense of guilt, and Logan’s body seemed to be the next best thing. 

He tried his best not to tense as your hands slid to his back, tried his fucking best not to shiver as you clung to his slightly, his arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders securely. 

“Yeah… it was,” you smiled, shifting so your forehead was pressed against his chest, your breath fanning one of the many holes in his shirt. You resisted the urge to run your hands through the hair poking through the bloodstains, keeping them firmly at his back. Unfortunately, willpower alone didn’t seem to be enough, so you stepped back from his embrace, just far enough to remove the temptation from your mind. 

Logan searched your tired face, one question echoing in his mind. “What did Kitty mean? When she said you’d know ‘bout takin’ risks?”

All it took was one question for you to shut down completely. Your once soft features petrified to stone, any insight he had into your mind was quickly shut through your eyes as you stepped completely out of his range. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said dismissively, raising your head in challenge. Daring him to keep asking questions. It frustrated him, and he decided he really didn’t like you lying to his face.

“That’s a lie.” He declared, his jaw clenched. This was not how to approach the subject, but he couldn’t understand why you weren’t talking to him. You’d told him the good about your life, you’d told him about your situation with your mutation, why was this suddenly too far?

“Oh, and you’d know, yeah? Though, from what I remember, you weren’t actually there. Because, and correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve only known you for two days. Just because we get on well doesn’t give you a fast pass ticket to knowing everything about my life,” you hissed, and Logan decided he’d had enough. 

“Didn’t feel like we ‘just got on well’ earlier, did it princess?” He bit back, and you blinked.

Did this motherfucker seriously have the audacity to bring that up right now? “Maybe it didn’t to you, but I know my fucking priorities,”

“Yeah? Is that what Kitty meant? Sounds like you haven’t always had your priorities straight.” He knew he’d crossed a line when the stone wall of your features cracked, his words sinking deeper than he ever meant them to. He didn’t know what happened, he didn’t know your situation, but it was obvious now he’d struck a nerve. Obvious in the way your head shook slightly, your shining eyes flickering in utter, disgusted disbelief. 

Any hope you had for whatever was between you and Logan shattered in an instant. You didn’t even know what to say, your mouth flapping open and closed. Taking a few steps back from him, you looked him up and down, as if searching for where that comment came from. You didn’t know he was capable of something like this, and what made it so much worse, was that he was right. You’d made a huge mistake in the past, and people had suffered because of it. People died because of it. 

Logan wanted to reach for you, to pull you back into his embrace and apologise, but he found himself stuck, staring as your features morphed from heartbreaking disbelief to savage understanding. A smile cut across your lips, though your eyes still shimmered with unshed tears. 

“Okay,” your harsh voice shattered the silence as you nodded along with whatever internal conclusion you’d come to. “That’s that then.” Your eyes pierced through his soul. Logan had a lot of moments in his life he regretted, but seeing the way he’d destroyed whatever was building between you two with a single, stupid fucking comment, might have taken the top spot. Perhaps narrowly overtaken by letting you walk away from him. 

There was something to be said about how peaceful the dark was. Floating in nothing but an ocean of shadows, you let yourself imagine. Let yourself imagine what it would be like if you let go. If you stopped trying to develop your mutation and let it consume you. It was only yesterday you were so fucking stubborn about your possible fate. But now… it didn’t seem so bad. 

You sensed a disturbance in the balance between the light and the dark, another shadow moving smoothly in the brilliant white. You knew instantly who it was, and you attempted to still your conscience. 

“You can hide all you want, I know you’re here,” Xavier spoke aloud, though you knew he didn’t need to. He could have reached you even as nothing but a concept. You mentally sighed, only reforming your head, upper shoulders and arms out of the darkness, rising slightly out of the floor. You rested your chin against your folded hands. 

“How can I help, Professor?” you asked, summoning as much mental strength as you could to at least try and appear okay. You’d disappeared into the garden, always finding the darkness outside to be more freeing than that of a dark room. Charles interlaced his fingers on his lap.

“I wanted to ask how your class went today. Logan spoke incredibly highly of you, it’s rare he has much to say about anyone,” he smiled knowingly. 

You couldn’t help your sarcastic scoff. “Oh, I’m sure Logan found plenty to say about me,” clearly the wound was still fresh. Fresher than even you realised. Xavier tilted his head in faux confusion. 

“Are you referring to the comment Kitty made?”

Your head shot up from its resting place against your hands. “How do you know about that?” It was a stupid question, Charles Xavier knew everything that happened in his school. However, you found that he only brought up certain things if he’d been verbally informed. Something about not abusing his power. 

“Logan told me, before asking me what happened.” 

“Still can’t stay out of other people’s businesses, can he?” you snarled, reforming the rest of your body and crossing to sit on one of the benches. 

“He cares for you.” The statement shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but you still blinked as Charles came to sit opposite you.

“He’s got a real funny way of showing it.” You grumbled.

“How much do you know about him?”

“That’s the fucking problem!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I don’t know a damn thing! He’s asked me everything about my life, from when I was a waitress at some shitty little diner to how I learned how to cook so well. I told him all about growing up with my brother, my parents d–” You couldn’t finish that sentence, your throat closing up. 

“Does he know that? About your parents?”

“He knew they weren’t around, and it was just me and my brother for a while. But what does that matter? He won’t fucking talk to me! Not in the same way… Why are you talking to me about this?” you suddenly realised how strange the situation was, and in your moment of clarity, you decided that for once in your fucking life, this was nobody else’s business. You came out here to be away from people, not to be bothered twenty minutes into your escape. 

“Am I a bother?”

Fuck, you fucking forgot he could read your mind like a damn book. You sighed defeatedly, already regretting being so combative. “Yes and no. Look, Kitty said what she said. It wasn’t like I completely forgot what happened three years ago I just… I’d put a lot of effort into moving forward. I understand the point she was making, it was just–”

“Unnecessary,” Charles finished with a nod of understanding. It was nice, in a way, to be understood without having to voice everything. Even if it was because he could read every single thought in your head at any given time. 

“And then Logan said what he said and it was just… yeah. I don’t know…” you shrugged, hugging your knees. 

Charles leaned forward to place a hand atop your own, causing you to lift your head from the home you’d made within your arms. “This is a school of second chances. Of third chances. I do hope you don’t believe that only applies to the students,” you winced as he slipped into his ‘Professor’ voice, gritting your teeth, suddenly feeling like a scolded schoolgirl again. 

“I know it isn’t. I of all people know that. There’s just so much going on right now, with getting back into teaching and developing my mutation so I don’t just fade into nothingness and whatever the fuck is going on with Logan I just, I have a lot on my mind.” you admitted, though it was a little stunted. Admitting you weren’t exactly in a good headspace wasn’t the easiest for you if your recent outbursts of unadulterated rage were anything to go by.

Fuck, this meant you definitely had to talk things out with him. Maybe even confront whatever the fuck was happening between you, or whatever the fuck could have happened had you both not been in the middle of teaching a class. You didn’t know if you had the emotional capacity for that right now. As much as you wanted to.

Charles squeezed your hand gently. “I didn’t teach you to run from trouble, did I? And I certainly didn’t teach you to hide. What happened three years ago was an accident. It’s time you stopped blaming yourself.” You looked to the sky, trying your fucking hardest not to let the tears in your eyes fall, blinking rapidly and simply willing your eyes to dry. You knew he was right. You’d harboured a sense of guilt so strong it made teaching terrifying for you. Being so afraid something like that would happen again, you’d spent the rest of that year trying to discourage your students from doing the same things as you did on that mission.

No wonder Kitty was so irritated at you. You were such a fucking hypocrite. 

With a shaky breath, you stood from the bench, and Charles moved back a little. You wouldn’t find Logan immediately, you had a lot of your own thoughts to figure out, but you would find him at some point. Besides, he was the one who managed to reassure you in the danger room. He was the one who showed you what those kids were capable of. You shouldn’t probably thank him for that.

You seemed to spend your life recently either wanting to thank the man or wanting to yell at him. But either way, he was constantly on your mind.

With a wordless nod to the Professor, a silent show of gratitude, you crossed back through the gardens and through the double doors, knowing already what you wanted to do. You’d found it yesterday whilst making meatballs, and your mind briefly wondered who had taken such time to hide it away.

Crouching to the cans cupboard, you gently moved aside that same tower of soup, feeling your breathing stutter slightly as you saw her again. Your heart cracked at her faded smile, her white teeth glowing against the deep bronze of her complexion. You remembered the delicate gold necklace she wore, even more so the locket resting against the hollow of her throat. 

You’d thrown yours out the day you lost her. Unable to look at the reminder of what you’d had. Of what you’d destroyed. Your thumb skirted across the angles of her features as if you could feel her beneath your palm once again. You’d tried so hard to forget her, to push her from your mind, to gaslight yourself into believing what you felt for her was nothing but a desire for companionship. A temporary fling. 

But you knew now. You had something to compare those feelings to, and you knew now. Because the way you felt around Logan, the way you felt just thinking about him, it was exactly the fucking same. 

Holding the mug to your chest, your shoulders shuddered in silent sobs. What you wouldn’t do to be in her arms again. To hear her heartbeat one last time. To laugh with her again. To stay up all night, a tangle of limbs and passion, giggling quietly into the dark. But you’d disrespected her memory by trying to forget her altogether. 

A soft call of your name by a voice you knew all too well by now brought you back from your grief, and you turned your head to see him standing by the door. The concern on his face despite the savage argument earlier speared your heart, and you wiped a stray tear from your face with the heel of your palm. 

Logan didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know why you’d fallen out so badly earlier today, he didn’t know how it got so out of control so quickly. And fuck did it break him to see you cry. Every instinct was screaming at him, begging him to go to you, to encase you in his arms and hold you until the rest of the world faded away. But when you didn’t respond to him, when you just stared absently after he said your name, he admitted to himself the likelihood of that ever happening was slim to none. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone…” he muttered with a nod of acknowledgement, turning to leave back the way he came.

You stood quickly, vision swimming slightly with the velocity of the movement. “Logan wait,” you watched as he stopped, his shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t dare to. The fact you’d even spoken to him was miracle enough, he didn’t want to shatter reality by turning to see your face dismissive, asking him to wait just so you could tell him how much of a fucking asshole he was. At least, that’s what he deserved to happen. “Sit…”

Now he turned, eyes rising from the floor to meet your broken ones. He wasn’t about to push his luck and ask why, so he did what you told him and took a seat at the table, watching you like a hawk as you dragged a chair to sit next to him, your proximity electric.

Silently, you set the mug on the table in front of you both, rotating it slightly so he could see the faded photograph. His brows raised as he looked between the photo and you, working to put the pieces together. 

“Who was she?” he asked hesitantly, baring in the mind the last two times he’d asked you about anything a little darker you’d shut down completely. He managed to fight the urge to take your hand.

“Her name was Jade. She’s the reason we found the school, and the reason I became a teacher,” you paused, steeling your nerves before you continued. “And the reason I stopped.” You were unable to tear your eyes away from the picture, retracing the lines and curvature of her face.

“I thought you stopped teaching because Charles sent you to search for more young mutants?” Logan queried, and you finally glanced at him.

“That’s why I left, yeah. He probably thought it would be good for me to get away, but I stopped teaching because I made a stupid fucking mistake on a mission and it–” You paused again, not knowing if you could continue, the lump growing in your throat making it borderline impossible. You hadn’t spoken about this in the last two years, using your travels to distract yourself. 

To hell with ignoring his instincts. To hell with keeping himself from you. To hell with being cautious. Logan gently took your hand in his own, briefly relishing in how soft your palm was. He wasn’t going to push you, he’d seen how well that worked last time. But he wanted you to know he was here. He was listening, if you wanted to continue. 

The silence dragged on as you stared at your smaller fingers interlaced with his, your nails digging ever so slightly into the back of his hand between his knuckles, and you sincerely hoped it wasn’t uncomfortable for him. 

“It got her killed.” Finally, it was out in the open. Finally, though it was nothing more than a shaky whisper, you’d said it. A tear slipped down your cheek, hanging from the line of your jaw. “It was supposed to be a survey mission. Nothing more. Draw up the layout of the land and report back, where we could actually formulate a plan. But I–” You sandwiched your lips between your teeth, hoping the physical pain would distract you from the mental. “I fucked up. I acted out of passion and rage. I saw what they were doing. I saw what they were fucking doing. They were kids, Logan. They were just kids. And they were being treated like prisoners of war. The torture, the experiments, the agony. I don’t remember what happened, but I snapped. 

“The next thing I remember was being back on the jet with my hands bound. I thought I’d been caught somehow, but they were all safe. All those kids were safe. But Jade was nowhere to be seen. I… nobody told me exactly what happened. Nobody needed to. Whatever I… did, she got caught up in it. Jade–” You refused to blink, refused to let yourself see anything but her smiling visage, one captured moment of pure joy before you’d decimated it. “They said she didn’t make it out. But I could feel it. I could feel the fear in the room. I don’t know what I did. I don’t know what happened, but it terrified them. My team and the kids. It fucking terrified them. And Jade was gone.” you finished, inhaling a stuttered breath, tears now falling freely from your lashes. 

Logan didn’t care that you gripped his hand so tightly he felt a shift in his damn bones. He didn’t give a shit that he could feel your nails almost break the skin of his knuckles, not that the sensation was unfamiliar to him. What he did care about, was the fact that he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t reassure you that it was your fault because it was, and he didn’t want to lie to you. You’d lost control, and it resulted in the death of your… friend? Lover? He still didn’t know the relationship between the two of you, but judging from the way your eyes sparkled in the photo, the way your smiled curled in pure adoration, he could figure it out. 

“It was an accident. You didn’t mean to,” was all he could offer. It was shit. He knew it was shit, and you laughed tearily, clearly knowing that.

“Yeah, tricky one to respond to, huh? But that’s why I stopped teaching before i went away. I just… couldn’t do it anymore. And I tried so hard to forget about her because that was easier. It was easier than remembering, as fucked up as that is,” you swiped away your tears with your unoccupied hand, and it took every fibre of Logan’s self-control not to take your face in his hands and do it for you. “So that’s what Kitty meant. It was shitty and unnecessary but I think I needed to hear it. I’m surprised she’s still friends with me, to be honest with you. Jade was like a big sister to her.” you sniffled, offering him a tight, awkward smile. 

Fuck, did you know how gorgeous you were? Even now? It saddened him to think you didn’t. 

“How d’ya know each other, you and Jade? You meet here?” he asked, hoping to inspire some kind of happy memory to associate with your past, rather than bottomless grief.

“Nah, I’d known Jade since we were kids. She was our neighbour growing up. There were eight of us in that little group. Stuck together since we were all mutants. Called ourselves Nine Lives Minus One. Or Nilmo for short. Some stupid inside joke I don’t even remember now, but she was the only one to come with me after I fell out with my brother.” He might as well know the rest of the story since you’d already come this far.

“What happened?”

“Eh, some stupid fucking argument, also don’t remember it. I just remember packing up and leaving one day, and Jade came with me. We weren’t… together, at that point. But I think we both knew we liked each other,” you explained lowly, absently staring at your still joined hands. “Jean and Scott picked us up on the side of the highway and brought us here. I begged them to go find the rest, but by the time they did, they’d all packed up and moved on. That’s what they told me anyway,”

“You didn’t go with ‘em?”

You shook your head. “Charles reassured us both the team would do what they could. Besides, we were caught up in actually learning about our mutations.” You didn’t mind this. Talking about her as if she were just someone you used to know. Someone who was a part of your past. Someone you didn’t fucking kill. Hurt still echoed through your bones like a cry in an empty room, but it was bearable. 

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, taking a moment to bask in his presence. To appreciate everything he’d done, and was still doing, for you. He still had questions, he must do, you knew you would if the tables had been turned. You do have questions for him. About his past, his mutation, and his life before the school. He hadn’t been here very long in the grand scheme of things, and you wanted to know what he was doing beforehand. He’d said it wasn’t a happy story, but you were mutants. 

None of you had a happy story.

“I, uh…” you began, tasting your words before you said them to make sure they were the right tone. God knows you’ve fucked that up too many times recently. “Look, I’m not expecting you to divulge your life story. Shit, after what I said earlier, I wasn’t expecting this,” you took a breath, turning your head to examine his features. “But at any point, you feel like you want to, or you feel comfortable enough to, I’m here. And I’m sorry. For what I said. What Kitty did threw me off and I lashed out.” You sighed, only capable of hoping he’d forgive you. You couldn’t imagine Logan was the kind of guy to give many second chances, but didn’t Charles just say that’s what this school was for? “And for what it’s worth, you’re a really good teacher.”

Logan stared, quietly stunned. Most people here had been kind to him since he arrived with Marie, and it was still a lot to get used to, but you were on a different level. The promise in your eyes, the hope in your tone, he didn’t think there would be a time when he couldn’t forgive you. Fuck, he’d known you were in here from the start. Simply ‘coming across’ you in the kitchen was just an excuse. He could smell you from the other side of the mansion, and before he knew what was happening, he was on his feet walking through that door. 

He ached to be around you. He yearned to touch you. To hold you. To have you. In any way you would let him. Acquaintance, friend, something more. He’d take every piece you gave him and fucking cherish it. You weren’t just some woman he’d met two days ago. He didn’t think there was a moment where you were just some woman he’d met an hour ago. 

From the moment he saw you, something in his heart snapped into place. And it had been a long time since he’d felt whole. Wordlessly, Logan stood from his seat, almost finding your confusion amusing considering what he was planning on doing.

It was a strange feeling, your soul sinking. You’d thought that this could have repaired whatever damage you’d done to your friendship, or whatever the fuck this was. But when he silently stood, you internally accepted that this was probably the most you were gonna get out of him. 

That was until he crossed to the radio on the counter and flipped through the stations, stopping when you heard a song you knew well. Your brows furrowed. What was he doing? He turned back to you, extending a hand, and your eyes flickered between his open palm and his face. Logan just looked at you expectantly, wiggling his fingers and nodding to his invitation.

You huffed a laugh of fond disbelief, before standing from your chair and taking his hand, allowing yourself to be brought into his embrace. Your arms hooked around his neck, wrists crossing at the short hairs at his nape. His hands settling on your waist as the static crackle of lyrics hummed from the radio.

‘Pass me that lovely little gun My dear my darling one’

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your soft smile untamable as you both started swaying slowly to the beat.

“Pretty sure they call it danicin’, bub,” he responded, eyes alight with an emotion you couldn’t place, but one you could get used to.

‘The cleaners are coming, one by one You don’t even wanna let them start’

A small laugh escaped your lips, fanning the lower part of his face. “I got that, but why?” You searched his face for an answer, from the slight crease in his brow to the bridge of his nose to the cupid’s bow of his lip. There your gaze lingered.

‘They’re knocking now upon your door They measure the room, they know the score’

“Honestly?” 

“Honestly.”

‘They’re mopping up the butcher’s floor Of your broken little hearts’

Logan’s hand left your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb gently smoothing your cheekbone. “Truthfully?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you immediately returned to his features. “Truthfully.”

‘Forgive us now for what we’ve done It started out as a bit of fun Here, take these keys before you run away The keys to the gulag’

“‘cause I’m running out of excuses to be close to you,” he admitted quietly. And though it was nothing but a soft murmur of admission, you felt the wounded parts of your heart begin to stitch back together at his words. Their meaning. 

‘Here comes Frank and poor old Jim They’re gathering round with all my friends We’re older now, and the light is dim And you are only just beginning’

“You don’t need excuses, Lo’,” you hoped he could read the meaning of what you said. Hoped he could feel, just as much as he did, that you wanted to be near him. Close to him. You inhaled that smoky, pinewood scent you craved so much, torn between nestling your head beneath his chin and your need to drink in and memorise every peak, plain and valley of his face.

‘O, children, We have the answers to all your fears It’s short, it’s simple, it’s crystal clear It’s roundabout and it’s somewhere here Lost amongst our winnings’

Logan chose for you, guiding your head to rest against the hollow of his throat, his chin settling atop your hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you tighter and holding you close against him. Peace radiated from your slowly swaying form, and knowing that the feeling came from him, your newfound sense of tranquillity, and warmth spread throughout his chest.

‘The cleaners have done their job on you They’re hip to it, man, they’re in the groove They’ve hosed you down, you’re good as new And they’re lining up to inspect you’

“I spoke to Charles.” he started, and you shivered slightly, the rumble of his voice resonating through every fibre of your being.

“He mentioned…” you smiled knowingly, thinking back to your conversation with the Professor. 

“I’m gonna oversee your mutation development,” it was a gamble, telling you now so soon after the argument from before, but he’d rather you know now than be thrown for a loop tomorrow. But his gamble paid off as you raised your head from his chest, your eyes brimming with unspoken awe.

‘O children Poor old Jim’s white as a ghost He’d found the answer that we lost We’re weeping now, weeping because There ain’t nothing we can do to protect you’

“Thought I said you didn’t need excuses.” you teased lightly, and he all but shoved your head back into the home you’d made in his neck, basking in the staggered breaths against his skin from your laughter.

“Yeah, well, that was ‘fore I knew. ‘N after you dressed me down earlier–”

“‘M still sorry about that.”

“I didn’t think you’d still wanna be… this.” He didn’t want to say friends. Because he didn’t think you were friends. There was something so much more between you, friends didn’t seem the right word. And you seemed to know it too, tightening your hold around his neck.

‘O, children Lift up your voice, lift up your voice Children Rejoice, rejoice’

“It was a bold move, I’ll give you that.”

 Logan could sense someone in the doorway, though whoever it may have been seemed to have the good sense to leave swiftly. 

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the Kingdom We’re happy, Ma, we’re having fun And the train ain’t even left the station’

Logan lifted your head from his neck, calloused palm cupping the side of your jaw. “Darlin’, I’m nothin' if not bold.”

Your heart stopped as he leaned down, ever so softly grazing his lips against yours, testing the waters, a silent request. And you responded in kind, eyes fluttering closed and craning your neck to erase whatever space was left between you.

‘Hey, little train, wait for me I once was blind, but now I see Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?’

Logan was wrong. Oh, he was so wrong. You tasted so much better than he imagined. That cherry chapstick wasn’t even on his mind as you kissed him along with the beat of the music, with each sway of your body. He barely managed to silence his groan, feeling the unbearable tension between the two of you slip away, making room for another kind of tension completely. 

‘Hey little train, wait for me Was held in chains but now I’m free I’m hanging in there, don’t you see In this process of elimination’

You drew back just far enough to exhale a breathless “Logan…” before the loss of contact became too much and he brought you in again, as if he could only breathe if he was connected to you. Your tongue swiped across his lips, another silent request, and his eyes rolled behind closed lids. Your nimble tongue weaved through his parted mouth. You tasted of summer storms and mountain forests and it wasn’t fucking fair.

‘Hey little train, we’re jumping on The train that goes to the Kingdom We are happy, Ma, we’re having fun Beyond my wildest expectations…’

The music started to fade, though as long as you could both hear the beat, neither of you stopped moving until the room trickled into to silence. You drew back once again, eyes still closed as you savoured what was left of him on your tongue. You were right. He did taste faintly of whiskey. Whiskey, tobacco and sheer, endless adoration. 

“You okay?” he asked, still a little breathless, still reeling slightly. Your eyes slid open and you smiled. You smiled in a way that stopped his heart and had him wondering if he was dead. Or at the very least, dying.

“Now I am. Wanted to do that back in the danger room,” you confessed to his cocked brow of amusement.

“Oh yeah? Thought you said you felt nothin’.” he jabbed with no trace of malice or bitterness. He’d known then it was a lie, but it was nice to finally hear you say it. More than nice.

Your face fell forward to hide your sheepish embarrassment in his chest, Logan’s hand moving to cup the back of your head, fingers grazing through your hair. “Ugh, can we never bring that up again?” your plea was muffled slightly, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Only if you agree not to keep talkin’ ‘bout how I didn’t think you existed.” He bargained, much to your gape of injustice.

“Absolutely no deal, that’s half my jokes right there! The other half is just you being old enough to b–”

“And that’s enough of that.” Logan cut you off, pulling you back up to press his lips to yours once again in a fleeting, silencing kiss. You chuckled against his mouth and he vowed there and then he would do anything to protect that sound. To protect you. 

“Fucking finally,” with the speed you withdrew from Logan’s lips, he was slightly surprised you didn’t break your neck as you whipped around to face the doorway, finding Marie and Kitty standing with their arms folded with exactly the same expression on their faces. He’d heard them approach, but couldn’t find the willpower to move away from you in time. You were fucking intoxicating.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘finally’, it’s not like we’ve been pining over each other for years,” you sent a pointed look to Marie, and watched as she rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what you were talking about, but was clearly not in the mood to be wrong. “And this has been pretty fucking fast in my opinion,” you paused, glancing back to Logan. “Not that I mind, by the way.”

He shrugged, resisting the urge to grin. “Good to know.” A smile tugged at your lips as you removed your arms from around his neck, turning fully to face the two girls. Your eyes landed on Kitty, schooling your expression to one of subdued rage. You still hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d said, and judging by the way her face fell from smug knowing to sheepish regret, she knew too.

Logan sensed the shift in the air, looking between you and Kitty. “I’ll be in the lounge.” He muttered to you, planting a kiss on the side of your head and giving your arm a quick squeeze before gesturing for Marie to follow him. He knew you needed this time alone with your friend, and he also knew he was about to be subjected to Marie’s excited squealing and begs for details.

But he’d endure it if it meant you could sort things out with Kitty.

The room fell into silence as you stared at one another, both of you waiting for the other to say something first. Kitty’s eyes left your face, falling to the mug left on the table. Regret swirled around your gut as the light caught the brimming tears on her lashes. 

“I didn’t forget about her…” you said in way of explanation, running a tired hand down the side of your face. “No. That’s a lie. I did. I had to. It–”

“I know.” she interrupted you, holding her arm in vulnerability. “I know… I don’t know why I said what I said earlier. It was cruel. I know you have your priorities sorted, and I know what happened was a mistake,” your heart cracked as tears slipped down her face. “I miss her so much.” Whatever resolve she had not to cry shattered there and then as her words ended in a sob. You couldn’t remain angry at her, fuck you didn’t have the right to be angry at her in the first place. 

Crossing the kitchen in two strides, you pulled her into your arms, wrapping her protectively in your embrace as she cried, her hands weakly clutching your back. “I know. I do too. I miss her every damn day, and I’m so sorry I took her from us. From you.” You smoothed her hair, blinking your tears away rapidly. You couldn’t cry again, that would just be excessive…

Right?

You let her cry on your shoulder, simply allowing her to release whatever she’d had building since the day Jade died. You let her sob against your t-shirt, staining the fabric several shades darker until her cries quietened to nothing but hiccups.

“I hated you for what happened,” you let her words land, let them sink in. “I hated you so fucking much. I think… I think a part of me still does. But I saw what it did to you. I saw what happened in the days after. You were different. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been a little chaotic,” she giggled slightly, and you nodded in confirmation. Yeah, you had been chaotic since the day you were born. “But you became manic. Frantic. I knew you were terrified in every class you had to teach after that, I could see it. I realised you were hurting just as much as I was. I’m so sorry I hated you. I’m so sorry a part of me still does, I don’t know how to stop it.”

You loosened your grip, placing your hands on her shoulders to look her in the eye. “You had every right to. You still do. I– I don’t know what happened that day. I still don’t. Nobody would tell me and at this point, I’m too scared to ask. And if, somehow, I could go back, I would change everything.” you admitted, though her slight cheeky smile wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“Even if it meant you and Logan wouldn’t be making out in the kitchen?” she asked, the mischievous glint in her eye exaggerated by the shining of her recently shed tears. You stuck your tongue in your cheek.

“Nah, that probably would have happened anyway. I don’t think things between Jade and I would have lasted…” you admitted. You loved her. You loved her so much, but the differences between the two of you were too great. 

“I also think I have the right to say the biggest told you-so in history.” She continued, and you lightly punched her arm. She was right. Of course, she was right. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll buy you a ‘World’s greatest mind reader’ mug. I’m kinda glad you were right…” you smiled as you thought of him, the moments you’d already shared. Kitty laughed, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe at the damp streaks down her face.

“Oh girl you are down bad. I hope he knows you had sex in the bin shed of that bar you used to work at. What was it called?” she teased, and you clamped your hand over her mouth.

“No, he doesn’t know that Kitty Big-Mouth,” you whispered loudly, laughing through your words. “The bar was called Shots Shack, and he will never know that.” It wasn’t your finest moment. The bar had some extremely relaxed drinking policies for the staff, and to say you were a little tipsy was an understatement. Some guy had just been in the right place at the right time, flirting relentlessly with you. It had been more of a ‘fuck it why not’ moment but you still weren’t exactly proud of it.

Kitty started talking behind your palm, and you had half a mind to leave it there, but your morbid curiosity got the best of you. “Huh?”

“I said he should probably know how nasty you are. Who knows what escapades you got up to on your travels?” She grinned and you wanted to clamp your hand back over her mouth to stop her from spilling all your secrets. 

Your heart settled at her contented sigh, the weight lifting from her shoulders almost visibly. “Thank you for this. Despite everything, and despite a part of me still hating you, you know I love you to pieces, right?” you could see she was genuinely worried, her brows creasing ever so slightly.

“Yeah. I know.” You smiled broadly, and she mirrored your expression. 

“Go on, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the lounge. Besides, I have to somehow convince Marie to actually talk to Bobby if she wants him to actually know she exists.” she rolled her eyes, and you snorted.

“Can’t imagine that’ll be an easy conversation. And Logan’s not my boyfriend, we still only met three days ago.”

“And yet you were dancing and holding each other like you’ve been married for decades. Yeah, totally not your boyfriend.” she wiggled her brows and you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling. Throwing your arm around her shoulders, the two of you fell into step easily, instinctively, leaving the kitchen and heading into the lounge. 

The TV had been turned down low, the glow changing every few moments as whatever show Logan and Marie were watching progressed. You don’t think you’d ever seen him so relaxed, his arm stretched across the back of the sofa, legs crossed at the ankle, his feet propped up on the coffee table. 

Before you’d even said anything, he turned to the door, smiling instantly as he looked between you and Kitty. Or rather, as soon as he looked at you. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m here to return your girlfriend in exchange for my friend,” Kitty smirked as she ducked out from under your arm. You huffed in faux irritation, though paused when Logan didn’t correct her. He hadn’t looked away from you, his smile hadn’t faded or shifted in any way. “C’mon Marie, we need to debrief.”

The girl nodded as she rose from the sofa, casting a glance at Logan and grinning wildly as she noticed the same as the rest of the room. Linking their arms together, the to girls left, chattering away and you could distinctly hear Kitty gloating about how she knew from the start.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You grinned, using his own words against him. 

Logan blinked back to reality. In all honesty, he was completely caught up in the memory of the two of you in the kitchen, arms encased around each other, basking in the intimacy. It was only when you spoke did he remember you were right in front of him again. He raised his arm, a silent request for you to join him, and one you read instantly, hopping over the back of the sofa and onto the plush cushions.

“How’d it go?” he asked, draping his arm around your shoulders to hold you tightly against his side as if he’d been doing it forever. It felt so natural, so routine, it was hard to remember the two of you hadn’t been doing this forever. He felt at peace again the moment you settled, next to him.

“Yeah, well. We talked everything out, cried, ya know, the usual.” You breathed a peaceful sigh. After the events of the day, you genuinely didn’t think it would end this well. Sorting everything out with Kitty, you and Logan acknowledging whatever the fuck was between you, and now settling for what looked to be a cosy evening? You couldn’t be happier.

“You’re starin’, bub.” You shook your head slightly, breaking yourself from your reverie. Had you really been staring? 

“You’re nice to stare at.” Logan snorted at your shit-eating grin, pushing your face to look elsewhere. You laughed beneath his palm, instantly bouncing back to his side profile. Fuck he was gorgeous. Utterly and undeniably beautiful. But you only spared yourself a fleeting glance, scooting down the sofa slightly to settle into the crook of his arm.

His hand mindlessly travelled to your waist, drawing small circles with his thumb. Though you were both looking at the TV, you had a feeling he was watching it just as much as you were, which was absolutely none. Sure your eyes followed the movements of the characters, watching as they engaged in some cockamamy scheme to kidnap some children from an orphanage, but you weren’t actually watching. Not when you felt so comfortable your lids started to grow heavy, your breathing slowing a fraction. 

“So. Shots Shack. Wanna tell me ‘bout that?”

Nevermind. Sleep couldn’t be further from your mind as you shot bolt upright from his side, your mouth wide in shock, staring wildly at his smug face.

“Wh– How did y– Did Kitty tell you? Motherfucker! Oh, she is so fucking dead the next time I see her!” you seethed, looking out the door as if she were waiting behind it and giggling to herself.

“Kitty didn’t tell me.” You could fucking hear how smug he was, and you were torn between smacking him in the chest or smothering his lips with your own.

“Wait, then how did you–?” Logan cut you off, pointing at his ear.

“I’ve got real good hearing, didn’t ya know?” You narrowed his eyes at his faux condescending tone, now leaning much more toward smacking him in the chest. “Part of the mutation, darlin’. Got good sense of smell too, and eyesight. Just senses in general. So I heard all about your sexcapades in that bin shed. Makes a man wonder wh–” It was your turn to cut him off, smacking your palm over his mouth.

“It was one time and I was a drunk eighteen–year–old. I don’t make a habit of taking people behind the bins to fuck ‘em, so we can never talk about this again, yeah? Yeah.” you answered for him, not even giving him time to nod or shake his head from beneath your hand, his eyes alight with sheer and pure amusement. Honestly, it was almost worth living through the mortification just to see that alone.

You kept your palm solidly in place until Logan rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. Keeping it against him for another few seconds just for safety, you finally removed it, squinting at him with no small degree of suspicion. 

“I’m done,” was all he said, though you didn’t need super senses to smell the mischief on him. This man might genuinely be the death of you and only now were you realising it too late. You slowly settled back against him, your head resting against his chest as the volume on the TV was raised slightly, Logan setting the remote back down on the arm of the sofa. “Although, I am curious–”

“Nope. Goodnight Logan.” you went to stand, only making it a few inches on the sofa before strong, sinewy arms wrapped around your middle, tugging you back against a wall of muscle so hard you were almost winded. Christ, it was like hitting cobblestones.

“No ya don’t, sorry sweetheart, you don’t get outta this that easy,” you attempted to wriggle free, finding yourself woefully basked in light, the only shadows to be found pitched in the corners of the room or behind bookcases. With every struggle, Logan’s grip tightened until you had to stop, unable to breathe both from laughter and from a simple lack of oxygen.

“Okay, okay I concede!” You panted, sagging against his chest as his arms loosened to the point where you could shuffle down further, lying across his lap, your face a picture of unadulterated joy as you caught your breath, one hand braced against your stomach. 

“You gonna talk now?” he asked with a raised brow, his smile never faltering. You closed your eyes, grimacing slightly as you tried to remember. Was his name Jordan? Or was it Josh? Joe…?

“Look, in all honesty, I don’t remember much of the night. We had a super relaxed drinking behind-the-bar policy, and it wasn’t uncommon for all of us to be tipsy bordering wasted most shifts. This guy just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” you explained as flatly and as matter-of-fact as you could without wanting to crawl into a ball and die. “I mean, he’d put in the work, was flirting with me all night and I’d just thrown back two strawberry daiquiris and a cherry picker at the end of my shift so what’s a girl to do?” 

“Fuck someone in the bin shed, obviously.” 

“Right? Worked in that shithole for three years of my life. It was totally a front for a drug cartel. There’s no way that place is open now, it was so fucking dodgy.” you sighed fondly, remembering those long nights dragging into the early hours of the morning, belting some shitty seventies song at the top of your lungs after the doors closed, mopping like your life depended on it to the beat of Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. You swore you could still nail that solo on Guitar Hero.

“Sounds like average hospitality to me,” Logan shrugged, and you gaped at him in mock offence.

“They might have all been super scary drug dealers, but they were super scary drugged dealers that had my back on more than one occasion. Sorta treated us all like one huge family. It was… nice.” you were only realising now how much you missed your old life. How much you missed living with your brother and hanging out with the rest of Nine Lives Minus One, or Nilmo for short. You wished you hadn’t deleted his number. Wished that somehow you could reach out to him, or any of your old friends. None of them had texted you back, so you assumed they were all still mad at you for an argument you didn’t even fucking remember.

Clearly, they all did.

What was that argument about anyway…?

“You look exhausted.” Logan’s brows pinched slightly in concern. He’d noticed it earlier, the area beneath your eyes had darkened slightly, and your skin looked a little paler than it did a few days ago when you’d walked through those doors. And the way you smiled tiredly at him now confirmed everything he was thinking. 

“I’m a shadow-walker, Lo’. I’m not supposed to look like sunshine.” You leaned into his touch as his fingers tucked a strand of your hair from your face, and he listened to the way you almost fucking purred when he ran his fingers through the roots of your hair, repeating the movement a few times. This is what he couldn’t wait for. To learn each and every one of your little quirks like this. The way your lids fluttered slightly even though your eyes were cold. The way your jaw clenched and unclenched as if you had to manually remind it to relax every few moments. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when he stopped and smoothed again when he continued. 

Everything you did fascinated him. Captivated him. Even the things you didn’t know you were doing. Logan brushed your hair from around your neck, a gesture that was supposed to be calming and soothing.

At least, it was for you. 

What he saw stopped his heart, his hand faltering. A scar decorated your pulse point, no more than half an inch wide and barely a millimetre thick, but it was deep enough to leave its mark on you. His thumb traced the mark delicately, and you suddenly jerked away, eyes opening slowly to peer up at him.

“You have a scar here…” he murmured, his hand returning to your hair. He wasn’t expecting you to have jumped like that, to almost flinch as if he’d stabbed you himself.

“That I do. Perceptive guy,” you smiled, closing your eyes again, seemingly unbothered by the situation. It put him at ease, at least. You didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

“Used to get into a lot of fights as a kid. I have a few of ‘em in the most random places, which now doesn’t make any sense since my body breaks down and reforms every time I shadow-walk but eh, I’m not too bothered by them,” you did the equivalent of the world’s smallest shrug, and Logan dropped the topic. Until they understood more about your mutation, there wasn’t much he could ask that you could have a solid answer to. 

Turning his attention back to whatever trashy TV show had been in the background, the two of you sat like this until the credits rolled and a new episode started anew, continuing on the trashy story from the trashy previous episode. It wasn’t until he noticed your breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm and you were no longer twitching did he swich it off. You really were exhausted, and Logan was a little terrified to move you in case you woke up. That and, if he was being truthful, a large part of him didn’t want to move. But he knew you’d wake up sore in the morning if you slept like this, so he steeled himself to gently manoeuvre you off his lap, supporting your upper body as he stood. 

“C’mon sweetheart, time for bed,” Logan whispered, stooping to lift you into his arms as smoothly as he could. You frowned in your sleep, tensing your jaw, but made no further movement as he steadied himself. Stepping around the sofa, Logan sincerely hoped everyone else had gone to bed. This would be incredibly tricky to explain in a way that wasn’t either extremely concerning or extremely obvious. 

He hadn’t managed to check his watch before he picked you up, so all he could do was hope and pray he didn’t come across anyone. And whatever gods had been watching had also heard loud and clear, the journey from the living room up to your bedroom on the third floor being as quiet as he’d ever heard the mansion.

Shouldering the door open, Logan propped it open with his foot as he shuffled inside, instinctively cradling the back of your head as he passed through the doorframe. He took a breath, pleasantly surprised as all he could smell was you. The last time he was in this room, you’d barely been back an hour, not nearly long enough to leave your scent anywhere. But now, now being in your room was a whole different experience. He was surrounded by you. Consumed by you. It made him want to build up the pillows on your bed and never leave, huddle you against him for all eternity. Hold you safe and never let you go.

However, since he’d only just kissed you today, he’d manage to hold out on the protective behaviour for now. And he sincerely hoped that would last since he was certain your training was going to be anything but safe for you. At least he would be there, by your side. He would be there to drag you back if anything went wrong. But nothing would go wrong. He wouldn’t let it.

Setting you down on one side of your bed, Logan pulled back the covers on the other side. Fuck it was getting so much harder to resist climbing in alongside you, but he grit his teeth against his instincts. One step at a time he promised himself. 

You weren’t in any kind of sleepwear, but he didn’t think you were the kind of girl who cared too much what she slept in, as long as it was comfy and not jeans. He smiled as he imagined you saying just that, though knowing your foul mouth, you’d probably slip a ‘fucking’ or ‘shit’ in there somewhere. And you’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved T-shirt which seemed comfy enough.

Logan tucked you in, staying for so much longer than he needed to, before finally admitting to himself that adjusting your bedside clock for the fourth wasn’t necessary and he was just stalling. He didn’t want to leave. Shit, every fibre of his being was screaming against leaving. But he had to. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss against your brow before touching his forehead against your own, simply feeling you.

“Sleep well, firefly.” The nickname came to him in the moment, and he couldn’t help but think just how well it suited you. A blinking light in the darkness. You were a beacon of hope for him, and he hoped that one day, you could see yourself in the same light he saw you. 

Maybe one day.

[yandere-sins]

Underneath the Christmas Tree

You and König got into a fight when you realized what time of the year it was. He tries to make it up to you.

Characters: Yandere!König x Reader Fandom: Call of Duty Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Violence, Building Stockholm Syndrom, Mentions of being tied up/ropes

a/n: Late as can be, but my little present to you guys! I hope that everyone got to eat yummy food and experience joy regardless of celebrations last year ♥ (Translations to the German words are below!)

"Mein Herz... are you awake?"

Sometimes, you wondered how a man of his stature could make so little noise. You were never able to notice him until he had already crept up to you. It had always been this way. You felt like you had only just closed your eyes, barely dozing off, when he startled you with his presence next to you. After all the screaming and crying, you had managed to scare him off, but it felt like only minutes had passed since he left.

The rope around your wrist tightened as you stirred, startled by his voice and the touch of his palm at your cheek, his thumb caressing you gently as you were torn out of your sleep. You felt groggy and tired, but almost instantly, the irritation with him returned to your mind, mixing with the pain as the rope cut into your skin.

However, even with your eyes wide open, your mind needed a moment to focus, the room having turned darker than it was a few minutes ago. Had it really been minutes? Or hours? Did you fall asleep for the whole day, exhausted from your outburst?

You cursed under your breath, your mouth dry like sand. More pain shot through your arms as you tried to move, your expression twisting when König's chest suddenly hovered over you, his gloved fingers dancing all over your hands and arms, too anxious to touch but too scared to keep you in pain.

"Here, let me," he mumbled, concentrating on the knot he made. Even he had to focus when undoing his own work, his methods too skilled for even his own good. But the relief, as your arms sacked to the mattress of his bed, was almost too good; your body lulled back into relaxing now that the strain subsided. Your eyes were already closing when he spoke up, alerting you to the danger you were in.

"Better?" König asked, almost sounding smug about it like he expected to hear praise from you for doing the right thing. It would have almost shown his compassion had it not been him who put you into the restraint in the first place.

"Guess," you contered, and you two fell into silence as you stared at each other. The fabric covering his face made his eyes all the more piercing in the moonlight shining in through the window. He was the first to avoid his eyes—a meaningless victory with a man who went from Colonel to shy schoolboy at the sight of your face on the regular.

"I thought about what you said, and I think you're right."

"The bit about Christmas? Ugh..."

Pulling your arms to your chest, you felt the heaviness that had settled into your muscles, which had been a few hours long enough to make them stiff as boards. You examined your bruised and swollen, at times bloody, wrists as good as you could in the moonlight, but feeling the wet smears on your fingers and the burn of pain when you inspected them, you eventually resigned to sitting up and resting them in your lap.

It wasn't long before König reached out to have a look at your wrists as well, gently turning them over a few times to take note of all the damage he had done to you, every fiber of your being blaming him and refusing to take even an ounce of it despite the fact you were the one fighting against the ropes that he put you in. Everything was his fault, and you had no problem telling him that at every chance you got.

"Yeah... about your family and traditions."

This was new.

Usually, König would try to change the subject as best as he could when it became uncomfortable for him—and all your complaints and demands, reasonable as they were, were uncomfortable. König always found ways to try and tell you how much better this situation was without really confirming or denying your feelings, even though his attempts at convincing you otherwise were fruitless. So, hearing him talk about what he desperately tried to avoid... was new. Progress.

"So you'll let me go?"

Silence. Wringing his hands in his lap after releasing yours, König stared at the floor beneath his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed like a scolded puppy. "No..." he mumbled, and you felt the surprise turn back into anger, your body finding the strength to straighten up and get ready to argue again.

"But!" he intercepted, noticing the changes in you and holding up a finger to silence you before you could explode at him again. "Schatz, hear me out before you say something, bitte!"

"Go on then..."

It was hard to keep your composure when what you really would have liked to attempt was to tear his head off in any way possible. Somewhere under the obvious shirt he was wearing, there must have been a head you could either curse at or try to break the neck off. However, you refrained, a small part of you still hoping to find a peaceful solution that would let you escape unscathed. You were at a physical disadvantage, and hurting his feelings had never been a very wise choice either. For someone who quickly became overwhelmed and shy around you, König was an expert at kidnapping and stringing you up, knocking you out, and putting his hands where they didn't belong. Even if he seemed to regret his outbursts afterward.

"I can't let you go, I just... It's not possible. It's not safe. I hope you can understand that I can't do it."

Opening your mouth was all that was needed to have König scramble, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to form his thoughts into a sentence. One that would soothe you. One that would put him into good graces with you. Sometimes you wondered if he forgot how to be the scary guy that kidnapped you. Who stood still and menacing by your side, watching you sleep without an ounce of shame or manners. But then again, you were glad that bruises and self-inflicted wounds were all you had to suffer from. Even if he tried to be gentle, you knew his hands could cause more harm than good to you. The thought of what all they could ruin was more terrifying than being kidnapped was.

"But- I- Well, I thought we- I'm your family now, so... About today— Scheiße... Christmas, I can give you that."

"Christmas?" Cocking your eyebrow, you watched him nervously crush his thumb in his palm, unable to maintain eye contact with you even though König kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes.

"It's been a while for me, so it's probably not much. But I... I want to show you I care—about you! About us. I didn't consider that these holidays would mean so much to you, and I'm sorry."

König got up before you could think of a reply. He barely turned towards you, his body tense, hands curled into fists. Nervous. You knew all the telltale signs of his anxiety, considering there was nothing better to do in his apartment than to study him when he was around and you two weren't fighting. But this time, as secretive as he was, it made you almost curious as to why.

"If you want to, you can come to the living room. I'd be happy if you did."

With that, he left the bedroom, leaving you behind with the door wide open. You knew the layout of his small apartment, but you were contained in this room most of the time without the chance of walking through this door without König. Apprehensive, you got out of bed, feeling the cold floor underneath your feet, causing you to tense. Your soles tingled, almost burning from the cold, and you hesitated. It felt wrong to walk around freely, even though it was what you desired most. Freedom.

You had to cross the hallway to get to the living room, passing by the bath and entrance door. This all felt unreal. Like König was going to stand behind you any second now, asking where you were going and dragging you back to his bed, chaining you up and leaving you there to scream and cry. But he wasn't. You could hear him moving around in the living room—probably pacing—wondering if you were going to come.

There was much to consider. Did you need to use the toilet? Take a shower? Was the front door unlocked?

Your brain was screaming Idiot! at you for even thinking you could make a run for it. But you'd never give up the fight, you swore yourself. Even when you knew he'd easily catch up to you, knock you out, and tie you up, dragging you back to the apartment. You still reached for the door handle, pushing it down and giving it a firm tug!

...

The sturdy lock held on tight to the door, and you wondered what you were expecting.

Your hand fell to your side, and you took a step back. The disappointment and frustration were mere zaps going through your body, not even enough to sway you. What did you expect? That König would leave it open? After all that he did to you?

When you looked up at the living room door, your eyes met his, sparks of hurt hiding in the shadows over his face, disappearing the second König turned away, returning to the living room and leaving you alone again. As if he couldn't bear to watch a second more of your betrayal. There was no need to speak about what happened, about the feelings going through both of you. Neither of you talked about the taboo that the front door upheld—you, the prisoner, and he, your kidnapper and stalker. A love leading to nothing but suffering and destruction. He left the scene after making sure you were safe. That was all that mattered, even if your attempt to leave cut deep into his heart.

A quiet, surrendering sigh escaped you before you turned towards the living room once more. The bath was still an option. You could have gone there, locked the door, taken a shower, and hid from your captor until he couldn't bear it anymore and removed the door that separated you two. But fighting him this morning had worn you down, so provoking and refusing something seemingly harmless like an invitation to the living room seemed silly even to you. Certainly, it would have hurt König, and you liked that idea, but what about yourself? Could you have lived with what hurting him would have meant for you?

Deep inside yourself, you realize you were just trying to justify your curiosity. Escaping would always be your number one priority, but at the same time, you couldn't help being curious about what he had prepared. Being locked in the same room day in and day out was so boring, and even if it was a setup for disappointment, it was still better than pouting by yourself in the bath, trying to fight him for no other reason than spite and hurting both of you in the process.

But you didn't tell yourself that. You told yourself it was an order from him, and you didn't want to be punished for disobeying. That was enough to justify your actions to yourself rather than admit that you were curious about something he did. You led yourself along the wall, hesitant but complacent with König's wishes—at least for now. Just for today.

Warm lights enveloped you the moment you stepped into the doorframe. Christmas lights - green, yellow, red - twinkled from a string of lights pinned to the ceiling, while the old (although decorated with fake greenery) lamp added a cozy, warm glow. The table was decorated with a table runner, candles, little pine cones, and a big wreath with burning candles, plates and cutlery set like you'd see in a restaurant.

Most surprisingly, however, was the Christmas tree set up next to the couch. Given it was barely the size from the floor to your hips. But König had perched the tree on a little stool and hung it with baubles and little figure ornaments like a nutcracker and Santa Claus' hat. It was nowhere near tidy or uniform like you knew from home, with different colors mixing and not always going well with each other. It seemed like it had been hastily put together with whatever he could grab. But in its odd way, it was an endearing sight to behold.

Underneath it, wrapped presents in various shapes piled, their wrapping paper glistening in the lights. Some were easy to figure out, like books. But others had a generic box shape that wasn't very precise on what the present would be. Honestly, you were astounded, barely able to say anything with your mouth open in surprise. König never had a lot of decoration around his home, and standing in an all-out Christmas wonderland was almost uncomfortable after getting used to white walls and unintentional minimalism.

On the other hand, König looked so out of place, like a black hole in the middle of a Christmas market. He stopped pacing—moving, entirely so—the moment your presence came into view. There was a moment of awkward silence between you two, his hands tensing and relaxing, ever so often curling into fists as he waited for you to say something.

"So, do you like-?"

"Wow, that's-"

More awkward silence followed as you both started and stopped your sentences. But eventually, it was König who broke it, stepping aside and inviting you in with a slight wave of his hand. "I hope you like it. I didn't have much time, so it's messy. Probably not how you'd do it, but next year, we can do it how you want to. We could go shopping or—"

Cutting himself off, he seemed to be biting his own tongue. There was no guarantee that you'd have a next year. That you'd go out with him to buy decorations or you two would be close enough to celebrate like this again. Nothing was truly certain in this weird relationship you had.

But he tried. He really did.

And it almost made you cry.

"I... uhm," you quickly turned away when you heard your own voice shake, wiping at your eyes and praying that this strange feeling of happiness that overcame you would pass, returning your anger and defiance to you instead. "It's... alright. It's fine."

That was a lie. It was not fine; not alright. It was wrong. Downright awful and manipulative. You should have been hating on it, cursing him out for trying to take advantage of your longing to make himself look better. It was cruel and heartless, and you liked the feeling of normalcy so much that you wished it would stay forever. At that moment, you wished he was your boyfriend that you loved, and you were just a couple celebrating the holidays. A moment of normalcy was worth more than your defiance. And it made you hate the person you felt yourself becoming in that stupid Christmas room.

König's shoulders lost some of their tension, his equivalent of a smile. This time, when he waved you closer, focusing on the tree he had put up, he seemed excited. "Komm!" he said, and you felt your heart leap with the same excitement that swung in his voice, his happiness contagious. Saying "it's fine" seemed to have been enough for him, König being ever so undemanding when it came to your affection.

König knelt next to the tree, still just as tall as it despite being brought down a notch, patting the couch beside him. You tiptoed your way around the man, half expecting him to jump up and attack you as you passed by his back, but he didn't. Taking a seat, you curiously stretched your neck to see what he was doing. After briefly combing through the presents, König picked out one wrapped in green, glittery paper, handing it to you before sitting down on the floor at your feet, watching you expectantly.

You could feel the book's hardcover without seeing it, glancing at König briefly before unwrapping it. Forthcame the cover of the last book you had been reading before your life went downhill. It wasn't the same copy, still smelling new, and its spine wasn't broken from being read in awkward positions. For a moment, it felt unreal that he would know how much you had longed to learn how it ended, thinking about it a lot in the most boring of afternoons. But then it reminded you of how he tore you out of your life and destroyed it with his actions. How was this a small compensation for all the bad things?

But you'd still read it.

Pressing it to your chest, you swallowed back the tears, giving a fake yet confident nod of approval. Your body language was good enough for König, even if he noticed the hints of tears in your eyes, and he handed you the next present with an encouraging hum. You went through many more wrapped presents like this—more books, movies, sweets, a back warmer and a teddy bear, and so many more things you enjoyed. You eventually ended up on the ground next to König, your knees touching while you were occupied with opening and awing at all your presents.

It was just you two, and the apartment was quiet but peaceful, unlike the constant screaming and pain that usually resided in it. The bitter truth was that despite being unusual, things could almost look normal.

So when he slipped his hand over yours, and you didn't flinch away, the silence felt more awkward than it felt right. It was like two lovers exchanging a moment of gentle togetherness in a world that was so cruel to them—a world you weren't in voluntarily but a world that König wanted this way. You couldn't bear it. Bear the thought of this being acceptable.

So you pulled away, hugging the teddy bear in your lap and looking at the pile of gifts. "I've got nothing for you," you commiserated, politeness being the only thing you could procure to avoid destroying the peace you two had for once.

"I've got all I need," König replied gently, and you forced yourself to look back at him. His gaze was soft, lights sparkling in his eyes as they moved from you to his hand, reaching out to you once more. He was getting greedy, pushing your boundaries for just one more touch. "Just you and me, right here. Under the Christmas tree. I'll not ask for more than that from you."

It would have been the perfect moment to rebuke him, to hurt him and stab the figurative knife into his heart by telling him you didn't feel this way. It would have been enough to tell him how you felt truthfully that you still hated him. But for some reason, you remained silent, allowing him this moment of disillusionment that you two were finally warming up to each other.

It was simply too painful to admit to yourself that you were.

"Are you hungry?"

König snapped out of it faster than you. Unusual as he could be quite stuck in his lovey-dovey ways. "I got us takeout; just have to reheat it. I hope you like Christmas food because I got us everything."

Heaving his body forward, he got back on his knees but hesitated for a moment before standing up. You didn't look at him or say anything, tensing when you heard his breath next to your ear. His actions made you want to fight him again, every fiber of your being rejecting him and his ideas of love. But not on that day. Maybe you didn't want to ruin it, no matter how disgusted you were with him and yourself.

The kiss that fell on top of your head lingered for seconds too long. It was as if he was trying to get on your nerves, though more realistically, he was merely basking in the opportunities you granted him. His lips felt gross despite your hair and his mask being in the way. Yet you let him.

"Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz," he uttered into the kiss before finally pulling away, standing up and heading straight for the kitchen. Soon, the room was filled with the smells of a roast in the oven and sides cooking on the stove while you remained where you were, sitting there like an unopened present waiting for him to return.

Your face burned as your heart swelled with affection for the man you hated the most. The man who gave you what you wanted despite having to scramble to pull off a Christmas like no other. Who loved you unconditionally. Loved you so much despite all the bad things you said to him. Who would move the world to make you happy, even though he refused to do it under normal circumstances. The only person you had left who cared so much about you, stalking you to the point of knowing the kinds of books you liked, movies, treats, and your favorite things, presenting them all to you for just a moment by your side in return.

You were disgusted and appalled by everything and yourself. But without realizing it, you started to question your feelings for König as you hid your face in the soft, plush body of his gift.

And what more could he ask for as a present than you—in doubt and foolishly falling in love with the idea of him in your head—underneath his Christmas tree?

Mein Herz - My heart Schatz - Treasure (Equivalent to nicknames like Dear/Darling/Love) Bitte - Please Scheiße - Shit Komm - Come (in this context like “Come here”) Frohe Weihnachten, mein Schatz - Merry Christmas, my Love

[mixtape-racha]

talk me down | sim jaeyun

you honestly couldn't comprehend why falling for your brother's best friend was so taboo... especially when said best friend was jake sim. // minors dni, 18+

words: 6.55k // warnings: established relationship, jock!jake, frat!jake x sorority!reader, brother!heesung, unprotected sex (pull out method is used - wrap it before you tap it guys)

loving jake sim was easy, like breathing. everything he did was the epitome of “boyfriend”, and it never failed to have butterflies in your stomach and a flush of red on your cheeks. you just wished you could love him out loud, show him off to the world as yours, and you knew deep down he felt the same.

you didn’t understand why falling for your brother’s best friend was so taboo. sure, heesung was jake’s only hyung, and that made things slightly more awkward - jake would never want to do anything that could offend or upset heesung, but falling for you was never on his agenda when befriending his older friend on the football team.

now heesung had graduated, it was easier for you and jake to just be together on campus, but sometimes it got difficult. he couldn’t just turn up to pick you up from home for a date over the holidays, and you had to be careful with your proximity and interactions when you were all hanging out as a group with their other friends.

part of you felt awful about hiding this from your elder brother, but no one knew how he’d react so you were biding your time in finding the right time to tell him. you hoped he’d approve - you needed him to approve. more than anything. you couldn’t lose jake, not after spending so long falling for everything about him. all his quirks and secret hobbies. all his guilty pleasures and his routines. his coffee order, the songs he uses to hype himself up before a game. the way he holds you, the way he kisses you - conveying everything he couldn't say through the way his lips meshed with yours.

however, what you weren’t expecting was for everything to come tumbling out when heesung gatecrashed a frat party with a bunch of other last years’ graduates from the football team.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

jake had met heesung when the younger was just a baby-faced college freshman. it was only a few years ago, but it felt like a lifetime. jake was a pledge for kappa nu, where heesung was already a brother - a legacy, actually. his father and uncles had all been in kappu nu during their time at the college, and it was safe to say heesung was one of their most active members.

heesung quickly adopted jake as his little brother, seeing a lot of himself in the bright-eyed kid. they became best friends almost as quickly, heesung introducing jake to the football team, which is where jake got his confidence to actually go to tryouts.

he had met you not far into the semester, at a mixer between his frat, and your sorority - where you were, much like your brother, a legacy. you were instantly attracted to him, and got chatting almost straight away. you told him about how your entire family had gone to HybeU, and that nowhere else even seemed like an option for you brother the previous year, or you when you had applied. it turned out HybeU loved legacy students, and were keen to take on as many as they could.

with the flush of alcohol running through your veins, you almost got the confidence to ask jake to take you back to his room, before your brother called out your childhood nickname - stunning both you and jake.

“(n/n)! you’ve met jake! he’s the kid i was telling you about!”

he was so excited for his best friend to meet his treasured little sister, but you couldn’t deny the awkwardness that developed between you and jake after. almost as if your brother being his best friend was an instant turn-off for him.

but as much as he tried to put distance between you to ignore the growing crush he developed on you from the first time he saw you - he couldn’t. it was like he couldn’t escape you. he was going to hang out off campus with his friends? heesung was insistent on bringing you along! a football match, or even practice? oh, you were in the stands because heesung was taking you out for some brother-sister bonding after. jake was struggling in his english lit class, which he needed to pass to stay on the team? you loved the novel he was learning about, heesung would see if you were free to tutor him sometime!

it was almost as if the universe, or even heesung himself was trying to push the two of you together. he almost got up the courage to ask heesung for his blessing to take you on a date, until he was stuck in a conversation with his hyung and another frat brother which changed his perspective.

“i dunno, man. your sister’s pretty cute, and she’s around all the time. i’d take her out, you know?”

heesung seethed at the mere thought of it. “if you, or anyone here for that matter, even think about touching my sister i promise i won’t hesitate to cut your balls off. she’s off limits, got it?”

oh.

maybe jake wouldn’t ask you out, after all.

but it was so difficult - to be around you so often and not be able to voice his feelings. he truly had no idea you felt the same way, especially clueless to the conversation you and heesung had after you ended up blushing and shy everytime you hung out with his friends. heesung didn’t know your feelings for jake, and so he couldn’t tell the boy in question, and you were happy to keep it that way. he just warned you that his friends were off-limits, and probably not the type of boyfriend material you were after. in fact, he warned you that most frat boys were not the type of boys he’d want his sister to be with.

it was only after your childhood best friend and sorority sister started dating a shared friend of heesung and jake - and by default, you - that you began to question hiding your feelings from jake. jay was lovely, and he was so perfect to mina that you couldn’t help but wonder…. why couldn’t that be you? why couldn’t it be jake picking you up from mixers when you drank too much, or bringing coffee to your morning lecture because you were tired? what was the harm in trying?

embarrassingly, your confession came when jake picked you up from a bar - entirely by accident. heesung was sick and all your friends were either busy, or had also been drinking. but jake came for you, like a knight in shining armor, and you couldn’t help it.

“you’re so pretty, ikeu.” you breathed, your eyes dancing like stars as you took in the way he stood against his car waiting for you. you watched as a pretty, pink blush spread across his cheeks and he shook his head softly.

“you’re drunk,” he started, opening the passenger door to help you in. “c’mon. you need some water and to go to bed.”

of course you listened, it was jake so why wouldn’t you? but you were still determined to prove your point.

“no, seriously, jake. you’re, like…. gorgeous,” you couldn’t look away from him as he pulled away from the curb to take you back to your sorority house. “everyone loves you and its not fair. it means i’m not special.”

he was taken aback by your words, glancing over at you slightly shocked when he reached a red light. his heart was hammering in his chest, but he was painfully aware that he couldn’t respond the way he truly wanted, especially while you were intoxicated in his passenger seat.

“you are special, (y/n). i don’t think you realize how special you are to me. but let's not talk about this now, yeah?”

“but if not now, then when? heesung wouldn’t let us be alone together if he knew how i really felt.” you huffed, opting to stare out the window instead. jake thought you looked like a child sulking, it was kind of cute.

“(y/n),” he started softly. “if you like me more than as a friend, it’s okay. it actually makes the way i’ve been pining over you less embarrassing. but you know we can’t act on it, right? heesung would kill me.”

you couldn’t help the tears that build it your eyes as jake pulled up to your house, the car drawing to a stop as you let out a sigh.

“i know. thanks for the ride, jake. see you around, i guess.”

you had left the car before he could even say another word, but he was too stupid and overwhelmed to go after you, which in hindsight was his biggest mistake. you started avoiding him after that, barely able to act normal when you bumped into him with your brother.

it went on for three weeks, and he couldn’t stand it. fuck what heesung thought. he couldn’t cope with the way you avoided him like the plague - not when he knew you felt the same way as him.

heesung had gone away on a trip with one of his clubs, and you felt restless and abandoned. you’d never been away from your brother for too long, and not having him within an arm’s distance was unsettling in every way. you started hanging out at the frat house again more often, as you saw the guys as brothers of your own by default, but that didn’t stop you from avoiding jake still.

it was only when he bumped into you in the kitchen at 3am one morning that he got up the courage to confront you, and neither of you could have expected the turn that the night would take.

“you know you don’t have to act like i don’t exist, right? it actually fucking sucks.”

you jumped, not expecting the voice behind you as you filled your water bottle in the sink. you knew it was jake, and as much as you wanted to avoid this conversation, you knew you couldn’t. you sighed, switching off the faucet and turning to face him, taking in the way he seemed exhausted in every sense of the word.

“jake, i can’t do this right now, okay?”

“but if not now, then when?” he snapped, mirroring your words from the night you told him of your feelings for him, and you had to admit you felt a bit ashamed. was it really eating him up that bad?

“you were right. heesung would kill you. so what’s the point of entertaining something that can never happen? being around you is too hard right now, so i’m keeping my distance until i’m over this. please don’t make it harder for me, jake.”

there was a beat of silence as jake processed what you had said and took a mental battle with himself. you could see the cogs turning in his head as he muttered to himself, angry with you ro himself, you weren’t sure.

“let’s just… talk about this another time, okay?”

you went to walk past him, but you didn’t get far before he grabbed your wrist with a silent plea to just wait and hear him out. the contact between you had your skin buzzing, and all of a sudden you completely forgot why you’d been avoiding him. why couldn’t you both just be normal people?

jake sighed, his eyes darting over your face for any signs of discomfort.

“just– fuck it. fuck what heesung thinks.” was all he said before pulling you closer and placing his lips on yours. and it felt magical. yeah, you may have been kissing in his fraternity kitchen at almost half past three in the morning, wearing one of his friend’s shirts as a sleep dress, but it was the most perfect first kiss you could have even imagined.

he couldn’t stop himself, pressing peck after peck to your soft lips, his hands cupping your face like you’d disappear if he let go. your hands, on the contrary, had dipped under his shirt, holding onto his waist like it was keeping you grounded. it took everything in you not to dig your nails into his gorgeous skin when his teeth nipped your bottom lip, and you let out an embarrassing whimper. god, were you really that touch-starved?

eventually, you had to pull away for breath, mumbling against his lips because you couldn’t bring yourself to be too far for him. “take me to your room, jake. i don’t care what we do, we could just sleep for all i care, i just need to be close to you.”

he grinned, softly caressing your cheek as he pulled away, and you blushed at the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he was quick to take your hand and pull you up the stairs to his bedroom. once you were safely in with the door closed and locked, he practically begged you to change into one of his shirts to sleep in, his puppy-dog eyes making you weak in the knees.

“please, (y/n), i can’t sleep next to you knowing you’re wearing one of jungwon’s shirts. what about if– listen, whatever one you choose i’ll let you keep it, yeah?”

he was cute when he begged, not that he needed to. and the second you were curled up in his bed, one of your legs slung over his waist while his fingers drew soft patterns on your skin - you knew you were in love.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

almost two years had passed since jake asked you to be his girlfriend, exactly a year after you found yourself curled up in his bed with a shitty tv show playing in the background - and things were a lot different since then

you were both seniors now. jake was captain of the football team, while you were president of the musical theater society. heesung had graduated a year earlier, and while you felt bad about hiding a huge part of your life from him, being with jake couldn’t be better.

now heesung was no longer on campus, you could go out holding hands, or stay at each other’s dorms without the worry of being caught. you could kiss jake when he ran up to you happily after a successful football game, and he could meet you with flowers after one of your musical theater performances.

you just prayed that heesung would stay oblivious enough at least until after you graduated - you’d feel less bad about telling him then. in fact, you were impressed with how well you and jake were hiding it from him. unfortunately for you, it wouldn’t last as long as you hoped.

not long before the first semester of your senior year ended, kappa nu decided to throw a huge celebration party - mainly to celebrate the upcoming graduates, but also just to enjoy the end of the semester before christmas break.

of course, you and jake were keen to go - even more so when sunghoon had excitedly told you it was going to be a costume party. the concept of a costume party sparked many playful fights between jake and yourself - he wanted to go in hogwarts robes, but you felt that was too halloween-like and wanted something more…. couple-y? cute?

eventually, you decided to go as romeo and juliet, jake searching high and low for a non-metallic knight costume that was breathable and easy to move in, while you had it easy. you thrifted a really cute white dress, and found a pair of good quality, dainty angel wings online for a relatively cheap price.

the two of you decided not to show one another your costumes until the day of the party, where you’d have to meet jake at the kappa nu house where he was given the responsibility of greeting guests. it was exciting, and you decided to throw in your own twist to the costume as a fun surprise for him.

it felt like a given that you’d stay with jake after the party, crashing in his room and probably spending all your hangover recovery time with him, so why not make it interesting? you searched online high and low to find the perfect website - and when you did, you ordered a gorgeous lace thong in white (to match your dress) with the phrase “jake’s girl” etched into the hemline with crystal lettering. talk about a perfect early christmas present, right?

you tried to avoid talking about the party with him after that, afraid you’d accidentally spill your guts and spoil the surprise for him. but luckily he seemed more caught up in the love lives of his friends - more specifically, who they’d all be bringing to the party.

“i think sunoo’s going to bring that sophomore girl from his accounting seminars. at least i hope so, god, i’m so sick of hearing him pine after her. i swear i wasn’t that bad before we got together.”

looking over at jay who was sitting opposite you with mina in the cafe, he gave you a look that told you all you needed to know. jake was definitely that bad. probably worse. in fact, you did them all a favor by getting with him because he would never shut the fuck up about you.

when the day of the party finally arrived, you and your sorority sisters decided to all band together and get ready in your living room - helping one another with makeup, straightening each other’s hair, being each other’s designated photographers for instagram posts. you had no idea anyone off campus knew anything about the party - especially not last years graduates - until you got a message from your brother.

have fun tonight, (n/n)!!! send me a picture of ur costume :( im so annoyed i’m not there kappa nu didn’t do anything like this before i graduated

for some reason, the wording of heesung’s message felt ominous. you weren’t sure how he even knew about the party, but you shook it off the second one of the younger, freshman girls in your house asked you if you could braid her hair - which you agreed to, happily pulling out a box of hair ties.

by the time all the girls were ready, it was half past nine and you were a little late for the party - not that you minded. after shoving some essentials in the little purse you were bringing, you all left the house to start the short walk to the kappa nu house.

it probably looked insane - 15 girls all dressed in different costumes that definitely didn’t coordinate walked down the road in the student village. you all looked like you were going to completely different events, and the effects of the pre-drinks were starting to kick in with the way you were all giggling like maniacs. half of you couldn’t walk in a straight line sober, so the group of you stumbling across the curb must’ve looked rather amusing to passers-by.

you and the elder sisters in the sorority stayed to the back of the group as your approached the house, wanting all the younger girls to get in the house safely and make sure you hadn’t lost anyone on the walk there - the freshman and sophomores were feral, and sometimes you struggled to keep track of them.

you smiled as jake came into your line of vision, his freshly bleached hair in a dirty blonde adding to the effect of the costume. you liked it, maybe too much, but that was a problem for later. he grinned when he saw you, taking in your outfit and making you do a quick twirl for him.

“you look good, baby. i’ll be inside in a minute, yeah? they’re making me stay on the door until the last sorority gets here.” he pressed a kiss to your temple as you ran your hands over the armor of his costume - it was surprisingly good quality, and you couldn’t help but wonder where he got it so last minute.

“no worries, jakey, just come find me when you get in.” you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, reaching up to rub away the remains of your lipgloss after. you took note of the soft hue of red coating his cheeks and turned to wave at him as you walked into the house. you would never get over the affect you had on jake, it was both endearing and so, so fucking attractive.

jake wormed his way through the crowds of people towards you about 15 minutes later, a red solo cup of punch in each hand. he passed you a cup and sipped his own as you danced with your friends, having the best time of your college life so far. when you’d finally had enough of dancing with jake and your friends, and your feet started to hurt, you took jake’s hand and began mingling - being a social butterfly was never on your agenda, but you loved knowing so many people and being able to say hi and know the names of most people at the party.

it was only about an hour and a half into the party that you remembered your surprise for jake, and the alcohol coursing through your veins gave you enough confidence to finally show him. you and jake were by no means new to sexual activity with one another, but he still always managed to make you shy and for once you wanted to give him the same effect.

you waved goodbye to jay and mina, quickly pulling jake towards an empty bathroom and giggling as he questioned where you were going. his cousin and frat brother had finally met a girl, so his bedroom was off-bounds as jake had loaned it to him for the night, so for now a bathroom was your best option.

pushing jake in and locking the door behind you, he’d never been so confused in his life.

“what’s going on, angel? you getting overwhelmed out there?” he asked as you hopped onto the counter shaking your head.

“got a surprise for you, jakey, but i couldn’t show you out there. trust me, you don’t want anyone else to see it.” biting your lip to try and contain your grin, you moved jake’s hands to the hem of your dress, urging him to lift it up.

he chuckled breathlessly, confused by your antics.

“don’t tell me you’ve got all needy for me already, huh? oh, baby, what am i going to do with you?”

you groaned as he simply fingered the hemming of your dress, your eyebrows furrowing slightly in frustration. annoyed with his waiting game, you lifted your dress, the light catching the crystals on your panties causing his eyes to go flying down to them.

it took him a minute to process what the lettering spelt, but once he did, he looked back up at you with a smirk. one that had you clenching your thighs together, anticipating what was to come.

“yeah, you’re my girl,” he hummed, the cockiness flooding through in this tone. “my pretty, pretty girl, aren’t you? you did all this for me, hmm?”

you nodded shyly, a coat of red settling gently on your cheeks as he caressed your bare thighs. you loved it when he got possessive, and he loved it equally as much when you willingly submitted yourself to him completely.

“nuh uh, use your words,” he chuckled, pinching the skin between his fingers and reveling in the way your breaths got shorter as he inched closer to your core. “you’re a big girl, aren’t you? my girl. use your words for me, my angel girl.”

“did it all you for, jakey,” you mumbled, nosing against his neck as he pulled himself closer to you. “just wanna be pretty for you.”

his fingers reached further up, fiddling with the lettering on the hem of your panties as he pressed a searing hot kiss to your lips.

“my pretty girl. got me all worked up now, you know that? can’t even take you to my room,” the grumble in his voice was only half-serious, knowing full well that he planned to ruin you right there on top of the bathroom counter. “will you let me have my way with you right here, pretty?”

you simply nodded, too overwhelmed in your lust for the boy in front of you that words failed you. he cupped your face in his soft hands, pressing his lips firmly against your own, and an embarrassing whimper fell from your throat. how had you been together for bordering on two years, but even a simple kiss had you melting under his fingertips?

you didn’t know how or when your panties ended up strewn on the bathroom floor, or when jaeyun had pulled down the top of your dress, your tits spilling out so prettily as he mouthed at them - but you couldn’t complain. not when you felt budding marks blooming across your skin, nor when he pulled you closer so your hips sat flush to each other and his cock aching in his pants pressed against you so deliciously.

while one of your hands was wandering lower, pressing between your bodies to try and get a grip on jake’s belt buckle, the other was wrapped in strands of his hair, the feeling of his lips leaving a fiery wake on your skin being both too much and not enough. he was panting and allowing little whines to leave his lips as you tugged on his roots - something you discovered that he thoroughly enjoyed quite early into your relationship.

almost as if he didn’t want to - which he probably didn’t in all honesty - he finally pulled himself away from your chest enough to help you unbuckle his trousers and lower them, along with his boxers, just enough so his cock could spring out of its confines. he was so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it was bordering on uncomfortable, and you wanted nothing more than for him to bully himself inside you and fill you up only the way he could - so, so perfectly.

you spat on your hand before stroking his length, the boy in front of you slightly jolting at the sudden stimulation. although, as much as he wanted nothing more than to be buried inside your walls, he also seemed keen on the idea of teasing you, causing you to groan and throw your head back in frustration.

“please, baby. need you in me. won’t you fuck me, jakey, please?” you put on your best puppy-dog eyes in hopes of swaying him, and in one swift movement he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him as he eased inside your tight hole.

“fuck, angel. haven’t i fucked you good enough, huh? still so tight after all this time, its almost like your pretty pussy’s suffocating me.”

you keened at his words, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as he began shallowly thrusting into you. you were well aware that jake was particularly endowed, but somehow it managed to catch you off guard every time he sheathed his entire length inside you. you’d never felt so full, and it was addicting. in fact, everything he did was addicting.

the way he rolled his pelvis into yours had you drooling onto his costume, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a way beyond your control. maybe it was the alcohol in your systems, or the fact you were fucking in the bathroom of his frat house, but you swore jake had you seeing stars faster than ever before.

anyone who stood too close to the bathroom door would be fully aware of what was going on, the sound slapping sounds and moans echoing off the tiled walls easily overpowering the loud bass of the music for anyone in a close enough proximity. you slung both arms around his neck, tears welling up in your eyes at how good he was making you feel.

but then, a knock on the door caught you off guard, jake’s hand slamming over your mouth - he didn’t want anyone else to hear your pretty calls of his name, and he was sure he could get rid of whoever was outside the door easily.

“yeah? kinda busy in here, sorry!” jake called out through gritted teeth, his cock never stopping its assault on your gummy walls. his eyes were screwed tightly shut, and you couldn’t help but move his hand from your mouth and run your tongue over the veins popping out on his neck, collecting all the sweat on your tongue. it was so hot, the idea of one of his frat brothers catching you in the act.

“jake? bro, is that you?” suddenly jake’s hips stilled inside you, both of you in utter disbelief, not wanting to recognize the voice on the other side of the door that your eyes were glued to. “sorry, man, i’m looking for (y/n), have you seen her?”

you gasped, not expecting jake to shallowly start thrusting into you again, the fact that your brother was standing on the other side of a plank of wood doing nothing to fend off his impending orgasm.

“i dunno, man. have you asked the others? i’ll talk to you once i’m finished in here.” he groaned, heeseung letting out an amused laugh when he finally caught on to jake’s x-rated activities.

“yeah sure, bro. make sure you clean up after yourself, yeah?”

as soon as heeseung’s voice had quietened and you were sure he had walked away, jake’s grip on your hips became tighter as he pulled you into a bruising kiss and began pistoning his hips in and out of you at an animalistic pace.

you couldn’t stop the loud whines and moans from falling from your lips, gripping onto his biceps to try and support the way you were wobbling on the counter. you couldn’t believe how keen he was, especially after talking to your brother while his cock was buried in your walls.

“jake- oh, fuck– jakey, he’s gonna find out– hnn–” the knot in your abdomen was growing tighter and tighter by the second, and you were sure you looked a mess of drool and running makeup by now. but jake didn’t stop. instead he attached his lips back to your neck, mumbling against the skin.

“don’t care. just need to feel you cum around me. can figure out everything else later.”

and for once, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. jake’s fingers fumbled as he reached down to rub your clit, the extra stimulation hurling you right to the edge of your release. between his lips, his fingers, his cock, you couldn’t hold yourself back or give him any warning. your orgasm hit you like a brick wall, your body stiffening and walls clamping down on jake’s length like a vice.

you practically saw white, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth in a wide “o” as the waves of pleasure rolling through your body all the way to your soul. jake cursed, almost whimpering as he pulled his length out of you.

“sorry, baby. can’t fill you up, tonight.” he groaned, fisting his cock harshly and allowing his load to release all over your exposed abdomen. heavy pants filled the room, your hands on jake’s shoulders as he gripped the counter either side of you body while you tried to catch your breath.

silently, he pulled himself away to get some tissue, cleaning himself up and tucking his softening length back into his pants, before running a face cloth under the bathtub faucet.

“gonna clean you up, okay, pretty girl? just sit there and be good for me.” he murmured before bringing the towel down to your folds, gently wiping away the remains of your activity. he was always extra cautious about aftercare, painfully aware of where you were most sensitive before you even figured it out. he then helped you down off of the counter, telling you to go pee while he cleaned the counter - which, being his good girl, of course you did.

“now, act normal, okay? go sit by sunoo’s room, and i’ll go find heeseung and tell him i found you there.” he smiled softly, peppering kisses all over your face as you giggled. “you sure you can walk okay?”

you nodded, a blush spreading on your cheeks before tapping his butt gently.

“yes, i promise. now unlock the door before someone thinks i got kidnapped.”

“nah, you’d bore them to death talking about twilight. they’d give you back to me within an hour.” he joked, chuckled as you feigned offense and gently slapped his chest. he unlocked the door, opening it enough to slip out and pull you out with him, but he didn’t go as far as you thought he would. for some reason, he came to a dead stop almost instantly without warning you, and you ended up slamming straight into his back.

“ouch, jake, what the fuck–” but your words were cut short as you peered around him and were met with the figure of your brother standing across the hall, phone in one hand and a drink in the other, staring straight at you. “ah, shit.”

heeseung didn’t say a single word as he approached, barely looking you in the eye until he walked past you. “i think we need to talk, don’t we? i’ll meet you in the den.” and with that, he simply walked away.

heeseung’s emotions were hard to read at the best of times, but he was certainly hiding how he felt well in that moment. you looked up at jake, only to be met with his terrified face and his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

silently, you sighed and began leading him towards the den, where your brother would be waiting. whatever happened in there, you would stand your ground. you were hopelessly in love with jake, and if heeseung didn’t like it - well, he would just have to suck it up. he’d come around eventually, of course, but there was no way in hell you were leaving the love of your life purely because your brother told you to.

you softly pressed a kiss to jake’s cheek before walking into the den, as requested by heeseung. honestly, you were ready to go in all guns blazing, and you were never opposed to yelling at your brother if it meant he’d listen to you. when you entered, jake trailing behind you, heeseung was already sat on a beanbag, face unreadable.

jake, somehow, had the courage - or, maybe stupidity - to go and sit on the beanbag opposite heeseung, but you chose to stay standing with your arms folded over your chest.

“whatever you have to say, seung, just say it and get it over with. i’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

finally, heeseung pulled his gaze to you, but still, his expression was utterly unreadable. his eyes drifted over to jake before coming back to you, and you were more than relieved when he finally spoke.

“please just sit down, (n/n). i’m not going to lecture you, i swear.”

you huffed, avoiding his eyes as you plopped yourself into the beanbag next to jake. speaking of which, jake looked like he was about to vomit. his hands were almost rigid at his side, and if you couldn’t see the slight movement of his shoulders you would’ve probably thought he wasn’t breathing.

you had to stop yourself from taking jake’s hands in yours to comfort him - if heeseung kicked off over it, you weren’t sure how jake would take it, and you didn’t want to wind your brother up even more.

the room was eerily silent for a while; too long, for your liking.

you almost thought heeseung had lost his mind when he started smiling, assuming he was taking joy from yours and jake’s apparent fear. in fact, you could’ve sworn you hadn’t seen such a smile on his face since the day you told him that you’d been accepted to HybeU.

“god, you guys are so cute. did you really think i hadn’t picked up on it by now? i basically shipped you from the start.”

suddenly all the air came back into the room, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“you knew? hyung, but– i thought you would’ve killed me if you knew!” jake seemed to be absolutely flabbergasted by this new information, and you weren’t in a much better state. had he feigned ignorance to see how long you could keep up the charade? had he faked his annoyance when he caught you, just to see you squirm?

“hee, how long have you known?” was all you could ask before your brother shrugged, as if he hadn't admitted something major the second before.

“i’ve known since the start. everyone except you guys knew that i knew, we all kind of had a bet going to see how long it would last before you told me…. i won, by the way. i gathered you’d wait until after your graduation.”

you spluttered as jake’s face turned beetroot red, unable to comprehend what heeseung was saying.

“listen, i’m not mad. i get it. you both thought i’d be mad, so you hid it. actually, it was kind of funny hearing you sneak jake into the house during the holidays, or watching him park down the street so i wouldn’t see him picking you up.”

you sat with heeseung a while longer, him gladly answering the bombard of questions that you and jake had for him. and slowly, you became more comfortable being touchy with jake in front of him. jake’s hand ended up on your thigh, which you ended up taking in your own. then, your legs were slung over his lap while he had an arm around your shoulder. yeah, heeseung fake gagged when jake kissed your cheek, but you knew it was all in good heart given the smile of your brother’s face.

in all honesty, heeseung was just glad you had someone to look after you. someone to love you as much as jake clearly did. he knew he couldn’t keep you wrapped up, protected from the world forever, but he truly couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend for you than jake.

eventually, you all went back to the party, deciding to enjoy the last few hours of fun before everyone had to leave and head back to their own dorms.

with a drink in your hand, and your arms around jake’s waist, you’d never felt happier. it was actually quite liberating, knowing that your brother knew and approved of your relationship, and you were grateful that you were blessed with a brother as good as heeseung.

swaying to your favorite song with jake’s arms around you, and your heart thumping in your chest, you leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his face. he grinned, returning the kiss and leant his head against yours.

“what was that for, bubba?”

“nothing in particular,” you admitted, shaking your head slightly. “just love you, that’s all.”

“i love you too, angel girl.”

taglist: join taglists here @pretty-racha

[echobx]

Rafe and reader sharing the bed for the first time 😉🍆😘

author's note: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to write this. I hope you like it. (roughly edited only)

word count: 1k

warnings: Ward being a shit father (that's just canon tho), light trauma talk, smut, p in v (unprotected), pull out method

"Will you let me in?" The text Rafe sends you wakes you from the light slumber you fell into just moments before. It was long past midnight but you got up anyway, tying the satin belt of your robe around your middle while making the way downstairs to meet him at the back door. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" you ask him in a hushed voice. "Had another fight with Ward," he replies just as quietly. Rafe never calls his dad what he is, at least not to you. Maybe he's more comfortable to show his true feelings around you, because he knows you wouldn't judge him. "Can I come in now?" he asks and you nod, stepping to the side and closing the door behind him. "You still know where the guest room is, right?" you whisper and he stops to look at you for a moment. "I'd rather not be alone right now." His adam’s apple bops as he looks at you, as if he's close to tears and you nod. "That's okay. Then we'll sleep in my room."

Rafe has been in your room about a million times, and not once has it felt as special as that night. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" you ask while sitting down on your bed, cross-legged and prettier than he could remember. "Just didn't do exactly what he wanted and he flipped. The usual," Rafe shrugs and looks at his feet. "You wanna go and get cleaned up?" you smile and he actually thinks he doesn't deserve you being so gentle with him; never judging or hurtful or anything bad he can think of. You're purely sweet and nice and nothing like what he would ever be able to deserve in a billion years. The hot shower washes away most of his pain, at least the one that sits in his muscles, leaving behind what his father had made of him ever since he was a child. "When you're done you can wear this. I'll put it on the chair," you tell him while putting one of your brother's sweatpants down. Usually when Rafe stayed over your parents were aware of it, he rarely showed up as late as he did just now. You were truly concerned about it though, because the time spans in between these incidents are growing slimmer. You can only imagine what it must be like for him, never having had any real issues with your parents. But not everyone is blessed with a loving family, which is why you try your best to emulate it for Rafe. Give him a place to stay, a shoulder to cry on, basically anything he can ask for and you'd see to it. “You're really okay with me sleeping here?” Rafe asks, walking out of your en-suite; hair still wet and dripping and his abs on full display. You gulped and gave him another smile, “one hundred percent.” “Thanks.”

“You know I don't deserve this, right?” Rafe whispers while lying by your side and you turn around to face him. “Who said that?” “I do. He does. Everyone knows it, your parents too. I don't deserve you, not as a best friend, not at all. You're too good to me. And I'm scared I might ruin you.” He voices his fears quietly, almost inaudible with the soft humming of the a/c. “I don't care what they think. You deserve to be treated good, because you are good, Rafe,” you assure him but he doesn't believe it. “You don't know everything. The things I did- You wouldn't like me if you knew,” he shakes his head and you take your hand up and cup his cheek. “How can you know that for sure if you haven't told me? And maybe if you think I would leave once I know, then we have a lot more to work on.” You never intended to play therapist for your best friend, but he needs someone he can trust, and you know he won't trust a professional. But when he tells you about the things he did, what his father made him do at times but more so what he did for his dad to gain any type of gratitude from the man; your heart nearly stops. “He used you. He still does,” you whisper, scooching closer to Rafe and putting your arms around his waist while placing your head on his chest. “He's the one that doesn't deserve you.” Rafe knew he was in love before, but the way you accept him even after he told you all is the nail in his coffin. He will never want anyone the same way he wants you, but he's sure that acting on it would lead to worse things. “Do you really think so?” he asks slowly and you nod against his body. “I know it for a fact. You shouldn't do anything for him any more. Not when he tells you and especially not when he expects it but doesn't say so, because then when it goes badly he'll blame it all on you.” You sound more furious than you intend to, but Rafe is completely enamored by you.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers as you lean your head back into your neck to look up at him. “Why would you want that?” You don't understand it, not because he isn't handsome and literally everything you could dream of. No, you don't get it because he could have anyone, so why would he want you. “Can we make a pact?” Rafe asks with a smile and you nod. “Good. You teach me how to be normal, and I teach you that you are the most desirable woman in the whole world, because I am right,” he speaks softly, his voice laced with desire. “Maybe I can do a deal like that,” you giggle but before you can actually make fun of the idea, your lips are engulfed by his. Soft and warm and strong as he presses himself against you, turning you around to lie under him. “Do you want me to stop?” Rafe asks and you shake your head. He looks even prettier like that. On top of you with a primal desire in his eyes and a loving smile on his lips. Your hands run over his abs and soon after his body is lying on top of you, fully pressing you into the mattress with all of his weight. His hips slowly roll into yours as he tries to pace himself to not hurt you or make too much noise. “So deep,” you moan against his hand that is placed on your mouth. “You're doing so good for me, baby,” Rafe praises you, pulling your legs up to close behind his back so he can hit even deeper, which you hadn't even thought possible. “Gonna cum,” you threaten and he smirks, bringing a hand down to your clit and rubbing harsh circles until you clamp down around his cock. “That's it, baby. Soak me, pretty,” he pants and as soon as you finish he pulls out and cums all over your stomach. “Guess we have to take another shower now,” you giggle and he pulls you into another kiss, toe curling and maybe you can accept that you aren't that bad. Maybe he was right, after all he had chosen you and not anybody else, and you would keep choosing him too if he let you.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @hoe4sunarin

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[munariplans]

hi there! hope ur doing well. i love ur writing and have been wondering if you could do a story about reader disappearing on the teams day off. natasha who has a crush on reader notices and spys on reader to see if she’s meeting up with someone. instead it’s just reader being a good person and helping people along the way. making natasha fall in love with her even more.

days off | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above! thank you anon for your submission :)

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.3k words

a/n: requests and asks are always open

masterlist

“what are you doing?” natasha asked you shyly, her figure leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. she watched your hands skilfully kneading the dough on the counter over and over again, folded into a neat rectangle before being flattened and folded again in the next moment. behind you, pans were sizzling with the mouth-watering fragrance of scrambled eggs being cooked on the stove, and the oven let out a ding right as she stepped closer, telling you that it was preheated and ready. 

you let the dough rest, before putting a pre-prepared one in the oven and finally turning to her. “making breakfast,” you said, matter-of-factly, “for the team.”

“but it’s our off-day,” she replied, “and we have chefs in the compound.”

you smiled. “well, i just thought it would be nice to have something homemade, for once. my mother taught me how to cook, and i figured i’d spend the morning of the day-off in the kitchen, where i’ll be busy, and…the thoughts wouldn’t be so loud.”

natasha folded her arms over herself as you came closer. you noticed she had just come back from the gym. she probably hadn’t had anything to eat. 

carefully slicing the freshly baked bread into halves, you took a pair out of the perfect symmetry and placed them on the plate, before ladling a helping of the scrambled eggs, taking a few pieces of bacon out of the other pan, and placing a piece of hash brown right on top, before covering it with the other half of the bread. she watched you work, methodically, seamlessly. you looked like you had been doing it for years. 

then, you wrapped the sandwich quickly, and wrote her initials, N.R. with a smiley on top of the wrapper, before handing it to her. she was taken aback, and slightly red when she looked at the sandwich being offered to her. 

“i-it’s…” she stuttered, heart beating quickly when she realised she hadn’t exactly taken the sandwich, but hadn’t rejected your offer, either. 

“i want you to be my first taster. if it’s good, i’ll call the team down to have it as well. and if it’s bad…” you shrugged, half-laughing in anticipation as natasha finally took it, taking a small bite in front of you.

she took a moment to chew, face in contemplation, as if she were assessing a fine dining establishment before you. you began taking off your apron, deciding to let the chefs help you take over for the serving of the food later on, and started packing your things. 

just before you left, however, you noticed natasha fully into the entryway of the kitchen again, sandwich half-eaten.

“it’s okay,” she said nonchalantly, wiping a little bit off the ends of her lips. “it’s edible.”

you nodded, hiding a smile. “okay means good. i’ll tell the team to come down, then.”

natasha shrugged this time, as if saying if that’s what you want. when you left to shower, however, she smiled quietly to herself, and after making sure that no one was around, did a little happy dance from one of the most delicious sandwiches she had ever eaten. it was more than okay, it was the best breakfast she had ever had. she only wished she had the courage to tell you so. 

the redhead then tore the part of your handwriting of her initials off the wrapper, and kept it in her pocket for the rest of the day.

–

natasha never really knew what to do on her day-offs. it felt weird, to be sitting around doing nothing. she could do her remaining paperwork, but she knew if tony caught her, he would ban her from working on it at all for a week, leaving her even more bored and restless. 

she could sleep in, or explore new york for the day, but she wasn’t fully confident that her russian accent wouldn’t throw the average new yorker off yet. it also didn’t help that ever since her joining the avengers, there was always someone around the block who recognised who she was, who let their eyes rake over her figure for far too long, who made her feel uncomfortable when they got too close to ask for a picture. the others never seemed to mind, but she did. 

she noticed you always seemed to step in when it got too much; telling the fans that enough was enough, or simply holding her waist and slowly whisking her away from their prying eyes and grubby hands. she threw her head back onto her pillow at the thought of your hands on her waist again. natasha seriously needed to stop thinking about you, and her festering crush, whenever she had the opportunity. she needed to busy herself. 

but when you appeared in the commons right as she stepped out of her room to ask what you planned to do on your day-off, you were in your coat and scarf, prepared to head out. the rest of the team was still lazily lounging around the area, in a dazed state from the aftermath of your coma-inducing breakfast. 

“where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to pry too much, but still allowing herself to feed her own curiosity. 

she hated that you always replied with a tone that seemed like it was painfully obvious what you were doing. “out.”

“i know, but–”

“hey romanoff, are you still coming for the basketball game later? steve needs to book the seats.” tony called out to her before she could finish the sentence. he asked you too, but you reaffirmed with him that you weren’t coming. 

you shifted your scarf slightly, turning your attention back to her. “you ever been to a basketball game before? you’ll like it. the warriors are something else.”

natasha shook her head. you knew she had never been. but it didn’t mean that she wanted to go, not without you around. but she also didn’t have the courage to ask if she could tag along to wherever you were going. she knew her limits.

you didn’t seem to take the hint of her wanting to come along, despite her readily asking if you were going to meet someone, or if you were just going out alone, and if you had plans for after. you simply waved her goodbye, and told her to enjoy the game with the team. 

she sighed in irritation when you left, much to the amusement of clint behind her. “does she have a girlfriend or something? is that what she’s using her day-offs for?”

if clint wasn’t already hiding his grin, his friend’s newfound annoyance at your departure definitely made him let out a chuckle. “not that i know of.”

natasha didn’t have much to do that day, and it wasn’t like she was particularly looking forward to the game either, so she decided to spend her day-off the only way she knew how, using her spying skills and finding out what you were doing with yours.

–

in retrospect, natasha knew that you probably wouldn’t have liked being stalked, or followed around without her telling you why, or even simply her not taking the initiative to just ask, when you would have told her willingly of what you spent your breaks on.

she followed you into the university uptown, where natasha knew you guest-lectured in between longer breaks from missions. she just never expected you to come in on your days-off as well. 

you tapped your card in to the science department of the school, while natasha snuck past the security guard after causing a well-crafted distraction. when you entered the lockers to change into your lab coat, natasha waited patiently outside like a schoolgirl hiding from their crush. she supposed she wasn’t so different from one then.

it was only when you walked down the halls into a room guarded by a facial recognition scan, that natasha finally got to know that she a) wasn’t being so discreet after all, or b) you were a better agent than you let on to her. she should have known that you didn’t get promoted through the ranks so fast, so young, without reasons. 

the machine scanned your face, and as the door unlocked, you stood there for a moment, holding it wide open, before leaning your head to the side, one eye locked with hers. 

“do you want to come in and see as well, or do you plan on just waiting for me until i finish?”

if clint had seen the embarrassment on her face, along with the walk of shame she had to put on to enter the room with you, he would have certainly made her the laughing stock of the compound for the day. 

–

you drew up a chair for natasha as you went to your usual work station, a little early for your patient. in the few minutes that the two of you were alone, you hadn’t engaged her at all, simply directing her to sit and watch, while you prepared your materials and waited for your lab assistant. natasha was a little unnerved, and in awe at your professionalism, at the same time. 

you clicked your tongue in slight annoyance as your assistant came in five minutes late, reminding him, almost naggingly, that you only had one day-off per week, and it was precious time that he was wasting for the both of you. he apologised, and got to work helping you set up what looked like a robotic prosthetic leg, on your station. 

the lab was pristine; white-tiled walls and floors scrubbed clean with a very strong stench of antiseptic ensuring to even the most sceptic of minds that you knew what you were doing, and that the lab was clean; if the multiple diagrams of your inventions on the walls and the prototypes lining the shelves around her were not enough proof. you had never told her you had a lab.

a few minutes later, two knocks on the door were heard, and your assistant rushed over to open the door for a man no younger than seventy, hobbling in with great difficulty as he tried to offer help with his support, only to be rejected with a wave of his hand and an upbeat smile. he was an amputee. 

oh. this was what your days-off were for. 

“hello, mr. miller. you look cheerful today.” you got up from your seat to shake his hand. he took your support this time, leading himself to the plush armchair placed across your station. 

he laughed, rough and loud. “david, how many times have i come in here and asked you to call me?”

you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, david. let me help you with this.”

he winced as you kneeled down beside him, outstretching his prosthetic leg and inspecting it. your assistant took notes as you made observations of the various deficiencies and defects it suffered through david’s use of it for the past six months. natasha watched as your hands, the ones that would hold her at night when she cried, the ones that punched the faces of enemies trying to get to her, the very same hands that made her breakfast that morning, ran over the intricate details and bolts and nuts of the prosthetic leg she learned you made just for david, knowing what was wrong just by the feel and touch of them. she adored those hands so much. 

then, you helped him take off the prosthetic, instructing your assistant to hold his hand in encouragement as he winced at the removal. “there we go. wasn’t so bad this time, right? and the leg did hold up quite well, for six months.”

“well, you do maintenance to it every week,” david patted your back, “hard to fuck it up so bad when you fix it up every time i try to, right?”

you laughed, and natasha stopped herself from smiling. at your signal, the assistant brought forth the limb that you both had been working on to replace david’s old one for the past year, shiny and new. the man positively gleamed at the sight of it. 

“ready for a bit of a change, though, mr. miller?”

“now, that is a beauty,” he said as his eyes latched on, before they inevitably noticed natasha sat at the corner of where the limb was, and she swore he held recognition for her instantly. 

you followed his gaze, before his met yours, and the playful smirk he let out was all that you needed to know that he knew. “is that your…”

“...friend, natasha,” you replied him quickly, eyes slightly panicked and subtly, not so subtly, shaking your head to ask him to stop before he let out your little secret. 

“is she the one–”

“–yes, david. she’s the one.” 

he finally caught the hint, and chuckled to himself as he waved hi to her. she waved back, no doubt in confusion of the connection between him and her. she made a mental note to ask you about it later. 

–

when the new leg was fitted on him, david was practically almost jumping for joy at the new flexibility and strength it gave him. his laughter was infectious, as natasha quickly learned, when it caught up to her after it caught you and the assistant, as well. 

“look at the reflexes! and fluidity of this thing!” no longer was he hobbling and exerting his entire strength on the one leg, it was almost as if the leg was natural and part of him itself, as david brought you in for a hug enthusiastically. 

you hugged him back, still grinning. “amazing right, what science can do for you. soon, the future of prosthetics is going to change, and we can make so many more lives better in our community.”

“you two are amazing, simply amazing!” david exclaimed, even as he finally accepted the assistant’s help in testing out the other features of the prosthetic. 

–

natasha stayed until the end of the day for you, when david’s tests were complete and he was all but ready to leave. 

“and to what i owe you this time, again?” he asked. you knew he didn’t have much, it was the sole reason you took him on for the project; but the fact that he remained so grateful, always offering payment, even when you had repeatedly rejected him, always touched you. 

“for you to come back next week, as always. and to thank mr. parker here for all his efforts. i couldn’t have done all this without him.” 

your assistant looked like he was going to cry at the recognition and hug david gave him. “doing a good job, kid.”

you held the door open for david then, and he stole one last glance at natasha before he left. “you know, your girlfriend here really is a genius, ms. black widow. the best of her–”

“–thank you, david!” you cut in, visibly more in a panic this time, as you held his hand and ushered him out, “just a friend, a friend!”

“what?” he didn’t seem keen to leave, “i’m just helping the two of you speed things along. god knows she wouldn’t have stayed here in this boring lab all day, running tests on an old war veteran running his mouth, if she wasn’t smitten with you too!”

natasha’s cheeks instantly reddened, as you sighed in embarrassment. so maybe her feelings were reciprocated, for a while now. 

with the assistant chuckling in the background, you shut the door ushering david out, whispering frustratedly that he was leaking all of your secrets about natasha. “david! i told you and peter about her in confidence!”

“i know, but you didn’t tell me she was head over heels for you too.”

“because she’s not!” you whisper-yelled, “she came just to see what i was doing, and…and…”

and…oh. 

david’s look made sense now. it all made sense now. her shyness around you, the way she always wanted you around, always wanted to know what you were doing, the reasons for her coming all this way to accompany you on your day-off. 

you had thought she wouldn’t be interested, and would leave after seeing what your activities just were, but you hadn’t expected her to stay. and you hadn’t expected to feel her gaze on you throughout. 

“when you know, you know.” he assured, patting you on the back again as he walked off, “trust me, kid. and she’s a good one, you picked a good one.”

–

your assistant had retreated to his corner of the lab when you came back in, while natasha stretched her joints and got ready to leave too. it was dark by then, and you felt guilty for making her stay past dinner. you excused your assistant to leave quickly, before finally turning to her. 

“sorry.”

“for what?” she yawned. 

“for trapping you here with me on your day-off. i feel guilty now.”

she rolled her eyes, before jabbing you slightly. “idiot. i stayed because i wanted to stay. and you didn’t force me here, in fact, i was the one who followed you, remember?”

“yeah, you do need to make sure that the person you’re stalking isn’t a super spy like you before you do that, though.”

at the blush on her cheeks and feigned hurt on her face, you quickly decided to change the subject. “what david said earlier…ignore him. he’s old, a little senile. really doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“really?” natasha frowned, “that’s a shame.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you leaned back against the counter of your station. she continued, “i really wanted what he said to be true.”

you blinked in surprise, unable to hide the shock on your face. it was your turn to be nervous around natasha now. it was always the other way around. perhaps the knowledge of knowing your feelings were mutual beckoned you to retreat to a shy disposition you never showed anyone else. 

natasha shrugged. “damn, i really thought i had a chance with the most wonderful, kind-hearted person i know, who would spend her days off, even, to help people. who i thought was hiding to meet a secret girlfriend or something.”

a smile began to creep its way onto your face. “n-no, no secret girlfriend.”

“shame. i bet that secret girlfriend would be so in awe, falling even more for this person, when she finds out what she does for the people around her. a superhero saving the lives of many as an avenger, and a scientist changing the lives of even more as a civilian.”

“mm,” you took off your lab coat then, coming closer to her. she had a playful glint in her eyes as she put one hand on your chest, preventing you from getting too close. “tell me more praises of what this secret girlfriend would feel about me.”

“this secret girlfriend also does not appreciate when you keep such lovely secrets from her,” she felt your arms on the counter behind her now, entrapping her body with yours, “and when you try to do anything without taking her to dinner first. she’s starving, you know.”

the chuckle that left your lips made natasha only want to kiss you even more. “what do you say i make this secret girlfriend not-so-secret now, and invite her out to dinner with me? her favourite italian down the street from here, my treat.”

in response, the woman before you finally let go of the hand on your chest, and brought her hands to your collar to pull you in, leaving a searing kiss on your lips that left you lightheaded and longing for more, at the same time. 

she held your hand as the both of you walked out of the university, before declaring something she had to say before she forgot, “tell david he should expect to see me around the lab every week from now on too, then.” 

“yes ma’am.”

[rogersideup]

One shot request: the reader from nice to be kneaded and Steve have a baby. Creative control is all yours. I just need a baby in that man’s arms.

Nice to be Kneaded

More Fun Stuff

Just Between Us

Can be read as a one shot, or in conjunction with Nice to be Kneaded.

Series Masterlist More Fun Stuff Masterlist

Post Endgame Steve x Baker reader

Word Count: 1,564

Some things are best kept a secret <3

Getting home from a long day at work at the bakery felt like a billion pounds falling off your shoulders. It had been a long, chaotic day of fulfilling unusually large orders all while trying to appease the masses that never slowed down since the blip.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, the view in the living room immediately put a smile on your face, and took the weight of the world off your back.

"Dada" Steve spoke to the now almost one year old.

He was splayed out on the living room rug, your little daughter in front of him, belly laughing right in his face.

"Mama!" She responded, laughing even harder at Steve's immediate response.

"No, Dada!" He shook his head, smiling at the sound of her giggles.

Your smile widened as you kicked off your shoes and put your bag down.

"Say dada!" Steve encouraged. "Da-Da"

"Mama!" She responded.

"Dada" He tried again.

"Mama."

The closer you got to the adorable scene, the more you could tell Steve was exhausted and probably losing his mind a bit. He was wearing no pants and a shirt, and he had yet to even brush his hair. But, your daughter looked freshly bathed, fed, dressed, and happy as a clam.

Moments like these always warmed your heart, and you were endlessly thankful to have a husband who was so supportive of not only you, but his own daughter.

You could've never been running two bakeries and raising a kid if it weren't for his wild blonde hair and lack of pants.

"Okay, sound it out." He changed methods. "Start with D. Duh duh duh."

"Duh" She babbled back.

"Now dah! Dah dah dah."

"Dah dah dah"

"Now Dada!" Steve was so hopeful.

"Mama!" Her cheeky smile widened and pointed to you, putting her arms in the air hopeful you would pick her up.

"Hi baby! I missed you!" You enthused, happy to scoop up your little cinnamon roll off the plush rug. "Oh my goodness, did Dada put you in this cute little outfit?! What a cutie!"

"Dada also gave her a bath, because she was a bit stinky." Steve told you, the superhero nearly struggling to get up off the floor, a testament to how tightly she has him wrapped around her teeny baby fingers.

"Do you have the best Dad in the whole world?!" You asked her, she smiled and giggled in response. "Say Yes! Yeessss"

"Yes!" She responded with ease.

"Yay!!" You celebrated.

Teaching a baby how to talk meant every conversation was now grounds for teaching, and you would happily teach her that Steve, was in fact, the best dad in the world.

Steve finally made it up off the floor, which excited her even more.

"Mama!" She squeaked happily, pointing to Steve.

"No, Dada." You pointed to him, trying to help Steve out.

He's been trying for three days now to get her to call her anything close to Dad. She's had Mama down for a week now and you were starting to feel Steve's pain.

"Hi, Captain Underpants" You smiled at him, it was impossible to not be happy and completely enchanted by the sight of him. "I missed you."

He gave you a kiss, and you wrapped your free arm around him to hug him the best you could.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I missed you too" He happily snuggled up to you. "How was work?"

"Chaotic." You stated simply. "How was your morning?"

"It was good, we went on a nice long walk, had breakfast, lots of snacks, a bath, but no nap yet." He told you.

"You look like you could use a nap." You grinned sympathetically, reaching your arm up and running your fingers through his hair a few times. "I've got her, you go get some sleep, baby."

"You just got home, I think you should nap first." He denied.

You shook your head. "I'm not tired, and you do a lot for us. You got up with her like three times last night. I know you didn't sleep well."

"I think I need a shower more than sleep, much like her, I'm also I bit stinky" Steve stated.

"Go take a shower and a nap." You sympathized.

"You're sure?" He questioned.

"Positive." You nodded, giving him another kiss. "Because even the best dad ever needs sleep, too. Huh, Cinny?"

The two of you have been calling her Cinny more than her real name, short for Cinnamon Roll of course.

"Yes!" She used the new word she learned a whole minute ago.

"Best dad ever?" You asked her, pointing to Steve. He raised his eyebrow in anticipation.

"Yes!"

"Who's this?" You asked her, still pointing to Steve.

"Mama!" She stated proudly.

Steve's shoulders deflated. "She'll get it soon." You comforted him. "Go relax, I love you."

"I love you too." Steve told you before playfully and gently smacking your butt and waking off.

You brought Cinny into her room and sat down with her on the glider chair. There was a lot of one sided conversation about how much you missed her and how much you loved her before reading her some books to get her to wind down for her nap.

It took about 45 minutes, but she eventually knocked out snuggled into your chest and neck. You took a very selfish 20 minutes to appreciate the baby cuddles and get your fix since you really did miss her at work today.

After a successful transfer into her crib, you turned the baby monitor on and quickly went upstairs to change out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable.

Then you were right back downstairs to the other not-so-little human you missed all day too. Steve was asleep on the couch, but this time he had sweatpants on and no shirt.

Maybe one day he could find it within himself to be fully clothed, but for now, you definitely weren't complaining.

You leaned over and gave him a kiss to his temple before sitting next to his head and massaging it.

Being a stay home Dad looked really good on him. You'll admit, after his retirement he seemed a bit lost for a while. Like he had gone so long being Captain America or on the run from the government that he didn't even know who Steve was anymore. But the second he became a Dad, it was like he immediately knew exactly who he was supposed to be.

You thought that having kids would change things. Through your whole life you heard stories of exhausted mothers not having time for life anymore, slightly miserable, never talking fondly of their husbands, or even how their husbands found them less attractive after having their kids. There was a lot of silent fear that maybe that would happen to you, maybe the two of you would be under so much stress you'd start to resent each other, or maybe you'd be less attractive to Steve after your body changed in the process of growing baby Cinny.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. You'd never been more attracted to or in love than you were right now with a happy sleepy baby, and a happy sleeping husband. He took such amazing care of you and in turn, all you ever wanted to do was take care of him.

Even if he was sleeping, you wanted him to know how much you loved and appreciated him, and his crazy blonde hair. In true Steve fashion, even in his sleep he snuggled into you.

He dug his face into your stomach, and his arm held you close. Cuddles from Steve lasted a solid hour before you were nearly dosing off to sleep yourself.

Not all things could be a fairytale, and you knew that because you could hear Cinny start to fuss on the monitor. Small little cries let you know she was awake and ready to be done with nap time.

So you carefully slipped out underneath Steve, and he was so exhausted that you managed to stand up again without waking him.

"Mama" Your daughter pouted and wiped small tears off her face when she saw you enter her room.

"Good morning, honey." You said quietly matching her tiny pout, and cradling her in your arms. "It's okay, baby, you're okay."

You snuggled her and swayed her as her tears slowly came to an end with quiet promises of playtime and more snacks, you even asked her very politely if she could keep her babbles and voice to a reasonable level as to not wake up Dad.

Did she understand? No. Did you try anyways? Absolutely.

Once she was fully awake and a lot less grumpy, you tip toed back into the living room to set her up with her favorite little aquarium toy.

When she spotted Steve dead asleep on the couch, her whole face lit up with yet another cheeky smile.

She pointed at him. "Dada!"

Your eyes squeezed shut and your head lulled back, so immensely disappointed that Steve missed that moment. But, you were proud of her.

"Yes! That's Dada!" You confirmed enthusiastically but quietly. "This stays between us, kid."

You were now fully prepared to pretend like the next time she called him Dad was her first, because really, you loved Steve that much.

[forever-rogue]

Omg for miguel requests!! Can i request one where spider-reader is very bold and always flirting with miguel and one time he flirts back and she gets super flustered and doesnt know how to respond😭

Thank you so much!! I love your writing youre so talented

AN | No, but this concept was aces! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | [Suggestive] Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You could hear his angry footsteps before anything else and you braced yourself for his fury. Instead you busied yourself with looking at your suit to make sure everything was intact…or at least pretending to do so.

"What the fuck were you thinking!?" ahh yes, there it was. He was definitely angry, but you tried to keep it cool. You weren't about to admit that he made you nervous, even if the nerves were slight. You looked up from your sleeve and blinked innocently at him, "don't do that!"

"Do what?" You kept your voice sweet and soft, "what are you talking about, Miguel?"

"You - I - you are so infuriating!" he waved his finger in front of your face and you simply shrugged, "you never listen to me! I don't know why I even let you stay on the team!"

"Oh Miguelito," you gently reached up and brushed his hand out of your face. You were well aware of what he was talking about - you'd directly gone against his orders. But, to be fair, things had turned out just fine despite choosing your own method. It wasn't like you'd fucked up some cannon event, "everything's fine and no one got hurt!"

"But you don't listen," he sighed heavily, "that's the problem. And one day, it's going to get someone hurt. I'm not going to let you do that to anyone…or yourself."

"You're so cute," a dreamy sigh escaped your lips as you touched his face, brushing your knuckles across his cheek. He lightly slapped your hand away, "but you're going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep worrying."

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I," you raised your eyebrows and sighed at him, "I won't do anything bad and I'd never put anyone else in danger. You know that."

"One more fuck up from you and you're done," his voice was low and dangerous and you pulled back slightly, "I mean it. Just because you think you're so cute and charming doesn't mean I can't see right through you."

"Miguel," you looked at him with wide eyes, "I don't think I'm cute - I know I'm cute. But not as cute as you, handsome. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go and make a few suit adjustments."

"This isn't over!" His cheeks darkened as he watched you walk away. 

"I'd be disappointed if it was," you gave him a small salute, "see ya, Miguelito!"

He let out a sigh of exasperation as you walked away. It was definitely a challenge not to stare at your ass but he was just a man after all. So he definitely stared at your ass.

"Stop staring," Peter popped up behind him, causing Miguel to flinch, "just tell her you're in love!"

"I'm not…" he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm not in love with her and I'm not doing this with you right. Get back to work, Parker."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few days since what you had decided to dub the incident had occurred. You'd more or less ignored Miguel, deciding to let him cool down on his own terms. You missed getting to give him a hard time and missed getting to tease him as you loved. 

The thing was, you didn’t hate Miguel. It was…quite the contrary in fact. Over the last year that you’d been working for the man, or on his silly little team as you liked to tease him, you’d found yourself getting more and more attached to him. You really liked him and you weren’t shy about letting him know. You thought you were being obvious, but apparently you weren’t obvious at all because he didn’t seem to get it. Or, if he did, he really wasn’t interested and chose not to acknowledge your moves. It was Miguel though, and you were sure he would have just told you…but then again, would he have? Maybe he was just a simple-”

“What’s wrong, princess?” you started at the sound of his low, gruff voice. You hadn’t heard him sneak up and his sudden appearance almost scared you off your chair. Clutching at your heart, you looked over to see Miguel leaning against the edge of your desk, a lazy smile on his face. You were stunned by both his appearance and his casual display of affection, and could only manage to open and close your mouth a few times, “cat got your tongue?”

“Miguel?” you looked at him with wide eyes, “w-what are you doing…here?”

“Just wanted to come and see my favorite girl,” okay, there was definitely something going on. You highly doubted you were his favorite girl (that was probably Jessica or Mayday), let alone his favorite anything, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” your mouth ran dry as he nodded. Was he flirting with you? Surely he couldn’t be, “what would that be?”

“Here,” he reached behind his back and pulled out what looked like your suit…only this was slightly different. He placed it on the desk in front of you before moving to stand behind you. His larger frame easily dwarfed yours, and that was something you tried to push out of your mind. You looked over the suit, trailing your fingers over the soft fabric, “I made some adjustments to it. I think you’ll find it easier to access web fluid and its got better repair tech. Something new Parker was working on.”

You let out a small breath of amazement; this was an incredibly kind gesture from anyone, spider-people did happen to be generous for the most part, but this was next level. You re-familiarized yourself with the pink, blue, and purple fabric. A smile crossed your features as you turned your head to look at him. You found him watching you intently, “thank you, Miguel. This is…amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice was near your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, “maybe it’ll help you to listen next time, hmm?”

“Miguel,” you turned in your seat and found yourself face to face with him, noses almost brushing. Whatever you were about to say quickly left your mind as you looked into his pretty brown eyes. A sharp inhale escaped your lips and you noticed the smile on his face grow larger, “I, ugh…I…”

“Hmm?’ it was a small sound of the back of his throat as he regarded you. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “what’s up?”

“I umm,” you stammered nervously, trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on yours, “I gotta go. I-I think Peter needed me for something.”

“He’s out on assignment right now.”

“Mayday then,” you volunteered slinking out from under his arm and grabbing the new suit, You felt your entire face warmed up as he started to chuckle, “Mayday needs me-”

“She’s a baby!”

“And I love her,” you squeaked, “so I gotta help her!”

You took off before he could say anything else or fluster you even more. Something had gotten into Miguel O’Hara and you weren’t sure you could handle it. You weren’t sure you’d survive the man you’d longed after for so long returning those very same feelings. 

Well. This was going to get interesting.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You came to the decision, made after much contemplation and tossing and turning at night, that you were going to ignore Miguel. Not ignore completely but ignore his advances. If he did happen to flirt with you again, you weren't going to say or do anything. Not that you expected them…but, you know, just in case it happened.

When you got to the headquarters the next day, you kept to yourself, taking your coffee and making your way to your little assigned corner and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Maybe if no one saw you, you could get away with being practically invisible. 

But the universe wouldn't have it, of course it wouldn't.

"Hello there," his voice was sticky sweet like toffee and that didn't land well with you. Rather it did land well in the sense that it shouldn't have made you feel the rush you were currently experiencing, "you look pretty today."

"I, ugh," you looked down at your outfit and shrugged helplessly. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals; nothing that you would consider exceptional, "umm…thanks?"

"What's wrong?" He knew exactly what was wrong, the bastard. He could probably hear the erratic and wild beating of your heart, "you seem…nervous."

"N-no," you shook your eyes but your wide eyes and pretty pout were anything but convincing, "just…tired?"

 "Are you sure about that?"

"No," you answered. You could have beaten around the bush all you wanted, but you knew that he wasn't going to give up. That wasn't Miguel at all. The best option - the only really - was to just come out and tell him the truth. Once it was all out, the chips would fall where they may, "why are you suddenly flirting with me? W-wait, are you flirting with me?”

“I am,” he admitted this so easily that it caught you off guard. You knew he wasn’t one to lie per se, but you didn’t expect him to just outright admit it. Confusion colored your features as you tried to get your mind to function again, “I am…flirting with you.”

“Oh,” you nodded and turned back to your computer screen before it all set in, “oh?”

“Oh,” he teased, reaching forward to brush some of your rogue locks of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, “is it because I’ve been flirting with you?”

“It’s one of the reasons…among others,” alright. Now you were curious, even more than before, as to where this was going, “is that a problem for you?”

Nope. No. Nah. Not. At. All.

“Ummm…” you felt ditzy and dazy as you looked over at the handsome man. He really had you thrown for a loop, “I just…if I made you feel uncomfortable with it, I’m sorry. I never meant it to be mean or anything. I just…meant it.”

“Meant it?” he parroted as you swallowed thickly, “you meant it all those times you were flirting with me?”

“Y-yes,” your confession was soft and gentle as Miguel practically preened under your words. He wasn’t sure what answer he had been expecting, but somehow it wasn’t this one. He hadn’t flattered him with the idea that you would seriously like him, “I did - I do, Miguel.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly as you blinked at him with wide eyes, “do you want to know something?”

“Y-yes? Yes,” you nodded, tummy fluttering with butterflies and heart pitter-patter rapidly.

“When I’ve been flirting with you,” he leaned down so he was almost face level with you, “I’ve meant it too, princess.”

“No way,” disbelief flooded your veins as the first conclusion you came to was that he was lying. Perhaps this was all to get back for going against his direct orders during your last mission. That must have been the reason, right? You leaned away from him and almost slid off your chair as you rolled back to create a bit of distance between your bodies, “y-you’re lying. You have to be…”

“I’m not lying to you,” this time he was in disbelief. He’d never once lied to you…why would he start now?

“You have to be,” you sounded so pathetic as you grabbed your stuff and almost ran away, “you can’t like me like that!”

“Why not?!”

“I dunno, you just can’t!” you almost ran into Peter as you tried to get away, “sorry!”

Peter was dumbfounded as he looked between your quickly disappearing figure and Miguel, “what happened now?”

“I wish I knew,” Miguel exhaled heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “fuck.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You kept your distance from HQ for a couple of days after your embarrassing outburst. You had replayed that very moment over and over in your head, trying to see it from all different angles.

The only conclusion you kept coming to was that he was telling the truth. And that reality was hard to come to terms with at first…but then it was blissfully exciting. Miguel liked you! But then it was more like Miguel liked you…holy shit. 

But then you decided that more than anything, you needed to know the truth. 

You practically ran over to his office, causing the curious glances of other spider-people to follow you. You could hear their hushed murmurs, but didn’t stop to address them. News traveled fast around this place and you had no doubt that as soon as whatever happened between the two of you, the news would spread like wildfire. 

“Miguel!” you didn’t even bother to knock and announce your presence, bursting into his office without ceremony. He turned around to face you, a few different expressions crossing his features before settling on surprise, “I…”

“Yes?” suddenly every single coherent thought escaped your mind as you stared at him. He cocked his head to the side and looked at you expectantly.

“Did you mean it?” you whispered, taking a step closer to him, “the other day when you said you flirted with me because you meant it. Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” he promised, closing the gap even more, “of course I did. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Me neither,” you insisted, catching yourself, “lie to you, I mean. So…”

“So we’re on the same page now?”

“I think so,” you smiled hesitantly at him, and the two of you locked eyes for a few moments. 

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the little bit of distance remaining between your bodies before practically jumping into his arms. Almost as if he had known what you were thinking, he effortlessly caught you, wrapping his strong arms around you. You beamed at him, melting as you watched him practically glow at you. 

“I want to kiss you,” you touched his face, and he practically leaned into your touch, “may I?”

“You may-” you prevented him from saying anything else as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fierce determination and eagerness. 

Neither of you dared to pull back until you were both breathless, looking at each other through hazy eyes and soft smiles. He gently set you back on the ground and you stared up at him. 

“Do you want some more honesty?” he asked gently, stealing a few more kisses, which you eagerly gave him.

“Of course.”

“I plan on doing that a lot more,” and yeah…that made you practically jump his bones then and there, “if you’re down for it.”

“Yes,” that came without hesitation, “I definitely am.”

“Better close the door then,” you did as you asked, looking at him with round, eager eyes, “you know how nosey they can be.”

“The nosiest…”

“Now, c’mere,” he held his hand out to you, “and let me prove I wasn’t lying to you.”

“Yes, please.”

[castiwls]

down bad .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'fuck it i was in love, so fuck you if i can’t have us'

Requested; anon

Notes; fav song of TTPD by farrrrr

also requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

“What are you doing here?” 

Dean Winchester turning up at your doorstep on a Wednesday afternoon was far from what you’d expected when you’d first woke up. You’d honestly never expected to see him again. You’d never wanted to see him again, yet here there he was. 

You had half a mind to slap the grin right off his face as you leaned on your door frame. “Awh come on sweetheart, you can’t still be mad at me?” His tone was playful, arrogant almost as he tried to step around him.

You blocked him shooting him an unimpressed look. “Still mad?” You scoffed. “Of course I'm still mad.”

Dean frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over. “You look good.”

“Don’t change the subject.” You cut in. “I’m not letting you in either. I’m not a hotel Dean.”

This time he scoffed. “I never said you were.” He tried to step around you again. “Come on. Just one night and then I’ll be gone. I’ll even pay for dinner.” His grin returned as he showed you his wallet. “It's on,” He pulled out a card squinting for a moment. “Hector Duff.”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Credit card scams still? Seriously?” He hadn’t changed one bit in the year since you’d seen him. His smile still left your stomach fluttering and your heartbeat racing as he sheepishly shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a trial and tested method.”

“It’s illegal.”

He put his wallet away. “It’s only illegal if you get caught sweetheart.” 

You hummed unimpressed. “Why are you here?” You asked again. 

Dean huffed running a hand through his hair. He cast a look out to the street before looking back to you. “I made a mistake alright? We had something good…I know that now.”

“Dean you left without any warning! I woke up one morning and you were gone! Do you have any idea how that feels?” A whirlwind of emotions seemed to bubble as you spoke. Anger, sadness…longing. All of them seemed to be battling it out in your head for the top spot.

You managed to keep your face passive as you watched him closely. Dean was doing a good job to hide his own emotions as he watched you. For a moment you swore you saw a passing look of guilt but it was wiped away before you could blink.

He placed a hand on your arm, squeezing slightly. “Can we at least talk?” You frowned slightly as he pulled his best ‘kicked puppy look’ “Please.”

Your walls were crumbling at an alarming rate. Sure, you’d initially had the urge to punch him upon opening the door but the longer you watched him the more your heart seemed to take over. You’d genuinely loved him - you still did.

“Fine. We can talk, but that is it.” You stepped aside slightly. Dean grinned releasing your arm as he stepped in. He quickly made himself at home on your couch as you shut the door, taking a breath to calm yourself.

You could do this

Taking a seat on the armchair you watched him for a moment. A tense silence fell over the room for a moment before he lent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I miss you.” Dean took a breath. “And I know what I did was wrong i just… I've never had something like this before.” He was being genuine. His eyes were soft almost as he watched you, his hand running over his hair. 

You mull over his words for a minute. The unsaid I love you hangs heavy in the air as you both sit in silence. Leaning back in your chair you purse your lips. “Fuck you, Dean.” 

His head shoots up as his body tenses. You stare at him imparity. 

“What?” He looks genuinely dumbfounded as he stands from his seat. “Sweetheart-”

“No.” You snap cutting him off. You made this mistake once. You’d lean Dean Winchester worm his way into his heart and you refused to do it again. You refused to be left stranded for a second time.

“I loved you. I really thought that you could have been the one.” You laughed bitterly. “But no. You chose hunting. You will always choose hunting.” The words seemed to fall from your lips like a waterfall, years of heartbreak and frustration bubbling over as you stared at the man who had taken your heart and crushed it.

“You led me on. You told me all these possibilities - promises - and then you just up and left!” You stood now, getting in his face. “I loved you.” Your voice shook. “And you left.” Your finger jabs into his chest as you feel yourself crumble. 

“So fuck you. Fuck you because we both know that this will never work.” Your voice is softer now as he stares at you, his lips parted slightly. Of all the things that could have happened, he never expected this. He never expected you to blow up in his face and it left him feeling like the shittest person. 

His stomach twisted as he watched your lip quiver and your chest pull in breath after breath. You took a breath your hands hanging limply by your sides. 

“Just…please leave.” You sighed, sounding as defeated as you felt. 

Part of you wanted nothing more than to let him stay. To let him tell you false promises which you could believe for the moment. To let you live in a fantasy that was never really real. 

But a larger part of you refused to fall back under his spell. Deans's words were just that…words.

 A whole lot of empty promises which left you feeling nothing more then a broken shell of the person you’d been before.