#something else i thought of some days ago in trying to think of any and all bangel parallels that i possibly can

[monstersholygrail]

Jellyfish Hybrid Stoner

Preview— Patreon Exclusive

Jellyfish Hybrid x fem!reader— high sex, groping, tentacle play, light fingering, free use, tentacles stuffing all your holes, gagging on them, multiple orgasms

You check your watch for the fourth time in the past three minutes. Still waiting around in your room for Jellyfish Stoner to come by your place for the drop. He always did this, never coming on time to pick up his usual.

As blitzed and out of it as he usually was, sometimes you thought he did this on purpose. Made you wait around so you had to give someone else all your other deliveries. Leaving you perfectly free to hangout and light up with him.

And just like every other time you’d handled his drop instead of one of your guys, the minute the clock ticks past your last scheduled appointment for the day, the door swings open to reveal the accused.

He saunters in, already looking high off his own stash, and laughing at some joke in his head.

“You know they’re just giving out cocks!” He proclaims as he flops right next to you on the mini-couch in your dorm.

“Must’ve missed that aisle on my last grocery run,” you grumble, spinning the fat blunt you rolled hours ago between your finger tips.

Jellyfish erupts into a fit of giggles, falling into your side. As if on instinct his tentacles immediately begin curling around your plump limbs and latching on possessively. None of them stinging you but they do deliver a delicious little buzz along your veins that never fails to make your body perk up in attention.

You hate how infectious his laughter is and how easy it would be to lean into him. Join in on the fun no matter the reason. And you want to. Because then you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself that you’re upset he’s so late as that would lead to you admitting the reason; that you missed him.

Instead you just sit there watching him with hearts in your eyes. And if he was any more sober he’d notice it for sure.

“Not what I meant, silly,” he coos at you, plucking the blunt right out from your grip.

The flame flickers across his translucent skin, making him appear almost ethereal as he flicks the lighter open and lights the blunt, pulling hard from it.

Something about the familiarity of all this soothes your hurt and you find yourself melting into him as he hands it off to you.

“All my friends are giving their mates their cocks as gifts. Do you want a cock? I could get you a cock,” Jellyfish Stoner offers and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

And it has nothing to do with the stick in your hand.

Luckily enough for your heart, you don’t take him too seriously. He’s always teasing and joking around— flirting— with everyone. It’s a natural state for him. You try and convince yourself this isn’t different.

“I think I’m good.”

That’s the right answer. You’re positive. But if it is then why is he looking at you like that? His red-rimmed eyes all half-lidded and alluring. The reflection in them practically glittering, focused solely on you like you’re the only girl in the world. As if a million thoughts are hidden in their depth and they all point to you.

You don’t know how he seems to be thinking so much after all the stuff he’s smoked. But people often overlook just how smart he is. There’s always something more to his words.

“Hmm. What if it was mine? Want my cock, baby?” He asks, voice suddenly growing more husky.

This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!!

[kyoshithewriter]

Pomum. (Part One).

Summary: In which a young woman learns her family’s business is not as innocent as it seems and that the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.

Warnings: There will be violence, age gap, mentions of drug use, smut and angst. (18+)

A/n: And here we go. The fic that I was hesitant to publish because I stopped feeling it a while back and started borrowing bits and pieces from it (if you see anything familiar please ignore, I tweaked it as best as I was able to looool). Hopefully, I don’t fall out of love with it again and discontinue writing it:/

Sofía is staring; she knows she is. She’s also aware of how creepy it is but she can’t help it. His eyes have drifted in her direction a few times and she had tried to avert her own swiftly. Though, she’s certain he caught her once or twice. It feels like there are heated stones on her face, just like the ones they use at that spa her mom loves to drag her off to for their ‘girl’s day out.’ While those stones are usually relaxing- calming; this heat makes her tingle from head to foot- flushed, flustered. Sofía does a quick sweep of the room to ensure that no one is looking in her direction before her eyes are fixed on him again. It’s automatic. He’s the kind of person that commands attention. From his towering height, to his well fitted designer suits and expensive watches; they help create a certain aura of not only someone who’s important but highly confident. He’s always the picture of calm and collected but never relaxed. In their line of work, it would be stupid to be. But she has never witnessed him raise his voice or react too emotionally to any situation, no matter how dire. Not like her father whose anger is explosive when things aren’t going his way, whose laugh echoes around the entire mansion when he finds something amusing. Sofía knew from the very first day her father had brought the man to their mansion two years ago and introduced him as his new ‘business partner,’ that she was in trouble. However, she did not anticipate this crush or whatever it is to persist for this long. It’s even more pathetic because she’s certain that man has not said more than ten words to her directly over the years.

“Sofía, did you hear what I said?”

Sofía startles slightly at the impatient edge in Donavon’s tone. She’s seated on one of the expansive crème couches in the living room watching her father (Donavon), Virgil and a few lackeys her dad calls his security having a hushed conversation in their large, colourful, Spanish- style kitchen. She had been lost in her thoughts about the older man again and missed whatever it was her father had said. Judging by the scowl on his face, he had been trying to get her attention for a while.

“Um…”

The man heaves a sigh.

“Adrian did not show up for work today. Virgil is heading back to his office so he’ll drop you off at school. I have to investi- I have something else to deal with.” The man switches his mouth at the last minute. Sofía wants to roll her eyes. Her father thinks she is so naive that she hasn’t figured out that he’s not just some ordinary owner of multiple car dealerships. It takes a few seconds for her brain to process what her father said, and when it does, her cheeks would’ve flamed a bright red if her skin wasn’t cocoa brown.

“Is Adrian okay?” She manages to squeak out. Adrian is her driver (she knows he’s also somewhat of a bodyguard), though they weren’t close, the man was nice enough and they share similar tastes in music so the car rides were always enjoyable. The question seems to immediately add a few extra wrinkles to her father’s angular face. He scratches uneasily at his full beard that’s streaked with a few silvery hairs.

“He’s not the type to not show up to work without communicating with me. But I’m sure he’s fine. Probably hungover or something, don't worry about it. You only have one class today, yes?”

Sofía offers a nod, though she wants to roll her eyes at the question. The man knows her timetable like the back of his hand.

“Good. I’ll send someone to pick you up immediately after. As soon as class is dismissed you come straight home, understood?”

Sofía’s spine automatically straightens at his commanding tone.

“Understood.” She echoes quietly.

“Good. Virgil, you let me know as soon as you hear anything.”

Sofía shoots a nervous glance at the tall, caramel skin man who just offers a subtle nod. His hair is in his signature slick back bun at the back of his head; his goatee neatly trimmed. The man fixes his dark brown eyes in her direction and her body hums. She stands, smoothing her hands along her midi bodycon nude dress that matches her long sleeve cropped, shrug sweater. She styled her long, thick, jet black 4a hair in a half up- half down look that’s complemented by curls from an overnight twist out.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been dressing up to go to classes. Remember you’re only there to learn, you’ll start courting Romano soon.”

“Dad!” Sofía’s cheeks flush in anger.

“Sofía you list-”

“I’m already behind on schedule, finish this conversation later.” Virgil rudely interrupts her father. Usually, that disrespect wouldn’t be tolerated. Usually. But for some strange reason, the rules tend to be flexible when it comes to Virgil.

“Come.”

One word. One word said in her direction and Sofía’s legs feel like jelly. She takes a second to catch her breath fearing she’d crumble to the ground in a heap if she moved immediately. ‘Come’. She wants to. Preferably with him so deep-

“See you in three hours.” Her father reminds her sternly.

She barely looks in his direction as she gives a subtle nod before jogging to catch up with Virgil’s long strides.

**********

Buildings and cars blur together in a multitude of colors in her peripheral as the black Porsche goes well above the speed limit. Adrian was never allowed to speed with her in the vehicle, but with the man currently around the wheel she feels no fear. In fact, she’s too busy drooling to even care.

“You’re not subtle, you know?” The man speaks without taking his eyes off the road.

Sofía sputters. “What?”

“You need to stop before your father thinks there’s something going on between us.” He says gruffly, an annoyed tick to his jaw.

“What do you mean?” Sofía feigns ignorance.

“You stare at me. A lot. If I notice then other people will.”

“You think people are going to assume there’s something going on between us because I look at you?” She scoffs even as her cheeks burn and her heart gallops in her chest.

“It’s not just the fact that you look at me, it’s how you look at me.” He clenches his hands around the steering wheel.

“And how do I look at you?”

“Like a love sick puppy.” His tone is so conversational despite his embarrassing words.

Sofía wants the ground to open up and swallow her. Embarrassed doesn’t begin to describe how she feels.

“You’re crazy…”

“I understand that you can’t help attraction; but you’re young and my partner’s daughter. If he suspects there’s something going on because you can’t stop staring it’s going to cause a lot of trouble that I don’t want to deal with. Control yourself.” For the first time since they got in the car, Virgil turns his head in her direction to pin her with an annoyed look.

Ouch.

“Your head is clearly all the way up your ass. I stare a lot because I don’t trust you!” Not exactly a lie. Sofía was puzzled the night of her twenty-second birthday party when her dad first introduced the man. She is used to meeting her father’s “business partners” but the dynamic amongst all of them was still clear: her father was the boss. His word is law— he calls the shots. With Virgil, it’s not the same. There always seems to be some invisible power struggle going on between them. They might think it’s subtle but Sofía is usually really good at reading people: their emotions, their motives, their intentions. There’s a very thin line between the top of the hierarchy when it comes to her father and the man in the driver’s seat. Who is he? And why does her father secretly fear him? Mr. Hernandez is too proud a man to ever admit it or let it show; he’s good at hiding it but not from her. She sees the way he fidgets when Virgil is around, she notices the way he swallows a little too heavily in his presence. She sees it all.

He stiffens subtly in his seat; “And how have I been untrustworthy?”

“Who are you really? And how did you become my dad’s ‘partner’?”

The man doesn’t respond. Tension. His knuckles turn white with his grip on the wheel. The silence stretches between them for another minute before the car gently rolls to a stop. Sofía was so busy glaring at him that she didn’t notice they had entered campus.

“Be at this exact spot at 11:35 and not a minute later. Your father hasn’t said it yet, but he’ll want me to be the one to pick you up.”

Sofía gathers her bags and water bottle with a roll of her eyes before exiting the vehicle. She uses more force than necessary to slam the door shut behind her then moves across the manicured lawn of the university campus.

“Like a love sick puppy.” She repeats to herself mockingly. “Who the hell does he think he is?” She hisses under her breath. ‘But you do stare at him like he hung the moon,’ her brain unhelpfully supplies. The vehicle peels off behind her, skating across asphalt and scattering a few small pebbles. Sofía enters the lecture hall just behind her professor of organic chemistry who has already begun urging the class to get settled. Mr. Schmidt is a tall, pot-bellied, pale man with wispy brown hair and dull blue eyes. He lectures like the plain brown suits he wears to classes-mundane, boring. But there’s no doubt that his knowledge of the subject is extensive. He often comes without supplies; no books, no laptops or projectors, just knowledge off the top of his head. It’s so impressive that Sofía has recently grown to admire him, and despite his boring lectures, she looks forward to his classes the most. Sofía pushes thoughts of Adrian, her father and Virgil to the furthest corner of her mind and gives Mr. Schmidt her undivided attention.

*******

Sofía sits stiffly in the passenger seat with her body angled towards the door on her side of the luxury car. Virgil returned to pick her up in a black G-wagon instead of the Porsche he had a few hours ago. She’s being petty but she vowed to never look in his direction again since her stare offends him so much.

“Drop the attitude before he thinks I’ve done something to offend you.” Virgil mutters as they turn onto the quiet street that leads to her house.

“Well, for your information, you have.”

The man scoffs but the furrow between his eyebrows deepens.

“Because I told you that you’re not subtle in the way you stare at me?”

“Those weren’t your exact words but yes. And since you hate when I look at you so much I’ll just stop doing it.” She keeps her eyes on the window that she can barely see through. This vehicle is heavily tinted and he’s kept the windows up with the air conditioning whirring on the highest setting.

His chuckle in response lacks humor.

“How old are you again?”

“Stop acting like I’m a child. You know I’m 24… in a few days.” She tacks on the last part under her breath. She doesn’t want to remind him of how much younger than him she really is.

“Well you should stop acting like a child.” He retorts. “This behaviour-”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t embarrass me!” She admits before biting into her plump lower lip.

“That wasn’t my intention. I’m just… honest. You do look at me like you want to fuck me, Sofía-”

“And what if I do? What if I do want to… you. Is that so bad?”

The man whips his head in her direction after her question. His almond shaped cocoa brown eyes meet her molten chocolate, doe ones.

“Yes. Yes it would be.”

“Right, because you’re not attracted to-”

“Because I’m ten years older than you. Because I’m your father’s friend. Do you understand how complicated that would make everything?”

The black, metal gate slowly squeaks open ahead of them.

“So if my father weren’t to know-”

“Sofía.” His knuckles pale against the steering wheel.

“He wouldn’t-”

“Stop.”

She immediately bites down on her lower lip. He didn’t yell but he didn’t have to. The one word, cold and clipped from his mouth was enough.

“We won't speak about this again. Ever.”

Sofía swallows around the lump in her throat as she offers a subtle nod. The car pulls to a stop at their front door in the circular driveway. Sofía hops out the vehicle, gently closing the door behind her offering her father a tight-lipped smile as he greets them in the foyer.

“Everything okay?” Her father’s hazel eyes are so colored with concern.

“Uh, yea just a little sleepy.” The lie rolls off her tongue smoothly.

“Alright. Head upstairs, I need to talk to Virgil.” He presses a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Sofía’s blood runs cold at the look on her father’s face as he turns his attention to the man behind her.

“You’ve heard something.” Virgil states with a clench to his jaw.

“Yes. And it’s not good.” Her father replies solemnly.

“Is it about Adrian? Is he okay?” Sofía questions timidly.

“In my office, Virgil. We’ll talk later, Sofía.”

The duo make their way upstairs sharing hushed whispers. Sofía doesn’t need to hear their conversation to know what happened. Adrian is dead.

[etvdes]

grey can see her thinking, and for as much as they would give anything to know what she’s thinking about, they don’t think they can actually handle it if they did. when was the last time they had been able to handle anything? there’s something about the way she says she wants to know that feels like it douses them in cold water. because they can’t really wrap their mind around why ANYONE would want to know, despite themself. but you can’t unring a bell, and there was something vaguely comforting about finally having all of it in the space between them. “i was still so new to sobriety when we first got together too, it felt like telling anyone would put too much pressure on it.” they shrug, “hey my last time in rehab was less than 90 days ago wanna go out with me? isn’t exactly good first date conversation.” once again, grey knows somewhere in the back of their mind that too anyone else the things they were saying were all independently horrifying. but they talked about it like it was as boring as the number of cracks in the sidewalk. acknowledging the amount of time they had been clean felt so uncomfortable still, but their chest burned with some combination of shame and pride when she did it. it felt like maybe it was more of achievement then they gave it credit for. they’re eyes cast down as they discuss the crushing weight of time, and they’re glad for the ease with which she moves on. grey often felt the world pressing down on them, weight of the lives they left behind constantly reminding them of all they’ve done wrong. time moved on, even though there were people that they know didn’t. they hate to think about how a place they loved so much chewed them up and spit them out like nothing. they wish they could explain better what it felt like, but at the same time they’re not sure it matters. and it feels kind of hopeless to say that the best feeling in the world— the one you can never recreate— is the one that you get when you try heroin the first time. because sure, it feels so good. but at what point was chasing that ruining any chance for anything else to feel good? and yeah, they know that’s one of the core tenants of getting clean in the first place. it’s something everyone says in detox and again in rehab and reiterates every week at NA. but that still doesn’t make it feel any less overwhelming. “yeah i guess it’s a lot easier to manage now then it was at the beginning…” they trail off, letting their thoughts take them for an instant. because it feels easier some days and harder on others, but they’ll be damned if they screw up their fresh start the way they screwed up their life in baltimore. when she acknowledges that this information could’ve changed things, they nod knowingly. it was one of the many things they had always been worried about. “i guess i’ve never really given anyone a chance to do anything that made me feel—“ they can’t put their finger on the feeling. they didn’t want pity, they didn’t want judgement, and they didn’t want to be treated like they were made of glass. and despite it all, they never trusted anyone not to do that. “weird.” is the best they can do to name it, even though they know it’s not right. “i’m not FRAGILE, y’know? i’m not gonna break–“ and maybe at the beginning they were, but at this point they’ve tried so hard to prove to themself that this really is the LAST time. there is no going back to the old habits, no turning back and ruining all their progress. at least, they don’t want to believe that there is, no more second chances. they shift their focus back down to her, desperately wishing they could just have what they used to, before all the pressure got to be too much and they didn’t know how to handle it. and they knew they weren’t honest about this HUGE part of their life, something that probably made it hard to trust them going forward. but they never expected the secret to get this out of control. they never expected to get to a point where they thought it had been too long to just tell her. and maybe that was part of the problem.

they wanted her love so BADLY that they made their shame and embarrassment hers, they let their fears and heart broken disappointment about their own choices push them apart. and maybe that was why this was all so hard. because they never gave her the chance to prove them wrong, too afraid of being proven right. their heart aches when she tells them she misses them, and they can’t help the way they respond. it feels almost instantaneous. “i miss you too.” there’s so much behind it— so much love, so much fear— but it’s another one of the things they need to trust will be better if they say it, instead of running and hiding from their feelings. they didn’t expect her to speak to such a core part of them, but when she explains that she misses them more when they’re together, it feels like being seen for who they really are. “i get it.” they nod, “feels like all the things i’ve been trying so hard not to feel start breaking,” they explain, “because i can’t figure myself out without you– i don’t want to be without you– but i can’t have what i want either.” they’re not sure if that’s the way that she feels, but in the pursuit of honesty, they’re trying to put their own feelings into words. “it’s not stupid.” they respond to her almost as quick as she says it, and if she studied their face she would see just how genuinely they meant it. “grief sucks.” they add, and they want to ask, to beg, to plead at the foot of any god that will listen to help her give them another chance. but that’s so much pressure, and they’re not willing to put that on her. so instead, they settle for a simple “i can give you a different one?”

rowan sits and she takes it in. and she takes it in some more. it is a lot for her to wrap her mind around and it’s not really something that she thinks they’ll fully cover in an afternoon. she has questions now and she’ll probably have even more later but she also knows grey might not always be feeling as open as they are right now. if they’re willing to info-dump the cliff notes of their life on her then she just has to take it in. try and make sense of how it’s brought them to right here and now, with her. “n-no, it’s… i want to know.” doesn’t say that it isn’t a lot because they would be a lie. she just also doesn’t want to say anything to them that would suggest that she can’t take it. it feels a lot to rowan like they both need this honesty. being part of a select few people who know about more than the surface level things with grey is apparently an exclusive club that she finds herself a member of. no need to ask the wrong question and get herself booted out. “ten months, though? that’s something. that’s almost a year. though it’s uh… probably better just thinking about taking each day as it comes, huh?” sometimes the bigger end goals can feel like a crushing pressure and she doesn’t want her comment to come across that way. which is why she finds it easy enough to move on. “maybe better isn’t the right way to put it though, you know? maybe it doesn’t get better exactly but it gets easier to manage.” is anyone ever really cured from addiction? rowan doesn’t know much about it but she thinks to suggest that someone one day just won’t have it seems… untrue. it’ll always be there. a part of their life changed forever. it’ll shape them into who they are now. and who grey is now is someone that’s trying and that deserves to be acknowledged. the fact they love her weighs heavy on her chest if only for the fact it fills her with a twisted sort of hope. hope she isn’t sure she should have. “i guess it might’ve changed things… if i found out when we were together.” she doesn’t mean it would’ve broken them up or that it’s not something they couldn’t move forward from, she just feels like it could’ve set a different tone to things. rowan is barely coping with their breakdown today as someone who no longer has any ties to them — her empathetic little heart might not be able to take her partner collapsing around her. “oh — uh,” she glances down at herself. at the reason they’re even here right now. who knew such a choice would’ve brought her such honesty? “i miss you.” it’s the short, easy version of things. the one that she lets herself sneak a glance at them for before promptly looking away again. “i miss us. i knew you’d be here today and i guess i just miss you a little bit more when you’re around.” it maybe doesn’t make much sense considering they’re right there and she can see them but it’s everything else that she misses. she can’t just go grab their hand because she feels like it, or tug them down to her height so that she can kiss them just because. it’s all the things rowan itches to do when she’s dating anyone and ignoring that sort of muscle memory aches. “i think i thought it would make me feel a bit closer to you or something. i don’t know that it does. it barely even smells like you anymore.” a fact that makes her pull a bit of a face. if nothing else thankfully they’re close enough now that it’s something she can capitalise on. “just stupid shit, really.” or it feels like it knowing what she does now. they’re dealing with everything and she’s moping about an ended relationship.

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[cherienymphe]

Camera Shy

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Your brother comes up with a way to make fast money when you've found yourself deep in debt.

warnings: stepcest, loss of virginity, breeding kink, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You took deep breaths through your nose as Rafe instructed, lashes fluttering at the foreign and indescribable feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds. Your knees touched your chest, the soles of your feet pressed against Rafe’s own chest, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze focused on where he disappeared into you.

When your brother came up from Kildare County to visit you for the first time this semester…

This was not what you had in mind.

Blood related or not, Rafe had never been anything but the older brother you were blessed with when your mom married his dad all those years ago. He was a little rough around the edges—always had been—and you knew that his behavior with you was the exception, not the norm, but it never occurred to you that his reasoning behind that went beyond familial affection. Why would it?

He treated you like any normal brother would.

He scared off boys who were a little too bold with their interest in you, he sometimes let you sleep in his bed when the thunder outside got to be too much, and he didn’t think twice about picking you up from some party you weren’t supposed to be at. You knew he’d do the same for Wheezie if she asked. Sarah was the only exception for less than enviable reasons.

…maybe Ward’s favoritism of Sarah contributed to your own soft spot for Rafe.

Anyone with eyes could see it no matter how much Sarah liked to pretend otherwise, and there’d been so many times you felt sorry for the oldest Cameron. No, he wasn’t perfect by any means, and yes, sometimes he absolutely deserved the verbal lashing from Ward, but you’d be a fool to deny the absolute disregard Ward gave Rafe even when he did try.

Rafe just wasn’t anyone’s favorite.

…so he became yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked up at him, and his gaze lifted from your breasts to meet your gaze.

“Like this?” you breathlessly wondered, a hand on your chest, massaging a hardened bud between your fingers.

“Don’t ask me,” Rafe purred, his free hand joining yours. “Does it feel good?”

The nod you gave him was shaky, and you watched Rafe’s tongue dart between his lips. He dipped his hips a tad when he thrust into you, making you gasp at the feel of his cock hitting something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. When he shined the camera light in your face briefly, you turned your head.

“Sorry,” he choked out, but he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I’ll blur that out.”

His thrusts had your toes curling, and you pushed your feet against his chest.

“I don’t…I don’t want Ward or someone else to find this and know it was me,” you struggled to say, breath hitching when Rafe slammed into you.

Rafe replied after some time.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered. “They won’t.”

Angel.

It was funny how a normal nickname that you were used to hearing all the time sounded so different, now. Of course, all the other times, Rafe had never been inside of you. He’d been dropping you off somewhere or convincing you to do the dishes instead or looking for you the minute he woke up at twelve in the afternoon. Now, with Rafe plunging his cock into you, the sound of it made you shudder.

“It’s kind of crazy how fitting that nickname is,” Sarah said one day. “…because I swear you’re the only one that can actually get Rafe to behave.”

You both chuckled at the comment, but now you were doing anything but laughing.

Your free hand trailed down to touch yourself, and Rafe made a noise of approval at the action.

His hand left your breast to cover yours between your legs, guiding your fingers and rubbing them over your bundle of nerves. The feeling—when combined with his thrusts—made you flutter around him, and Rafe let out a deep moan. It went straight to your stomach, loving the sound, and you looked up at him.

His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, and as you stared at him, you were surprised how weird you didn’t feel about this.

Going off to UNC had sparked varying reactions in your household. Rose was only happy for you, Wheezie too, but both Sarah and Ward held some concerns you never even knew they had. Something about your sheltered upbringing and wondering if you were ready. You’d been offended, of course. After all, going off to college had always been the plan and Ward knew that, so being treated like some child baffled you.

However, you were even more baffled when Rafe didn’t back you up.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked him the day you got your acceptance letter. “You don’t want me to go…?”

Even though Rafe was silent for a long time, you could see it on his face.

He didn’t want you to go.

“It’s so far-.”

“It’s four hours,” you’d interrupted, in disbelief that Rafe of all people was not on your side.

“It’s far enough.”

You remembered thinking how much he resembled a child—pouting—and you’d huffed. You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from kissing your eyes, and you’d folded your arms over your chest.

“Why aren’t you happy for me?” you’d asked in a small voice.

That had Rafe looking up, and you didn’t miss the way his face fell with one look at your own.

“I am,” he’d assured you. “I’m so happy for you, but… What if something goes wrong? What if some asshole gets too aggressive with you? I’m not going to be there to pick you up from parties and hold your hand when a hurricane comes through.”

You’d looked down, shifting on your feet.

“I know that, Rafe…but I’m an adult, now. I have to figure things out for myself.”

You could tell he hadn’t liked that answer, but despite how much Rafe made it clear that he didn’t want you to go, he did help you pack before the semester started. He’d also helped you move in with Ward and Rose’s help, surprising them both.

“Don’t think I won’t be dropping in unannounced.”

Rose had scolded him that day, but you’d only rolled your eyes. You were used to Rafe’s protectiveness, and as much as you desired independence, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the thought of Rafe visiting you on campus.

…and visit you, he did.

It was almost admirable, really, the way he managed to swoop in at some of the most inconvenient times. The night you were considering going to some party or the night you’d gotten locked out of your house or the time your roommate had guys over. The memory of that evening still weighed on your chest, recalling the way Rafe hovered and the way the guy you were supposed to be set up with was forced to keep his distance.

“You were scaring him,” you’d whined later that night.

“…and you want a guy that jumpy?” he’d snorted, taking off his shirt and relaxing on your bed.

Rafe had overstayed his welcome and had no choice but to stay the night. Granted, a hotel was always an option, but you would’ve felt shitty making him book a hotel when you had a perfectly fine queen-sized bed.

“If some chump is that intimidated by your big brother, then he isn’t the one for you,” he’d whispered in the dark as you faced him. “You’re the kind of girl who needs looking after.”

The words had soured in your mind, and you hadn’t responded.

You hated that Rafe saw you that way—that almost everyone did—but it was only some months later when you were forced to admit that maybe Rafe was right. Being so far away from home for an extended period of time for the first time in your life clearly got to your head. You found yourself confronted with so much temptation and opportunities.

Before you knew it, you’d maxed out two credit cards and was struggling to make ends meet with the extra money Ward and Rose were sending you. The day your payment was declined while in some fancy store was burned into your brain, and you hadn’t even realized how much debt you’d collected until you were on the phone with a representative from the company.

The whole situation sucked, but more than anything, it sucked that you proved everyone right.

Especially Rafe.

So, when he unexpectedly showed up on your doorstep this morning, you wanted to be sick.

“Rafe,” you’d breathed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The blond had silently stood at your door, expression unreadable, and it had taken him a minute to finally reply.

“You never know I’m coming,” he’d drawled, brushing by you. “What makes this time so different?”

“No reason,” you’d hurried to say.

You suspected then that he caught onto something being wrong, but you’d forced yourself to write it off. Despite engaging in conversation with you, you hadn’t missed the way Rafe strode about your place, those blue eyes of his taking everything in with an attention to detail you weren’t used to.

“So, why are you here?” you’d wondered.

Your question gave him pause, and you hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes then.

“What…?” he’d asked, nearing you. “I can’t drop in on my baby sister and see how she’s doing?”

He’d held your gaze with an intensity you weren’t used to, and you’d looked away.

“No, of course, you can. I was just…curious.”

You should’ve known that Rafe knew more than he let on when he opened your fridge and merely hummed at the lack of food in it. For obvious reasons, you didn’t protest when he suggested ordering food, and it was when you found yourself leaning against the counter with a handful of pizza did he finally drop the bomb.

“You’re lucky I pay more attention to the mail than they do.”

His biting words were accompanied with the slam of a few envelopes on the counter, and your heart dropped when you realized what they were—credit card statements. His hands on the counter caged you in, but you could hardly move anyway with how much shock you were in, flipping through them all with parted lips.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing into you.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that at the very least, I should’ve moved up here with you,” he’d sneered.

“Are you going to tell Ward?” you’d tearfully asked him. “If he knew how much I messed up he’d cut me off so fast.”

“He probably should,” Rafe had told you with a frown, making your tears spill over.

He’d softened some at the sight of them, and you’d collapsed on the couch.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been spending so much,” you cried to him. “…and I keep trying to get a job to fix this but I just can’t get hired anywhere.”

At your rambling, Rafe had knelt before you, his hands on your knees as he shushed you. You’d struggled to hold his gaze as he wiped your face, trying to calm you down. When your breathing settled some, Rafe took your hand.

“I can’t imagine you behind somebody’s counter, anyway,” he’d softly said, thumb grazing your skin. “Breaking your back and coming home exhausted. You need to be focused on school.”

“…but Rafe-.”

His hand gently landing on your mouth had you swallowing your words, and you’d blinked at him as he traced patterns into your skin.

“Look, I know how to get you money—plenty of it and fast.”

His words had given you pause, making you perk up some.

“…but you’ll have to trust me,” he’d murmured.

You did trust Rafe, with your whole heart, but his next words still made your heart drop.

“Rafe…I don’t think I can do this,” you found yourself whispering an hour or so later, swallowing at his gentle grip on your throat. “

…besides, we… I mean…”

You didn’t have to finish voicing your thoughts, troubled gaze meeting his.

“It’s just a little way to make you fast money. It’s not like anyone will know it’s us…” he’d murmured, lips brushing yours. “…and it’s not like we’ll be running the risk of accidentally having questionable children or something.”

You knew what he meant, understood what he was getting at, but it still felt…wrong to you. Or at least, like it should be. Rafe had never been anything other than the brother you met years ago, and here he was, kissing you and convincing you to let your first time be with him…and on camera, no less.

“People love that amateur porn shit,” were his oh so eloquent words.

Despite how you initially felt about it, you still found yourself on your back and bent at the edge of your bed while Rafe stood before you, phone in hand. His words of encouragement filled your ears as he circled your clit with his thumb, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you. He’d had his face between your thighs for some time before that, telling you he needed to get you nice and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he’d hissed as he continued to push his way into you.

When he was flush with you, both of your chests heaving, he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“You okay, angel?”

It wasn’t as painful as you always expected it to be—you surmised that had more to do with Rafe than anything—but there was still a dull painful ache accompanied by the burn of being stretched out. At your shaky nod, Rafe merely gave you a half smile, leaning over to kiss you before straightening and starting a torturously slow pace.

“Do you hear how wet you are? Hmm?”

You could, and you might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the look on Rafe’s face.

“So wet…and tight…and all mine,” he breathed, the phone light bright as it shone on where you greedily sucked him in with every thrust. “She’s dripping for me.”

You felt like you were in a blissful daze, lying there and taking his thrusts. Rafe had a way with words and making you squirm from more than just the feel of him stuffing you full.

“They’d pay big money to see me fill you up, angel.”

You slowly blinked at him, frowning slightly and not understanding him at first. However, when his free hand left your clit alone and instead reached for himself, realization hit you.

“Rafe…”

Your tone held warning, but Rafe pulled out anyway, a hand on his cock as he leaned in to press his lips to yours again. What a strange way for you to realize that not only did you like kissing, but you liked kissing Rafe.

“It’s going to look so good on camera,” he purred. “Just thinking about my cock twitching as I come inside of you…pulling out and watching it all drip out of that virgin pussy…”

The thought did have you clenching down on air.

“It’s your first time… You should know what that feels like—to get fucked raw.”

Your lack of protest boldened Rafe, and you felt out of control when the tip of him touched you again, only without latex between you this time. He was slow to slide into you, a groan escaping him the same time you moaned as you both basked in the feel of his bare cock fitting snugly inside of you. You threw your head back, and Rafe told you to keep touching your breasts.

You couldn’t deny the difference as he slowly rutted into you. The camera shined light on your stomach and chest and back down again as he moved the phone. His now powerful thrusts turned you into a wanton mess, absentmindedly massaging your nipples in time with his hips. Rafe’s free hand was on you again, rubbing your mound and folds and clit, occasionally spreading you further to really get a good look at the way his cock pushed into you.

The squelch of your core was loud, and you could feel the way you were dripping around him.

Your bed squeaked under the weight of his thrusts, and the feel of skin against skin was sending you both spiraling.

“I’m gonna come,” Rafe gasped, his thrusts sloppy and rough as he fucked himself into you.

You felt the same, but you couldn’t really voice it, too focused on trying to breathe despite the fast pace of your heart. When Rafe pressed a hand into your stomach, it sent you over the edge, and the feel of you tightening around him and clenching down on him had him coming too, spilling into you with a loud moan.

Rafe’s thrusts were lazy now as he fucked you both through your orgasms, hips slow as he pushed into you. He only stopped when he softened completely, slow to pull his cock out and drop to his knees. His free hand reached for you, a thumb and index finger on your lips as he spread them.

“Look at that,” you heard him murmur while you fought to catch your breath. “You took me so well, angel.”

One of your feet relaxed on the floor, now while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Push it out for me. Show them how well you milked my cock…”

You didn’t quite understand him, but you did what you thought he wanted you to do. To your surprise, you could feel him leaking out of you, and the noise Rafe made told you he was satisfied.

“Good girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers into you. “You take me so well, you know that?”

He leaned in and kissed your sore lips then, a hum escaping him as he straightened. The camera was now off, and the phone was tossed to the side, but Rafe’s lips still found yours with a moan. Your confusion must have been evident when he pulled away, because he reached up to drag his thumb over your mouth.

“We’ll need to make time to practice if we want the next one to be even better.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

old married couple. l Joel Miller

Summary: you caught a cold and Joel took care of you

Warnings: cold, Ellie teases Joel, Tommy and Dina show up. nothing special

A/N: .

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

He buttoned his jacket more tightly as a cold wind swept the street and shoved his hands into his pockets. The patrol group was preparing to leave Jackson. Tommy was giving everyone instructions, and one of the people who had arrived a few weeks ago was among them. Joel watched them from a distance, feeling a mixture of longing and relief.

He had felt calmer since he had started to reduce his patrols and focused on managing the renovations of the buildings in Jackson. Besides, the overcast sky and cold wind were not exactly encouraging to venture outside the walls of Jackson.

The horses neighed one last time and soon the entire group left, the gates closing behind them. Tommy rubbed his cold hands together and, spotting his brother, approached him. "Brings back memories, huh?" he said, smiling. "I mean, when you two started patrolling."

"I wouldn't say I miss it," Joel replied. "Maybe she does more."

"That's why she still comes. Oh, I remember that!" Joel frowned and looked at his brother, who was grinning and laughing. "Your first separate patrol. You weren't thrilled about it. I think... I think you had a soft spot for her even then."

"These are the rules, Joel, two newbies don't go on patrol together."

Joel grabbed Tommy's arm, stopping him. "You're really trying to tell me I'm a newbie at this whole apocalypse shit?" he snorted. "I'll go with you."

Tommy looked at his brother carefully, then looked towards the group that was getting ready to leave Jackson. You were among them. A few weeks had passed since you arrived in Jackson. You and Joel had taken part in training with other people who patrolled the Jackson area, and this time you were going to go alone. Tommy had matched you with a couple of experienced people, but Joel was going to stay in the city. He had not liked the idea from the beginning. The thought of separating you seemed simply stupid and irresponsible to him.

Tommy's watchful eyes looked back at him, and his lips twisted into a victorious smile. "Never seen you that worried about any other newcomers going out on their first patrols. Is there something else you ain't telling me?" he chuckled "You have a soft spot for her, don't you?"

"Bullshit!" Joel muttered "I just think it's too soon."

Tommy nodded. "True. And I think she'll do great." He patted his brother on the shoulder. "You'll be going together in time. But for now, do something, try to relax."

Joel looked at him as if the idea seemed downright idiotic to him. But he didn't say anything more, seeing that his brother was having a great time teasing him. He must have gotten that from Ellie.

He watched Tommy go, then raised his hand when you waved at him a moment before you left. His concern for you was natural and obvious, there was nothing romantic about it. Joel was too old for such bullshit.

He returned home and closed the door behind him with relief. A fire was burning in the fireplace, and the familiar bulge under the blanket indicated that you had been dozing. The cold that had caught you at the beginning of the week refused to go away. And even if at first you had fought "No, Joel. I'm fine, I just have a cold.", now you obediently lay under two blankets and didn't stick your nose out of the house.

He approached you and placed his frozen hand on your cheek - you were still a bit too warm, but you felt better than a few days ago. Ann had brought fresh broth the day before, and Ellie had brought some herbs from the clinic to ease the symptoms.

You stirred slightly and opened your eyelids. "You're here already." Your voice was quiet, slightly hoarse.

"Yeah, and you're sleeping again." he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching "I'll make you some tea." 

You rubbed your eyes with your hand and sat up, wrapping the blankets around yourself more tightly. "Anything interesting in town?" you asked, listening to the noises from the kitchen, cabinets being opened, the kettle being put on the stove. "The weather doesn't look too good."

"Nothing that should interest you right now." Joel replied. "Will you eat something?"

You weren’t hungry, but you also knew there was no point in fighting with Joel. You didn’t want to spend another week on the couch under a blanket. Eventually, two steaming mugs appeared on the coffee table—one with herbal tea, the other with Ann’s broth. Joel sat down next to you, holding his mug.

"You'll get infected from me." you said for what seemed like the thousandth time this week.

“That’s why I drink the same thing you do,” he replied, lifting his cup slightly and smiling. “I’m cautious.”

“Or naive. My germs have definitely mutated. A sick man is the worst thing that can happen.”

"Oh, shut up!" Joel rolled his eyes "I can’t be sick. I don't have time for this."

"Right." You took a sip of the broth and a pleasant warmth spread through your insides. Feeling Joel's gaze on you, you took another few sips to satisfy him. The cold had completely taken away your appetite and even those few modest sips were a big achievement. With a quiet thud, you put the cup down. "Let's watch a movie?"

"What would you like?"

"Curtis and Viper?" You shrugged, glancing at Joel out of the corner of your eye.

"Have you seen it like ten times?" he sighed "Why do you want this?"

The answer was simple, obvious, and made him smile.

"Because you like it."

It was nice. It was home. You lay wrapped in a blanket, snuggled up to Joel, occasionally sipping tea or broth, giggling when you shouldn't, quietly mumbling dialogues you already knew by heart. Only the slam of a door and the icy air interrupted this pleasant moment.

"Shit! It's cold as hell!" Ellie groaned, rubbing her hands together "What are you doing?"

"Hi!" Dina's pleasant voice echoed right behind Ellie "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." You replied, giving a smile to the girl who had plopped down in an armchair near you "Are you hungry?"

Dina shook her head "We've already eaten. We just came for something and we're leaving soon."

Ellie's footsteps were already echoing through the floor, and after a few moments she ran downstairs again, this time with her backpack. "Come on, don't sit with those old people!"

"Hey!" Joel looked at her indignantly. "She's not old!"

Dina laughed. "She means you act like an old married couple. It's cute."

"You watch weird movies, spend a lot of time together, and I think you're also..."

"Get out of here!" Joel snorted, not letting Ellie finish her sentence.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She loved teasing Joel even if Dina thought she was a bit too hard on him sometimes. The door slammed shut again, and you were left alone.

"We're cute, did you know that?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Joel mumbled something incomprehensible. He clearly wasn't a fan of being 'cute'. You chuckled, nudging him lightly in the side.

"I think I should probably go back to patrolling for a while." he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

You frowned. "What about the renovations?"

"I can do both. I don't want Ellie and Dina to say..."

"Joel!" you interrupted, straightening up and looking at him stubbornly. "But they'll always tease you. And me too. To them, we're old! And there's nothing wrong with that."

Brown eyes looked at you as if searching for some soothing words. You smiled, stroking his rough cheek. “You’re cute when you pout. But don’t tell me to stop calling you that.”

A large hand found your thigh under the blanket and squeezed it lightly. "Because it's you."

"And this is Ellie and Dina. Let them be teenagers."

Joel nodded, finally admitting you were right, and put his arm around you so you could snuggle up to him again.

You mounted your horse and adjusted your woolen cap. The day was cold, but the sky was clear. The morning patrol looked promising and you were happy to take part in it. 

You noticed Tommy only when he stood next to you. He patted the horse's flank and looked at the other members of the patrol.

"How's Joel?" he asked. "Is he giving you a hard time?"

"A little." you replied, unable to hide your smile. "He doesn't have a fever, but he's still grumpy."

"More than usual?" you shrugged, which made Tommy chuckle. "I'll check on him later. Bring him dinner or something."

"Thanks. I warned him that he could get it from me. He thought he was immune."

"Of course." Tommy nodded. "Take care of yourself. Be careful, okay? No unnecessary risks."

"Sure, Tommy."

You left Jackson, your thoughts returning one last time to the man sleeping soundly in your bed. Ellie had made him a whole pot of herbal tea that he hated so much. Your sweet, cute, old man.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. 

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead. 

“You wanna come in with me then?” 

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him. 

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face. 

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to. 

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.  

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. 

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you. 

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last. 

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed. 

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. 

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat. 

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm. 

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin. 

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly. 

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker. 

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone. 

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose). 

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.” 

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel. 

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze. 

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.” 

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.  

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.  

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun. 

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled. 

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful. 

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting. 

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.” 

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned. 

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.” 

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly. 

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear. 

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!” 

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage. 

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue. 

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure. 

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose. 

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face. 

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils. 

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.  

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up. 

“Easy, T–” Boone said. 

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.   

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.  

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone. 

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him. 

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently. 

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word. 

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more. 

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin. 

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.  

You felt grateful when they didn’t push. 

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation. 

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat. 

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you. 

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.  

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?” 

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted. 

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind. 

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes. 

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word. 

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out. 

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour. 

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.  

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name. 

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines. 

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves. 

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you. 

“Better?” he asked, handing you one. 

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak. 

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight. 

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.  

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter. 

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–” 

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.” 

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt. 

“I’m the sorry one,” he said. 

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you. 

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth. 

“I just–” you paused again. “I–” 

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.” 

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened. 

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off. 

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?” 

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked. 

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said. 

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked. 

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly. 

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

[ogviceversa]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[sonicboomseason3]

a brief recap of what has been going on with the sonic movieverse in the past several months:

paramount has come out in public support of israel

keanu reeves, a man who has publicly rubbed elbows with none other than benjamin netanyahu, reportedly gets cast as shadow for the upcoming third movie

james marsden, the guy who plays tom, got exposed as having written a letter of support for a convicted pedophile

there's fucking??? zionist propaganda in the knuckles series???

kind of connected to the last point but adam pally, the guy who plays wade, is evidently pro-israel too

this is a complete and utter joke.

EDIT AS OF 4/30/24: if people see this version of the post, i'd really appreciate it if you reblog it instead of the other versions, as it's the most updated one with all the information that i want included. thank you :]

you know, it's been a few days since i've made this post, and some of you (not most) are staying determined in defending/justifying/giving the benefit of the doubt to keanu for that photo with netanyahu, whether it's because "it was a decade ago," "him being civil to someone he ran into at a party one time doesn't mean anything," "he's probably just silent because his pr managers won't allow him to speak up," etc. i've made my thoughts on the matter quite clear by directly responding to these people, but at this point, i'm tired of both seeing them in my notes and repeating myself, so take this as my final word on the issue.

i can't help it if you don't think the photo with netanyahu is damning, and i'm done engaging with everyone going out of their way to tell me that. i obviously disagree, especially after finding out that 1. the host of the party, arnon milchan, is a former israeli spy who has a history of developing israel's nuclear program and promoting apartheid in south africa (information that had broken out a few months prior to the party and thus would've been fresh news around the time keanu chose to attend) and 2. keanu has been caught hanging around at least two other weirdos, but if you don't find any of that to be cause for reasonable concern, then there really is nothing else i can say afaik.

with all that said, i'm beginning to realize how strange it is that these people's first instinct when seeing this post is to start debating about keanu's political stances without ever acknowledging any of the other bullet points. you guys realize that this isn't just about him, right? i know tumblr reading comprehension is known for being piss-poor, but like… you realize that i was trying to make a point of how there are MULTIPLE terrible things that have broken out about the people and company involved in the sonic movies, right? and yet, a lot of the people leaping to speak on keanu's behalf in my notes are completely ignoring the parts where i bring up paramount, pally, etc. all in favor of zeroing in on the singular point about keanu and making bad faith assumptions about me for holding him accountable. really makes one wonder where your priorities lie if, in a post that talks about so many other things, me accusing an a-list celebrity with, according to google, a net worth of almost $400 million is where you draw the line and apparently the only thing worth your acknowledgment.

ultimately, what i'm trying to say is that the intention of this post was just to gather up everything that i had been hearing for the past several months and put it all together in one place. there were a bunch of people who didn't know about at least one of the bullet points before seeing this post, and i'm glad that i could help inform them, that was what i was hoping to do! but as for the keanu thing, i've said pretty much all i can say for now, and i don't want to derail the original post even more than i may have already. unless something new comes up, i'm done talking about him.

[evieelyzabethh]

"lacy"

⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)

♞Vi♞

♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her

♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.

♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.

It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.

♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.

★Ekko★

★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.

★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.

★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.

★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.

Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.

★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.

❂Jayce❂

❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.

❂While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.

❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.

❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.

☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.

☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.

☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it

For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."

☼Mel☼

☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.

☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.

Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring.  The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."

☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.

☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.  

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

can i request

shy tasm peter was meant to eat out the reader so he reads a bunch of articles and watches a bunch of videos and he even makes her squirt for the first time and he’s cocky about it

you absolutely can! frothing at the mouth rn. thanks for requesting 💌

ATTENTION. 18+

tasm peter parker x fem!reader

wc. 1395 warnings. 18+ only. cunnilingus, squirting. mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Peter is naturally very gifted with an abundance of smarts, his brain always seeming to master skills and abilities completely foreign to him. And while he was a jack of all trades, his confidence in those said abilities tend to lack from time to time. His mind making him question if he was even any good at the things he claimed himself to be.

Extensive amounts of time and effort gets put into research and reading, doing whatever deems necessary to fine tune skills.

And while things with you were fairly new, he wanted to make a good impression in the bedroom department. Essentially, he wanted to impress you, show you things that may very well be new to you both. 

Plans were made for you to stay with him this weekend, to spend a night or two at his apartment. There was no definitive talk on what was to happen, but you each knew what it would mean: two adults having their first sleepover as a couple. It was only common sense that it would lead to something more intimate.

Peter’s skills were fairly rusty, his knowledge and confidence on anything intimate seeming to pass with the love of  his previous partner some time ago. And so for the days leading up to your planned arrival, he immersed himself in research and forums: relearning the female form. 

He watched countless videos, all for educational purposes — spending hours on pornsites just to acquire as much information as possible. He really wanted to make this an enjoyable experience for you both, so to him, research was the way to go. 

Peter took a considerably lengthy list of notes, jotting down tips and tricks and techniques to ensure he was confident in getting you off. Though it’s easier said and done. The tricky part was always putting it into practice, applying the knowledge when the time comes.

And so, now you lay on his bed, underwear discarded somewhere on the mattress, bare legs bent in the air as if to keep yourself exposed and available to him. It’s always frightening to present yourself to a new partner: worries of what they may think and say. 

But with Peter, not once did you have those doubts. The way he simply is, is enough to distract those thoughts.

He’d admit, it was rather intimidating. Seeing in person once again just how complicated the female form is. It was almost enough to completely discredit the confidence in all that he’s learnt. But he prevails. 

He itches himself closer, steady breath hot as it hits at your cunt. He’s slow, movements feeling calculated but really he’s just trying to remember the steps in the hazy panic.

He presses a kiss to the crease of your upper inner thigh, the soft, fluttery touch an effort to build you up slowly. His hands cup the backs of your thighs, wandering, needy fingers pawing and squeezing at the doughy flesh. 

And so he presses another kiss, seering the act of affection into the other side, giving both sides similar attention. But between either thigh, there was something else that awaited his attention. Your pussy growing antsy with anticipation, a slight ache forming as he attends to the other parts of you — giving your thighs and ass cheeks the attention your cunt so clearly wanted. 

Though you wait. You keep your hands clasped to your chest rather than the locks of his hair, not wanting to hasten or progress things too much, too soon.  

His kisses eventually circle inwards and he places one to the centre of your folds, the light, brief moment of contact having more of an effect on you than you’d have expected. It was the attention to detail that caught up to you, the slow, timely movements allowing things to build up naturally for you.

He halts with the kisses for now and lines the expanse of your cunt with his tongue, trailing your folds up and down with the flat of the muscle. Unpointed pressure showing his lack of haste in the matter. He reaches your clit and his lips wrap around it, pucking yet another faint kiss. 

But he doesn’t part from it. Instead it’s like he’s latched onto it, mouth covering the sensitive nub with gentle pressure. His tongue pokes out between his lips as he swipes at your clit, flat tongue flickering over it unrushed. 

You release your firm hold around your breasts and instead place your hands atop his head, unable to keep yourself from touching him. Your fingers slot into the messy strands of hair at the front, antsy fingers simply using him as something to hold onto. 

The silent act of tugging his hair is quite enough to egg him on further, to encourage him even. The way you seek him out was something he found rather endearing, erotic too. The way you sound is also quite the confidence booster, your airy deep full breaths wordlessly telling him that what he’s doing is working. That he’s doing something right. 

He parts from your clit for a brief moment to kiss back down the length of your slick cunt, lips halting at the very bottom of you. His tongue sharpens as he begins to lick up you, the slight point curling up against your entrance with the movement. Though that's all it is. Nothing more comes from that little teasing dip into you. 

He laps at your arousal only to spit it back onto your pussy, combining your juices with spit of his own. And it becomes apparent that he’s starting to grow lost in the act, freestyling and abandoning his intricate, mental step by step. Like a sense of pressure and worry leaves his shoulders as he listens to your pants, your bodily reactions continuing to tell him that he’s doing a good job.

Peter retracts a hand from the cheek of your ass, instead moving it towards your cunt. He lines over the mess of your folds with his index, trailing over the spit and juice and arousal as he itches it closer to your entrance. His lips and tongue resume their attention on your clit while his finger begins to guide into you. Easing in with no resistance at all. 

He locates what he guesses to be your g-spot, the ridges and bumps of it later telling him that he’s correct. And so he starts to rub the pad of his finger against it, mimicking a ‘come hither’ motion.

And once again, your reactions guide him: fingers gripping tighter in his hair, breaths growing ragged and strained, hips winding, chest rising and falling. Every single one of your bodily responses coming from a place of deep, unwavering pleasure. His research didn't need to tell him that you were beginning to near your end, he could just feel it.

Many minutes pass with Peter repeating those few movements, the combination seriously altering the ability to control your volume. You whine and pant against him, the hands that once laid atop his head now sit on his shoulders, your force trying to push him away from between your thighs. The feelings of it all growing too intense. 

But that’s not what you really wanted. You didn’t want him to stop and he knew that also.

You feel that pressure build in the pit of your stomach and without much time to prepare, you're writhing against him, an unfamiliar sense of tension accompanying. His finger acts as a plug inside you as he awaits the moment, only retracting when the time feels right. He pulls his index and lowers his mouth, relocating to the bottom half of your cunt — lining himself with you to swallow as much of your squirt as possible. 

And once your convulsing and spasming subsides, he’s pressing soft, reassuring kisses to the inners of your thighs, making conscious effort to help you down easily. He adjusts and repositions himself, moving up the length of your body to hover atop you, face now close with yours once again. His cheeks blushing with pride.

His lips ghost yours and you taste yourself. 

“That was so embarrassing,” you mutter against him, head turning away bashfully.

He maintains eye contact, his head tilting with yours as if to signify the importance of what he’s about to say.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[mrgoldmc26]

Yuna goes to School Part 1

Tags: Different sexual partners, blowjob, anal, creampie, lots of dirty talk, spanking, school sex, cum swallowing, facial, daddy kink and more...

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the long wait for another chapter. I hope you guys like this one. Decided to try something new, not only in terms on kinks, but also writing style. Wanted to make some words stand out (in terms of their meaning), so I made them bold just add that little extra umpf to it.

Also, no way near as many pics as in my other chapters, because I wanted to keep the theme of this chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

"Ten more days in this shithole, and I'm free forever." Yuna thought to herself.

Life as an idol wasn't easy, especially if you were still in school. There wasn't a single spot inside the school where Yuna could go without feeling someone looking at her. Because she had debuted with Itzy at such a young age, almost 3 years ago, it meant she was by far the most popular girl in the school, and with that came great responsibilities.

There was a lot of pressure on her at all times. She couldn't get caught lacking. Yuna had to look flawless at every moment. She also had to be extremely careful with what she said and did, or else all it took was one video out of context and her career would be over, just like that. But perhaps most importantly, just like any other student, her grades had to be top-notch. Netizens would destroy Yuna online if they found out she was just as dumb as the average BTS fan...

Unfortunately for Yuna, balancing idol life with school studies was starting to get increasingly more difficult, and with the final exam just around the corner, she knew she needed help.

Knowing this, Yuna decided to head over to the school library, where she luckily found the smartest student in the whole school. He was one of those prodigy kids...a black guy that came to Korea through one of those exchange student programs. Not only was he the smartest guy in the school, but he was also in her class, which meant that if there was anyone who could help her, it was him.

"Hey...do you mind if I sit here, next to you?"

The boy was very shy, and why wouldn't he be? Hottest girl in the school wanting to sit right next to you...a celebrity, an idol, a legend in the making, and a future icon of the business...it was perfectly normal for him to feel this way towards her, especially when she wanted to be right next to him.

He nodded very quietly, and Yuna sat down next to him.

"Can you help me study for the test? I really need it." She asked, giving him the eyes.

"Uhhmm, y-yeah...of course..."

Yuna almost burst out laughing with how much the poor boy was shaking, but she managed to hold it, and instead she just smiled at him.

The two started going over the potential exercises that could show up in the test, and it was going nicely for the first couple of minutes until Yuna decided to rest her hand on his thigh, and that's when she felt a large bulge in his pants. The guy was rock hard, just from being next to Yuna, and he shifted in his seat as soon as he felt her hand touch his boner.

"Uhmmm, sorry." Yuna said, immediately removing her hand.

The guy gulped down hard, hoping that she didn't feel how hard he was for her, but Yuna knew...Yuna knew and she wanted it...badly.

It was Yuna's biggest weakness...cocks. The bigger, the better. The more, the merrier. She couldn't help herself. Not ever since Ryujin opened her doors to this side of the universe, shortly after she turned 18, almost two months ago. Ever since the day that Ryujin invited a fan backstage after a show for a special "Meet & Greet" with both of them, Yuna couldn't think of anything else other than cocks. During classes, all she could think about was which guy she should pick to bring over to the bathroom and blow him during the intervals.

Yuna never would've guessed that this shy smart boy had a big cock, but she should've, given he was black.

As for him, he lost all composure once he felt her hand on his pants. After that, he could no longer help Yuna with studies...hell...he could barely string a sentence together...

"Do you want me to take care of that?"

"Huh?...what?!"

"C'mon, I know you want it."

"B-but...we are in the library."

"Chill, look around...there is barely anyone here, plus we are like in the most hidden corner of the library. We are not gonna get caught." Yuna said, getting off her chair and sliding to her knees.

She immediately started working on his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his ankles alongside his boxers.

"Yuna, are you sure? This is cra..fuckkkkkk"

His sentence died in his mouth as soon as Yuna took his whole length down her throat. She deepthroated his enormous black cock a few times before pulling back, and she already had multiple strings of spit dripping down her chin.

"Fuck, I love sucking big black cocks." She said, giving his shaft a few strokes before sliding her lips past his dick and taking him into her mouth once again.

The guy was in utter disbelief of how he managed to get into this situation in the first place, but he didn't care. He very well knew this was his only chance of fucking a K-Pop idol, and he wasn't going to waste it. He no longer cared if he got caught, and neither did Yuna.

He remained seated on the chair and let Yuna do all the work. The 18-year-old idol happily bobbed her head up and down on his big black cock and kept slurping away. The guy threw his head back as Yuna constantly choked herself on his dick.

"Yuna...I'm not going to last much longer."

Yuna smiled with his cock in her mouth and kept sucking his dick for a couple more seconds before releasing him with a loud pop in the practically empty school library.

"Good...then don't. Stand up, fuck my face, and cum down my throat." She said, holding his massive black cock with both of her hands and rapidly stroking it whilst sliding her tongue across his sensitive tip.

Every word that came out of the mouth of Itzy's maknae fueled his lust for her, and his shy barrier was rapidly cracking. He was eager to fulfill Yuna's request, and so he stood up, put his hands on each side of her face, and started smashing his cock into the back of Yuna's throat. Yuna proudly gagged around his black cock like the naughty student that she was and took it all the way down. Her school uniform was covered in drool in just a matter of seconds, but that didn't stop him from thrusting his hips and giving Yuna all of his cock.

Seeing Yuna on her knees with her mouth stuffed full of his brown cock only made him grow in confidence, and he decided to show her this by slapping the left cheek of her face with his right hand a few times, until it became red. Yuna was loving every single second of it, and she made sure to tell him by removing his hard dick from her mouth and slapping her face with it for a couple of seconds.

Yuna's efforts on his cock sent him to a point of no return, and he quickly grabbed hold of her hair and shoved his dick right back into her mouth. Yuna's eyes were wide open as she got caught by surprise, but she didn't mind it. She loved it, actually. Loved feeling his hard cock slide past her lips each time he went in and out of her mouth. Loved feeling his heavy balls hit her chin with each thrust. And she fucking loved when he eventually blew his load inside her mouth, sending multiple ropes to the back of Yuna's throat, filling it entirely.

She tried to swallow everything, but it was too much cum, even for someone like Yuna, and she had no other option but to spit half of his seed onto her uniform. It created a large stain that would be pretty difficult to hide, but that was the last thing on Yuna's mind right now...

"Fuck, I didn't know you had so much cum."

"Yeah, well...black men always cum a lot, you should know."

"True, but I don't think the cum I've sucked out of black dicks so far compares to yours."

"Didn't you turn 18 like a month ago or something?"

"I did, but I've got some experience already...Ryujin unnie is teaching me the ropes."

Yuna's reply made his cock twitch, and it only got harder when Yuna stood up and turned around. She gave him a brief smile over her shoulder before bending over and sliding down her soaked panties.

She shook her butt a little bit, as if she was begging him to slide his dick inside her.

"Yuna, what the fuck...I...I can't. It's still sensitive."

"But it's hard, and I want it. Don't you wanna fuck my tight pussy with that big cock?"

"You are crazy..."

"Crazy for cock, yes. Now shut up and fuck me. And don't you dare pull out. I want you to cum inside me."

There was no chance in hell that he was going to give up on this offer, and so he placed his hands on Yuna's waist and started teasing her by rubbing his hard dick between her pussy lips.

"Don't tease me, please. Put that dick inside me and fuck me hard."

"I need that huge cock inside me right now."

Cock was what she craved, and cock was what she got when the guy slowly slid his entire length into Yuna's cunt. Yuna was extremely tight, which was always going to be the case given how young she was, however, luckily for him, she was indeed very wet, and with the blowjob from earlier, it made his cock slip in and out of her Korean pussy not as difficult of a task as one might think.

He pumped her at a steady pace, not slow or fast. All he wanted was to feel her walls and the way they hugged big black cock perfectly, as if Yuna was born to take such a huge dick (which she definitely was).

The longer he fucked her, the more Yuna begged him to go harder, and once he did, she started moaning loudly. His reactions were insanely fast, and he quickly put his right hand over her mouth, preventing Yuna from revealing their location to the one or two people still inside the school library at that time.

"Are you fucking crazy? Do you wanna get caught?" He asked, removing his hand so she could answer.

"Sorry...Fuckkk, I can't help it. It's too good. Your cock is just so fucking perfect...It's much bigger than any other black cock I've taken so far."

"And no...I don't wanna get caught. All I want is your cum, so please...give it to me."

"Pull my hair and pump me full of cum. I wannabe your BBC slut."

With his hand back over her mouth and now a grip on her hair, he began fucking Yuna hard and rough. Her moans might've been muffled, but anyone who would come close to their proximity, could 100% hear the sound of Yuna's cheeks getting absolutely clapped and pounded with immense force...he did not hold back, whatsoever.

At that time, the library was nothing more than Yuna's sex chamber...a place for her to be fucked and ruined by a fellow classmate that had a ridiculously huge black cock.

Yuna took his cock like a pro and let him use her as his personal toy. A few seconds of rubbing her clit after putting her hand between her legs was all it took to make her cum on his cock, and once she did, her legs almost gave up. In fact, if not for him or the table that she was currently being bent over, Yuna would've collapsed to the ground. Instead, she was able to just remain there and take his big black cock over and over and over again, with her pussy being stretched to the absolute limit.

With fear that someone else might hear him, he didn't tell Yuna that he was close and instead kept hammering away at her pussy. He fucked her balls deep, and after a couple of more minutes of using Yuna as his personal cumslut, he unloaded inside her just like she asked.

"Oh my god, fuckkkk. It's so warm...I can feel your cock throbbing inside my pussy."

"I can't believe I just fucked a K-Pop idol inside the school..."

"It definitely won't be the last time. I can guarantee you that." Yuna replied, as the guy pulled out his cock and watched as his cum slowly leaked out of Yuna's pussy and ran down her thighs before falling onto the floor.

And she was right...it wasn't the last time. For the entirety of the next week leading up to the final exam, Yuna and him fucked her all over the school, in the most hidden of spaces. She took his cock everywhere...in her mouth, in her pussy and she even let him have her ass. Yuna let him use her as his personal cumdispenser. All that Yuna could think about was him and his huge black cock, that it actually caused a huge problem for her...she didn't study. She actually didn't study...not one bit. Yuna was fucked, and not in the good way.

The final exam was a disaster for Yuna. For the next two days after the exam, she prayed that it was enough to pass. When the day of receiving her grade arrived, her professor waited for the very last minute of the class to hand out the results. He had the exams on a stack on top of his table and told everyone to grab theirs and leave his classroom. Yuna was the very last one to grab hers because she feared the worst, and her professor confirmed her fears before Yuna even had the chance to pick up her exam and look at her grade.

"Shin Yuna...what happened?"

"Professor...I don't know..."

"It pains me to do this to you...to end your career, just because of a test..."

"Please, don't do this...this can't get out...I need a passing grade, or else it's all over...my dream of becoming an idol will end." She said, walking over to his side of the desk with the most pleading face she could pull.

"Yuna...I can't do anything for you. My hands are tied. I'm sorry."

"You can't, but...maybe I can do something for you..." Yuna said, slowly reaching over to his crotch with her hand.

"Yuna, what are you doing? I can't do this."

"Your dick says otherwise." She replied, feeling his cock already getting hard.

"I can't do this...I can't risk my job."

"Nobody is going to find out. Everyone has already left."

"It's just me, you, and your big cock." She added, felling him getting harder and harder with each rub.

"Yuna...fuckkkk."

"No...fuck...shit...I can't do it. I'm married."

"Oh, come on...I see the way you look at me when I'm in class. I know you want to fuck me." She said, as she stopped working on his pants and moved behind him to give him a massage on his shoulders.

"I see the way you arrive every day...stressed. Is your wife not doing the job, Mr. Professor?"

"Is she not draining those balls properly?" She doubled down, whispering in his ear.

"Don't you wanna fuck a hot, popular K-Pop idol?"

"Yuna, please don't do this...I can't cheat on my wife. We've been married for over 30 years."

"We met in this exact school. We are high-school sweethearts. She's the only woman I have ever been with."

"Well, time to add another one to the list, then..." Yuna said, lifting her school uniform and briefly flashing him her tits.

"Yuna, what the fuck!"

"C'mon, touch them. I know you want to."

Her teacher was unable to take his eyes off her small breasts, but he remained professional, and didn't reach out for them. In the end, it didn't really matter, because Yuna reached out to grab his right arm and placed his hand directly on her tits, forcing him to feel them.

"Yuna!!!"

"Shhhhhhhhhh." She said, by pressing her finger to his lips, forcing him to stay quiet.

"Here is what's going to happen..."

"You are going to pull out your cock, and I'm gonna suck it like the good little slut that I am."

"Afterwards, I'm going to let you use me as your anal slut and you're going to pound the shit out of my asshole until you paint my insides."

"And in return for giving you the best sex you will ever have, I want you to change my grade to A+."

"Do we have a deal...daddy?"

A hard cock in his pants combined with a handful of her tits plus the dirty talk...Yuna knew she had him on the palm of his hands, and he knew that too. It was physically impossible for him to resist Yuna and the chance to fuck one of the hottest K-Pop idols of all time, even though she was still only 18 years of age.

After a brief moment of silence and consideration, only three words left his mouth.

"Lock the door."

"Victory." Yuna thought to herself.

With a smile on her face, she turned around and did what she was told. After locking the door, she walked over back to him. She tried to lean in and kiss him, but he had other plans.

He spun Yuna around and pushed her against his desk, bending her over at a 90º angle. Her head was pressed sideways against the cold steel table, and despite wanting and needing this to happen, this wasn't in her bingo card.

"What are you doing, daddy?"

"I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"A lesson of what happens when cute little girls like you decide to behave like naughty dirty sluts." He added.

"Hmmm, well, you are my teacher, so...teach me. Teach me what happens to dirty sluts like me."

"You wanna know what happens, Yuna? They get punished, and that is what I'm going to do to you...I'm going to punish you for being a dirty slut."

"Hmmmm, okay...I like the sound of that. How are you going to do that?"

Her question went unanswered, with the professor opting to remain silent and let his actions speak for themselves. He grabbed her mini skirt and pulled it down slowly, watching her supple and round butt appear from under it, only made bigger and more inviting by her perfect wide hips.

"Pfffff...of course you're not wearing any panties...fucking slut..."

Yuna just smiled and waited for her punishment. In that position, Yuna thought she was in for a nice hard spanking coming from her professor, and her thoughts were confirmed when she saw him reach for a large wooden ruler on his desk, right next to where she was bent over.

With the 18-year-old folded in half over his table and her bare butt sticking out, he raised his right arm and started giving her some nice hard slaps across her buttcheeks, as a nice warm-up for what was about to go down.

"Slap me harder, daddy. I've been such a naughty student."

"Yeah...you have. Why did you stop studding? Your grades have fallen off a cliff this past couple of weeks." He responded, not only with his words, but also with a hard smack across her ass, leaving his handprint on her cheek.

"Fuckkk...I was too busy sucking cocks left, right, and center."

"You will not make it in this industry, Yuna. One day, people will find out how much of a slut you really are, and your career will be over."

"I don't care about the future...I care about the present...the now."

"I love being a naughty, dirty, slutty, cock hungry bitch. I love sucking cocks and getting fucked by guys with big dicks."

"And right now...I want that. I want you to punish me until you deem me worthy of your huge cock, daddy."

Lust had taken over Yuna's mind, and for her, this was no longer about her grades or her future. The only thing Yuna cared about was getting fucked and used by her teacher. Yuna wanted him to dominate her, and that is what he did. He grabbed her arms and put them behind her back before taking a few steps back and admiring his work. Yuna...the 18-year-old K-Pop idol...Itzy's maknae...bent over his desk wearing nothing but the school uniform, with her holes exposed for him and him only. The grin on his face said it all, and he was ready to put Yuna in her place.

He put the ruler in his hands and gave her a swift but not too hard slap. Yuna let out a soft moan once she felt the large wooden object hit her skin, and she smiled every time he spanked her with the ruler.

"Hit me harder, c'mon. Make me your slut." She said, shaking her butt from side to side.

Her teasing only made his cock throb against his pants even more, and if Yuna wanted it harder, she was going to get it. The professor pulled his arm further than before and began hitting her with his ruler. Yuna's cheeks shook with each spank and she bit her lip hard. She was enjoying the constant stinging sensation on her buttcheeks, and the handprint that was previously on her ass had been replaced by numerous red marks. However, unsurprisingly, she wanted more.

For a horny slut like Yuna, being butt naked and bent over a table whilst getting spanked in a classroom inside the fucking school was just simply wasn't enough for her. As for her professor, it was dreamland. He had easily the hottest girl in the school, half naked in front of him. That alone in any other scenario would be enough to send any man into a euphoric state, but Yuna wasn't any other girl...

She was an 'It Girl' of the K-Pop industry. Yuna was already so famous that it was practically impossible to step foot outside without seeing her face on a big ass billboard. To have someone that famous...that talented...that rich, right in front of you and at your mercy...it's something capable of turning any man into a lust-frenzied animal, and in this case it was no different.

Her teacher kept unleashing a barrage of spanks on her ass, and those were always met with the same word.

"Harder!"

Yuna was a complete masochist, and he fucking loved that. At the start, he was a bit afraid of hitting her hard, but now he wasn't holding back anymore. With each slap, the ruler left a nasty red mark, and the sounds of it hitting her ass echoed inside the classroom.

"HARDER!"

Yuna wasn't the only one taking a beating, as all this spanking was absolutely draining his energy, and Yuna could feel that because of the longer time between each hit. He took a step back for a little bit of a breather and admired the damage that he had done. Yuna's cheeks were so red that it was as if she had decided to tan only that part of her body.

"Do you want to spank me some more, or do you want to put your hard dick inside my mouth and make me choke on it?"

"S-Shut up...shut up and spread that asshole for me, slut." He said in between heavy breaths.

Yuna didn't waste any time and put her fingers between her asscheeks. As soon as her fingertips made contact with her skin, she felt just how much pain she was really in. It was going to be a long time before she could sit her sweet ass on any surface...

She was still eager to comply, so she grabbed her asscheeks once again and spread them wide, to give him the perfect view of her tight little hole.

"Take a good look, daddy."

"That's what you will be pounding in just a few minutes."

"I can't wait to feel that hard cock filling me up and stretching me out."

"I bet your wife doesn't even take it up the ass, now does she?"

The bare mention of his wife turned all that lust into pure rage. He didn't want to be in this situation to begin with, but Yuna gave him no other option, with how naughty she behaved and talked. Without saying a single word, he grabbed her hands and put them on the table before taking a few steps back.

Yuna was completely unaware of what her teacher was going to do. Her head was pressed sideways against the table, and all she could do was wait in anticipation. The professor held the wooden ruler with both of his hands, as if he was holding a baseball bat or a katana and lifted it above his head before smashing it against her right cheek with all his strength.

"FUCK, OH MY FUCKING GOD, FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!" She cried out.

He used so much power that the ruler broke in half once it made contact with Yuna's ass. Even he was in shock once he saw one piece of the ruler flying across the room and the other one still in his hands. Yuna was in complete pain, and she definitely bit off more than she could chew. It was safe to say that she learned her lesson. She had spent so many moments inside that classroom over the years, and yet, despite all the pain she was in, this was still by far her favourite moment of being there.

A short moment of silence settled in the classroom, with them realizing that they had both crossed the line in their lust for each other. Yuna slowly turned around and looked him in the eyes, with a painful look on her face. As for him, he had mixed feelings all over the place. He had just smashed a wooden ruler against his student's ass so hard that it broke in half!!! And it wasn't just any student, no...it was Yuna. Someone who could easily buy his whole house. Someone who made more money in two years than him in his entire career as a teacher. And to add to that, he had his wife in the back of his mind. Technically, he wasn't cheating on her...he still hadn't had sex with Yuna. He could stop right here and walk away, but his cock had a mind of its own, and he knew he couldn't resist Itzy's maknae any longer.

"Are...are you ready for your reward?"

"Yes, daddy. I've never been more ready for cock in my whole life. I'm so wet for you."

"I'm going to suck your cock so good, that you won't be able to think of anyone else." She added.

Yuna was treading through dangerous waters. She made sure to avoid his trigger word, but he knew very well what she meant by that. He shot her an unpleasant look, before moving on.

"Good. Then get down on your knees and open your fucking mouth."

Despite his order, there was no chance in hell Yuna could sit with how sore her ass was, so instead she just squatted and unbuckled his pants before pulling them down. A wide smile appeared on her face once she was finally had his big cock in front of her.

Her hands immediately latched onto it, but swatted them away, which brought out Yuna's puppy eyes. It was if someone had just taken away her favourite toy.

She wasn't left sad for too long though, as he placed his hand on the top of her head and started slapping her face with his big dick. Yuna stuck her tongue out after the first couple of slaps and happily let him use her face for his pleasure.

Yuna loved feeling his ridiculously hard cock hitting her face and tongue, and he knew it. And despite knowing how much she was enjoying herself, he knew what she really wanted, and he decided to make her beg for it.

"Tell me what you want, Yuna. Say it."

"Please, daddy...push your cock down my throat."

"That's not good enough!" He replied, slamming his fist on the table.

"Put that big dick in my mouth and make me take it like the slut that I am. I know I can give head way better than your lame, ugly wife."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and take my cock, you fucking slut." He said, grabbing her hair and forcing his cock down Yuna's throat.

Yuna knew exactly how to trigger him, and she got what she wanted from him...his cock right into the back of her throat. No going slow...no time to adjust...none of that bullshit. Just straight up intense facefuck from the very start.

The professor held her head and kept pounding away at her face, fucking her throat without any mercy. Yuna's jaw was forced wide open, and she couldn't help but gag around his length each time it went down her throat.

Her mouth was filled with cock and she had drool all over her chin. Spit was constantly leaking out of the corners of Yuna's mouth, despite her having her lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

The only thing that could be heard inside the classroom was the sound of his balls slapping her chin and Yuna's gagging. Her throat was being demolished by her teacher's dick, and yet, she didn't want to have it any other way. He kept on using her as his personal fleshlight for a while longer, until he decided to stop his thrusts into the back of her throat. However, instead of pulling out, he remained balls deep inside her throat, taking on the view that he knew he would surely only see once in his life...

He admired the bulge of his cock in her neck and how pretty she looked with his dick stuffed down her throat.

"You look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth, you know that?"

Yuna smiled around his length, which made a lot of saliva escape her mouth and drip down her chin before it landed on her school uniform.

"So this is why you failed in the final exam, huh? Turned 18 and discovered your true passion...acting like a slut, sucking dicks, getting fucked and draining big cocks, huh?" He asked, letting his cock slip out of her mouth.

Before Yuna could even answer, he started slapping her a few times with his cock, just to make a complete mess of her face. Yuna smiled and let him rub is dick all over her lips as much as he wanted, before finally coming to a stop and letting Itzy's starlet answer his question. "I can't lie...my music career is no longer my number one priority."

"All I really want these days is a nice fat cock to play with and drain as much as I want." She said, opening her mouth for him to stick his shaft back inside.

He was slow this time, just enjoying the way her lips felt every time he slid his dick past them. Yuna hummed around his length and made sure to match his movements by slowly bobbing her head back and forth on his cock.

"You love that, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love having dick in my mouth. I love sucking huge cocks like yours." She said, releasing him from her mouth.

"Then prove it. Show me how much you love this dick, Yuna."

His words had barely left his mouth, and Yuna already taking his cock inside hers. She started to bob her head up and down his cock rapidly, making loud slurping noises each time his dick went past her lips.

Yuna made sure not to leave an inch of his cock untouched. She ran her tongue all over his balls, coating them in her spit before popping them in her mouth and sucking on them, all whilst rapidly stroking his wet cock. She then licked the underside of his shaft all the way to the tip before pushing his cock back inside her mouth, where she immediately deepthroated his entire length over and over again, gagging and coughing all over it.

She kept was choking herself on his dick and her eyes became watery, but not once did she think about stopping or pulling away. Yuna's face was turning red with each passing second, but that wasn't going to stop her.

What did end up stopping Yuna was her insatiable thirst for having his cock deep inside her holes, and after a couple more deepthroats, she released him from her mouth with a loud pop before standing up and turning around.

"Are you ready to pound my asshole, daddy?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Is that what you want, Yuna? To get fucked by your teacher?"

"Yes, I need it so badly! I want to be your naughty, slutty student, bent over your desk, waiting for her teacher's dick."

"I'm going to make you scream on my fucking cock." He whispered at her ear, before pushing her back down on the table, with her head against the cold steel surface.

Instead of going straight into the action, he decided to tease her just a little bit by running his finger up and down the length of her pussy lips. Yuna's juices were starting to drip down her legs, and her teacher used it to lube her asshole up, rubbing his fingers against her tight hole.

He then spat on his fingers and shoved three inside her asshole, basically giving her a signal that he wasn't here to play nice...Yuna was going to get it and she was going to get it hard.

Yuna let out a couple of moans once she felt his fingers enter her tight little bumhole. Her professor began pumping them in and out, stretching her as much as possible to prepare her for his big fat cock.

"You don't need to waste any time stretching me, daddy. I want your cock right now."

"I want you to break me in half, fill my tight little hole with your hot cum and claim my asshole for yourself."

Yuna's request was loud and obvious, and he was eager to give her what she wanted. He grabbed his cock and pressed it against her hole before slowly pushing his hips forward until his entire length was buried inside her tight butt.

"Oh god...fuckkkkk. That's just what I needed."

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head once she felt his whole shaft inside her, and once he slowly pulled back, Yuna knew it was about to go down.

The teacher thrust his hips inside her and began fucking her asshole. Not slow, not fast. Just the perfect pace, giving her the perfect amount of pain and pleasure without blowing his load so soon.

Her moans became slightly louder with each thrust, and they echoed inside the room. Yuna's breasts were pressed against the table, and her asscheeks jiggled every time his hips met hers.

It was practically heaven for Yuna, especially when she felt his balls slapping her pussy. The longer they went at it, the better and louder it got.

"Give me that cock. Just fuck me as hard as you can. I can take it, daddy."

"Who's a good slut for daddy's cock?" He asked, grabbing her hair with one hand and slapping her sore asscheeks with the other.

"I am, daddy! I'm your anal slut."

"I am nothing but a K-Pop idol that loves taking huge dicks up her ass!" She cried out, closing her eyes as he kept on pounding her tight hole.

Just like she had said it, Yuna was indeed his anal slut, and he loved it. Yuna's walls were squeezing him for all his worth, and he could feel the pressure building up. It was time to dump his thick load inside her asshole.

He held her hips tightly and increased his speed. If when he was spanking her earlier on, he made sure Yuna couldn't sit for a week, now he was making sure Yuna wouldn't be able to walk for a week. Yuna was being treated like an absolute fuckdoll, and she was moaning every step of the way. She curled her toes as she felt his cock splitting her open and stretching her butt, and it was becoming too much for her to handle, even for a total cumslut like Yuna.

"Oh, Yuna...I'm so fucking close."

"Fill my ass with cum, please."

His dick was going in and out of her ass as fast as he could, and with a young moaning mess like Yuna bent over in front of him, begging for cum, it was too much for him to handle and he ended up unloading a huge amount of cum inside the 18-year-old.

Almost immediately he slumped backwards, balancing himself on a student's table, and watched as Yuna remained in position, unable to move due to the pain.

"Ahhhhh, fuckkkk...daddy. So much fucking cum for me." She said, reaching for her ass and feeling the cum leak out from her butt.

She put a finger inside and collected some of his seed before bringing it to her mouth, where she unsurprisingly poured it on her tongue to taste it.

"Hmmmm...so warm and tasty. I could drink this all day long."

Tired and drained from this extracurricular activity, her teacher stood up and quickly picked up a pen before changing Yuna's exam grade.

"There, done. You got what you wanted. Now, please....leave my classroom."

"Oh, we are not done yet. I'm not leaving until I get my pussy fucked and my face covered in cum."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not. Plus, I can see that your toy is still hard for me." Yuna said, making her teacher roll his eyes into the back of his head and sigh in disbelief.

"Don't you see how wet I am for you?" She added, grabbing his hand and making him touch her wet folds.

"You are fucking crazy, Yuna..."

Her teacher caved in and began voluntarily dipping his fingers inside Yuna's pussy as the two started making out with one another. The young starlet hummed into his mouth, and the older man explored the maknae's cunt. This lasted for a couple of minutes before Yuna's thirst for cock got the better of her.

"Your cock. My pussy. Now!"

"Is that what my cumslut princess wants?" He said, putting his thumb inside her mouth and making her suck on it.

Yuna shook her head up and down and slowly swirled her tongue around his finger. Her teacher smiled and told her to turn around and place her hands on the edge of his desk. The idol patiently awaited for his next move, and after a few seconds, she felt a pair of hands on her ass. It was still sore due to all the slapping that it had endured earlier on, and she let out a soft cry because of it.

Her whimper became a moan when the professor introduced his tongue inside her cunt and started lapping at her folds.

"Oh fuck, daddyyy, hmmm. Keep eating my pussy...just like that."

He feasted on Yuna's pussy like it was a goddamn buffet, constantly swirling his tongue inside it and tasting her juices before spitting in it. The deeper he shoved his tongue in Yuna's cunt, the louder she moaned. She shut her eyes and her mouth fell open as he kept working her over. The way he was going at it, it was only a matter of time before Yuna came, and she had zero intentions of letting that happen...the only way she was going to cum today, was with his cock buried in her young fertile pussy.

"I'm going to cum if you keep that up, daddy."

"And that's a bad thing because...?"

"I want you to do it with your cock, please."

"Fuck, you are such a greedy little cock slut." He said, standing up and slapping her ass one more time just for good measure.

Having sex with Yuna had drained so much energy from him, that he had to take a moment to grab a water bottle from his bag and take a sip, or else he might've had passed out inside her, not that Yuna would complain...she probably would've ridden his cock until he woke up a few hours later...

After several seconds, he made his way back to Yuna and grabbed her leg, putting it on top of the table. He had seen way too many fancams of her, so he knew she was flexible and could easily take his big white cock in this position. He grabbed his thick shaft and rubbed it all over her pussy lips, sliding it back and forth across her folds and coating it in her wetness, much to Yuna's annoyance, as she just wanted to get fucked hard and nothing else.

"What are you waiting for, daddy? Put it in and start fucking the shit out of me."

If it wasn't for Yuna begging for his cock like the absolute slut that she was, he swore that he could've spent hours just looking at Yuna in that position...a leg on the floor and another one on top of the desk, creating the most perfect 90º angle he had ever seen. Her holes were out and in full display, with some cum still dripping down her leg...she was impossible to resist.

Most people thought that Yuna was like the forbidden fruit...nobody could have her. Except, that very much wasn't the case. Any guy half decent looking and with a big cock could have a crack at her and her tight holes, and thankfully for her teacher, he was him.

After slapping her asscheeks with his hard shaft a couple more times, he pushed his cockhead past her cunt, and he watched how her tight teen pussy swallowed the entire length. Thankfully for him, it was no way near as tight as her ass, but even then, her pussy wasn't very far behind.

Yuna couldn't help but bite her lower lip as her teacher's cock stretched her walls out. She looked over her shoulder and watched him as he slowly began to pump his dick in and out of her tight pussy.

The face Yuna was making as she was getting her pussy pounded hard was so insanely sexy that he couldn't help but grab her hair and pull her in for a kiss. Yuna moaned into his mouth as he kept thrusting in and she couldn't wait for his second load of the day.

"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock, Yuna."

He stopped kissing her and put a hand on the side of her neck to be able to watch her dead in the eyes. Yuna's mouth was wide open and her forehead was touching his. The two were so close to each other that the teacher could feel the heat irradiating from her body, but he wanted more. His hands moved to the bottom of her school uniform and he pulled it over her head, leaving Yuna only with her boots on.

Almost immediately, her breasts became the center of attention, as her professor couldn't keep his hands off them whilst he continued hammering away at Yuna's pussy. Her back was completely arched, and the position she found herself in was a testament to how insane her flexibility was. Yuna was made to be fucked...simple as that.

Everything about her was pornographic. Her gorgeous face, her insane body and her tight holes. She was perfect, from top to bottom, and she very much was a bottom. Yuna loved being a submissive slut for guys with big cocks, and with the constant pleasure of getting her pussy railed hard and fast by her teacher, combined with having his hands pinching her nipples, she couldn't hold any longer and came on his cock.

Her orgasm hit her so hard, that if it wasn't for him holding her in his arms, she would've fallen face first into his desk. Thankfully that didn't happen, and instead he kept fucking Yuna like there was no tomorrow, feeling his own orgasm approaching.

"You are such a fucking whore, you know that, right? Cumming on my cock like that."

"I know, daddy. I'm such a whore for big dicks. I love spreading my legs and letting guys use me however they like."

Her dirty talk was the final nail in the coffin, and he quickly pulled out and dragged Yuna onto her knees, where he started stroking his big dick and aiming it right at her face. Yuna wasted no time in sticking her tongue out whilst she rubbed her pussy like the good little slut that she was proud to be.

"Beg for it, Yuna. Tell me how much of a slut you are."

"I want your cum, daddy."

"I need you to cover my face with it and turn me into your personal cumdumpster."

He grinned from ear to ear and held her face close with one hand whilst he kept jerking off with the other until he finally shot his load all over Yuna's face, with some spurts going directly into her mouth. He took a few steps back and looked at the complete mess that he had done. Yuna's entire face was coated with his cum. Her cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose, lips and even hair all had cum blasted on them.

Yuna giggled upon feeling so many warm spurts land on her face, and once she stopped feeling that pleasant sensation, she took his dick into her mouth to completely milk him dry out of every last drop.

Some of the cum on her face had started to drip down her chin and drop onto her tits when she released his girthy cock from her lips, and she wasted no time in collecting that same cum and pouring it in her mouth.

"Hmmm...just as tasty as the first time."

"Thank you so much, daddy."

"I love draining cocks dry, especially when they are massive like yours."

"The pleasure was all mine, Yuna...trust me."

Yuna smiled before standing up and picking up a tissue from her bag to clean up her face and try to be as presentable as one can be after being completely fucked for the past hour. As for her teacher, he put his clothes back on and watched the young starlet as she was fixing herself. Even though he looked at a naked Yuna dressing up, all he could think about was how on earth he had managed to have sex with an insanely hot and famous K-Pop idol, who practically threw herself at him.

"I should probably go." She said, grabbing her stuff.

"Hey, don't forget your exam...you deserve it, after...you know..."

"Thanks. I hope you had fun, daddy. And just remember...if you need your cock drained, or want me to be your little slutty student again, I'm all yours."

"My...my wife is out of town for the weekend, actually...if y-..."

"Say no more. I'm in!"

"Actually...I'm in as long as you promise me you'll fuck me where your wife sleeps."

"You fucking little slut....."

End of part 1

[pitlanepeach]

The Long Way Home I Chapter Five

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — I listened to Never Be (5sos) exclusively while writing this chapter. Make of that what you will.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They sat in one of the smaller meeting rooms off the admin hallway. Too clean. Too bright. Harper sat stiffly on one side of the table, Oscar next to her, foot bouncing under the chair. Chris sat across from them with his hands folded in front of him.

Harper thought Chris looked like Oscar — or, she supposed, Oscar looked Chris.

Chris was just older. Somehow calmer than her stony faced, rarely phased boyfriend.

Although that wasn't hard right now — she wasn't sure Oscar had been calm since she barged into the boys dorms four days ago, all wide-eyed and panicked.

Chris cleared his throat gently. "Okay. First things first—you're both fine. No one's angry at you. We're not going to panic. We're just going to figure this out."

Harper nodded once. Her hands were fisted around her skirt and her shoes tapped against the floor with every nervous motion.

Chris looked between them. "That said, I'm going to ask you both some questions that might feel a little uncomfortable, but they're important. Okay?"

Oscar groaned softly. "Dad..."

Chris gave him a dry look. "You don't get to be squeamish now, mate."

Harper actually let out a breath of a laugh, but it sounded more like a cough.

Chris turned to her gently. "Harper. Have you seen a doctor, or just taken the pregnancy tests?"

"Just the tests," she told him. "I—uh, I don't have a GP here. My mum takes me to doctors all over the country. Private clinics. Some in London, some in Geneva. It just... depends where she is."

Chris nodded slowly, absorbing that. "Okay. That's fine. We can sort that out. But you do need to be seen by someone soon — someone consistent. I'll speak to your mum, just to make sure you're healthy and everything's progressing safely—"

Harper's head snapped up.

"You'll speak to my mum?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous. Her eyes were wide now, panic blooming behind them. "No. No, no, no. You can't speak to my mum. She'll lose it. She'll be even angrier if I let someone else tell her."

Oscar shifted beside her, already on edge. "Dad—"

Chris held up a hand, not unkindly. "Alright. I hear you, Harper. I do. I'm not going to call her out of the blue."

"She'll think I'm doing it to humiliate her," Harper went on, fast now, tripping over her own words. "Like I'm trying to ruin her reputation or something. She'll go nuclear. She always does when she doesn't feel in control. And this—" she gestured vaguely to her stomach, her voice cracking, "this is like her worst nightmare."

Chris watched her for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"Okay," he said gently. "Then we make a plan. You'll be the one to tell her. In your own words. On your terms. But we can't avoid this, Harper. She's your mother. She's part of this, even if it's hard."

Harper nodded, small and quick, but her hands were shaking now.

Oscar slid his hand over hers under the table, gave it a quick squeeze. She didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away either.

Chris remained calm, his tone steady. "I also need to ask—are either of you, um, involved with anyone else? Right now or before? I don't need names or details. It's just about making sure you're both medically okay."

Harper flushed red, heat creeping from her collar to her cheeks. "No," she mumbled. "Only ever Oscar."

"Only ever Harper," Oscar echoed, a beat late and way too loud.

Chris gave a small nod. "Okay. That's good to know. But we'll still need to get you both checked out. Full screenings, just to be safe."

"My mum's going to want us to see someone on her books," Harper said under her breath, eyes flicking away. "For... confidentiality reasons."

Chris blinked. "Confidentiality?"

"She—she's kind of a big deal," Harper admitted. "She founded La Ruche. It's a fashion label."

Chris's eyebrows rose, just slightly.

"And my dad was... J.J. Whiatt."

Chris leaned back, exhaled slow. "Jesus. That complicates things."

Harper's bottom lip wobbled. "I'm sorry."

Oscar shifted, dragging Harper's chair closer to his, one arm sliding protectively around her shoulders. He whispered something just for her — soft and steady — and she nodded, breathing a little slower.

Chris sat forward again. "Look, I don't want to overwhelm you. I know this is scary. But you need to tell your mum, Harper. Nothing can happen here until she knows, and things need to start happening." He stared at them for a beat. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning. If you haven't told her by then, I'll do it myself. Okay?"

There was a pause.

Then Harper whispered, "Okay."

Chris gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you. You're part of this family now, Harper. Our family. That means than I'm going to look out for you, same as we do for him."

Oscar looked up, throat tight. "Dad?"

Chris met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said. "Neither of us meant for any of this to happen."

Chris nodded. "I know. But it did. And now we handle it — like adults."

Oscar didn't respond right away. Then he reached across the table and hooked his pinky around Harper's. Held it tight.

Chris noticed. Didn't say a word. Just flipped open his notebook.

"Okay," he said. "Let's make a to-do list."

—

They sat outside Oscar's dorm window, backs against the brick wall, knees bumped together. It was stupid cold, but neither of them cared. Harper was wearing his blazer — it was two sizes too big on her and covered her skirt and made it took like she wasn't wearing anything underneath it.

She was quiet. Had been for a while.

Oscar kicked a loose stone. "You okay?"

Harper shrugged, but it wasn't a real answer. Her arms were wrapped around her knees.

After another minute, she muttered, "My mum wasn't always like she is now, you know."

Oscar looked over. She wasn't looking at him.

"She used to laugh at my jokes. Braid my hair for ballet. We used to bake Christmas biscuits together and she'd make my birthday cake every year from scratch."

He didn't say anything, just listened.

"When I was nine," she said, voice weirdly flat. "Me and my dad went on a ski trip. He thought it'd be a good bonding experience — just the two of us."

Oscar turned his full body toward her, heart sinking. Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist.

"There was a helicopter," she said. "We were flying off the mountain. There was a storm. It wasn't — nobody expected it. And we went down."

Oscar stared at her. "Wait, what?"

She nodded. "I don't remember us actually going down. I just remember waking up. I was so cold. I couldn't feel my legs. My back hurt. And my arm was... all messed up." She looked down at her hands. "Everyone died. The pilot, his co-pilot, and my dad. But I just... didn't."

"Jesus," Oscar whispered.

Harper gave a weak little smile. "Yeah."

He didn't know what to say. He didn't have the right words for helicopter crashes or dead dads. So he just sat there, panicking quietly.

She didn't seem to expect anything, though. "I've got some scars," she said. "On my back. From the crash. I usually hide them." She smiled at him, a bit wry. "I guess I got good at it."

Oscar frowned and shifted closer to her. "Wait, like... real scars?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, fake ones."

He blushed, and she sighed. Then, carefully, she tugged the back of his blazer and her white shirt up. Just enough to show him. A couple of pale, rough-edged marks trailed across her lower back, like lightning marks carved deeply into her skin.

Oscar's heart thudded at the sight of them. His throat thickened. "Shit," he said, because what else was there?

She pulled her shirt back down quickly and looked away. "It's gross. Whatever."

"No," he said fast. "No, it's not. It's not gross, it's... I dunno." He raised his hand to touch her and then dropped it again with a flush in his cheeks. "Sorry. I just — I can't believe I never noticed."

That made her snort, just a little. "It's fine. My mum didn't even visit me until three days afterwards," Harper said with a shrug. "When she did, she acted more like she was visiting some stranger in hospital than her daughter. I was crying in pain and she that I needed to suck it up because I should've just been grateful to be alive. And then she said that my crying was making people uncomfortable."

Oscar clenched his jaw. "She sucks."

Harper smiled at that, but it was a sad kind of smile. "She started treating me different after that," she said. "Like I'd made her life harder by surviving."

Oscar reached out and bumped her knee with his. "You didn't."

She sniffed. "Feels like I did."

"I can't believe you survived a helicopter crash," Oscar said after a bit, eyes still on the horizon. "You might be the luckiest person I know."

She gave him a look. "Osc. I'm pregnant. At fifteen."

He grinned faintly. "Okay, yeah. But still."

Harper choked on a laugh. "Right. Thanks," she mumbled.

"For what?"

"For not saying something stupid."

Oscar shrugged. "Just wish I could make it all better for you."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Me too."

—

Oscar slipped out of the library after study-hour and ducked behind the music building, phone pressed tight to his ear. He already knew what was coming. His dad had warned him. Still, nothing prepared him for the moment her voice broke through.

"Oscar."

It was sharp. Cracked down the middle. He flinched.

"Mum—"

"I trusted you." Her voice rose — not angry, exactly. More stunned. Wounded. "I trusted you to go to England and be smart. To focus. To take this opportunity seriously."

"I am taking it seriously."

"Clearly not seriously enough if you're knocking up boarding school girls in your dorm—"

"Mum." He winced. Cut her off. "Please don't talk about Harper like that."

There was a pause. A huff. Not quite crying. Not yet. "I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you. My son. The one I thought had more sense than this."

Oscar pressed a hand to his forehead. The wall behind him was cool against his back. "I didn't mean for this to happen." He felt like a broken record. "Neither of us did."

"No one ever means for it to happen." Her voice was tight, clipped. "And now what? What do you think happens now, Osc? A fairy-tale ending?"

"No." He was quiet a second. "No. I think we just have to deal with it."

Another pause. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. "I feel like I don't even know you right now."

That one hurt more than anything else. He stared out across the courtyard, eyes stinging. "I'm still me, Mum."

"Are you?" she snapped. Then softer, more pained. "God. You're still a baby yourself. You're fifteen."

"I know."

"You're fifteen, Oscar. And I've seen fifteen. I was fifteen. When I was your age all I cared about was Billy Joel and which shop would sell me my next pack of cigarettes."

He breathed through his nose. "I know."

Nicole didn't answer for a long time.

When she did, it was quiet. Flat. "Your father's there now?"

"Yeah."

"So, what's the plan, Oscar?" She asked on a sigh. "Are you going to raise a child together at boarding school? Split custody between the boys and girls dorms?"

"We haven't even decided anything yet."

"God," she muttered. "Oscar, I just—" Her voice cracked. "I wanted so much more for you."

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Jesus," she breathed. "Okay. Okay. I need to... I'll call you later. I'm not—I'm not in a good place to say anything else right now."

"Okay." He hesitated. "Mum?"

"What?"

"I really am sorry."

Silence.

Then, "I know, Osc. I know."

She hung up.

Oscar leaned his head against the wall, the guilt crawling under his skin like it belonged there.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stared at the astroturf where the year eights were playing tackle rugby.

And he sat there until the next bell rung.

—

Harper sat on the cold stone steps just below the landing outside the girls dorm — the one spot on campus where phone reception was always strongest. Her knees were pulled to her chest, Oscar's racing hoodie baggy and warm on top of her school uniform. She'd been staring at her phone for ten minutes.

The screen glowed.

Mummy (Victoria)

She tapped the call icon before she could think too hard.

It rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times—

"Harper?" Victoria Whiatt's voice was sharp, brisk. "It's a school night. Why are you calling?"

Harper's voice caught in her throat. She tried to swallow it back down. "I — Hi, Mum," she whispered. "Can you... would you be able to come to Haileybury, please?"

Silence.

"It's just that... I need you," she said, the words tumbling out. "Please. Mum—Mummy, please." She closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I need you to come. I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

"Harper," her mother said, voice clipped with impatience. "What's going on? Have you done something wrong? Are you in trouble? God, do I need to call my lawyers?"

Harper pressed the heel of her palm to her eye. She didn't want to say it like this. She'd planned to be calm. Clear. Strong. But now her whole body was shaking and she was begging her mother — calling her mummy out-loud for the first time since she was eight — and it had all turned into a big mess.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. But I need help. I don't know what to do, and I'm scared, and—"

"You're what?" Victoria's voice was suddenly thin. "God. Jesus fucking Christ. Harper Grace — tell me you're joking."

Harper's breath hitched. "I'm not. I just—Mum, please. Please come. I need my mum. I need you."

The silence was suffocating.

When her mother finally spoke, her voice was tight. Controlled. "How far along?"

"I don't know. A few weeks. The test said three plus. I need to see a doctor but—"

Her mother cut her off with a low curse. "Christ. You're fifteen. Fifteen, Harper. You're still a child!"

"I know," Harper said, her voice breaking. "And I promise that I didn't mean for this to happen. But it has and I know that I'm stupid and an idiot and all of the other horrible things you want to call me right now — but I'm scared and alone and I need you to help me, mum."

Her mother didn't respond right away. Harper could hear something rustling — maybe papers, or her mother's laptop.

"Mum?" She whispered.

"I'm in Milan," Victoria said stiffly. "I have a show tomorrow."

"I don't care about your show." Harper's voice rose, desperate. "Please. Please just come."

A long pause.

"I'll be on a flight tonight."

Harper let out a tiny breath, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Is it his? The kart boy? Is it his baby?" She asked.

Harper nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I — Yeah. It's his baby."

"Right then. I'll be there at seven a.m. tomorrow morning." Was all her mother said. And then she ended the call.

Harper curled tighter into the stairwell wall, phone still clutched in her hand.

And then the crying started — not the quiet, clenched kind she'd perfected over the years.

But loud, messy sobs that racked her chest and made her shoulders shake.

Jane found her less than a minute later.

She didn't ask questions. Just dropped to the step beside her, wrapped both arms around her like she could hold her together, and pressed her cheek to Harper's hair.

Harper sobbed into her shirt.

Five minutes later, Oscar rounded the corner in his uniform — blazer unbuttoned, tie crooked. He paused mid-step when he saw them. Just froze.

His breath caught.

Harper, curled in on herself like something broken. Jane holding her. The echo of her crying bouncing up the stone walls.

Oscar's stomach dropped.

"Shit," he whispered, voice barely audible.

Then he moved.

He jogged the last few steps, dropping to his knees on Harper's other side. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Hey, hey," he said gently, reaching for her, brushing her hair back. "I'm here."

Harper turned blindly into his chest without thinking, her sobs still shuddering through her.

Jane shifted, giving him space, her face tight with worry.

Oscar pulled Harper into his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady at her spine. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't have to.

He just held her tighter.

"Love you," he whispered, barely more than a breath.

"Love you too." She hiccuped.

—

The classroom was cold despite the sunlight cutting across the desks in crooked lines. Harper sat with her arms folded over her notebook, pen resting in the crease of the spine. She wasn't writing. Just breathing.

Her eyes were still red and swollen.

Oscar slid into the seat beside her, spinning his pencil once before leaning close.

"You good?" He murmured.

She didn't look at him. "Not really."

He was quiet for a second, then said, in a low, overly serious voice, "The eagle is landing near the river tonight. Nest secured. Feathers ruffled, but holding."

Harper blinked at him. "What?"

"It's code," he said, a bit flustered. "My dad. Staying at the hotel near the river. He's had the heads up that he'll be meeting the Mothership tomorrow."

She winced. "Please don't call my mother that."

"Operation Parental Peace Summit is a go. He said he'll be there when she arrives. You, me, him, Queen Doom herself — roundtable discussions. Treaties. Diplomacy."

She gave a faint, exhausted laugh. "You're so ridiculous. I don't know what you're saying, Oscar."

"Code is effective," he whispered. Then he smiled at her, all teeth — and she realised that he was just messing around. Trying to make her smile.

It'd worked.

Harper hesitated, staring at the lined page in front of her. "I think..." she started. "I think the idea of not keeping — it — makes me feel worse than I thought it would."

Oscar's expression softened immediately, his eyebrows coming together. "Okay." He said quietly.

She kept her voice low. "I'm not saying I've decided. Just — I get this tight feeling in my chest when I imagine... not going through with it."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Okay."

Before either of them could say more, the teacher turned from the whiteboard.

"Mr. Piastri. Miss Whiatt. Something to share with the class?"

Oscar straightened, fake smile already in place. "Just discussing international conflict resolution, sir."

"Save it for Model UN." The teacher glared at them.

Harper hid a smile, ducking behind her hair. The teacher turned back to the board.

Oscar passed her a note under the desk.

I'm on your side whatever you decide.

Harper traced the edge of the paper with her thumb.

—

The next morning, Harper waited just outside the school reception, blazer buttoned unevenly and hands fidgeting with the hem of her pleated skirt. The courtyard was grey and thick was early morning mist, the kind that clung to skin and made her hair frizz no matter what she did to try and stop it.

She'd been up since five. Couldn't sleep. Could barely even manage the breakfast bar that Jane had shoved at her. She'd brushed her teeth twice and still felt sick.

Her fingers trembled as the black town car pulled up — sleek and silent.

The suit-clad driver stepped out and opened the back door.

Victoria Whiatt emerged like she was stepping onto a runway. Designer coat, dark glasses even in the morning haze, heels clicking across the old stone. She didn't look like she'd spent the night on a plane. She looked like she was ready for a press release.

Harper stood up straighter without meaning to.

Her mother's eyes scanned her. Once. Head to toe. "You look haggard."

"Hi, Mum," Harper said quietly.

Victoria took off her sunglasses slowly. "Is that really what they make you wear here? I don't remember it being so — juvenile."

Harper blinked.

"Your skirt is creased. And the buttons on that blazer — God, Harper, how hard is it to dress yourself like a normal, respectable person?"

"I—I didn't sleep much." She managed.

"I should think not." There was a long pause. Victoria looked around at the school buildings like they were beneath her. Then her eyes snapped back to Harper. "So." Her voice was sharp. "Where is he?"

Harper's fingers clenched around the strap of her bag. "He's with his dad. They're—waiting for us to go to meet them at the hotel he's staying at."

Another pause.

"I don't want a performance out of you," Victoria said coolly. "I don't want tears or sentiment. I want honesty. I want facts. And I want to know how you could possibly be this irresponsible!"

Harper flinched. But she nodded. "Yes, Mum."

"Fix your blazer," Victoria muttered, already turning away. "And get in the car. Which hotel?"

"The nice one. The one you stayed at when I first moved here," Harper said, forcing her voice to stay even.

Victoria exhaled slowly. "Of course. The one with the mediocre wine list and the doorman who talks too much."

She opened the passenger door with a perfectly manicured hand. Harper moved around to the other side, heart pounding against her ribs.

They sat in silence for a moment as the driver pulled away from the school gates.

"So, they've got money then?" Victoria asked, eyes still on the road ahead. Her voice was light, sharp as a needle. "That's nice. I'm sure it'll make this a lot easier."

Harper turned her head slowly, looked at her mother. The way her profile was all angles and detachment, like she was discussing stocks or seating charts — not the life growing inside her daughter.

"I want to keep the baby," Harper said.

The words landed like a brick dropped into a still pond. The ripple of them filled the car.

Victoria blinked.

Then blinked again.

Her head turned, slow and deliberate, until her eyes locked with Harper's. "What did you just say?"

Harper held her gaze. "I said I want to keep it. The baby."

Victoria stared at her like she was speaking another language. "You're fifteen."

"I know."

"You're going to ruin your life."

Harper's throat tightened, but she didn't look away. "Like I ruined yours?"

Victoria's lips parted, then closed. She looked out the window again, something flickering behind her eyes. "This isn't a dog, Harper," she said finally, voice thin and brittle. "You don't just get to decide that you’re going to keep it. You're still a child — you're not old enough to make that decision. God, imagine it, Harper Grace. Imagine what people would say? Your father's name—"

Harper swallowed, hard. "Dad would've understood. He would've hugged me. Told me he loved me. He might've been disappointed — but he wouldn't have treated me like you are right now."

Victoria's jaw tensed. Her fingers curled against her lap, white-knuckled. "You don't get to invoke him," she said, low and venomous. "Not when you've made a circus out of everything he built for you."

Tears burned the corners of Harper's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. "I'm not trying to hurt you, mum," she whispered. "I'm just trying to do what feels right in my gut. For me. For Oscar. His dad—"

"Oh, wonderful," Victoria snapped. "The 'pit crew' is standing by." She made physical quotations around the words.

Harper flinched again. Looked down at her hands. "Please, Mum. Please don't shut me down like that. I'm scared, alright? I know that this was my fault, mine and Oscar's. But we've talked, okay? We've talked about it, about keeping it or not. And we — we both agree that it feels right to keep it."

Victoria was silent.

Then she sighed, the long, tired kind that Harper remembered from fittings and fundraisers and end-of-term reports that were anything but a 99 or above.

"I'm not shutting you down. I'm here, aren't I?" She bit out. "God knows why I even bothered. We could've done this over the phone."

Harper knew that was the closest thing to an "I love you" that she was going to get.

NEXT CHAPTER

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[darkmatilda]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the static of the radio, the lights turned off, and the two of you side by side on the couch—miles apart. spencer had lost the person he loved most, and even though you stayed loyally by his side, he began to slip through your fingers, unaware that if you could, you would’ve given him the moon.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female!non bau reader, angst, situationship?? right after maeve's death so spencer's grief and depression, lots of domestic scenes but not much talking, apathetic spencer, reader takes care of him, mention of reader's lack of appetite/forcing herself to eat, party at rossi's spencer gets drunk, reader is scared to go home alone, make out, spencer mentions maeve... in bed..yelling at each other, no idea what the heck that ending is spencer is so but the reader is also doing something questionable youll prob want to shake her by the shoulders and yell at her oooh and inspired by phoebe bridgers song 'moon song'

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9.8k

𝐚/𝐧: i think it’s pretty sexy of me to post angst at 3 am. have fun xx

Dozens of gift baskets at the door.

You started counting them instead of the minutes that would pass before Spencer finally opened the door for you. Or, more likely—before you’d let out a heavy sigh, trying to blow off that gnawing sense of failure (which, of course, wouldn’t work), and walk away. Step by step, slowly descending the stairs, secretly hoping that before you reached the bottom, you’d hear the sound of his apartment door opening.

And then...you weren’t sure

You had never before found yourself in a situation where the most important person to you had lost their most important person.

You didn’t move. Instead, you raised your hand to knock again, but it just hung there in the air, limp at the wrist, and dropped without making a sound. You had a feeling it was pointless. You could start kicking the door, and he still wouldn’t open. His girlfriend—his Maeve—had been killed just a few days ago, right in front of his eyes. It was obvious he wouldn’t want to talk to you, or even see you, let alone let you in.

Anyone, not just me, you thought, glancing at the baskets lined up by the door, as if this could offer you any comfort.

The thought of backing away so quietly felt unbearable. You had to do something—send him some kind of message, even the simplest one. Something that would make it through the grief surrounding him—not to dissolve it, but to settle inside it. To let him know that you had been there, and would be, no matter the day or hour. Not necessarily on his staircase, but there. In all of it.

There, for him.

In the end, you knocked.

“Spence,” you said his name gently—loud enough, though, to pass through the wall and the door. Standing so close to the surface, your temple nearly touched it. You waited a moment—not counting it in your head anymore, just letting it pass. “Hey, Spence. I’m here.”

You said it, and your lips itched with the need to say more.And it was supposed to be just a simple message. A simple message might have done the job if he were just having a bad day—you would’ve wanted to show him that you could talk about it. Not in a situation that felt like the weight of three generations’ worst days crashing down on the shoulders of one man.

You took a deep breath.

“Spence, I’m here,” you repeated. “You don’t have to talk to me, but I want you to know that I’m here. For you.”

You waited like that for a moment, with the air caught high in your lungs, as if your body believed the door would open and only then you’d be able to let it go—at the sight of him. But time passed in the stairwell, and no sound came from his apartment. As if he wasn’t even there.

Worry wrapped itself around you so tightly, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t walk away, like you’d assumed you would at the start. Besides, your thoughts and concerns were so wrapped up in him that you didn’t even know how you’d go home. Not even morally—more like, what else would you even do? Chew through cardboard food and lie under the covers, too worried about how he was to fall asleep.

That state was inevitable if you got no answer.

So, you stayed.

You wondered if this was how dogs felt. Keeping watch, waiting for their owners to return—even if they wandered off to another room, still bound by some invisible chain to that spot by the door. Their confusion and sense of pointlessness offset by loyalty.

By the door, gently leaning against the threshold, hands tucked into the pockets of your coat.

Time was passing—of course it was—but you didn’t feel it, at least not in any sharp way.

When your legs started to ache, you simply shifted in place, taking two small steps, and only then realized that the grayness in the stairwell had deepened.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a sound.

You immediately stepped back, even though you didn’t care how pitiful you might look to him.You even straightened up, silently scolding yourself for not preparing anything to say. Were condolences appropriate? No—he definitely wouldn’t want to hear your condolences. The phrase felt so dry it sent a shiver of unease down your spine. I’m sorry? Just a plain I’m sorry? Or should you skip it altogether? Did you really have to spend your time thinking about dogs instead of preparing literally any kind of plan?

With dread, you pushed your brain cells into action, ready to fire off the most emotional and supportive ramble you could manage the moment Spencer opened the door—but he didn’t.

You blinked. You had clearly heard the sound of the lock turning. Imagination, or…? Yes, you hesitated. But everything pointed to him letting you in. He hadn’t invited you in directly, but under the circumstances, you were grateful even for that. You stepped inside.

You stepped inside—and immediately collided with darkness.

You had been in Spencer’s apartment before.

It had always reminded you of silence—a pleasant, peaceful kind of silence that begged to be exchanged for the sound of pages turning and quiet conversation. A silence threaded with the warm light of the setting sun filtering through one of the half draped windows, casting a glow that brought out the details in the vintage furniture while simultaneously concealing—or at least softening—the optional mess within.

Though mess might have been the wrong word. The space simply evoked the image of a genius’s desk, and those had never been synonymous with pedantic order.

In that moment, the silence inside was one of those crushing kinds that seemed to whisper intruder with every step you took forward. Like an abandoned building in a postapocalyptic world, your stomach knotted at the memory of what this place used to look like—and it had only been a few days.The windows tightly covered, and the air thick with a warm, heavy scent that spoke of how long they'd remained unopened. There was a certain density to it.

If he had let you, the first thing you would’ve done was open all the windows for a moment, let a bit of life in. But you didn’t want to confirm the words whispered by the silence, didn’t want to truly act like an intruder. So you tore your gaze away from the papers and objects difficult to identify in such darkness, though clearly out of place.

A step in his direction—toward the shadow sitting on the edge of the couch. You slowly took a seat beside him, at a certain distance. The cushion beneath you was sunken, warm, suggesting he had been lying or sitting there for so long it had fully adjusted to the shape and temperature of his body.

You knew that if you looked at him, Spencer wouldn’t return your gaze. Just like him, you kept yours fixed blankly ahead, not allowing yourself even the slightest glance, because it felt like even that might bore a hole into him. You breathed quietly, too, letting him slowly get used to your presence. He hadn’t seen anyone since that day, hadn’t let anyone in. Not even his friends—those who had seen it, who had known him years longer than you.

You didn’t even want to spiral into analyzing what that could mean. Whether he considered you more important than the others, whether he thought he could rely on you the most—or the opposite, that you were distant enough for him to let himself fall apart in front of you, because it still felt as if no one had really seen him.

Oh, and you were just starting to do it. You drew in a breath, one that trembled on its way to your lungs. You still had no idea what would be best to do, and only after sitting in silence for a while did it finally hit you that anything you might say would be wrong. It would be inappropriate, it would be an intrusion, it would desecrate the shield of isolation he had wrapped around himself. But that was exactly what you had to do. Isolation wasn’t a shield. It only gave that impression. You knew that, even from experience.

“What I said in the hallway,” you finally spoke, your voice hoarse, because in reality more time had passed than it felt like. “I really meant it.”

Only then did you turn your head toward him, swallowing hard. His hair was messily scattered on both sides, obscuring his expression—you couldn’t read him. Not that there was anything to read. You knew the text you’d find on his face would be painfully simple. A blank page, without even a page number at the bottom.

Draped over his hunched shoulders was a thin brown robe. Lighter in shade than the leather couch you both sat on, the edge of which his hands rested upon—not clenched, but not relaxed either. You leaned slightly forward, turned toward him, your chest near your joined knees, your gaze gently fixed on him.

“I don’t know if you saw, but your friends left quite a lot of things at your door,” you told him. “They care about you.”

You had deliberately avoided the word worry, not wanting it to sound like it was his fault. Still, you instantly regretted speaking at all. You had only meant to remind him, quietly hoping that maybe there would be a shift in his slow, shallow breathing, maybe a slight nod to show he was aware.

But of course, nothing like that happened—only the silence between you grew thicker than the air around you. Thick from your helplessness. Thick from your awareness of that helplessness.

At that point, you were already certain he wouldn't talk to you. Your presence brought him no relief, but the pain he was feeling was too overwhelming for him to feel discomfort because of it. So, he probably endured you. Maybe even tolerated you—in the end, he had opened the door. Both to your silence and to your voice. 

You drew your knees up to your chest, resting your heels on the couch and sinking your back into its support. Spencer himself wasn’t leaning back, his shoulders drooping faintly forward.

“I’ll tell them I saw you,” you added after a moment, once again referring to his team, his friends without really understanding why. “They, um, it’ll probably ease their minds a bit. Unless you don’t want me to contact them, in that case—”

You cut yourself off, sighing at the complete senselessness of your words. Unless you don’t want to, you said, as if there were anything else he did want, aside from for all of this to just be over. Sitting back against the couch, your eyes landed on the back of his head and his hunched shoulders—that’s where they stayed.

He hadn’t moved at all since you stepped inside.

“Have you eaten anything today?” you asked. Already knowing you wouldn’t get a reply, and deep down knowing the answer anyway. “Is there something you need? Something I can do for you?”

You weren’t used to having a conversation with a ghost, so after every question your lips stayed parted, just in case he actually answered and you could then say thank you for letting me take care of you.

You closed your eyes.

“Spencer, please, say someth—” you interrupted yourself, pressing your hand firmly to your forehead, something he obviously couldn’t see. Finally, pulling your gaze away from his back, you felt your body lift on its own. “I’m gonna make you a sandwich,” you announced, standing over him for a brief moment. No protest came, though part of you wished he would object. You sighed. “And I’llopen the window for a moment. It’s impossible to breathe in here.”

You set about doing everything you’d mentioned. You stopped trying not to be an intruder. You were an intruder. And you intended to be one hell of an intrusive intruder if it was going to do him any good. Gently, you slid the window open, expecting the rays of the setting sun to strike the depressing grayness of his apartment—only to realize the sun had long since set. For a moment, you froze in surprise at how quickly time had passed, and how you hadn’t even noticed.

But you quickly pulled yourself together and moved toward his fridge, narrating out loud everything you were doing. You couldn’t stand the silence any longer, couldn’t keep pretending you agreed with it.

“With peanut butter, okay?” you asked, as if he might answer. When he didn’t, you stopped pleading with your eyes and just kept going. “Well, there’s some ham here, but I’m doubtful about how fresh it is. Oh, and you have jam, good. Oh no, wait, it’s empty. Too bad. Tomorrow I’ll buy you a new one, and I’ll throw out that ham. Is it okay if I come by again tomorrow?” Unlike before, this time you really hoped for an answer. Because you were going to come either way, whether he wanted you to or not, but it would mean a lot if he did.

You returned to the couch with a plate of two sandwiches, which you placed in front of him, taking one for yourself, because eating is always easier when someone is doing it with you. Finishing it came with considerable effort, your stomach clenched since the morning and, as always, the silence in his apartment made you entirely focused on the process. Saliva softening the bite, it turning into a mush that should have been easier to swallow, but there was something disgusting in it, something that triggered a gag reflex. Dragging out the eating also allowed you to stay with him longer without the awkwardness (felt only by you) of sitting next to each other, saying nothing, doing nothing, not even looking at one another.

When the moment of your departure came , which you had already delayed, some time had passed since you last spoke, and your throat was dry, you hadn’t had anything to drink in a while. But you didn’t want to leave without a word. You also didn’t know what to say. So, after a long struggle with yourself, you slightly leaned toward him on the couch and gently rested against his hunched back, your hand on one of his shoulders.

The movement of his body as he breathed, his shoulders rising and falling, the scent of his body and clothes — all those little things reminding you that somewhere in there, he was still there.

*

The next day you came at the same time, and surprisingly, the door was waiting for you open.

You let in a bit of light and made two more sandwiches, first throwing out the one he hadn’t eaten the day before. Just like you’d promised, you bought jam — but it didn’t make the process of eating any more pleasant, like you’d thought it might. Still, you forced yourself to finish it.

Through the slightly open window came the sound of passing cars. While the people driving them were heading somewhere, you, sitting on the brown leather couch, felt like you were in some surreal cage that blocked the passage of time — which wasn’t a good thing at all. When time doesn’t pass, nothing changes.

*

“Can I turn on the TV?” you asked.

A long moment passed before Spencer glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and an even longer one before he spoke.

“If you have to.”

You had to.

That particular day, the weight of the silence on your shoulders was simply too much. It wasn’t the second day you had visited him, not even the third — one of many, you’d stopped counting. Each one followed the same routine, everything that came before it a little blurred. Then you would reach his apartment, and things — not just him, but the rest of your life and its problems — would come crashing down on you. Sitting there, as usual, with your heels up on the couch, you felt like there was something so gnawing inside of you that you wanted to grow claws and scratch it out.

You needed to consume some kind of numbing medium — something that would drown you out so thoroughly that not a single thought could manage to settle in your brain for more than a second. You started looking for the remote, unaware that it was lying right next to Spencer’s hand.

He spoke to you, but only in the absolute bare minimum. Only when you asked him something — which, all things considered, was progress, and every time it happened, it made you soften just a little. And calm down. Because suddenly you realized that all your efforts weren’t for nothing.

Eventually, you found the remote and pointed it at the TV. Nothing happened. You tried again, frowning.

“Batteries,” Spencer said.

You looked at him, trying not to show how surprised you were by this sudden remark. Since there was now some kind of natural flow between you, you wanted to keep it that way — not act as though it was shocking or unusual. And there was no irritation at all in the way you tossed the remote aside.

For a moment, you sat in silence, wondering whether, since he seemed to be in a somewhat talkative mood, you should try to draw him out a bit. Nothing that might scare him off no how are you feeling. But maybe you could mention the book you’d been reading, like you did yesterday. Back then he only listened or at least, it seemed like he did.

“But you also have a radio here, right?” you asked, suddenly remembering.

Before he could answer (if he even intended to), you sprang to your feet and returned a moment later not only with the small device and its antenna, but also with a sense of satisfaction.

When you sank back onto the couch, a momentary feeling of brightness filled you—quickly blurred, however, as you frowned and realized you had no idea how to work the damn thing.

Only static came from it, more grating than the silence—which, in your current state, was a shocking realization. You struggled with it for a moment, leaning over the radio on the table and turning that round dial with no results. In a show of determination, you even knelt on the floor, elbows resting on the tabletop.

A curse was already forming on your lips when you sensed someone beside you on the floor, and you nearly jumped. Because, of course, the two of you were alone in the apartment. It had to be Spencer—of course it was Spencer—but after all these days of sitting as far apart as possible, with your only interactions (if they could even be called that) consisting mostly of your questions or monologues, plus your customary leaning against him when saying goodbye—still unsure if he was okay with that—it caught you off guard. Maybe it was more for you. Maybe you were being selfish.

Anyway, Spencer slid down to the floor beside you, one knee bent close to his chest, both hands lifted in a sort of questioning gesture—asking if he could take the radio from you. You’d been staring at him so intently, you’d forgotten you were still holding it.

You realized you hadn’t seen him this close in a long time. In recent days, it had mostly been his profile—you’d never sat face to face. You’d watched the coarse stubble slowly spread across his cheeks, saw how they grew more hollow each day, but you hadn’t yet confronted his distant eyes.

Truly distant. You felt like if you shone a flashlight into them, he wouldn’t even blink.

It caused a tightness in your stomach that lingered as you watched his long hair fall over his eyes, making it hard for him to focus on tuning the radio. You took a deep breath and shifted to sit back on your heels, directly across from him. Then, slowly, you reached out to his face and tucked the hair behind both of his ears, giving him a clearer view.

Spencer’s hands froze completely, his gaze fixed on nothing but those hands, before he hesitantly shifted it to your eyes. You felt as if the silence was squeezing you both—suddenly present, maybe too present. You felt like he was a stranger, a man sitting on some grass in a park, and you had just come up and made this gesture, completely unannounced. At least that was the perspective you found in his gaze, for a very, very long time, before it frustratingly and slowly began to soften. But before your Spencer looked at you, the sudden disappearance of the radio’s static and the screaming vocals of some song interrupted you both.

You both looked at it as if you had both forgotten it existed. Spencer put it down on the table and slowly got up from the floor back onto the couch, the hair you had tucked behind his ear slipping back onto his face.

“Here you go,” he muttered.

You smiled gently.

“Thanks, Spence.”

You sat down next to him; he gave you a vague explanation of how to switch between radio stations, and you found one that suited both of you. Finally, the apartment was filled with a sound other than your breaths and the noise of cars outside the window. You made sandwiches for both of you, and surprisingly, he ate his, which somehow made the tiring process easier for you. Despite everything, you came to the conclusion that you hate peanut butter.

*

"Please. He only talks to you."

An hour after your meeting with one of his teammates, Penelope, you were staring at the folder she had handed you. Inside were all the details of the case BAU was currently working on—one that, according to her, needed Spencer to take a look at. Although that might’ve been an understatement, judging by the pleading tone in her voice and how she all but shoved the documents into your hands, refusing to take no for an answer.

You stood in front of the building where Spencer’s apartment was and weren’t sure whether you should give it to him.

It was part of his job. A job that, in its own way, had led to his current state. A job that could undo the progress he’d made over the past few days. He was still in a truly awful place mentally. That much was clear. But…the two of you had started talking again. You didn’t want a glance at the papers—at murder, blood, victims, and human suffering—to drag you both back to a place of unanswered questions.

With trembling hands, you opened the case file, though it wasn’t easy for you. You’d always hated that world—you could switch the news channel without hesitation when it covered a violent incident. You were too easily overcome by fear, and simply far too sensitive.

Someone once called you ignorant because of it. And somehow, it stuck with you. Enough to make you bring it up to Spencer, albeit hesitantly. It was a bit like asking an expert for their opinion, though you only realized that now—back then, you were simply asking a friend. You remembered perfectly that he told you if following news about other people’s tragedies made you nervous, sad, or scared, then you should protect your peace above all. Because that was more important, and your knowledge couldn’t bring anyone back to life.

This situation was completely different, you realized. His knowledge might not bring someone back—but it could save a life.

You stared at the victims’ photos, feeling a cold sensation creeping up your back, but you couldn’t look away. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Instead, you snapped the folder shut. It was harrowing, it was terrifying, but as awful as it might sound, above all—you cared about him.

After all… the BAU had other brilliant profilers. Was his insight truly necessary to push this case forward?

You also knew how intelligent he was. A genius, plainly speaking. But… what if even he couldn’t come up with a solution? Were you supposed to risk hurting him for the faint chance that he could? In the state he was in? You let your arms fall helplessly to your sides as a stronger gust of wind blew, making even your scarf flutter.

The day was gray, like all the others lately.

It might have sounded awful, but cases like this happened every day… oh, you weren’t Spencer, you didn’t know the statistics, but surely—many. You didn’t know any of those people personally, which of course didn’t diminish their tragedy… but he was the only one. And you put him first. That statement wasn’t even a realization to you. You knew it. You knew it deep down, it was coded into you—that’s why you checked on him every day, did everything in your power to support him.

You really fucking loved him.

That’s why you shoved the folder under your coat, with no intention of showing it to him.

Once you stepped inside, the sound of very quiet music reached your ears. You always turned the radio up louder yourself, which meant he must have lowered the volume—but hadn’t turned it off completely. You took that as a good sign. It meant he recognized the damage silence could do, that he felt well enough for silence to be capable of hurting him.

Your gaze moved across the green walls and suddenly collided with brown—his eyes.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you—just from surprise, since by now he was used to your visits at this exact hour. You froze in place, because his appearance caught you off guard. Instead of a bathrobe and greasy hair, he was wearing a fresh t-shirt, and a towel rested around his neck as he dried his wet hair.

“Oh, hey,” you said, trying not to stare. You also held back a pleased smile at the fact that he’d taken a shower. That was a huge step. Taking care of hygiene while in depression. Just getting up was hard enough, not to mention undressing, confronting a body you didn’t want to exist in, stepping into the water, the chill afterward. It was all as exhausting as running a marathon. You were glad he’d managed to do it.

He nodded, one hand tangled in the towel's fabric.

 "It's okay."

A sudden awkwardness settled between the two of you—the way you had walked into the apartment like it was your own, which used to be completely normal. He wasn’t even looking in your direction as the couch beside him gave under your weight. But back then, the place had felt a little more alive—the window would be cracked open, he’d be freshly showered, and now, you truly felt like you had barged in with no sense of manners.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. Up until now, you’d avoided the question, but you couldn’t stop it from escaping your lips.

"How are you feeling?"

“You’re not gonna take off your coat?” he asked, completely ignoring your question.

You parted your lips, realizing you were still wearing it. And that this was the first time he had initiated speaking to you—not just passively responding to your questions. You nodded.

“Right. I forgot.”

You moved to hang it up, and immediately the folder Penelope had handed you ended up in your hands. He only talks to you, her words echoed in your mind. She had entrusted you with a certain responsibility—one you had promised to fulfill.

You had decided not to go through with it, but now, seeing him like this—alive—you were torn again. Maybe you were wrong, and it wouldn’t affect him that badly. Maybe you were right, and it could undo everything you had just witnessed. Maybe it would only make him pull further away.

You regretted ever agreeing to meet with Garcia.

Slowly, you turned toward him, coat already off but folder still in your hands. You took a breath. He probably already guessed what it was; you couldn’t just brush him off.

“What is this?” came the question from behind you.

Asked in an apathetic, uninterested tone, but hey, at least that was said. At this point, you were glad for anything.

“Penelope asked me to bring this to you,” you explained, not extending the folder toward him, holding it pressed to your chest. You were still full of doubts—the difference now was you couldn’t do anything about it. “These are case files. Your opinion is needed.”

Spencer’s jaw tensed slightly, but his eyes drilled a hole in the documents you held. You saw him swallow hard. But in the end, he nodded slightly. He reached out for them, but you didn’t even flinch. You didn’t like how readily he wanted to look at those files. Maybe your role in all this was important—maybe he really did need someone to protect him.

Your hands gripped the files tighter.

“Listen, Spence,” you began. “Are you sure you’re ready? I mean…” you sighed, struggling to find the words.

Are you sure you want to expose yourself again to the sight of dead bodies, after your girlfriend was shot right in front of you?

“Show me,” he ordered more firmly.

Your lips pressed tightly together, your eyes locking with his for a moment, then you finally gave in and handed over the files. Without even sitting down, he immediately flipped them open. The towel slipped off one shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to witness any possible pain cross his face, so you slipped around him and sank down onto the couch. You changed the radio station, searching for a song to catch your ear, turning the volume up slightly.

Behind you, nothing happened — at least, you didn’t hear anything. After a while, footsteps reached your ears, and you turned to see Spencer slowly pacing around the apartment, probably without even realizing it. He was too absorbed in the analysis; his face tense but present, engaged, and alive in a way you hadn’t seen since she died.

You couldn’t suppress a fleeting nod.

It hurt, even though you knew you shouldn’t let it.

In recent days, you had done everything you could to draw at least some emotion out of him. Not immediately light or joy, of course not. But simply focus on what you were saying to him. Any reaction, some sign that he valued your presence, not just endured it like a sentence. You hadn’t managed to get that — his body remained so stiff and distant when you pressed close to him for that brief moment before leaving, his eyes empty and absent.

Yet all it took was showing him the murder case files for the old Spencer to suddenly appear before you — not just a shadow of him.

You turned back to the radio. You rested both forearms on the table and laid your head down on them; you were truly exhausted that day. You even closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of rest that stretched far longer than you expected.

Behind you, Spencer kept pacing the room, flipping through pages, pulling some books off the shelf, checking things, even jotting something down once or twice.

That was… a good thing?

You preferred him like this rather than barely moving at all. Though, was such sudden hyperactivity after a state of complete apathy normal? You rubbed your forehead, begging yourself to stop worrying for just a moment — your head was literally splitting from it. To drown it out, you turned the radio up a bit louder.

You just happened to catch a song you liked. Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton. With the first verse, you planned to close your eyes again when Spencer’s voice interrupted.

“Can you turn that off?” he asked. Asked — but there was a sharp note in his voice. Until now, he had been pacing back and forth, but suddenly he stood still, a book in his hands. You straightened and turned your head toward him. “I can’t concentrate,” he added. There was a short pause, because that didn’t make much sense — the earlier music hadn’t bothered his mental storm at all. He sighed. The towel had long since slipped from his shoulders and now lay on the couch, by the way. “I really hate that song,” he muttered.

You nodded in understanding. But you still felt a little disoriented by the fact that he was talking to you — you weren’t used to it anymore. So you just nodded, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to do what he’d asked. You snapped out of it.

“Me too,” you said, not really knowing why — maybe just to say something, to prove to yourself that the two of you could still have a conversation.Truthfully, you liked that song. It was melancholic, and as you changed it, you felt the urge to defend it. You cleared your throat. “I mean. It’s sad…it’s sad that his baby died.”

Spencer…let out a quiet, brief laugh and went back to work.

You threw it out like it didn’t matter. Spencer had already lowered his gaze back to the case files in his hands, but upon hearing that, he raised his eyebrows and looked at you again.

Eyes locked, a Britney Spears song suddenly playing from the radio.

You opened your mouth, staring at him.

You really didn’t want to make premature assumptions or predictions…but the way he laughed — something you hadn’t heard, something you didn’t expect to ever hear from him again — made it seem like maybe you were getting him back.

*

You were right about one thing.

Since then, although slowly and with many setbacks, Spencer had started to come back to himself. The biggest role in that was played by his return to work, which he threw himself into completely. You started seeing each other rarely, only when you reached out. But each time he agreed, so…you decided to believe he really did want to see you.

During your conversations, you didn’t touch on those first days after Maeve’s death that you had spent together. You didn’t touch on Maeve herself either. Spencer’s grief manifested as denial. He never mentioned how he had felt, pulled away when someone asked him questions.

It wasn’t like you were trying to play his pushy personal therapist, either.

You simply assumed that since he had let you into his apartment when he wouldn’t let anyone else in, the same kind of privilege would apply to other areas too. That he would be more honest with you than with others — or at least not hide his emotions so carefully.

Besides, you had grown close in your own peculiar way.

Something intriguing you noticed about your relationship was that every time you saw each other, it felt as if you had only just parted. Or as if you were roommates who saw each other constantly throughout the day, so it was normal not to say hello each time — instead, you’d immediately fall into the flow of a pleasant conversation. You didn’t want to think too much about it, about what it really meant.

The past few months had drained you emotionally, and a potential what are we question would have been just another stone thrown at you. By yourself.

One day, you called to ask if he wanted to meet for coffee, and he said yes.

It was before noon, and you met up on the way.

The weather was chilly, and the café you went to had a few outdoor tables, all empty — except for three black birds perched on one of the folded umbrellas.

You stepped inside. Spencer shared a fun fact about crows, which warmed you more than the café’s actual heating. You sat at a table by the window. The purple scarf still around his neck, he suddenly fell silent to take a sip of coffee and didn’t speak again, clearly lost in thought.

“My team is planning to meet this Saturday,” he suddenly announced, dropping the previous topic. You tilted your head to the side, unsure why he was telling you this. Did you have any plans he wanted to cancel because of it? You couldn’t remember, and you always remembered your plans.“At one of their places, Dave’s. It’s…it’s not really a party, seriously, just a get-together, mainly to, possibly…maybe someone else will come. Wine, knowing Rossi.”

You nodded, signaling that you were following.

“Would you like to come?”

Your coffee cup froze on its way to your lips.

“Me?” you asked. “I mean, are you inviting me?”

Spencer shook his head, the swallowed sip slowing in your throat.

“They wanted me to invite you,” he clarified, looking at you and waiting for a reaction. Agreement or refusal.

You pressed your lips together. You weren’t thinking about whether you had time on Saturday, you were thinking about how much he had improved. How he emphasized that it wasn’t him inviting you, but them, and he was merely the messenger, Hermes. A deliberate act creating distance, or your overinterpretation? You leaned toward the latter, but hesitated for a long time before answering.

Spencer watched you, probably assuming you were just shy or didn’t want to go.

“Well, they’ve been saying for a while they’d like to get to know you better. Especially Penelope. So, what do you think about that?”

It’s funny how you would have said yes immediately if only he had phrased the question differently. If he had said he wanted you to come. Him, not his team. You didn’t want to act that way; you understood how hard the last time had been for him and thought it was a bit self-centered. But just once, just one single time, you wished you didn’t have to beg for confirmation that he really wanted to spend time with you. That you weren’t just an intruder in his life.

You sighed.

“Saturday?” you asked, even though you remembered perfectly that it was Saturday.

“Well, I don’t know. Probably in the evening? You know…you know I don’t like coming back alone at that hour. The neighborhood where I live.”

You had talked about this before, so you didn’t need to go into details. Spencer nodded understandingly, then shrugged.

 “I’ll walk you home,” he offered simply.

 You looked at him a bit skeptically.

 “Really?”

“Listen, I totally get that you might not like it. Coming back alone, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to come back alone either. I’ve seen too much at work and honestly…” He trailed off, a sentence that didn’t really need finishing. He swallowed, gently nodding. “So, yeah. You can count on me.”

You stared at him, seeing a promise in his eyes. You took a deep breath.

 “In that case, okay,” you decided.

Spencer smiled softly to you over the table, and you returned to the topic you had left earlier. One of the crows had perched right behind the window glass next to where you were sitting.

*

“Hey, Derek.”

You were just coming down from the top of the stairs in Rossi’s house, the residence, where you had gone looking for the bathroom. A well-built man you addressed was standing alone at the bottom of the stairs in a casual pose, holding a half-empty bottle of beer. He turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow slightly. You knew they all called each other by their last names, but you just couldn’t get used to it. Even their boss you called simply Aaron.

Derek gave you a questioning nod.

“What’s up, Reid’s girl?”

Yes, that’s exactly what he called you. Yes, it made you blush inside. Yes, it was exactly because of that reaction that he stubbornly kept doing it. Always with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“I’m looking for him,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. There was no one else in the hallway where you stood except for the two of you, but from the living room you could hear some conversations — slightly drunk and full of laughter, which you had joined in until the man you had come with disappeared somewhere, and you started feeling a little lost. They really were good people, no doubt about it. But it was the first time you had met all of them, and the attention was focused on you a little too much. That’s why you went to the bathroom, also intending to find Spencer. It was already late, and you wanted to leave. He had promised to walk you home. “Have you seen him anywhere?”

After a moment’s thought, Derek nodded his head and indicated the right direction with his bottle. 

“Last time I checked, he was out on the terrace.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a sec,” his voice stopped you just as you were about to pass by. You turned on your heel, your eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Can we talk for a moment?”

You took a step back, surprised. You had no idea what you might talk about, but you nodded.

“Sure.”

You watched as he took a sip of his beer, casually resting one hand on the stairs beside you.

“You know, I’m just messing with you all calling you Reid’s girl,” he began, giving you an analytical look. “But seriously, I’m curious. You two… is there something going on there?”

You stared at him in genuine surprise, unable to find an answer. Really unable to find one — your mind went blank. You took a deep breath and realized after a moment that you were laughing.

“Sorry,” you said after a pause. “Sorry, you…you caught me off guard.”

“Hey, it’s cool, no pressure. Just me being nosy,” he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender.

He nodded, smiling faintly at your reaction, but that didn’t change the fact that his question had been serious. And he was still waiting for an answer — you could see it in his eyes.

The two of you fell silent. Your laughter faded quickly, and you shifted uncomfortably. He must’ve noticed.

But it didn’t ease you. Not really.

Because the way you felt wasn’t his fault.

 It was the question — a question you’d already asked yourself more than once — only this time, it had come from someone else's lips instead of echoing in the privacy of your own worries.

“So…” you started, your breath immediately catching, lips dry. “It’s…”

“...complicated?” he offered gently, with a kind of understanding — like been there, done that — probably meant to comfort you.

You shook your head, not even sure if it meant yes or no. In theory?

“It’s just…I think it’s still too soon for him,” you finally said, getting the words out. The teasing look on his face vanished the moment your eyes met. “You know why.”

You saw him draw in a breath, like he felt guilty, like he wanted to apologize for steering the conversation that way.

You didn’t hold it against him. You even managed a faint smile.

“But I don’t blame you for asking,” you said softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find him.”

“Spencer.” You reached out and grabbed his shoulder—not gently. You actually shook him. “Spencer, you promised you'd walk me home!”

Derek hadn’t been wrong — you really did find him on the patio. You held your coat in your hands, the chill of the night air immediately biting into your skin, but you didn’t put it on. Spencer was sitting on the patio steps, and it took you only a single glance to know he was completely wasted. He didn’t even seem to realize you were standing right behind him.

Before doing anything, you took a deep breath, bitter taste filling your mouth. You barely managed to swallow it down.

He turned his head toward you, dazed and disoriented. The collar of his shirt was wrinkled and half unbuttoned, his hair a mess—but it was the look on his face that said everything. That look told you exactly how drunk he was.

Completely unfazed by your anger, he blinked at you.

“Walk you home? I can still walk you home,” he mumbled, barely intelligible, turning his gaze back to some vague point in the distance. “Safe and sound. I even got a gun.”

He patted his pockets.

“I don’t have a gun.”

And just like that, you ended up alone with the idiot, practically dragging him back to his apartment. He kept trying to talk, slurring through some drunken ramble, but you cut him off every time—sharply, without patience. You were just plain furious. Just plain furious. You’d had a couple of drinks yourself, which probably played a role in why the anger was bubbling so close to the surface.

The walk had one benefit—the cold air and movement were speeding up his sobering process. He was still drunk, sure, but at least he was walking mostly on his own now. Well, sort of. His arm was draped around your neck, his cheek pressed to yours, but his legs were managing a decent pace.

“You don’t have to be so mean to me,” he mumbled at one point, after you snapped back at some dumb question he’d asked.

You stopped in your tracks, and so did he.

“I also don’t have to help you,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and driven by some impulse, you shoved him off you.

Spencer staggered back, confused and unsteady. Freed from his weight and his touch, you started walking ahead, refusing to look back—refusing to check if you’d knocked him over or if he was even following.

He could keep you at a distance. He could pull you close, push you away, then act like nothing had changed and you were still just as close. He could break promises. But you were still going to worry about him. Like no one else ever had.

You were almost at his apartment, and your place was too far away to just turn around and pretend you’d never come. Besides, even with drunk Spencer, you felt safer than alone.

You started climbing the stairs, and with each passing floor, his voice reached you again—his I’m sorry, louder every time.

You stopped in front of the door, the one that once had dozens of gift baskets resting beneath it. You wrapped your arms around yourself and waited for him to appear—with the keys. He did appear, but not with the keys—only with another loud I’m sorry.

“Spencer, you’re going to wake up your neighbors—”

“I don’t give a damm about them,” a flash of a key in one of his hands—you wanted to grab it, but he was faster and shoved it into his pocket. Then he pulled them out again, just to reach for you. More precisely, to gently (gently in intention, because the alcohol in his system didn’t quite align with subtlety or softness—in fact, his suddenness made you step back, your back hitting the threshold) place them on both your shoulders.

“I’m just trying to say I’m sorry. You’ve been and still are so good to me. Too good. And look how I repay you. Look what I’ve done.”

You sighed heavily, avoiding his gaze, which wasn’t easy with his face so close.

“I see,” you replied shortly.

He let out a tearful, desperate sound.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop saying that already, and open the door, Spencer—”

“No, not until you say you’re not mad at me.”

“When I am mad at you, Spen—”

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He said those words with such ease that you wondered if he even knew what he was apologizing for. It felt so shallow. You rolled your eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to block your ears. Yet you knew his voice would pierce through anyway. Deciding on the easiest way to silence him, you pressed your lips to his.

You couldn’t deny that besides practicality, there was a bit of fulfilling a deep desire within you. In that exact moment, your lips moved somewhat tentatively. Since he was so sorry, he probably intended to show it somehow, right? To pierce his guilt with passion. To put all the last months, all your conversations, one-sided hugs, those damn peanut butter sandwiches into this kiss.

At first, quite the opposite happened.

His lips parted before you, but they didn’t pull you into their abyss.

That came only after his hands moved from your shoulders to your face, pulling it closer and tighter. Your mind, as quiet as when you first managed to turn on the radio in his apartment, didn’t want to break the moment for even a second. It felt good, and if something feels good, it can’t hurt you, right?

How you managed to open the door remained a mystery. But moments later, you stumbled inside, him setting the direction that you faithfully allowed yourself to be led by. Your back sank onto the mattress of his bed, where you hadn’t been in ages, but which immediately embraced you just as you embraced him. You wrapped one of your legs tightly around him, still wearing your shoes. That’s exactly where his hand landed—first on your knee, then tracing a path up your thigh.

It felt nice. Really it felt nice. His touch—felt more than nice. You would’ve been more than happy to just give in, let him do whatever he wanted, truly. But your damn mind always had to show up and ruin your pleasure. It sent fears, uncertainties, and doubts racing through you. The way he kissed you—greedy and unrefined—made you wonder: was he even kissing you?

It felt impersonal. Mechanical. Hungry, but not craving. Not that you expected him to whisper your name every time your mouths parted for air, but you at least wanted to know, to feel sure, that you were the girl he was kissing. The girl he wanted to kiss. Not the one who happened to be there. Just like the bottle that had come before you—an easy way to forget and suppress—and he was a damn expert at that.

You broke it off, letting the back of your head sink into the mattress, only then realizing there were tears on your cheeks. Spencer was staring at you in confusion, his flushed lips parted in a silent question.

“E-everything okay?”

“No,” you whimpered, suddenly letting go of his neck to press your hands to your eyes, rubbing your face roughly, wiping away the ugly tears. “No, stop, I don’t want this.”

He slid off you like he'd been shocked by electricity, staring in disbelief. Well, you didn’t entirely understand yourself either. You probably never would. The bedroom was thick with silence, broken only by your ragged breaths — heavy from emotion and the lingering traces of desire that would need a long time to settle.

You lay on your back in the same position, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

You heard him swallow.

“Can I stay here?” he asked instead.

“You know, just to let you know, it’s totally okay if you change your mind halfway through,” he said, like it was something he was obligated to assure you of. “If I was being too pushy…”

He seemed like he wanted to say sorry — really say it, the kind of sorry that would erase all the shallow ones before it — but he hesitated. He didn’t say it at all, just let the sentence die in the air.

You didn’t answer — and he took that as a no, already beginning to lift himself off the bed to leave — when you gave a small nod. Agreeing to let him stay with you. So you heard Spencer lie down on the other side of the bed, close but not touching. And from the position you were lying in, you couldn’t see him anyway, so it didn’t really matter if he was next to you or behind the door.

There were still so many questions and uncertainties hanging between you. But you didn’t feel the need to chase them away. You were used to it — used to feeling this way.

For Spencer, clearly, this was something new.

You could sense it in the way he lay on his side, facing you, staring at your profile. You could feel how his supposedly genius brain was trying to piece it all together and find his footing in the situation. Eventually, he sighed and softly, pleadingly, said your name.

“Will you look at me?”

He had to repeat the request — had to say it quieter and with more pleading. Funny, isn’t it, how they say dogs respond to hearing their name immediately. It took you three times. Only then did you turn to face him.

The smell of alcohol still lingered on him.

At least his eyes were present.

“What actually happened?” he asked. “What…what went wrong?”

You felt the urge to laugh — like you had with Derek that time. But this time, your mind wasn’t blank, and surprisingly, you knew exactly what to say. You even pushed yourself up on your elbow so you could look down at him.

“Was this going anywhere?”

He pursed his bottom lip, not understanding the question.

“You mean… you mean what just happened between us?” he asked. “I think… I think it was. I don’t know about you, but I—”

“I don’t just mean tonight, Spencer,” you corrected him.

He still didn’t get it.

Alright, then. Let’s paint it out for the genius.

“Actually, fine. Let’s say it was just about tonight. Let’s say we slept together. What would you do then? What would you do tomorrow?”

Your words could’ve cut something clean open — and maybe they did. But you’d put everything into them. Really, you kind of impressed yourself. So much weight in so few syllables. It only took that for Spencer to hide his face in his hands, sucking in a breath.

“Oh, so you—”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve heard that a lot today.”

“No, this time I mean it. I don’t know…I don’t even know for how long—”

“Since the beginning.”

His mouth fell open again, like in shock. A genuine, terrifying kind of realization.

He gently shook his head side to side, almost unconsciously.

“Even if I wanted to, no matter how much I wanted to,” the shaking grew stronger and then suddenly stopped, something on the verge of a sob escaped his lips. At that moment, he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. “All the love I had stayed with her, stayed with Meave, and if I tried to give it to someone else...I’d feel like I was taking it away from her, or...does that even make sense—”

You sat up completely, eyes wide in disbelief. Your breath caught, like you’d just woken from a nightmare.

““Did—you really have to mention her now?”

Slowly, awkwardly, with a look full of confusion fixed on you, he got up too. You sat facing each other on the bed.

“I was just trying to say how I feel—”

“But did you ever, even once, care how I feel?” you asked, your words seeming to tear through your throat like handfuls of razor blades.“I was there for you when you couldn’t even wash yourself for a week, I waited outside your door like a dog with a dead bird in its mouth, giving you everything I could. If I could, I’d give you the moon. And maybe back then I didn’t even expect anything in return, I would’ve done it even if you literally told me to fuck off. But now I see it, and I think how fucking cruel it is that you never once said thank you to me. Not even once.”

He watched your outburst without blinking. His face was tense, but his eyes didn’t waver.

“I never asked you for that,” he said so quietly you might have thought you misheard. Oh, it wouldn’t have changed anything if you had. You’d still dream about it at night, and it would still be the most painful thing you’d ever heard from him. I never asked you for that.

You were about to simply get up from the bed, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Listen, please, just let me finish. I never asked you for that, and that’s the truth. I’m grateful for what you did for me, but I can’t thank you—”

“How come you can’t—”

“I can’t thank you because you never wanted to hear thank you in return.” You tried to pull away again, but he came closer, grabbing both your wrists this time, so you found yourself so close he was practically speaking right into your face. Your breath was quick, broken, uncontrollable. “In return, you wanted me to love you. But I can’t. I’m not able to—”

“You are sick!”

“I could say thank you for everything you’ve done for me, dozens of times, thousands of times, but it still wouldn’t be enough for you. I apologized today, and you wouldn’t accept it, saying it didn’t mean anything to me — but it does. I’m sorry I can’t love you. What really doesn’t matter is my thank you — not to you.”

You repeated it once more — he was sick, in every fiber of his being. But he still held you, trying to keep you tight and close, though you were like water slowly slipping through his fingers. So he had to change his grip; it couldn’t be strong, it had to be secure above all. He wrapped his arms around you, and although at first you didn’t want to, you pressed against his chest, not caring how much you stained his shirt with your tears.

You fell asleep together, and you dreamed it was your birthday. You had only known each other for such a short time; back then, you didn’t know about his phone friend. He didn’t know her yet either. So he sang, and you never again saw him smiling that big in your presence.

You woke up in the middle of the night, too drained to think about what would come next. You would probably have to decide in the morning. But there were still a few hours until morning, so you took advantage of the fact that he allowed it and slipped back into his embrace once again.