#“How are your classes? Do you like your professors?”

[cthulhus-curse]

Extra Credit

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 6,020

Warnings: Age Difference, Alluded CSA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship | 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Hopefully I scheduled this & the other fics correctly and not for the following year because I may no longer be around to fix it.

Summary: A series of snapshots of loving months alongside your professor which lead up to one of the most difficult decisions you’ve made in your life.

“Good morning, sunshine. Ready for another day of work?”

Although exhaustion ripped through your body, the sound of the woman’s voice made you smile. You learned to enjoy it through the past few weeks. Each day you woke up at what felt like the crack of dawn and went straight to work. Although it was right on campus, an office not too far from your dormitory, you weren’t used to being awake at such early hours. At least the pay was good and your boss was even better, you mused. 

“I can’t wait,” you replied flatly. Your boss, Professor Romanoff, came up to the desk you called a home ever since being hired. She held up two cups – one was her usual morning coffee and the other scalding hot chocolate topped off by a mountain of whipped cream. As always, she called you a child for picking that over anything caffeine-heavy. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Gotta keep my little assistant awake enough to get through the day,” Natasha chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy for you. We just have to get through grading some papers and then the rest of the shift is yours.”

The smirk remained plastered over your features as she handed you the hot chocolate before moving further in her office. Being the head of the English department at your university, Natasha got her privacy intact. It’s not like she was thrilled to work with her fellow professors anyway. 

“I heard there was a big party being hosted by your friends in the girl’s soccer team. I assume you’re planning on going?” Natasha’s tone was filled with curiosity, but never anger when she so much as alluded to your private life, specifically that having to do with one Wanda Maximoff. “I can let you go a few hours early if you need to get ready. Classes are done for the semester and you need to enjoy your college years. I’m sure Miss Maximoff would be happy to see you again. I know she means a lot to you.”

Ever since you had accepted the job as Natasha’s assistant, Wanda had given you the cold shoulder. You had spoken to her from time to time, but only when she came back to the dorm after days of being away, only to leave once again. At first you blame yourself for causing a rift in your relationship, if one could even call it that, but eventually you came to realize just how immature she was – taking a simple job offer did not mean your feelings for her changed in any way. 

“I actually haven’t seen her in awhile. She’s staying at Carol and Val’s place I think,” you shrugged while taking a sip of your drink. The way it burned its way onto your tongue and down your throat caused you to hum happily. 

“Oh? And how are you feeling about that?”

“I’m taking it pretty well. You know she’s not very fond of you and I think I pissed her off by agreeing to work for who she deems as ‘a fucking witch bitch’. It’s just childish and stupid,” you rolled your eyes at the mere idea of it. “I hate being someone’s second choice like that. She doesn’t even see how much I love her.”

Just like Wanda didn’t see you, you didn’t see Natasha. Your professor was crestfallen at the voices you threw at her. She hated seeing you in such pain, not being able to do anything about the mistreatment you received from your casual fling. The older woman cared for you, perhaps more than she led on – the mere image of seeing you in pain made bile rise up your throat before it was maintained in place. 

“Then it’s her loss. You deserve better than that, honey. You’re an amazing, beautiful, and smart woman. You don’t need to be sitting around waiting for someone to notice you. If she doesn’t like you the same way you like her, then it’s time to move on,” Natasha explained as she attempted to keep her own emotions at bay. She threw a sympathetic look your way even if you didn’t notice it. “Listen Y/N, I know we aren’t as close as you are with Miss Maximoff, but I care about you. You are by far my brightest student yet and I see so much potential in you. You don’t deserve to be thrown around like trash, only used when she gets bored with someone else. You deserve the world.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna give me that?”

The ��me’ went unspoken from Natasha. She simply sagged her head and stared down at the mountain of paperwork laying in her desk. It would be to no avail if she decided to work – with a brain oozing with thoughts of you, her focus disrupted. 

“How about we try something different today? We can work for a bit and then I can take you out for lunch. My treat,” Natasha said. “How does that sound? I just hate seeing you like this, sweetie.”

You thought about it for a second. There was something awfully safe about Natasha. As much as you wished to spend countless hours obsessing over Wanda, sometimes you found yourself humoring the idea of your professor. She was sweet, always protective as she huffed at the idea of you being hurt. At first you assumed it was some sort of motherly instinct, but after having caught yourself staring down her cleavage from time to time, the top buttons of her blouse always open, and she stared back with a smile, you knew something much more intimate lay beneath. 

“I’d like that,” you replied, suddenly drunk on Natasha’s presence as Wanda was left behind. 

“Good! Now time to work, hon. You don’t get paid to sit all day and look pretty,” the redhead chuckled at her own joke, suddenly feeling much more rejuvenated. “If you finish quickly, maybe we can grab some dessert as well.”

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A shudder ran down your body as hands traveled across your back. Fingernails left heavy trails in their wake, surely to be worn with the utmost pride. You hummed, eyes closed while holding still, standing there naked as the day you were born. In the dusk of the room, you let yourself be the center of attention; the center of her attention. 

“What did she do this time?” Natasha asked from behind. Her mouth was quickly upon your upper back, kissing its way along your shoulder blades. Never did she lose her tenderness when touching you. “Tell me, darling girl. Use your words.”

You didn’t know when it had begun. One day you were at work standing in front of your boss’s desk before you became trapped against it. The first time Natasha kissed you was then and there. Neither could hold back the attraction you shared for one another. No longer did you prioritize Wanda as you allowed your professor to take you. 

“I found her sleeping with Kate. She was…she was laying in my bed, Nat. I saw them and just ran away. She fucked her in my bed!” You sobbed, but didn’t allow yourself to shed tears. Not long before you had promised yourself never to cry over Wanda again. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I just thought of you and ran.”

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I hate that she keeps hurting you,” Natasha mumbled back as she hugged you from behind. “Don’t you dare run away this late at night again. You know how much I worry about you. I’m just a phone call away, malyshka. Always.” 

“I’m sorry,” you responded before biting down on your lip. “I promise I’ll be good from now on. Your good girl, right?”

“Darling, you are always my good girl.”

Natasha motioned you to get on the bed, your head against a pillow as your ass remained up in the air. She allowed her hands to roam over your backside, smirking as a hand went down against a cheek. It was only a soft hit. Never did Natasha wish to inflict any horrid pain over you. As her eyes noticed the faint bruises Wanda left along your skin, she huffed. 

The redhead stood over you. She carried a dildo between her legs that was attached to a harness. Similar to you, she was fully nude minus for the red briefs she wore. Strong arms reeking with muscles held you close. As she inched the toy between your legs, you let out a loud moan. 

“I don’t like how she hurts you. I know you like it, Y/N, but she leaves you looking like a piece of meat. Does she even take care of your wounds, baby? Or does she leave you like that after hitting you until you’re crying out for her to stop?” Natasha questioned, already knowing what the answer was. Ever since first seeing your body, she was the one who took care of you as a surrogate for Wanda. “I know I can’t control what you do, but honey, this isn’t right. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Rather than vocalize your response, you hid your face against the pillow. Natasha slid inside you softly, allowing the dildo to fill you with ease. There was a grunt that you basked upon – it was low and throaty filled with your professor’s longing desire. She used all her force to drag you into a makeshift sitting position. From then on, Natasha allowed herself to, only gently, give you the pleasure Wanda failed to gift you with. 

“I want more,” you begged, eyes rolled to the back of your head the further Nat moved inside of you. Movements were languid and sloppy. All the older woman focused on was your own pleasure, not speed or roughness. Unlike Wanda, she took her time getting to know exactly what to do and how to touch you. “Please, mommy, I need more!”

“Whatever you want, my little angel.”

Natasha did not spend time rummaging through the newfound honorific. She beamed at it, but didn’t comment on anything. Instead, she thrust her hips forth fucking you with love that Wanda never gave you. Kisses were spread all across your back. Each grunt, each little noise she made mixed with your own, made you feel in heaven. 

Hands gripped your breasts from behind. They squeezed the mounds tightly, rolling erect nipples through the fingers. As Natasha pumped the strap-on in you, your cunt dripping with juices while velvety walls hugged her tight, she brought a hand down your body. Fingertips pressed against your clit and began teasing it, flicking the bud as you screamed loudly – surely her neighbors would hear. 

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Just look at how you’re taking my cock. My pretty, little girl,” Natasha moaned when hugging you tight. She nuzzled her face against your shoulder before nipping your skin. There were various hickeys left upon you, signs for Wanda to see if you ever dared return to her. Natasha knew you weren’t hers, but each second she spent with you made her crave you even more. “I bet she can’t fuck you like this, can she? That little…she can’t make you feel this good. Only I can make it better. I’m the only one that will ever keep you safe and you know this.”

When you finally came, Natasha was there to keep you close. She remained frozen in place as your orgasm shot through your body. Not even a second passed before she inched you on the bed, allowing you to rest upon the soft mattress with the dildo still inside you. 

“I never want to see you hurt again. If she ever does this to you, if you end up going back, I want you to call me when you need me. I never break a promise,” Natahsa muttered as she placed a kiss over the back of your head. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

From then on, you found yourself hesitating each time you merely humored the idea of going back to Wanda. Even if you told yourself that the relationship with Natasha was nothing more than platonic, you questioned the validity of such a statement. Every second you spend with her, you fall further for your professor. 

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“Tell me about your family.”

The two of you had escaped the cruel Bostonian summer filled with never-ending traffic and burning skyscrapers. It was the dead-center of the season and the entire city was plagued by a mix of potential commuters for the various academic institutions or those who, for some reason, decided for it to be her vacation destination.

Natasha had taken you away to a small town across the state. It was remote, small enough so that the two of you could enjoy your life in public without the student body of the university to find you. All you had done was pack all the bags you could muster for the weekend getaway. It was peace which became well-deserved. 

You weren’t much of a fan of them, but Nat had always spoken highly of the times she took her sister to pick out peaches ever since she first learned how to drive. The two of them would escape into an orchard in the depths of Ohio and come out with their hands full with fruits. The mere memory she shared with you was enough to get you to agree to her plans. 

“Well, there’s really not much to talk about. I was adopted by Melina and Alexei,” Natasha began as though it was the most casual thing in the world to refer to her parents by their given names. “I have a sister, also adopted, named Yelena. She’s the light of my life. A bit of an asshole I must say, but she’s the one I care about most.”

“Yelena Belova? That’s your sister?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows; it was a name similar to that of a member of Wanda’s team. 

“Yes. I realize she’s friends with Miss Maximoff,” Natasha replied with apparent dismay. “As hard as I’ve tried to keep her away from that girl, the two are almost inseparable. I trust her enough to not do anything overly stupid though. Lena has always been a bit of a firecracker.”

The two of you walked hand in hand along the orchard. There was not a label to whatever you had yet, but it didn’t care. Natasha was clear when she said she would never pressure you into it. Instead, you allowed yourself to be a free agent who, at times, found yourself wishing to have something more with your professor. 

Eyes roamed over the woman’s body. Usually you saw her in professional clothes or the occasional nightgown when you stayed over at her place, but never with a pair of shorts and a loose camisole. There were sunglasses shielding Natasha’s viridescent eyes from the sun, but you had looked into them for long enough to memorize their beauty. 

You noticed how she covered her body from time to time, hands over her thighs, cowering away from the nonexistent public that dared gawk in her general direction. It hurt to see. She was the perfect image of beauty to you, but a disgusting void to herself. 

There were rare moments in which Natasha allowed you to touch her. She was a fan of studying each and every one of your favorite sweet spots, running hands across your skin before making you giggle under the drunkenness of arousal. The few times you had placed your palms upon her frame you did so in a tender manner – Nat was a porcelain doll under your touch who could break at any seconds. It merely lasted a few seconds before she pushed you off and rushed to apologize for acting out, only for you to shoot her a warm smirk and tell her there was nothing wrong with that. 

Shaking your head, you brought yourself back to the present and carried on. 

“Yeah, your sister’s always been nice to me though. She’s not as close with Wanda if that makes you feel better. I’ve mostly seen her chasing around that Kate girl. Maybe it’s an underclassmen thing,” you shrugged. “What about your parents?”

There was a pregnant pause, clear hesitation, before Natasha continued.

“Well, I never met my biological family nor did I care about seeking them out. My mom has always been amazing,” Natasha stopped for a second, her hands gliding across the peaches that she carefully eyed. “My father…not so much.”

“Why do you refer to her as mom and him as father?” came your question before you could help yourself.

It was clear her demeanor had changed. Natasha stood with her back straight, hands clasped in front of her as a means to shield herself. She only stared forth into nothingness. Her body was with you in the orchard while her mind went back to when she was a child – to when she was alone with him. 

“It makes it less personal,” she finally answered. “It’s also easier than calling him ‘the man whose wife wanted to adopt two kids he never wanted’ and then turned my childhood to shit. I grew up way too fast because of that…that durak!”

The yelp she let out was fueled with emotions you had yet to see. Natasha was rarely angry, let alone emotionally vulnerable to let you peek through her walls. Her body sagged after fighting so long being tense. You could see tears rushing down her face even with sunglasses that covered them, but knew not to make a comment.

“Nat, has he ever…?”

You didn’t want to humor such a thing. Even then, you already knew the answer given her body language and unspoken words. While you fought with the idea of potentially driving to her father’s house and beating him to a pulp, Natasha found herself glad it had been her over Yelena. If something were to happen to her sister, she would never forgive herself. Each time he came at night, the woman sacrificed herself. It was a small price to pay for her beloved sibling’s safety. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, baby,” Natasha said with a cracked voice, turning the other way to move further into the orchard. You gave her space knowing that whenever she felt comfortable enough to talk, she would. All you could do was follow along as the professor whispered again. “I’m sorry.”

But behind her broken tone, deep down, you could hear a younger Nat’s faint cry of ‘yes’. 

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There were moments in which exhaustion overtook you during long tedious days. You could barely move a muscle and still feel as though life had been sucked out of you. Most of your summer was spent chasing around Natasha, who you remained working for throughout the following months with little to no workload. Being around the woman, doing mere iced coffee runs and chatting without a care in the world while in the office made you feel free for once in a lifetime – for the first time since you met Wanda, she was an afterthought. 

Natasha was quick to jump in and take care of you through those moments. She always acted out in small, loving ways when paying for your food, giving you rides, or merely holding your hand as the two of you walked into your next adventure. Her desperation to hold you in her arms and promise you all would be well was intense. There was love radiating from her a mile away which you were far too shortsighted to see. 

“Tell me what you need, malyshka. Come on, little darling, use your words.”

After a particularly difficult day, you found yourself safe in Natasha’s lap. There had been no overexertion of your being during that day. It had mostly been relaxing as you worked alongside your professor on a Friday, but when you received a call from Wanda midday, the woman asking you to meet up, you merely froze and broke down in the office – your ‘friend’ only reached out when she needed something from you and it had been nearly a month since you last spoke amicably. After you only hummed as a reply and ended the call, Natasha was there to break your fall. 

“Mommy’s here for you. I know today has been a really difficult day and that you’ve felt really stressed, but I don’t want you focusing on those icky thoughts. I just wish she didn’t hurt you like this,” came the older woman’s whisper as she pulled you close. The two of you had rushed out of the office even hours before Natasha liked calling it quits. Even as behind as she was with her future lesson planning, she still prioritized you before anything else. “Use your words, detka. Tell mommy how she can help.”

“I don’t even want to think,” you flatly mumbled with tears threatening to fall down your eyes. Hands gripped the professor’s clothes while your forehead lay frozen in her shoulder. With arms wrapped around your body you finally felt safe. “Please help me forget, Nat. I never want to think about her again. I just-” your words were cut short by a short while your voice was left cracked. 

“Shh it’s alright, my darling girl. Mommy’s here to make it all better.”

While holding you tight, Natasha allowed a hand to slip down your body. It snuck to your lap then between your legs. No teasing was found – she knew you how overwhelmed you were and was ready to give you whatever you wished for without question. When naked fingers went past the waistline of your sweats and underwear, landing upon your already throbbing sex, you couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. 

You quickly realized Natasha wanted to separate herself from the man who agreed to adopt her. He was rough, violent, and torturous much like how she saw Wanda, whereas your professor never failed to bring a smile to your face even as she smacked your backside harshly — she always soothed the skin with the palm of her hand before carrying on. She wanted, no, needed to break away from his grasp over her mind. Otherwise she’d end up as a battered slave of his once again. 

Fingertips brushed against your clit then studied the entirety of your slit while coating themselves in your everlasting slick. Natasha peppered your wet cheeks, filled with desolate tears, with kisses. She mumbled only the sweetest words while easing herself in you. You cried out about your sorrows, about Wanda’s mistreatment over you, while the older woman simply sat there and held you through it. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Anyone who dares make you feel this bad is an idiot. Y/N, my love, you deserve the world,” Natasha said lovingly. She nuzzled her face against your own, foreheads pressed together with fingers knuckle-deep inside your cunt. You couldn’t even muster the enthusiasm to grind on them. Instead, you remained shaking as Natasha made it all better. “You never let yourself be treated like that by anyone, alright? Whether it’s Miss Maximoff or me, or anyone else. My darling angel should be treated as the princess she is. You’re one of a kind, honey, a perfect little bear. I never want you to forget just how valuable your existence is.”

Tears of joy were mixed with your gloomy ones. There were cries of pleasure and internal pain that Natasha never stopped supporting you through. She allowed her lips to touch down upon your own. With your orgasm approaching soon and her tender care, you were elated. 

“My sweet baby,” came Natasha’s hushed whisper. She made you come, your back arching while fingernails dug deep into the redhead’s outfit. There was a loud moan, though distant, that boomed across the room. Even as you fell apart, strong arms held you in place. Such a wondrous creature such as yourself, according to your boss, deserved to see the stars. “You did such a good job for mommy. Always my perfect girl,” she breathed out with fingers still deep inside you. “All mine.”

You swore there was a muttered ‘I love you’ thrown somewhere, but with the mix of mental and physical exhaustion raining down upon your body, you merely shrugged your shoulders and fell limp against Natasha. Although you wouldn’t admit it, your heart longed to say the words back – out of everyone in your life, you never expected to fall into the depths of love with your professor. 

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“I don’t know why you like this show so much. It’s just senseless killing and at the end they solve everything and go home.”

Although it was supposed to be a relaxing weekend towards the start of the Fall semester, you found the mind boggling statement to fill you with feigned rage. Even as classes began, the arrangement between you and the professor carried on. You still worked for her even if there were no classes in said semester you took with you. As disappointing as that was, you began seeing more of Natasha regardless in more ways than one. 

The two of you were sitting on the couch late one Friday night. You were exhausted with your course load and Natasha cursed off the new freshmen she had to teach; they always pretended to still be in high school. A bowl of popcorn was nestled between your legs. While you watched Criminal Minds, Natasha settled for insulting it. 

“It’s fun, Romanoff. Entertaining at the very least.” you shot back with a knowing smirk. You had been the one to introduce her to various shows. Who would’ve thought that the great Professor Romanoff was living underneath a rock her whole life? 

“Wow I’ve been demoted from mommy to Romanoff. That’s sad,” Natasha laughed before grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Probably Rossi,” came your shrug. “He’s the guy with the beard.”

“Really?” At the surprised tone your lover let out, you feigned offense. “I thought you’d like one of the girls. What about that brunette with the bangs?”

“Oh, Emily left for the Interpol. I would like JJ, but I don’t know. There’s just something cool about Rossi in this season.”

The two of you remained silent for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, but then again, nothing was with Natasha by your side. Even if you slipped and fell in front of her, you wouldn’t feel embarrassed. The woman never judged you, instead supporting your every decision while also guiding you through life. You felt comfortable enough with her to be yourself. At times it felt as though it was you and Nat against the world. 

“Maybe you just have daddy issues,” Natasha casually offered. Moment passed before the two of you burst out laughing. Tears sprinkled in your eyes while your breath left your body. With the amusement that basked in the room, you both were giggling messes. 

“Hey!” you huffed when gaining some of your composure back and lightly slapping Natasha’s shoulder. “We both have daddy issues.”

“Fine, but I have more than you. Mostly because I’ve never actually met my real dad. Maybe he’s an asshole like Alexei,” Natasha giggled. She never failed to look radiant as ever, especially when laughing and seemingly worry-free. You had to do several double takes because the beauty that exuded from your professor was far too enthralling to break away from. As the laughter died down and you were left holding one another, her head on your shoulder while you leaned back against the couch, she spoke. “I want you to be my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

You had both agreed to keep things unofficial and yet there was that unmistakable skip of a beat your heart underwent when Natasha spoke her words. Teeth gnawed at your bottom lip nervously. There were striking green eyes which made it difficult for you to ignore the pegged comment. While your heart longed you to reply with a ‘yes’, to finally be Natasha’s forever, your mouth reacted differently. 

For the rest of the evening the two of you sat by and finished watching the show. Natasha was silent as she ghosted over her house, leaving you alone in the living room before hiding out in her bedroom. It was the first night in months that you slept in the guest room by yourself. And to your dismay, you went to sleep listening to Natasha’s quiet sobs that escaped the privacy of her bedroom. You had felt bad for Wanda when she got sad about you seeing your professor casually, but listening to the redhead’s woes was synonymous with your heart being squeezed to death. 

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It was October when you fell in love. 

You returned to your dorm room days later behind the guise of assuming Natasha wished for you to be far away. She had barely spoken a word to you at work. Most of the time she sat by her desk with sagged shoulders, glasses perched at the edge of her nose, and glossy eyes hiding behind the frames. You desperately wished to say something, but when Wanda sweeped back into your life, the guilt ate at you until nothing was left behind. 

The Fall semester quickly rolled by. You were at the end of the month and still couldn’t sleep without seeing Natasha’s face tainted in your mind. At times when Wanda lay above you, hips thrusting with straps wrapped around them and letting out low grunts, you closed your eyes and imagined it was the older woman. The memories of her doing the same were soaked with humiliation. You had broken her heart, you knew. Never would you dare forgive yourself for having caused so much pain upon the frail, angelic woman. 

“I hate her so much,” Wanda had grumbled when you walked through campus hand-in-hand passing by a certain professor whose sight was solemnly trained on the floor. Your hand was squeezed as your eyes drifted to Natasha. As much as she seemingly hated you, all you wanted to do was run up to her, wrap her in your arms, and bed for forgiveness. Even if it would take ages, she was worth it. “Fucking bitch.”

Perhaps it was Wanda’s comment or the fact that you finally gained enough confidence through your depressive episode to take action, but that night you found yourself standing in front of Natasha’s house. Your roommate was long forgotten and for the first time in your life, you couldn’t care less about who she was fucking. All that mattered was the woman you, without admitting it, had fallen for. 

There was a desperate knock upon the hardwood door. There was furious rain which fell down upon your body. That along with the cool breeze of the night made you freeze in place. Still, you felt as though you deserved it. Even then, you’d do whatever it took for Natasha. 

“It’s 10pm on a Wednesday, Y/N. Someone better be dying,” were the first words Natasha spoke to you once the door swung open in a low grumbled voice you knew to be from when she awoke. “To what do I owe the displeasure? Did you come here to tell me how great Miss Maximoff is compared to-”

You cut her off by practically tackling Natasha into the house. Even if your body was dripping with the tears of the sky, you clung to the woman as though your life depended on it. She was clearly taken aback and yet never moved away. Instead her arms were left unmoving as you embraced her. That was good enough for you, you assumed. 

Putting your heart on the line has never been easy. You were the person who shoved her emotions so deep down that you somehow told yourself Wanda was the one for you. Although she hurt you so much, you still remained by her side. It wasn’t difficult to assume Natasha had felt something similar when you rejected her. She had spent countless months giving you the utmost love and never daring to ask for anything in return. You were always protected by her mere presence until one day you decided to throw it all away. Going to her house, you were without hope of being taken back. There was slight hesitation reeking in your chest, but as soon as you saw your former lover, you swore you fell for her once again – she would forever be worth it. 

“I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot and I admit it. I should’ve said yes to you,” you began. Life had been tedious without Natasha even if only for a few weeks. You hated how only a cold slap in the face in the shape of one Wanda Maximoff could awaken you from such a dismal nightmare. “I hurt you so badly and I never, ever expect for you to take me back. I was an asshole. A svo-lach' if you will,” you could practically feel Natasha’s slight smirk at the mention of a Russian word she had taught you. “I miss you and I don’t think I can do this without you. It’s probably stupid since we weren’t with each other for ages. It wasn’t official and yet I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you to be my girlfriend. It’s always been you, Nat and it always will be.”

No words were spoken as the door was locked and you were dragged to the bedroom. Even if dripping with water, Natasha helped undress you. She threw you against the bed, viridescent eyes twinkling under the dead of the night before taking her rightful position over your body. There was not an area of your freezing body that she didn’t kiss her way through as sudden warmth radiated from her skin and onto yours. 

When you first kissed her after weeks of being away, you swore there were fireworks going off. Never had kissing Wanda felt even remotely good or similar. You were enthralled by the way Natasha was seemingly everywhere. Her hands drifted up your body before taking your breasts into her palms and squeezing them, nipples rolling through her fingers before being pinched – she did always have an adorable fixation on your chest. There was a sense of longing within her. The two of you hadn’t been together for far too long. During the rest of the night, you explored what was missed, holding one another as cries of pleasure were let out. 

Positions were switched from time to time. Natasha would be on top before you pushed her against the mattress and had your head disappear between her legs. There was nothing to be said. You two communicated through sweet and rough touches, connecting as one without the need for words. There was a moment when you made her squirt, legs shaking as your fingers were dug deep inside her cunt. Natasha was left wide-eyed and suddenly droopy while you lapped at the mess – even when a spent mess, she was the most beautiful woman in the universe. 

When neither of you could keep going it was already the early hours of the morning. Your bodies were sore and marked with the reddened tracks of fingernails. It was the first time in ages that you finally felt as though you belonged. Natasha was your person, she was safe, and she was home. It was then that you, while fingers trailed across the back of the woman’s hand, decided never to dare leave her again. 

“I love you,” she muttered once you were breathing raggedly, laying back on the bed with bodies intertwined and hearts aligned. You felt yourself crawl out of your skin, frowning as the words were spoken. Without even daring to turn around, you went to grab Natasha’s hand. When squeezing it, you gave her your response. 

You couldn’t say it out loud, but she knew then you loved her too.

[aesthetically-dying101]

You mean my wife?!

A/N: a short nanami story bc hes just so.. awooga? Idk if thats the right word but yeah. protective nanami is so scrumptious

warnings: someone being mean?

The courtyard of Jujutsu High was alive with the sounds of effort: sharp exhales, the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the ground, and the satisfying crack of Yuji’s staff against a wooden training dummy.

You stood at the center of it all, tall and commanding, as the trio of students—Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi—moved through the drills you’d designed for them.

“Keep your stance lower, Nobara!” you called, watching as she lunged forward. “If you’re too upright, you’ll lose your balance against a larger curse.”

“I’m always balanced,” she shot back with a cheeky grin, but adjusted her footing anyway.

You chuckled, shaking your head, the cool breeze carrying the sound to where Megumi stood, quietly but fiercely focused as always. His precision was commendable- but you knew better than to leave him unchallenged.

Because if you did, something would get bitten by his shikigami's.

“Fushiguro,” you said, walking over to him, “you’re relying too much on the shikigami. It’s a team effort—you and them. Don’t just send them in to clean up. They’re not tools.”

Megumi’s eyes flickered with acknowledgment, and he gave a curt nod, his focus unwavering.

“And Yuji!” you turned to him, shielding your eyes from the midday sun-fuck it was too bright. “You’re doing great, but stop hesitating. Trust your instincts, not just your strength.”

Yuji grinned, giving you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Got it, sensei!”

From the periphery, Nanami watched.

He stood a distance away, arms crossed, his polished demeanor as unyielding as ever, but his sharp eyes softened whenever they lingered on you. Though the students referred to you as “sensei,” Nanami knew you had yet to internalize the title, you said it made you feel old. But you carried the role with such natural ease, yet humility kept you from embracing it fully.

Unbeknownst to you, two other instructors lingered at the edge of the courtyard, observing your session with undisguised skepticism. One of them, a senior professor from a separate class, let out a dismissive chuckle.

“She’s passionate, I’ll give her that,” the man muttered to his companion. “But enthusiasm doesn’t make a teacher. She’s a little too green for this, don’t you think? I mean, who even let her—”

A voice cut through the air like a razor.

“You mean my wife?”

The words landed with weight, heavy enough to still the bustling courtyard for a brief moment. Even Yuji paused mid-strike, blinking as though he hadn't heard corretly.

Nanami stepped forward, his strides measured but deliberate, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. His tone was calm, his volume controlled, but there was no mistaking the underlying steel in his words.

The professor, taken aback, turned to face him, his mouth slightly agape.

“I—what?”

“My wife,” Nanami repeated, his voice firm, the emphasis on the word clear and deliberate. His brow furrowed just slightly, and he tilted his head, as if daring the man to question him further. “The one you’re so casually criticizing. Do you have a problem with how she’s handling her students?”

The professor faltered, clearly blindsided. “I didn’t—I wasn’t aware—”

“That much is obvious,” Nanami said flatly, cutting him off. “Because if you were aware, you would’ve chosen your words more carefully. My wife is more than qualified, and if you’d taken the time to observe her work—properly, not from the sidelines—you’d know that.”

The air crackled with tension as Nanami’s gaze bore into the man. The professor stumbled over his words, trying and failing to form a response, before finally muttering, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild disbelief.

He clicked his tongue.

“Didn’t you?”

There was no malice in his tone, but the weight of his disapproval hung heavy in the air. The professor, thoroughly cowed, mumbled an apology and hurried away, his companion trailing behind him.

Satisfied, Nanami turned his attention back to you. You, who had remained blissfully unaware of the exchange, too focused on correcting Yuji’s form to notice the brief storm brewing on the sidelines.

“Nanami-sensei!” Nobara called, her voice breaking the tension. “Is it true? Are you two married?”

Yuji’s eyes went wide. “Wait, for real?! Sensei’s married to Sensei?!”

A lot of sensei's in one sentence.

Megumi just sighed, muttering something about how obvious it was.

You finally turned to face Nanami, confusion etched across your face.

“What’s going on?”

Nanami approached you, his expression softening the moment his eyes met yours.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said simply, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. “Just clearing up a misunderstanding.”

“...Okay,” you said slowly, still puzzled but willing to take his word for it. “Well, since you’re here, care to give me some pointers? The kids could use a demonstration.”

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you saw it. “Of course,” he said, his tone warming.

“Anything for you, sensei.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned.

And as the students watched in awe, the two of you moved seamlessly into a demonstration, your movements synchronized like a perfectly choreographed dance.

Nanami’s earlier confrontation was all but forgotten—except in the minds of those who’d witnessed it, where the words “my wife” lingered, a reminder of just how fiercely he would always defend you.

A/N: as i said, short n sweet, but yeah, nanami for the win

Masterlist.

:)

[mistressofstars]

A Lecture on Desire

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Non-magical AU

Word Count: 1.6k

„Do you like her?“

''Of course!' What a question! Like asking her if she believe in God.“

- Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

Part I

The classroom hums with the usual energy—papers rustling, laptops clicking shut, and a few muffled conversations as students gather their things and the soft scrape of chairs against the floor as students pack up. Kathryn Hahn your English literature professor is standing at the front leaning against the desk. Her reading glasses rest on the tip of her nose, and she’s holding The Price of Salt in one hand, the well-worn edges of the book betraying the number of times it’s been read. Her other hand closes her notebook with a soft snap.

„Alright, folks,” she says, her voice slicing through the chatter with that signature blend of authority and subtle warmth. “That’s it for today. Let this sit with you, take it, marinate on it, so you don’t come back next class asking me to repeat myself.”

“And for those of you who didn’t speak today—you know who you are—next class is your chance, I expect more from you.“!Her eyes scan the room, lingering for a moment longer on the faces of the students who’ve been quiet

„I want you to think about Therese’s attraction to Carol. What is it, really, that draws her in? Is it Carol’s beauty? Her confidence? Or is there something else, something harder to define?“ She smirks, a playful challenge in her expression.

With that, Kathryn gathers her things, slipping the notebook under her arm and walking to the door, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

The classroom is slowly emptying, the soft hum of chatter growing louder as students make their way out. You sit there, the weight of Kathryn’s words still hanging in the air. The question she left you with—about Therese’s attraction to Carol—lingers in your mind, but it’s something more than just the academic challenge that’s stuck with you.

The the last few students file out, one of them, a familiar face from past semesters, leans over and taps your desk.

“You okay?” they ask, an eyebrow raised, clearly having noticed the way you were staring off into space.

You glance up, trying to shake off the heavy feeling that’s settled in. “Yeah, just… thinking,” you mutter.

They smirk knowingly, shifting their weight. “Yeah, I get it. She has that effect on people. You’re not the first to get caught up in her questions.”

You glance at them, unsure how to respond, but curiosity bubbles up. “Caught up in her questions?”

“Ah, you’ll see,” they say with a sly grin. “Kathryn Hahn? She’s the kind of professor who makes you think you’re just discussing literature, but you end up grappling with things you didn’t expect. She’s… intense. You’ll find yourself reflecting on what she says long after class.“

…

The library is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles in just before dusk. For the first time this winder snow falls, outside the tall windows, blanketing the campus in white. You’re tucked into a corner near the philosophy section, working through notes for next week’s class, but your mind keeps drifting. The question Professor Hahn posed still lingers, twisting through your thoughts like smoke: What is it that draws Therese to Carol?

Your pen hovers over the page, the words stubbornly refusing to come. Frustrated, you glance out the nearest window, hoping the snowfall might offer some clarity—or at least a distraction.

And that’s when you see her.

Professor Hahn stands near one of the buildings more hidden side entrances, a cigarette balanced between her fingers. She’s dressed in a long black coat, its sharp lapels framing a pale satin blouse beneath. The blouse is undone just enough to reveal the curve of her collarbone and the faintest glimpse of skin beneath, completely inappropriate for the snow swirling around her. But she doesn’t seem to care. Her hair is slightly tousled, catching the faint glow of the streetlight above her.

You watch as she takes a slow drag, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that seems almost deliberate. The smoke curls around her face before disappearing into the cold air. She tilts her head back slightly, exhaling with a languid ease, her eyes half-lidded, lost in some thought you can’t begin to guess.

Her fingers move with precision, buttoning the coat halfway, but the effort seems half-hearted, as though the biting cold is of no real concern to her. Snowflakes settle in her dark hair. She’s mesmerizing. The kind of presence that doesn’t demand attention but captures it effortlessly. Her hand moves as she flicks ash into the snow and she flicks some hair out of her face when- for a brief moment

grey eyes flicker up towards the library window, Toward you. Your heart stops beating. You can’t breathe, frozen right then and there. She saw me.

Her coat shifts when she moves, revealing glimpses of her wrist, her neck. She lifts the cigarette to her lips again, her fingers brushing against her face sucking.There’s something hypnotic about the way she moves, unhurried, as though every gesture is deliberate.

Did she see me?

You know you should look away. Your heart still beats uncomfortably strong against your ribcage. The snow falls heavier, settling on her shoulders, her hair. She doesn’t brush it away. Instead, she leans against the wall, tipping her head back once more, a wisp of smoke curling from her mouth like some kind of signature.

She didn’t see me.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been watching until she moves suddenly, flicking the cigarette into the snow and crushing it under the toe of her boot. Then, just before stepping out of view, her lips curve into the faintest smirk.

…

The lecture hall is filmed with the usual chatter, but the moment of silence falls when Kathryn stands, ready to begin. She steps to the front, pulling a well-worn copy of The Price of Salt from her bag, flipping it open to a marked page

She clears her throat, then gestures to one of the students, a quiet one who often volunteers. “Would you read for us, please?”

The student stands, their voice hesitant but clear as they begin: „Their eyes met at the same instant moment, Therese glancing up from a box she was opening, and the woman just turning her head so she looked directly at Therese. She was tall and fair, her long figure graceful in the loose fur coat that she held open with a hand on her waist, her eyes were grey, colorless, yet dominant as light or fire, and, caught by them, Therese could not look away.’

The room is still, each word hanging in the air, and you can feel the tension in the story building just as it did when you read that passage yourself. You glance up at Kathryn, who watches the student with an unreadable expression. Her eyes narrow slightly, lips pressing together as she listens intently.

When the student finishes reading, Kathryn slowly closes the book, looking up. “Now,” she says, her voice cutting through the quiet, “what is it that makes Therese so captivated by Carol in this moment?”

Her gaze flickers to you suddenly, as if she’s been waiting for you to speak. Her eyes lock with yours, „Miss Y/N“.

You hadn’t expected it to be you. The question hangs in the air, heavy with her gaze, and for a moment, the whole class seems to blur.

You take a breath, nerves starting to take hold, but you push them down.

„Therese is drawn to Carol not just because of her beauty, though that’s undeniable. It’s the way Carol carries herself, like she’s fully aware of the power she holds. Her elegance, her confidence—it’s magnetic. But what really pulls Therese in is how Carol allows her to look.“

At that you you see Professor Hahn slightly leaning forward her eyes widen ever so slightly.

You swallow hard but continue, her eyes still locked on you. „There’s an invitation in the way Carol moves, the way she presents herself.‘ It’s like Carol isn’t just beautiful, she’s a creature who knows she’s being watched, and she welcomes it. She enjoys it. And that’s part of the pull. For Therese, it’s not just about wanting Carol, it’s about being invited into that space, being allowed to gaze upon someone who seems so untouchable yet so real.”

Your voice falters just for a second as a memory sweeps over her. Her gaze flickers for a moment, and she’s back in the library, staring through the window at the snow-covered campus. The image of Professor Hahn standing outside in the cold returns in a flash—the sharp contrast of her long black coat and the satin blouse beneath it, the way her fingers delicately held the cigarette, the way she seemed completely unbothered by the snow settling in her hair, like the weather didn’t stand a chance against her.

“Carol doesn’t shy away from Therese’s gaze—she thrives on it.“ Kathryn’s gaze sharpens, her lips curling ever so slightly, and you know she’s taking in every word. She doesn’t break eye contact.

„It makes Carol feel… desired, powerful in a way that she’s able to control.“ You whisper those last words. Breaking the eye contact finally. You could swear Professor Hahns pupils dilated, her arms that were folded across her chest slowly open and she holds herself on the desk.

“Interesting,” she says, her voice smooth and low. “We’ll explore that more next time.” Her eyes linger just a moment longer, a flicker of something you can’t quite place in them, before she shifts her attention to the rest of the class.

[c-cobweb]

𝓣eacher’s pet ⋮ nicholas chavez

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18, mdni!, professor!nicholas x student!reader (everyone is +18), cockwarning, p i v, creampie, semi public sex. a/n ᯓ i saw this interview and i knew i needed to do this, he looks like a math teacher (i love him). ps: english is not my first language.

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

You knocked on the door in front of you twice, waiting until a male voice indicated that you could pass. You opened the door and closed it behind you quickly so that no one else could see what was going on in that office.

And there he, Professor Chavez, was sitting behind his desk. He was so focussed on what he was doing that he didn't even look at you, that was until you cleared your throat and he raised his head, his eyes connected with yours from the glass of his glasses, he smiled sweetly when he saw you.

“Hello, sweetheart” He said and put the pen in his hand aside to step back slightly in his chair and give you a smile. “Wanna sit here?” He asked patting his lap with his hand.

It didn't take long for you to go and sit where he had indicated you, your back pressed to his chest, you could feel the calm beats of his heart against you.

Nicholas grabbed the pen again and continued to correct exams. Ironically, the one he was with now was yours. Honestly, you didn't know if the answers you gave were right or not, you were never good at math, but apparently he put them all as correct. “You did a very good job, baby” He said kissing your covered shoulder.

You smiled and mused a little “thank you”. To which he smiled to himself, he loved how shy you got with him.

Then, he came up with an idea so you wouldn't be so bored. “Do you want to keep me warm?” He whispered in your ear and you could only nod your head quickly. “Yes, yes please”

Your teacher began to unbutton his pants and you put your hand under your skirt to put your panties aside.

The moment his tip made contact with your centre you let out a small gasp, he grabbed you by the hips to help you go down on it. Both of you moaned at the contact.

It's been a long time since you had him inside you.

You leaned completely against his body and rested the back of your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes to the relaxing sensation that made you feel being with Professor Chavez.

You still remembered the first time you felt his length inside you. You asked for private tutoring with Nicholas since you couldn't understand the subject of the class, and later he offered to take you home in his car. What started as an afternoon of studies ended with sex in your favourite teacher's car.

At the memory you felt a tingling in your lower stomach and unconsciously began to move your hips from front to back.

“Stay still” Nicholas growled in your ear as he squeezed your hip with his free hand.

“B-but Nick… I need to move, you’re stretching me so wide, so good…” You said between moans as you continued with your slow movements.

“Baby, I’m working. I can’t distract myself” Your teacher murmured in your ear. “I’m really sorry, but I promise that it's worth the wait. Okay?” Your movements were gradually ceasing until you were still on his lap again.

You snuggled up against his chest while you watched how he finished correcting your exam. “Wow, you got an A+” He said smiling at you. “I’m very proud of you, I think you deserve a little reward” Professor Chavez grabbed your chin and turned your head to be face to face, and kissed your lips short but sweetly.

The next thing he did was get up from the chair without getting out of you and laid you face down on his desk, not caring that the papers there were wrinkled. Slowly he began to move inside you and you had no choice but to cover your mouth with both hands to try to suppress any type of sound that tried to escape.

One of his hands got under your skirt to caress your clit while his hips collided faster and faster against your ass. “That’s my baby, always taking me so good” He said as he threw his head back from pleasure.

Professor Chavez's glasses were fogged up from to the temperature of your bodies, so he took them off with his free hand and put them on his head, throwing his hair back.

The fact that your teacher's fat cock was inside you again and that his caresses on your clit increased made you even closer to ecstasy, and apparently he knew it because he accelerated his movements.

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me” Nicholas said, leaning his chest on your back. “I want you to milk my cock dry”

After his dirty words you couldn't help but come. And to help him finish too, you began to move your hips in circles next to his thrusts, to which he growled and got as deep into you as he could, releasing there loads after loads of semen.

You both got off the cloud and tried to calm your breaths. You stayed in the same position for a while until you both regained your common sense and Nicholas came out of you, making you whine when you felt so empty.

You got up from the table and saw how your teacher took out a handkerchief from a drawer of his desk to be able to clean your crotch and then put your panties back on. “You did so well, my pretty girl” He said hugging you from behind and hiding his face in the crook of you neck. “Now prepare yourself and text your mother that you’re going to sleep in your friend’s house, because you’re coming with me tonight”

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ────────

mlist , bots

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[lewistoferrari]

study hall [3]

uni student kyle who’s late for his session with you in study hall.

“she’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself as he pushes through the double doors, a groan slipping past his lips when he catches your eye.

if looks could kill he’d be dead.

fuck, i’m really in for it now, kyle thinks to himself as the urge to flee increases with each step he takes towards the table you’re occupying.

you really scared the shit out of him sometimes.

one look from you has kyle realizing how much trouble he’s in. you don’t even greet him like you usually do. he quietly dumps his backpack onto the table, while eyeing you warily when you kick his chair away from the table with more force than is necessary.

once he’s seated, kyle has a silent debate with himself. he’s wondering if he should explain his tardiness. but with the way you’re staring at him, he’s not even sure if it matters.

“45 minutes, garrick.”

that’s how late kyle is.

you almost let out a snort when he starts in on his apology right away. “i’m sorry, love. i was—”

but you’re not having any of it.

“save it,” you tell him, your patience finally worn thin. “your communication skills are sorely lacking if you can’t even be bothered to pick up a phone and let me know that you’re running late.”

kyle scowls at your little dig. “look smartass, can we just get this session over with.”

“gladly.” you’ll stop being mad at kyle when he’s no longer in his presence.

you spend the next hour watching kyle talk animatedly while he helps you with your coursework. you have an exam coming up and the class has been kicking your ass lately.

and you’ll never say it out loud—you have no desire to feed his ego—but the more kyle talks, you notice how intelligent he truly is.

no wonder his head is so damn big.

usually when kyle opens his mouth, it’s to utter something that’ll piss you off. he’s the only one who can get under your skin and stay there. you think you might hate professor price for pairing you with kyle, because now you feel like you’re noticing things about him against your will.

you’ve never seen kyle so laser focused, with his nose practically buried in his textbook. you notice the way he talks with his hands whenever he becomes passionate about a certain topic. you do everything you can to ignore the way his brows furrow, and the way he bites his lip when he’s trying to make sense of something.

you close your textbook immediately when you start staring at kyle’s fingers, and the way they grip his textbook. there’s a moment when you think about those same fingers gripping your ass. and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about kyle’s fingers being anywhere near your pussy either, but you do. you have enough sense to suppress a groan. you shouldn’t be thinking about kyle or his hands. you’re supposed to be hating his ass.

shit.

this is bad.

and to make your situation worse, when you look up, pretty brown doe eyes are staring at you in confusion.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that? is something wrong?” kyle asks.

everything.

“nothing!” you blurt out quickly in a high pitched tone. you try your best to ignore kyle, who’s now looking at you suspiciously, while you shove your belongings into your bag. “i just remembered i have to—”

the shrill tone of your phone ringing interrupts your lie, which is a problem in itself when you see the name on the your screen.

it’s johnny.

not now, you think as you snatch the phone off the table to answer the call. you’re barely paying attention to johnny’s yapping though. you’re too busy staring at kyle, whose demeanor is slowly changing the longer you stay on your phone. your try to wrap the call up as quickly as possible by promising johnny that you’ll be available to help him over the weekend.

“why is soap calling you?” kyle demands as soon as the call ends.

he looks like he wants to throttle someone, but you don’t care.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

kyle is way too calm for your liking when he asks you if you’re fucking soap.

excuse me?

“i’m not fucking anyone,” you hiss at him, while gathering the rest of your things. “and even if i was, how is that your business? i’m not yours.”

kyle eyes you up and down, “no?”

instead of responding, you walk off. you have every intention on putting as much distance between you and kyle as possible.

he doesn’t let you get far though. there is no warning when he sneaks up on you. with a grip on the back of your neck, kyle steers you to an empty room.

“garrick, what the hell do you think you’re d—”

a pair of soft lips crashing against yours shuts you up immediately.

-

a/n: it took me a minute to get here, but i’m back (i think)

kyle’s masterlist | uni-verse masterlist | main masterlist

[mischiefinbloom]

Heyy could you do a Regulus Black x fem reader? Maybe a sunshine and grumpy dynamic? I’m in love with your writing

hi, lovely! thank youu for the request! you're making me blusshhh 🤗🤗 hope you enjoy it! ᡣ𐭩

୧ ‧₊˚ little miss sunshine

₊⊹ summary: at hogwarts, you and regulus black struggle with unspoken feelings, while your brother james watches closely. as emotions and fears collide, will you both find a way to face the shadows of the past and the uncertainty of the future?

₊⊹ pairing: regulus black x reader, no use of y/n

₊⊹ warnings: reader is james's sister, regulus is a little coward who struggles to confront his own feelings, and overprotective james (and sirius). i think that's it!

₊⊹ author's note: i HATE that tumblr doesn't let me use my cute dividers because of photo limits!! ugh, improve, tumblr!

hogwarts was especially cold that november afternoon. the winds seemed to cut through the castle's stone walls, carrying with them a sense of urgency no one could quite explain. you were walking through the corridors of the third floor, your steps echoing in harmony with your distracted thoughts. the dim light of the torches cast dancing shadows on the walls, but for you, it was just another ordinary afternoon in a place that, despite its magic, no longer seemed so mysterious.

it was when you turned a corner that you saw him up close for the first time. regulus black, leaning against the stone wall as if he were carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. his impeccable posture, the perfectly tailored slytherin uniform, and that distant gaze... he looked like a painting, but not the warm or inviting kind. regulus had the kind of beauty that intimidated, the kind of presence that made anyone hesitate before saying something.

but you weren’t just anyone.

when you saw him there, with an expression as lost as it was impenetrable, you felt an almost natural urge to break that silence. that’s when you noticed he was holding a piece of parchment in his hands, his fingers tense, as if he was on the verge of crumpling it completely.

"need help?” you asked, your voice gentle but clear enough to make it hard for him to ignore.

he lifted his eyes slowly, as though weighing every word he might say. “no.” the response was short, almost rude, but there was something in his tone that didn’t quite match the disdain he seemed to want to project.

you could have walked away, could have simply continued on your way and left regulus with his problems, but there was something about him that sparked your curiosity. not because he was a black, nor because he was james’s best friend’s younger brother, but because, no matter how hard he tried to appear untouchable, regulus black seemed deeply human.

“alright,” you replied with a slight smile, not insisting but also not hiding the calmness you carried with you. "if you ever need anything, just let me know!"

there were no more words between you in that moment. regulus stayed where he was, and you continued on your way. but somehow, that brief encounter seemed to plant a seed that only time could reveal.

it was only the next morning that coincidence—or perhaps destiny, as poets might say—decided to cross your paths again. ending charms class, professor flitwick announced that regulus black would need a tutor. his performance, though acceptable in some areas, was below expectations in advanced spellwork. and to your surprise, yours was the name the professor called for the task.

“you have the patience and talent to help, miss potter,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “and I believe mr. black could learn a lot from you.”

regulus didn’t say a word. he merely maintained his impassive expression as you nodded.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the first meetings between you were, to say the least, tense. regulus seemed determined not to make anything easy. he answered your questions with monosyllables, avoided looking directly at you, and rarely stayed longer than necessary.

"you know, if you actually paid attention, you'd improve quicker," you commented once, trying to break the uncomfortable silence as he attempted to execute a basic transfiguration spell.

he didn’t reply immediately. his eyes were fixed on his wand, his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his voice came out low and controlled. "I don’t need your help for this."

you just smiled, used to the walls he tried to build around himself. "then why are you here?"

he didn’t answer.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

as the weeks passed, something began to shift. though regulus still maintained his facade of indifference, you noticed small cracks in his armor. he no longer complained as much when he made mistakes and, occasionally, allowed his frustration to show instead of hiding behind silence. in an especially memorable moment, he let out an almost imperceptible 'thank you' after you corrected his posture during a complicated spell.

it was like watching a puzzle slowly come together, piece by piece.

but for regulus, it was more complicated than it seemed. he was used to distrusting everyone, to seeing kindness as a means to an end. but you... you were different. there were no ulterior motives in your gestures, no hidden judgments in your words. and that unsettled him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the days at hogwarts were always hectic, but you knew you couldn’t escape your older brother’s relentless curiosity for long. james had a particular talent for noticing any change in you, even when it was something you weren’t entirely sure how to put into words. that afternoon, while you were reviewing your notes in the gryffindor common room, he approached with the subtlety of a mountain troll.

"you’ve been spending a lot of time outside the tower lately." the statement wasn’t exactly a question but an invitation for explanations. james sank into the armchair beside you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of concern and mischief only he could muster.

"can’t I study in peace now?" you retorted, trying to hide your smile.

"study?" he raised his eyebrows dramatically. "I know it’s not that. lily mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time in the library. and you know who else has been there?" he paused for dramatic effect. "regulus black."

the name lingered in the air like a spark about to ignite a fire. you didn’t lift your eyes from the parchment, but you felt james’s piercing gaze.

"professor flitwick asked me to help him with charms, james," you finally responded, keeping your tone calm. "that’s all."

"that’s all?" he repeated, leaning forward as if hoping to extract some hidden truth. "I can’t believe you’re actually wasting your time on him. he’s a black. you know what that means, don’t you?"

you raised your eyes to meet his, and there was something steady in your gaze that made james hesitate for a moment. "I know very well who he is, james. but maybe you don’t."

he frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea that you might be defending regulus. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means you can’t judge someone just by their last name, even if that someone is your best friend’s brother or part of a family that’s done terrible things. regulus isn’t perfect, but neither is anyone else. he’s... more complicated than he seems."

james was silent for a moment, the words weighing heavier than usual. finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I just don’t want you to get hurt."

you smiled softly, touching his arm. "I know. but trust me, james. I know what I’m doing."

despite the confident tone in your voice, you knew that trust was still something you were building—for yourself as much as for james. because, even as you tried to see past regulus’s barriers, you weren’t entirely sure if he would ever let you through them.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the next morning, you walked through the halls of hogwarts with a stack of books balanced in your arms, feeling the weight not just of the paper, but of a thought you couldn’t shake: regulus black. no matter how much you tried to convince yourself he was just a student struggling with charms, there was something about him that made you want to know more. it wasn’t just curiosity; it was a persistent feeling that he carried something he’d never shared with anyone.

when you arrived at the library, there he was, sitting at the same table as always, his expression alternating between focus and frustration. regulus had a habit of running his fingers through his hair when he was irritated, and at that moment, he looked like he was on the verge of pulling it all out.

you approached quietly, placing the books on the table. he looked up, clearly surprised by your arrival, but quickly returned to his guarded posture.

"I brought some things that might help," you said with a light smile, motioning to the books.

"you didn’t have to go through the trouble," he replied, his voice low and slightly rough.

"I wanted to. and frankly, it looks like you need it," you countered, pulling out a chair beside him.

he didn’t respond immediately, just watched as you opened one of the books and started flipping through it. there was something unsettling about the way you seemed so comfortable sitting beside him, as if the walls he’d built around himself meant nothing to you.

"have you always been like this?" he asked suddenly, his voice almost a whisper.

you looked up, confused. "like what?"

"so... persistent."

the comment caught him off guard as much as it did you. he quickly averted his gaze, as though regretting having said something so personal.

"I don’t know if it’s persistence," you replied after a moment, with a calm smile. "but I think I like to believe no one is impossible to reach."

he let out a dry, humorless laugh. "then you believe wrong."

"I don’t think so." you tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. "you might be reserved, regulus, but that doesn’t mean you’re impossible to understand."

for a moment, he was silent, as if processing your words. then he turned his attention back to the open book, his shoulders tense.

"if you’re so determined to understand me, you might want to reconsider. it’s not always worth it."

"that’s something I get to decide," you said gently, but your determination was unmistakable.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the nights at hogwarts often invited quiet reflection, but the gryffindor common room rarely adhered to that rule. on that particular evening, you sat near the hearth, reviewing notes while james and sirius engaged in a game of wizard’s chess, their concentration so intense that the pieces almost seemed to sweat with the effort.

“so, how’s it going with the little black?” sirius asked suddenly, his eyes never straying from the board.

james sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “don’t start, sirius.”

“what?” sirius responded, raising his hands in mock innocence. “I just find it curious that my adorable little sister is spending so much time with regulus, of all people.”

“he’s not as bad as you two make him out to be,” you replied, not looking up from your parchment.

james shot you a wary look. “he’s a black. that’s all you need to know.”

“you know that’s not fair,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “sirius is a black, and look where he is now. regulus is different. he just... didn’t get the same chance to choose.”

“maybe he doesn’t want to choose,” james retorted, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

“or maybe he’s waiting for someone to show him that it’s possible,” you responded calmly.

sirius let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it. “good luck with that. regulus has always been good at pretending he doesn’t need anyone.”

“maybe he needs someone more than he lets on,” you said, returning to your notes, though your thoughts were far from them.

james and sirius continued their banter, but your mind was elsewhere, lingering on regulus—the way he kept everyone at arm's length, how he seemed so adept at hiding his true feelings. you didn’t know why it mattered to you so much, but you were certain you wouldn’t give up.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the days that followed brought small but noticeable progress. regulus remained his usual guarded self, but there was a shift in his demeanor, as though he was slowly becoming accustomed to your presence. perhaps it was the way you never faltered in the face of his cold indifference, or how you remained determined to treat him with kindness despite his sharp responses.

on a particularly overcast afternoon, you found regulus in the library, as you often did. he was hunched over a parchment, his quill moving with meticulous care, as though he were trying to will the ink into perfection.

“hey, regulus,” you greeted, setting your own books down on the table and taking a seat beside him.

he didn’t answer right away, but his eyes flicked toward you briefly before returning to his work.

“if it’s another book about charms, you can save yourself the trouble,” he said, his voice flat and detached.

you let out a soft laugh. “actually, no. I thought we could try something a bit more practical today.”

he raised an eyebrow, finally turning his gaze toward you. “practical how?”

“like actually casting spells, instead of just studying them.” you tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “unless, of course, you’re afraid of making mistakes in front of me.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he replied automatically, but a faint flush crept into his cheeks, betraying him.

you suppressed a laugh, picking up your wand. “great. then show me the levitation charm.”

he hesitated for a moment, as though weighing the worth of indulging you. but, to your surprise, regulus drew his own wand and murmured the incantation. the feather in front of him lifted a few inches before tumbling back onto the parchment.

you said nothing at first, simply raised your wand and repeated the charm, making the feather float and spin gracefully in the air. when you glanced at regulus, you noticed the frown on his face, his dissatisfaction with himself palpable.

“it wasn’t bad,” you said sincerely. “you just need to relax a little more. spells work better when you’re not so tense.”

“I'm not tense,” he retorted, though there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

you smiled, leaning slightly forward. “if you weren’t, you would have nailed it on the first try.”

he shot a look in your direction, but this time, something was different. a faint, almost imperceptible curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he were trying not to smile.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

as the weeks unfolded, the dynamic between you and regulus gradually shifted, becoming almost comfortable. he remained distant, but there were moments when the ice between you seemed to crack, revealing fleeting glimpses of vulnerability that he couldn't fully conceal from you.

on one particularly cold evening, you found him once again in the library. this time, he was alone, devoid of books or scrolls, simply staring into the emptiness before him.

"is everything alright?" you inquired, sitting beside him without waiting for an invitation.

he took a moment before responding, his gaze fixed on an invisible point in the distance. when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, tinged with uncertainty.

"sometimes, I wonder what I'm doing here," he confessed, not meeting your eyes.

you furrowed your brow in confusion. "at hogwarts?"

"no," he replied, his voice soft. "here. with you." he turned to face you, and there was something in his expression that made your heart tighten. "I don't know why you care so much. no one ever has."

his words struck you unexpectedly, and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. regulus wasn't accustomed to acknowledging his weaknesses, not even to himself.

"perhaps because I see something in you that you don't see," you answered gently.

he let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "you're fooling yourself."

"maybe," you conceded, but there was an unwavering determination in your voice that made him pause. "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you both more profound than any words could express. then, regulus broke the stillness, his gaze shifting away, his expression retreating once more into its familiar mask of indifference.

"you're infuriatingly persistent," he murmured, though there was a trace of warmth in his tone that hadn't been there before.

"and you," you replied with a soft smile, "are infuriatingly stubborn."

for an instant, you could have sworn you saw the faintest curve of a smile tug at the corners of his lips before he concealed it once more beneath his habitual mask.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the following days were a careful dance between maintaining your friendship with regulus and balancing the constant concern from james. you felt the weight of each conversation, each glance from your brother, as though he were trying to decipher whether your intentions were truly safe. james never directly told you to stay away, but the worry in his eyes spoke louder than any words.

on the other hand, regulus seemed increasingly uncomfortable with the growing closeness between you two. he continued attending your meetings in the library, but his posture was more tense, his comments shorter, and his once-guarded glances were now aimed anywhere but at you.

one afternoon, while reviewing charms, you decided to finally confront him about his growing distance.

"regulus," you began, your voice soft but firm, "what’s going on?"

he didn’t look at you immediately, his eyes fixed on the parchment in front of him. when he finally spoke, his voice was cold, almost cutting.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"you know exactly what I mean." you crossed your arms, leaning slightly forward. "you've been avoiding me, regulus. you can hardly look at me."

he finally lifted his eyes, but what you saw there wasn’t anger or coldness; it was fear.

"I'm not avoiding you," he said, but the lack of conviction in his voice betrayed him.

you sighed, shaking your head. "you can lie to yourself, but not to me."

he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply before meeting your gaze again. "maybe it’s better this way. maybe I should just stay away."

his words hit you like a punch, but you didn’t retreat. "why? what have I done to deserve this?"

he hesitated, the internal struggle clearly written on his face. "it’s not you... it’s me."

"that’s a ridiculous excuse, regulus." your voice trembled slightly, but you kept it steady. "you’ve been pushing me away because you're afraid. afraid to open up, afraid to care."

"and what if I am?" he shot back, his voice finally rising. "what if I’m afraid? because that’s what you do. you come into my life, break down all my barriers, and I don’t know how to deal with that!"

the silence that followed was deafening. you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the confession torn from him like it was too painful to say.

"I never wanted to hurt you," you said, softly but with the strength needed to reach his heart.

he turned his gaze away, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don’t know how to be... this. how to be someone who deserves you."

"you don’t need to be perfect, regulus. you just need to be you."

he looked at you again, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something more. but then he closed off, muttering something inaudible before quickly standing up and leaving the library, leaving you alone with the weight of the conversation.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

later that evening, you found james in the common room. he was laughing at something sirius had said, but when he saw you, his expression changed instantly.

"what’s wrong?" he asked, rising to approach you.

you hesitated for a moment before collapsing onto the couch next to him, the words spilling out in a rush. you told him about regulus, about his hesitant confession, and the fear that seemed to control him.

james stayed silent as he listened, his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. when you finished, he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

"I don’t like this, you know? you and him. I don’t think it’s a good idea."

"I know," you said, tired. "but I care about him, james. and I think he cares about me too, even if he’s too afraid to admit it."

james let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking his head. "you know, sometimes you’re just as stubborn as I am."

you smiled faintly but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"if you really believe he’s worth it, then go ahead. but if he hurts you..." james stopped, his expression darkening. "he’s going to have to deal with me."

you nodded, touched by your brother’s protectiveness, even if he didn’t fully approve of your choices.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the library was nearly empty, the sun sinking low on the horizon, casting long shadows between the shelves. you found him sitting at the same table as always, but something was different. regulus appeared drained, his shoulders slumped, his hands gripping the parchment in front of him as though it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

you approached slowly, the sound of your footsteps the only break in the quiet. he didn’t lift his head until you were seated, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of guilt and resignation.

"I didn’t think I’d see you here anymore," he said, breaking the silence, but not the tension that lingered between you.

he didn’t meet your gaze, his fingers tapping on the parchment. "I didn’t plan to come."

you waited, sensing there was more beneath his words. regulus black never did anything without a reason, and something in his expression suggested he was teetering on the edge of something deeper.

"I don’t know how to start," he admitted, finally looking at you again. his eyes were darker than usual, heavy with something he couldn’t share.

"then don’t start. just say it," you encouraged gently, your voice soft but firm, urging him to break down the walls he had built.

he let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound hollow in the stillness of the library. "you make it sound so easy."

"because it is, regulus. you just have to be honest."

he shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. "honesty isn’t something I was taught to value. I was raised to lie, manipulate, hide. and now... now, I don’t even know who I am anymore."

the words hit you like a blow, and you could feel the raw pain in his voice. but you didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch at the vulnerability he was offering, however painful it was for him.

"maybe it’s time to find out, regulus. maybe it’s time to stop being who they want you to be and start being who you really are."

he closed his eyes, his shoulders trembling slightly as though he were fighting something inside. "I tried to push you away because I thought it would be better that way. I thought if i didn’t care, I couldn’t hurt you. but the more I push away, the more I realize that... I can’t. I can’t forget you."

the words came out with such intensity that they almost stole the breath from your lungs. you knew regulus had feelings for you, but hearing it directly from his lips, laden with so much pain and hesitation, was overwhelming.

"why do you think you’d hurt me?" you asked, leaning forward slightly, as if you could bridge the emotional gap he’d created.

"because it’s what I do," he replied, his voice low and rough. "everything I touch shatters. my family, my brother, my future... everything. I’m not someone who deserves... this."

"this what?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly. "reg, tell me. be honest."

he hesitated, his eyes locking onto yours with a kind of unbearable intensity. "you. I don’t deserve you."

the silence that followed was suffocating. you could feel the weight of his words, the pain behind them, and above all, the fear that regulus carried with him like a shattered shield.

"don’t you see?" you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. "I chose you. with all your imperfections, your fears, your insecurities. I chose you because I see who you really are, and that’s more than enough for me."

he laughed again, but this time, there was something broken in the sound. "and what if I can’t live up to that? what if I fail you, just like I failed everyone else?"

you moved closer, reaching out to touch his hand. he hesitated, but didn’t pull away, his eyes locked on the gentle touch of your fingers.

"then fail," you said, your voice full of emotion. "fail as many times as it takes. but stop hiding, regulus. stop pushing me away, because I’m not going anywhere."

he finally broke, his shoulders slumping as a tremulous sigh escaped his lips. "I’m so scared..."

"I know," you replied, squeezing his hand gently. "but you don’t have to face it alone."

and in that moment, something shifted. it wasn’t a dramatic break or a sudden revelation, but a quiet understanding that passed between you. regulus was still broken, still battling his own demons, but for the first time, he was allowing you to help him carry the weight.

when he finally looked up at you again, there was a new determination in his eyes. a glimmer of hope that, though small, was enough to begin with.

"I don’t know how to do this, I..." he admitted.

"then let’s figure it out together," you said, and for the first time, he didn’t pull away.

the touch of his hand on yours felt like the only bridge between fear and desire, between pain and hope. regulus was vulnerable, more exposed than he had ever allowed himself to be, and you could feel the fragility in every ounce of courage he was trying to summon.

he didn’t pull away, didn’t shy away from the touch, and for the first time, something inside him seemed to give way. the look he gave you, full of insecurity, was also a silent plea. "don’t let me go."

without a word, you leaned in slightly, your face only inches from his. the rhythm of your hearts seemed to align, as though the world around you had faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment of pure vulnerability.

regulus’s breathing was uneven, as though the weight of his own uncertainty was choking him, but there was something in his eyes—something deep and desperate—that made you hesitate for no longer. your gaze dropped to his lips, the same lips that were so close, yet so far away, like a promise that had never been kept.

he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes, the tension in the air almost palpable. you could see the inner struggle on his face, the battle between the fear of surrendering and the desire to finally give in to what you both knew was inevitable.

"I’m not sure if..." he started to say, but his words trailed off as you, gently and softly, pressed your lips to his.

the kiss was tentative at first, a light touch, as though you both were testing the boundaries of what was safe. but soon, the tenderness grew into something more urgent, more profound. regulus, hesitant at first, began to surrender to the kiss, his fingers tightening around yours, and the kiss deepened, as if every movement was an attempt to unravel the knots of fear that had bound him for so long.

the taste of his kiss was both familiar and new—a blend of frustration and yearning, of insecurity and hope. it was as if, in surrendering to you, he was allowing himself, for the first time, to be more than the expectations placed on him. more than the mistakes of his past.

regulus’s hands, once tense and restrained, now moved with greater confidence, his expression, once closed and distant, now open in quiet surrender. he pulled you closer, as if to reassure himself that you were there, that you weren’t leaving, and you gave yourself to him with the same intensity, meeting his desire and his fear with the same certainty.

when you finally parted, your breath was heavy, ragged, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. regulus kept his eyes closed for a beat, as if allowing himself to feel that moment completely, before opening them and looking at you with something that, for the first time, was pure.

"I don’t... I don’t know what this means," he murmured, his voice trembling.

you smiled softly, your fingers brushing his face gently. "we don’t need to know right now, regulus. we’ll figure it out together."

and, for the first time, he didn’t pull away, didn’t try to protect himself. the insecurity was still there, but there was something new—an inkling that maybe, just maybe, the fear was no longer stronger than the connection beginning to grow between you.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 45

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,850ish

Summary: On the road, your group finds a family in need of help.

Warning(s): lots of movie dialogue, canon violence, injuries, character death(s)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The four of you found yourselves back on the road soon after the wedding ceremony. Things seemed lighter in a way. Laura and Charles sat in back while Logan drove and you sat beside him. Logan kept one hand on the wheel while his other kept a firm hold on yours. He didn’t want to let you go before your marriage was official, but now he really didn’t want to. 

Charles was drifting in and out of sleep as Laura stared out the window with her sunglasses, locking and unlocking the door.

“Knock it off,” Logan said, voice gruff. Laura made no move to stop. “I said, knock it off!”

“She’s a child, Logan,” Charles said. “And, point of face, she’s your—“

“How long has it been since you took your meds?” Charles exhaled, annoyed. “Tell me, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know!”

Logan scoffed. “You saw what happened yesterday. If that shit had gone on any longer, everything in that casino—“

“I did what I had to do to save Laura and Y/N.”

“What?” You questioned, turning to look back at Charles.

“I knew you wouldn’t get to my meds and I kept you from doing so. You wouldn’t have been able to take on all those men while protecting Laura and I.”

“You had a fucking seizure on purpose?!” Logan exclaimed, clearly furious.

“I guess you prefer me pharmaceutically castrated, rambling on like a lunatic. So much easier for you.”

“Easier? There is nothing easy about you, Charles, nothing!”

“Yes, yes, please be like the rest of the world, blaming someone else for your boring shit.”

“I know, Pop, I’m such a giant disappointment.”

“What? Logan, you’re not a disappointment,” you tried to interject. 

“You honestly derive no sense of purpose from what we’re doing?” Charles continued.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Logan questioned. “Hmm?”

“There is a young mutant sitting in our car.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“And where we’re taking her, there are others. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, means nothing to me. Especially since Nurse Gabriela made all that Eden shit up with fucking comic books.”

“What are you talking about?”

Logan let go of your hand and opened the center consul. He pulled out a bottle, handing it to you. “Give those to him, will you?”

“Logan,” you tried.

“Give ‘em to him.”

You sighed, opening up the bottle and taking two pills out. You turned back and handed them to Charles, giving him a sympathetic smile. Charles took them and tossed them into his mouth before getting a drink.

“I wanna see it,” Logan said, looking at Charles.

Charles made a noise as he opened his mouth and stuck his tough out for Logan to see. Logan took the bottle from you, threw it into the consul, and then slammed it shut. You sighed, so much for the happiness that the small wedding brought. Logan glanced over at you as you stared out the window. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

“Sorry,” Logan muttered. “On edge.”

“Clearly,” you replied, turning to face him. “Can you try not to be mad at anyone in this car? The rest of the world, sure, but those in this truck are off limits. Got it?” 

“Only for you.” He kissed the back of your hand again.

“Whipped,” Charles muttered.

“Have something to tell the class Professor?”

“Nothing.”

Your group fell into a calm silence for a few moments until one of the auto-semi-trucks moved too close to your truck.

“Motherfucking auto-trucks!” Logan exclaimed.

“Language, Logan,” scolded Charles. “And you’re screaming at a machine.”

“Oh, what? She can gut a man with her feet, she can’t hear a few naughty words, huh?”

“She can learn to be better.”

“You mean, better than me?”

“I’m sure that’s not—“

“Actually, yes,” Charles interrupted you. 

You knew Charles wasn’t totally in his right mind, but you wished he could fully realize how much his words affected Logan. 

“And, by the way,” continued Charles, “Laura’s foot claws are the obvious result of her gender, you know.”

“Is that a fact?” Logan asked.

“In a pride of lions, the female is both hunter and caregiver.”

“Good to know.”

“She uses her front claws for hunting and the back claws defensively.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan’s sarcasm was clear.

“Thus, ensuring their survival.”

Laura watched this—and every— interaction with curiosity and caution. It was clear to her that her comics were right about somethings. One being that the Wolverine was tough and hostile, but had a soft side for those he cared about. Especially for you. Though the comics Nurse Gabriela had shown her did not do the love you two shared any justice, both the good and the bad. Laura could tell that Logan didn’t know how exactly to deal with Laura and who she was, but she could tell that the hostility was dying, though extreme slow. Laura knew that was thanks to you. As she continued to watch and listen, you looked back to check on her. You shot her a soft smile. Laura wanted to give you one in return, but she really didn’t know how, so she opted for a nod and to turn back to the window.

Just then, an auto-truck honked and began to move over to the lane that your truck was in without even waiting. Logan was forced to swerve quickly, driving into oncoming traffic. Laura held onto Charles trying to keep him steady while you gripped the handle near your door and the middle consul. Logan maneuvered through the oncoming traffic until there was a clearing and he could turn around, coming to a harsh stop. He looked around, noticing that everyone was clearly shaken up.

As the four of you tried to calm down, you watched as a truck pulling a horse trailer stopped across the road. The horse trailer had been knocked open in the incident, with the horses running out. A young man and his parents got out of the truck, rushing to get the horses off the road.

“We should help them,” Charles suggested.

“No, we have to keep going,” Logan retorted. “Someone will come along.”

“Someone has come along.”

Logan looked your way, wanting to know your thoughts.

“I think it would do us some good to help someone else right now,” you told him.

With a sigh, Logan drove the truck across the lanes of traffic and parked it in front of the other truck. Charles rolled down the window and closed his eyes as you and Logan exited the truck. You watched as the horses all came back over and lined up in the trailer. Logan looked back over at Charles with a angry look. You caught it, slipping your hand into Logan’s and giving it a light squeeze. Laura slipped out of the car and stood a bit behind you two.

“Hey, uh, you need a hand?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” the woman replied. “Our truck is stuck. After we get the horses in, we could really use some help getting it out.”

Once the horses were in the trailer, the woman got into the driver’s seat and turned on the truck to help reverse it. Logan and her husband got in front to push it while the son was helping from the side. Once they were all set, they started moving the truck back.

“Ah, good,” the husband patted the front as soon as the truck had moved to a good spot, “got it. Come on, let’s get home.”

“Laura! Y/N!” Logan called. The two of you were standing near the trailer, Laura looking at the horses.

“Thank you so much for your help,” the woman said. “I’m Kathryn.” She reached out her hand.

Logan shook it. “James.”

“This is my son, Nate.”

��Hi,” Nate said.

“Hey,” Logan responded.

“Is that your wife and daughter?” Kathryn asked.

“Uh, yeah, thats, uh—“

“I’m Y/N,” you walked up to Kathryn, “his wife. That’s our daughter Laura.”

“Yeah, and that’s my dad, Chuck,” Logan pointed to Charles in the truck, who waved. “Come on, Laura, let’s go.”

“Well, can we show our appreciation and treat the four of you to a decent meal?” Kathryn wondered. “We don’t live far from here.”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“That would be lovely!” Charles exclaimed. 

You stifled a giggle at the look Logan shot Charles. You walked over to Logan and took his hand. “As long as we aren’t a bother,” you told Kathryn.

“Of course not,” she said. “Just follow us home.”

~~~

“I don’t like this,” Logan grumbled as the table was being set. “We need to keep moving.”

“Logan, it’s just one night,” you told him. “No one would suspect us to stop somewhere like this.”

“Still.”

“Everybody, have a seat,” Kathryn said. 

“James, why don’t you sit at the end of the table?” Will, Kathryn’s husband, suggested.

Will sat on one end while Logan took the opposite seat. Kathryn and Nate took one of the longer sides, while Charles, Laura, and you took the other.

“You wanna say grace?” Kathryn asked. “Say grace, baby.”

“Uh, thank you, God, for this food,” Nate said, “and for our new friends, the Howletts.

“Mmm. They came to our aid. Amen.”

“Amen,” you joined in with the rest in saying it.

Everyone began eating. Logan noticed quickly that Laura was stuffing the food into her mouth using her hands. He reached over and handed her, her fork. The bowl of corn got passed to her and she quickly began scooping. Logan took the bowl away before she could take it all. You bit your lip as you noticed how the others were watching you all. 

“Oh, there’s plenty more if she wants,” Kathryn offered. 

“She’s fine,” Logan said. “Thank you.”

“This is delicious,” Charles said.

“Oh, thank you,” Kathryn responded.

“It’s so good.”

“Where are you all headed?” Will asked.

“Uh, Oregon,” Logan said at the same time that Charles said, “South Dakota.”

“Well, Oregon and then South Dakota,” Charles corrected.

“Vacation?” Kathryn wondered.

“Uh, yes. Uh, long overdue. We’re city folk. Always wanted to take a road trip, see the country. And meet the people in it.”

“Well that sounds lovely. Been trying to get Will here to take a vacation for years now.”

“If we go traipsing all over the country, who’s gonna take care of this place?” Will retorted.

“Exactly. I say, let it go.”

“And live off what?”

“The Lord will provide.”

“I”m still waiting for the Lord to provide me with a new thresher.”

“All the same, I’d love to travel someday.”

“And I bet, you will,” Charles told her.

“I could drop out of school,” Nate offered.

“Okay, let’s not go that far,” Kathryn said. 

“I mean, I’ll do it.”

“No, no.”

“Why not? You wanna travel, I wanna travel.”

“Son, son.”

“That sounds good to you, right?” Will asked.

“It’s the perfect plan,” said Nate.

“Why oddly you want to do that, Nate?” Charles wondered.

“Careful,” Logan spoke up, “you’re speaking to a man who ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?”

“Really?” Will asked.

“Yes, it was a… it was a special needs school,” Charles said.

You tried not laugh at his description.

“Uh-huh. That’s a good description,” Logan smirked.

“He was there, too,” Charles pointed at Logan. “In fact, these two both were.”

“Yeah, I got kicked out a few times.”

“Some of them were by choice,” you spoke up, teasing him.

“I wish I could say you were a good pupil, but the words would choke me,” Charles said.

Everyone laughed, including Logan.

“Not that Y/N was much better,” Charles added.

“Wait, what?” You questioned.

“When Y/N first arrived at the school, she hid and refused to participate. Took me years to get her to do anything.”

“Hey, woah. Not years. Maybe one.”

“Whatever.”

The laughter and chatter continued until everyone was full. Logan stood up.

“Ma’am, I can’t thank you enough for this,” he said. “Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so—“

“But you need to rest, don’t you?” Kathryn questioned.

“Yeah, we’ll find a motel somewhere.”

“The nearest one is two hours from here and it’s not even that nice,” Will said. 

“We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter if you don’t mind you and your wife sleeping in the living room on the convertible,” Kathryn offered.

“Kathryn, it’s very, very nice of you, but we really should go.”

“We can leave early in the morning,” Charles said. “Break of dawn, as it were.”

Logan looked at you, hoping that you’d side with him. You weren’t going to though. It was nice to interact with others and seem normal for a while.

“Okay,” Logan sighed, “why don’t we wash up, Pop?”

Logan pushed Charles away to the bathroom.

“Would you two like some dessert?” Kathryn offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you replied.

“Of course not.”

“You all have been really kind to my family. Thank you.”

The water coming from the sink suddenly cut in and out. 

“Oh, shit!” Will exclaimed.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Nate, go fill up the tub before we lose pressure.”

“They shut if off again,” Kathryn said.

“They are just not going to let this thing go.”

“Well, you might as well handle it now.”

“It can wait till the morning. We just had rain last night.”

“We got four houseguests and a sink full of dishes.”

“Alright, alright.” Will turned to talk to Logan. “The pump station that supplies us is a mile and a half from here. Sometimes it gets itself shut off.”

“By assholes,” Nate added.

“My son is happy to go with you,” Charles offered.

“No, no, no, that’s fine,” Will said as Logan gave Charles a look of unbelief. “The men that do this, sometimes they can be—“

“I can go,” Nate said.

“No,” Kathryn said, “you’ve got homework.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Logan said. “Just, uh, let me get my dad settled.” 

He walked over to Charles and picked him up. Your heart broke as you could hear the strain in Logan’s breathing. You took Laura’s hand and followed Logan and Charles up the stairs to the open bedroom. Laura saw Nate in his room and opted to follow him.

“Behave,” you whispered to her with a smile before letting her go. 

You peeked into the room, watching Logan get Charles tucked in. He held up a remote.

“Want TV?” Logan asked. “There’s TV here.”

“I’m fine,” Charles breathed out.

“Okay. Get some rest.”

“You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. A home, people who love each other. Safe place. You should take a moment and feel it. It’s been too long since you’ve had that.”

“Yeah It’s great.” You stepped back as Logan came to the door.

“Logan. Logan! You still have time.”

“Charles, the world is not the same as it was. We’re taking a risk hanging around here, you know that. And where we’re going, Eden… it doesn’t exist. Her nurse got it from a comic book. You understand? It’s not real.”

“It is for Laura… It is for Laura.”

“Get some rest.”

Logan walked out of the room, completely shutting the door, to find you there.

“What are we doing, Logan?” You asked quietly. “If you don’t believe that Eden is real, then where are we taking Laura? What are your plans with her?”

Logan sighed, coming up to you and placing his hands on your arms. He ran his hands down until he could hold your hands. “I… I’m trying here.”

“Try harder… for Laura, for Charles… for me. You need to decide if you believe in it and if you’re willing to trust that Eden will be a safe place for your daughter.”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I hope it’s real. For her sake.”

“Then I’ll try a little harder, okay?” You nodded, leaning into Logan. His hands dropped yours to wrap you in a hug. “I won’t be long.”

“Be safe.”

The two of you met for a brief kiss. You walked Logan down the stairs and watched as he and Will headed out to the fields. You saw Kathryn in living room, reading the pull-out bed. 

“Thank you, again,” you told her.

“Of course,” she replied. “It seems like you all have had a long journey and need some good rest.”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“The bed’s all ready. Sleep well.” 

Then Kathryn walked away. You crawled onto the bed and curled up, thinking of Logan. You heard footsteps just as you were about to fall asleep, the weight was familiar. Your back was facing towards the slow, on coming footsteps.

“Logan?” You whispered quietly, only to receive no verbal response. 

A hand fell to your back, moving until it was above your beating heart.

“Logan, what are you—“

Quickly, the hand formed a fist and three metal claws entered your heart. The darkness came instantly.

~~~

When Logan and Will arrived back at the house, Logan went to the truck to try to calm down his coughing. A gunshot and screams had his head snapping in the direction of the house. Logan raced inside the best he could with his limp. Will was at the bottom of the stairs, claw marks through his chest. Logan looked up to see a copy of him—younger and less scarred—carrying a screaming and bound Laura down the stairs. Logan froze, only able to pant and stare as the copy of him walked past him, Laura still screaming.

“Charles!” Logan shouted up the stairs. “Y/N! Charles! Y/N!” 

He used the railing to get him up the stairs faster. At the top of the stairs, he found Kathryn dead with Nate at the entrance of Charles’ room. He froze for a moment upon seeing Charles bloody and barely breathing in bed. Blood was running out of Charles’ mouth as he shakily reached for Logan. 

When Logan finally broke out from his trance, he rushed over and used some of the bedding to pack Charles’ wound. He maneuvered Charles’ hands to be over the bedding.

“Hold this,” Logan whispered, fear coursing through his veins. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

Logan picked Charles up carefully, still scanning the house for any sign of you. Charles let out a moan as he struggled to keep conscious.

“Just hold on, Charles,” Logan said.

Logan went out the side door and rushed Charles over to the truck, placing him in the bed.

“I’ll be back,” Logan promised, before going back inside. “Y/N! Y/N!”

Suddenly, his nose got whiff of a familiar scent. Your blood. He rushed for the living room, where the pull out bed was out. There was a large bloody stain on it, but no you. There was no sign of your fire or your smoke or your ashes. Logan’s heart hammered in his chest as he continued to find no sign of you in the house. Logan stammered out of the house to hear more screaming and gunshots. He saw his duplicate self killing the men who turned off the water. There was a military grade truck past his duplicate. Logan noticed Laura on the ground but when he his moved, his breath caught in his throat. 

They had you in a glass box, like Snow White or a doll. There was blood on you and Logan could tell from where he was standing that you weren’t breathing.

“Charles!” Logan exclaimed quietly. He went back over and pressed on the wounds. “Hold this down, right now, tight!”

“Save them,” Charles whispered. “I’m… sorry…”

“What?”

“Go…” Then Charles heart stopped.

“No.” 

Rage grew inside Logan. How dare they create a duplicate version of him and have him kill you and Charles? He had to get to you before they did anything. Suddenly, the military truck blew up, throwing the glass case you were in forward, crashing next to Laura. The glass broke. Logan needed to move fast. He knew that if you went up in flames and your ashes were separated, there would be no coming back for you. He wouldn’t be able to continue on the rest of his short life without you.

Logan snuck up on his duplicate as the duplicate marched towards you and Laura. With each grunt, he plunged his claws into the duplicate. But his copy made no move to fight back, just walking backwards with each hit. Logan plunged both sets of claws into the copy.

“What the hell are you?” He grunted.

The duplicate stabbed Logan in the shoulder and tossed him over to the ground. Logan shielded himself with his claws before the duplicate could do it again. Every muscle and bone was straining with Logan, but he couldn’t stop. Not when you weren’t safe. Logan jumped back up and continued fighting, but the duplicate was better, stronger. The copy kept making hits, causing Logan to yell out in pain. 

Eventually, the duplicate had Logan pinned against a large tractor tire. Before it could make the final kill, Will’s truck rammed into the duplicate, pinning it against the fence. Will stumbled out of the truck with his gun, shooting into the duplicate multiple times. Once Will believed the duplicate to be dead, he turned his gun on Logan, but couldn’t do anything before he fell to the ground, dead. 

Laura’s shrieking continued as she laid bound beside your dead body. Logan stumbled over to the two of you, bloody and bruised. He knew that you needed to get someplace safe, but he also knew that you would never forgive him for leaving Laura. He grabbed Laura and carried her over to the truck, placing her into the seat next to his before turning to get you.

As he knelt beside you to pick you up, the tears fell. The three punctures over your heart was enough to tell him that his copy had done this to you. He groaned as he picked you up and cradled you against him.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered, like him saying that would wake you. “It wasn’t me.”

He carried you to the truck and slipped you into the back seat. Laura turned around and saw Charles dead in the bed of the trunk and you dead in the back seat. Her shrieking got worse as she fought against her bindings. Logan turned on the truck and sped off into the fields. Laura thrashed around, trying to free herself. With a shaky hand, Logan released his claws.

“Hold still,” he told her, moving the claws over to her cuffs. “Hold still.”

He cut through the bindings and quickly put away his claws, focusing on driving through the field. Laura crawled into the back seat and placed your head on her lap. Logan glanced at her through the rearview mirror, not missing the tear that slipped down her cheek.

next chapter >

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect - 6

5.5k words

18+ only

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, oral sex [m & f receiving], fingering, vaginal sex

Summary: Fred has a surprise in store for his favorite prefect (soft Fred, sub Fred?, dom Fred)

A/N: This is the final part. Thanks for being patient, figuring out how to end this was tricky. Be sure to check back for more fics soon, I will be working through my requests. Enjoy! <3

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

——

The Winter Ball was quickly approaching, and students became more antsy as time went on. It was Tuesday, and the ball was scheduled for Saturday night. Almost no one could pay attention in their their classes this week.

You were in Potions, your favorite class of the day. The table groups were hard at work preparing ingredients to make an invisibility potion. Your job was to chop up the knotgrass, and your other table mates collected the remaining ingredients.

The tedious task of mincing up the knotgrass allowed your mind to wander. The past month with Fred had been quite memorable, and your thoughts were overtaken by images of him.

Fred had caught you on your Wednesday night prefect rounds, pulling you into an abandoned classroom. It took only seconds for his lips to crash into yours as he pushed you against the closed door of the room.

He pulled your robes off of your shoulders, tossing them onto a nearby desk. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, and you knew that you were in for it.

Fred took your hand, bringing you to the front of the room by the professor's desk. He kissed you one more time before gripping you by the hips and bending you over the desk.

"Can you see it now, birdie?" he asked, leaning down over you to talk into your ear. "When you're a professor, I can bend you over your desk anytime."

His hand ran up the back of your thigh, causing your whole body to erupt in a shiver. It took only moments for him to undo his belt and pull up your skirt.

Fred was thrusting into you, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. "Shhhh, little bird. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, huh?" Fred whispered, gripping your waist with his hands.

You bit your lip, trying to keep any sounds from escaping. Fred grabbed at your hair, pulling it as he fucked you over the desk. 

You could feel your climax begin to grow, and you pushed your hips back into Fred to meet his pace. A choked groan came from your throat, and Fred reached around to put his hand over your mouth.

"Now what did I say, darling?" he scolded, increasing his pace even more. "Are you really so desperate for all of Hogwarts to hear you scream my name?"

Your hands gripped the edges of the desk, holding on for dear life. Fred could have simply cast a silencing charm, but where was the fun in that?

You were moments your orgasm, pinching your lips together to keep silent. Fred knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was torturous. You were determined to hold it together until his thumb found your clit, marking your downfall.

"Anyone home?" Cedric asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You jolted out of your thoughts, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming. Your cheeks immediately turned a vibrant shade of red.

Cedric chuckled. "It's alright, no one can focus with the Winter Ball happening this week. Even Cho is distracted," he said, trying to reassure you. "Are you still going with Fred?"

You nodded. You had been looking forward to going to the ball with Fred. Ever since the Hufflepuff party and the initial shock to Hogwarts of your relationship, things had been pretty tame. It wasn't the explosion of gossip like you had been expecting.

Cedric pushed back his stool, getting up to peer over into the cauldron. The water was ready, all you needed was to add in the ingredients correctly.

"I might need to memorize how to make this for when I make Cho angry," Cedric joked, looking over at you. 

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. You knew her temper all too well. "I'm sure the twins will be picking my brain about the recipe. Godric knows what they would get up to with invisibility potions," you replied, measuring out the knotgrass. 

"So do you get to know the plans for the pranks beforehand now that you're with Fred?" Cedric asked, stirring the cauldron. 

"Not usually," you answered. "My policy with them is that the less I know about the trouble they get into, the better. I'm not afraid to take away House points when necessary, but I don't want to do it when it's the twins."

"I can't imagine how strange it must be to be a prefect dating the biggest troublemaker at Hogwarts, seems like a conflict of interest," Cedric commented playfully, raising his eyebrows at you. "But it seems like you two get on quite well despite your differences."

You titled your head in consideration. You hadn't thought about the 'conflict of interest' aspect, but who cares? You aren't the only prefect at the school. Someone else can shout at the twins for their misbehaviors. 

"Our differences keep things interesting," you said. "If Fred dated someone exactly like him, this school would go up in flames. Someone has to keep him in line."

You and Cedric chuckled, beginning to add ingredients into the cauldron. You felt a flutter of pride in your chest at the fact that Cedric picked up on how well you and Fred worked as a couple. You didn't worry yourself with the approval of others, but it was nice to hear it regardless.

——

You plopped your backpack onto the floor, joining Fred on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It had become routine for you to visit Fred in the evenings after you finished your homework in the library. He was usually in the common room with his twin playing cards or planning their next prank.

"I heard that you made invisibility potions today," George commented from his place across the room. He was playing cards with Angelina and Lee.

"So what if we did?" you retorted. The advanced Potions class you were in had the opportunity to create more exciting potions that other students weren't allowed to. The invisibility potions were one of the recipes that was not taught to students outside of the class.

"I know a couple of people that could use some of those," Fred chimed in, slinging his arm around your shoulders on the couch.

"Would those people have red hair? Because I've heard that invisibility potions don't work on red heads," you replied, cocking a brow at Fred.

"You might be smart, but you're full of shit," George said, calling your bluff. 

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him. He caught it with one hand right before it would have smacked him in the face.

"You seem to forget that Fred and I have quidditch reflexes," George said, eyeing his brother mischievously.

"Now!" Fred shouted, picking up another pillow from the couch. He began smacking you with it, and George got up from playing cards to join him. You laughed as the twins continued to hit you with the pillows, a completely harmless attack.

"Do you feel better now?" you asked between giggles. Being with Fred meant that you also began to spend more time with George. You had grown to adore Fred's twin, and it felt like he was your own brother. No one could make you laugh quite like the twins.

"Only a tad," Fred answered, taking the pillow from George so he could return to his card game. "Want to come up to my room?"

Fred tossed the pillows back onto the couch and offered you his hand. You smirked, taking his hand and standing up onto your feet.

George made kissing noises at the two of you, turning around in his chair and wrapping his arms around himself to simulate a make out. This earned a giggle from you.

"There's something called knocking, you git," Fred said to his brother, trying to hide his smile.

"There's also something called a silencing charm, you freak," George replied, now moaning in an attempt to imitate Fred and you. 

Your hand flew up to your mouth to try to stifle your laugh. George had a point. For some reason, Fred didn't like using silencing charms. He would prefer for everyone to hear the sounds that you made. 

Fred simply yanked your hand and dragged you up the stairs, huffing at his brother. He opened the door to his dormitory, motioning for you to enter.

You had become a regular visitor to his dorm, and he even let you borrow pajamas when you stayed over. Fred crossed to his dresser, pulling off his uniform and putting on a t shirt and pajama bottoms instead. He tossed a large jumper at you.

"Would you like to stay tonight?" he asked, making his way to sit on his bed. 

You held the jumper in your hands, weighing your options. You could either stay the night with Fred and risk being tired tomorrow, or sleep in your own room and miss out on this precious time with Fred. Your busy schedule meant that you didn't have much time alone together.

"I'm not sure yet," you replied honestly, beginning to take off your own uniform to put on the jumper. "You'll have me all weekend, so I should probably focus on studying and finishing assignments before the craziness of the ball."

Fred watched you, passively admiring your curves as you changed in the dim light of his dorm. He had seen you naked quite a few times by this point, but he still found himself star struck whenever you so much as showed an extra inch of skin. 

You finished changing, pulling the jumper on over just your knickers. It was long enough that it landed at your mid thigh, and Fred loved how you looked in his clothes. You knew that he was itching to get his hands on you.

"You could take a break from studying for a week," Fred said, settling onto his bed as he watched you. "New potions aren't going to invent themselves overnight. You can pick it up again next week."

You crossed the room to join Fred in his bed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you cuddled up to him. He held you, stroking your back as you took a deep breath.

"I know, I just really want to get into an Upper School. My exams for the Potions programs are in January, there isn't much time left," you said, still squeezing him tight. You had really been feeling the pressure of your upcoming exams, and Fred knew it.

He tangled his fingers through your hair, kissing you on the head as he played with the long strands. Fred always knew how to put you at ease. 

"You never talk about your plans after Hogwarts," you stated, moving to prop your chin on his chest so you could look at him. 

"That's because I'm not sure that I have any yet," he said, shrugging. His parents had been breathing down his neck about this, so the topic of future plans felt pretty sore.

"They don't have to be perfect plans," you replied, reaching up to run your thumb along his jaw. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be? No matter how outlandish. I'll tell you my fantasy future."

"You go first," he said, leaning into your touch. 

"If I could do anything, I would start a new wizarding school. It would have houses, but it would be nothing like Hogwarts. We would study Potions and Herbology, and instead of playing Quidditch students would compete in Wizard's Chess tournaments. It sounds dorky and there's really no need for another school, but I think it would be fun to create something like that," you said, rambling on. "What about you?"

Fred let out a breath. "George and I want to run our own joke shop. We could sell our creations and show other people how to pull pranks. It would never be successful, but George and I would love doing it."

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking into his eyes. "Freddie, that sounds amazing! You and George would be cracking at that, all of the students here would love to buy your joke items," you said excitedly, a smile on your face.

"Really?" Fred asked, his own smile starting to form.

"Really," you replied. "There's no one better than you two to open a shop like that. And you're both great at convincing people to do things, I'm sure those skills would translate well into sales."

"George and I have been dreaming about it for years. It's something that we would never get bored of," Fred said. "I've never told anyone about it before. Except for George, of course."

"I'm happy that you told me," you said, giving him a kiss on the lips. "You know that I believe in you. I would happily be your first customer."

"Just because you're pretty doesn't mean that you'd get a discount," Fred teased, tickling your side. 

You grabbed at his hand to stop the tickling, laughing at him. "Oh yeah? I'm sure I could find other ways to get a discount," you teased back, running your other hand up his chest.

"Maybe you should give a demonstration," Fred replied, smirking at you as he grabbed your hips and placed you on top of him.

——

It was finally Friday, and everyone was buzzing about the ball tomorrow night. You had managed to make it through the rest of the week without too many distractions, and you were caught up enough on homework that you could give Fred your undivided attention this weekend.

You were eating dinner with your friends, tucking into your dessert chatting about the ball. Beatrice had been rambling on about her dress even though she had already showed it to you several times.

"It's the perfect shade for my skin tone," Beatrice said. "Oliver won't be able to keep his hands off of me."

"We get it, Bea, we've seen your dress about 100 times," Cho said, taking another bite of her pudding. 

"But with my makeup and hair done, it'll look completely different," Bea said, looking for a reason to continue talking about her dress.

You were excited about your own dress. It was a maroon color with a frilly skirt. It was relatively simple, but it still made you feel beautiful. You couldn't wait for Fred to see it.

A paper butterfly floated its way over to your table, landing neatly next to your plate. You and your friends looked at each other in confusion for a moment until you picked it up and unfolded it.

Meet me in my dorm after dinner.

You knew it was from Fred. You looked up, scanning the faces of the other students in the hopes of finding Fred. You were unsuccessful, and instead folded up the note and put it into the pocket of your robes.

"What's that about?" Bea asked, propping her elbows on the table as she looked at you.

"Fred wants me to meet him after dinner," you answered, playing with the crust of the pie that was on your plate.

"He always has to be dramatic about it, doesn't he?" Cho pointed out. "Cedric should take notes, he could learn a thing or two from Fred."

The three of you giggled. Cho rarely said a kind word about Fred, but he was growing on her. He had that effect on people.

——

You made your way up the stairs towards Fred's dormitory. You were nervous for some reason, but you couldn't really understand why. You had been to his room countless times, but he didn't usually invite you over by sending a paper butterfly at dinner. It seemed like he was up to something.

You knocked on the door, fiddling with your fingers that you had clasped in front of you. A few seconds passed until Fred opened the door, a wide grin on his face.

"Close your eyes," he said, putting his hands over your eyes as he pulled you into the room.

"What in Godric's name are you up to now, Freddie?" you asked as he led you through the room.

"You'll find out in a second," he replied, bringing you to the bed. "Sit down."

You obliged, sitting down onto his bed. You heard papers rustling, and you were tempted to open your eyes. But you knew that Fred wanted whatever this was to be a surprise, so you obediently kept them closed.

"You can open them now," Fred said, sitting on the bed next to you. 

You opened your eyes, taking in the room before you. Fred had lit numerous candles and spread rose pedals around the room. It was like a scene from a romantic novel. It was cheesy, but you loved it.

You looked around, noticing that Fred had strung something up on the walls. "You should start from this end and work to the right," Fred said, directing you toward the door.

All around the room were sketches of you. The first was a sketch of your frustrated face. Your hair was braided, and you assumed that the sketch was of your confrontation in the courtyard.

The next was you in the Quidditch stands. Then you on your back on Fred's bed, his head between your legs. Your side profile as you looked out from the astronomy tower. Slow dancing to the record player. The first time you had butter beers with him and his friends at the Three Broomsticks.

You couldn't stop the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. Your hand was covering your mouth that was agape in absolute disbelief. Fred had chronicled your relationship in sketches. You had no idea that he was this talented.

The sketches continued in order along the walls of his room, and you didn't turn to him until you had looked at every last one. You finally looked at Fred. A soft smile was on his lips, and his eyes looked like they were shining. He had that look that he gave you once in a while that you were never quite able to place.

Fred closed the space between you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He took your hands into his.

"Birdie....I don't even know where to start," he let out a chuckle, obviously a bit nervous. "I realized that I never asked you to be my girlfriend. We both kind of just assumed that we were together, but I wanted to be sure."

You giggled at him. He was right. You had never explicitly spoken about being together, it was something that fell into place naturally. 

"So I'm finally going to ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" Fred asked. 

"Of course I will, Freddie," you said, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips, your cheeks still wet with tears.

"I'm not done yet," Fred said, pulling out of the kiss. He took your hand, walking you back to the bed. He sat down, motioning for you to join him.

"You and I have known each other ever since we got to Hogwarts. I always thought that you were cute, but your nose was so far into your books that I never tried to get to know you," Fred said, still holding your hand. "I have learned so much about you in these past few months. It has made me wonder how I ever was able to live without you before, how I could walk past you in the halls every day and not kiss you. I was missing out on so much, and I had no idea. But now I know you, and I also know that I'm in love with you."

Fred paused to take a breath. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you watched him in silence.

"I know that your last experience with love might not have been what you wanted it to be, but this is going to be different. Because I will spend every day making sure that you know that I love you. I will support you and your dreams. If that means you have to spend hours in the library and don't have as much time for me, I still support you. There is no one in the world who is as smart as you, as ambitious as you, as kind-hearted, patient, caring...I could go on for ages," Fred squeezed your hand, looking into your eyes. "I don't know a lot of things, but I do know for sure that I am in love with you. And I need you to know that. You are my weakness, and I think you have learned how to exploit that."

Fred gently poked at your side, trying to get you to laugh. A choked giggle came out of your mouth as you tried to wipe your tears.

"Darling, why are you crying?" Fred asked, his voice gentle. It was like he was afraid you were going to break like a piece of glass.

"This is just....I never expected this," you replied, taking breaths to try to gather yourself. "I don't know how else to respond to a gesture like this."

Fred squeezed your hand again, using his other hand to wipe a tear from your cheek. "Birdie, this is what you deserve."

You breathed out. You had been trying to remind yourself that you deserve good things. That you work hard and deserve success. That you are a good friend and deserve for that to be reciprocated. Fred somehow knew all of your insecurities and exactly how to make them vanish.

"Fred, this is....." you started, left speechless for a moment. "I love you too."

Your hands found his cheeks, taking his face into your hands. You kissed him, a sweet kiss that you hoped conveyed how much you loved him.

"How long have you known?" you asked, pulling back so you could look him in the eye.

"Known what?" he replied, finding your hand again and taking it into his.

"How long have you known that you loved me?" you said, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

Fred looked down for a moment as he considered your question. "The astronomy tower. I think that's when I knew, I just didn't want to admit it yet," he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow...that was a long time ago," you said.

"Birdie, you are the only person who challenges me. Who always sees the best in me. You believe in me without a question. And you have been that way since the beginning. How could I not fall in love with you?"

You leaned in to kiss him again, this time biting at his bottom lip. Your hands found his hair, and he pulled you onto his lap. 

"You are so sentimental and I love you for it," you said, stroking his cheek. He smiled at you, kissing you once more. 

His kisses wandered from your mouth to your jaw down to your neck. Your hands were busy in his hair, pulling at it as he nipped at your sensitive skin. You leaned your head back, giving him full access to your neck. 

He undid your tie, tossing it to the side before working on the buttons of your shirt. 

"Someone seems impatient," you teased, scratching at his scalp with your nails. You were usually the one who pushed things along. Fred was willing to be patient for the sake of your comfort. 

"I've been dying to make love to you," he replied between kisses, now biting along your collar bone. He had already finished with the buttons of your shirt, and he waited for you to pull it off your shoulders.

You obliged, discarding your shirt so Fred could continue his trail of kisses. He stood up from the bed, picking you up for a moment before placing you on your back in the center of the bed. He took off his own shirt, leaving him in only his trousers. You opened your legs, and he slid between them so he could plant another kiss on your mouth.

He made quick work of your skirt, and soon you were left in only your undergarments on his bed. 

"What a view," he said, grinning at you as he moved to take off his own shirt and tie.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased at him.

"That's what the sketches are for," he said, already taking off his pants.

Fred came forward to kiss your lips again, your legs wrapping around his middle. His hands ghosted along your ribcage, wandering around to your back so he could unclasp your bra. 

You slid your bra straps down your arms, dropping it onto the floor next to the bed. Fred left hot kisses from your lips all the way down between your boobs. Your back was already arching off of the mattress, begging for more.

"I want to take my time with you tonight," he said between kisses, sucking a nipple into his mouth. You moaned in reply, hands flying to his hair.

He worked your other nipple with his fingers, eventually moving his mouth to give the other a turn. His searing kisses trailed down your stomach, stopping just above your navel. 

Fred's fingers played with the edge of your knickers, tickling along your hip bone. "May I?" he asked, looking up at you from his position between your legs.

"Yes. Please," you answered, your nails scratching along his muscular shoulders.

Fred pulled down your knickers, dropping them onto the floor. He kissed the side of your knee, working his way down your thighs toward your center.

"So gorgeous. Such a perfect girl," he mumbled, leaving love bites on your inner thighs. 

His hand hooked behind your knee, pushing it closer to your chest. His mouth migrated from your thighs to your hip bone, leaving kisses along your lower belly. 

One hand came down to your center while his other propped him up on the bed. His thumb found your clit, slowly working a circular pattern onto it. He still kissed along your belly, making you writhe with anticipation.

Fred dove one long finger into your opening, making you whimper. He was taking his time just like he said he would, but it was driving you insane. 

He was finally gracious enough to move his mouth down to your core, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. His finger still worked in and out of your opening, causing you to grip at Fred's hair. 

He picked up his pace, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger into you. You were moaning his name, pulling at his hair as he pleasured you. 

You were so close to your release. Fred knew your body well enough that he could tell that you were close, so he continued exactly as he was. In his mind, you two were just getting started.

You finally reached your high, arching off of the bed as you pulled on a fistful of fiery hair. Fred eased you down, leaving gentle kisses on your thighs before moving to kiss you on the lips. 

"I love you," he said, brushing your nose with his as he looked into your eyes.

"I love you too," you replied, still catching your breath after your orgasm. The moment was sweet and endearing, but you wanted more.

You reached for Fred's belt, raising your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I'm going to be on top this time, pretty boy," you said, a smirk creeping across your mouth.

Fred's face lit up. He had always taken control during sex, but he wasn't upset about this change. You were nervous about being on top; you had never tried it before. But tonight felt like the right time.

You switched positions on the bed, with Fred laying on his back. You straddled him, working on his belt. While you started to undress him, Fred sat up and kissed along your collarbone and shoulders. 

"I think you were made for me," he said between kisses. His words made a shiver run down your spine.

You had succeeded in removing his belt, and you tugged at the button of his trousers. You made quick work of getting them off, leaving him in his boxers.

He was straining against the fabric of his underwear, and you knew exactly how to help him. You pushed his shoulders back, forcing him to lay down onto the bed.

"What do you want, Freddie?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound sweet and innocent.

"Anything," he answered, running his hands along your hips. He wanted to take his time, but he was starting to get desperate. 

"Hmmmm...I'll have to decide for you then," you said, tracing your nails down his chest. Your fingers landed at the edge of his boxers, toying with it.

You could feel Fred shiver beneath your touch. A smirk spread across your lips. Having this power over him felt addictive. 

You pulled at his boxers, taking them all the way down his legs and tossing them onto the floor. You kissed along his abs while one hand reached down to grip him.

Fred sucked in a breath. He had been anticipating your touch. You continued your kisses down to his hip bones, working him with your hand.

You peered up at him. His mouth was open slightly, and his pupils were dark. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Do you want something?" you asked, blinking at him through your eyelashes. 

"I...your mouth," he said, stuttering a bit. He was flustered.

You brought your trail of kisses down further, and you dared to dart out your tongue to tease his tip. He shuddered in response.

You had enough of teasing him. At least for now. You took him into your mouth, still using your hand to work the rest of him that didn't fit. Fred groaned, his hands finding your hair.

"Fuck, birdie. Feels so good," he said, watching you as you worked him deeper into your throat. 

You could feel his muscles tensing, but you didn't want him to finish like this. You pulled your mouth off of him, propping yourself up with your hands on his thighs.

"I couldn't let you finish like that, Freddie," you said, your voice soft. "I know what you want. You just need to beg for it."

Fred huffed. "Beg?" he asked in disbelief. This sounded like the kind of thing that he usually did to you. 

"It's your turn to be desperate. Or we could stop, that's alright too," you replied, taking your hands off of his thighs. You started as if you were going to get off the bed, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Please," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

"Oh Freddie, you know you can do better than that. So insincere," you teased, running your nails up his thighs.

You moved so you were straddling his middle. You played with his hair, looking down at him. He was stubborn, not wanting to give in to you. But he also wanted you, and that meant that he would have to play along.

"Birdie, please. I need you," he whined, bringing his hands to your hips.

"I know," you replied, grinning at him. His eyes were pleading with you. You had to give in to him.

You pushed your hips back, using your hand to find him. He still held on to your hips as you aligned him with your entrance, slowly working yourself down onto him.

Fred breathed out, gripping onto your hips harder. You supported yourself with your hands on his chest, trying to find a comfortable pace. You had never been on top before, so this was unfamiliar territory. 

Fred's hands slid up to your sides. He pulled you forward, kissing your lips. You kissed him back, your hands now propped on either side of his head. You moved your hips up and down, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do.

Fred's lips moved to your ear. "Would you like some help, darling?" he whispered.

"Please," you replied, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. 

Fred took back some control, using his own hips to meet yours. You increased your pace, meaning that Fred also increased his.

You pulled yourself back up, putting your hands on his chest once again. He grabbed your hips, moving you up and down to match his rhythm.

"Fuck, Freddie. Just like that," you cried, digging your nails into his chest. 

He continued like this, bringing a hand down to your center. His thumb found your clit, working it as you rode him. You let out a whine, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

"So good for me, birdie. Such a good girl," he praised. "Are you going to finish for me?"

You moaned as he increased the pace once more. You were close to your finish, but you wanted him to finish too.

"Not until you finish for me," you managed to say between moans. He had you on the brink.

"I'm close, darling. So close," he replied, digging his hand into your hip.

Fred continued, and soon enough you were crying out. "Freddie, so good. Don't stop."

You reached your orgasm, maintaining Fred's brutal pace so he could reach his own. It only took a few more moments.

"Fuck, that's it, birdie," he said as he finished, his hips stuttering into you. You both slowed your hips, and you collapsed onto his chest.

You were both breathing hard and sweaty. You stayed on top of him, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck.

"That was...." Fred started, chuckling. "You never cease to amaze me."

You picked up your head, exhausted from your effort. "I aim to please," you replied, shooting a wink at him.

Fred chuckled again. "You sure do," he said. 

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Pairing: Yukimiya Kenyu x GN!Reader Synopsis: playing along might lead to something, right? Especially when everyone in your family knows where this leads to. Themes: fluff!! Best friends to lovers, fake dating (kinda??), Yukimiya is a joy to write, cliche situations, rom-com coded Author's Note: Denisse had a dream (legit). When I woke up yesterday, all I could remember was Yukki being there. Wth???

"He's really everything we wanted for you," your auntie's high-pitched voice said, irritating your ear and causing you to scrunch your nose as you plastered on a fake smile you've been wearing since the celebration started. "Yeah, I know, Auntie!"

You can see him laughing and playing with the little kids from afar. They love him. Who wouldn't anyway? He's gentle, mindful, kind-hearted... Exactly what your auntie said. He's everything you wanted. 

Yukimiya chased after the kids, his voice faintly heard from the garden as the children screamed in excitement. He caught one of your little cousins and lifted him, flipping him upside down. You smiled softly at the view of seeing him being goofy, and he met your gaze. His orange eyes softened as he stared at you for a moment and then back at your cousin who was starting to wiggle off his grasp. Oh, how you wish...

Where did it even begin?

University wasn't as kind as people say. You had difficulty catching up with classes since it seemed so different from when you were in middle school. You'd rush to your classes, sometimes just in time, sometimes just a few minutes late, but there was one particular class you took where you bothered to arrive early. It was one you had with him.

Yukimiya with his pretty hair, always styled most perfectly. Yukimiya with his soft voice, floats in the air every time he participates in class or delivers a report. Yukimiya was fairly popular as a model and one of the best players on the university's soccer team. Yukimiya, who you wondered why he bothered to be friends with you.

He always made you wonder why he chose you to be his seatmate that day, how his little snarky comments about your professor made you giggle silently, how he would help you out everytime you were in a sticky situation in your class, how he became a frequent visitor in your little dorm, be it hanging out or studying together. 

It's been 3 good years of having him as your closest friend, the one who knew you more than anyone in your family.

Yukimiya felt the same way. He was intrigued by your presence when he saw you on your seat, eyes meeting the moment he entered. He thought it was normal to look at the person who just entered the class, but a part of him thought otherwise. That's why he sat beside you that day, and the days afterward. He was comfortable being silly with you, letting his personality shine with you. He feels like he can act normally outside his modeling and soccer spheres. 

A week before winter break, you've received calls from your mother and aunties, reminding you to come home for a big family gathering before Christmas. It has been like that since you were a baby. The family always made sure that everyone would be there, with no excuses or exceptions.

"When will you come home? Hmm? Do you have enough money for the trip? Remember not to bring too many clothes, okay? You still have enough here."

Your mother's voice fills your empty dorm room as you flip through the pages of your reviewer, trying to at least study once more before your exam later that day. You heard the door click open, revealing a bundled-up Yukimiya entering your dorm.

"Yes, Mom," you sighed as you watched Yukki slip off his shoes and wear his slippers, "I'll be home next Wednesday after I finish everything I need to do in school. I still have exams this week."

"Okay. That's good. Make sure to take the early morning bus. Your aunties and uncles will be here on Saturday to prepare for the gathering," your mom replied, the busy chatter of the kitchen blending with her voice. Yukki already sat beside you at the little study table you had at your dorm, listening and keeping his mouth shut. "Oh, and honey," your mom chimed again, "please, at least, this time bring someone home?"

You groaned and said a flat "I'll try" before rushing to end the call with the excuse of studying (though it was true. It was embarrassing for Yukki to hear that). After so many kisses, goodbyes, and okays, the call ended, and you leaned back in your seat. "So, you had to hear that," you said, chuckling. Yukki offered a small smile as he leaned on his seat, shaking his head. "I understand. My mother keeps asking to bring someone too, so I understand the frustration." 

"Oh, yeah, I bet," you replied, rolling your eyes at him. Yukki laughed and started to poke your shoulders. "What? You don't believe me?"

"No? You're too good-looking to be single, Ken. Come on. You might be having a relationship behind my back by now!" You replied, scoffing. 

"I don't. I would've told you by now if I had one."

"One??" you exclaimed as you leaned forward on the table, resting your chin on your hand. "So you could probably bag two then?"

"That's... not what I'm saying," Yukki laughed. "What's going on in your brain? Getting all jumbled up with exams?"

You sighed in response. Yukki knew that you were getting overloaded with worries and expectations for you to bring a guest, so he decided to elevate your worries a little...

"Hey," he spoke softly, "how about I help you with your studies? And you can bring me to your family celebration as your guest, you can tell them I'm your best friend though," he added, teasing you. Your eyes widen at him at the suggestion, making your heart beat a little faster. "You know they'll assume anyway," you replied, stating that families are just like that. "Yeah, but if they assume stuff, we can just clarify it every time. Won't hurt anyone, right?" 

And so, that Wednesday, you were in the morning bus sitting beside Yukki, waiting for it to leave. Your mother was overjoyed to hear that you're bringing Yukki, already mistakenly calling him your boyfriend and you had to correct her twice in the call. The trip was smooth, you two enjoyed the view of the countryside from the window as you two shared earbuds, listening to his playlist (in your opinion, he has a better taste in music). "Won't your family wonder why you're not home for the break?" You asked him, your head resting on his shoulder. You felt him shrug then watched him open his text messages to his mom, something he was really comfortable doing with you (though in your opinion, again, you find it weird and uncomfortable that he just shows you his texts with his mom out of nowhere). "I told her about your family event and that I'll go home afterward. She's fine with it, and she knows you."

Your childhood home has always been the hub of all celebrations, mostly family reunions, given how spacious it was inside with a bigger garden in front and a backyard for the kids to run around. The moment you opened the gate of your home, your mother was already by the door, waiting for your arrival. "Oh! My sweet baby has come home! Finally!" She squealed as she came running towards you, showering your face with kisses. Yukki relished what was happening, smiling to himself. "Oh! And you must be Yukimiya," your mother said, turning her attention to your best friend. Yukki, with his best manners, bowed to greet your mother, flashing her his kindest smile. His soft eyes have captured your mother's affection, blushing slightly. "Oh dear, you never told me your boyfriend was a charmer!"

"Mom, best friend," you corrected her. She only tsked and moved away from the both of you, as if she was eyeing how you two looked beside each other. "Your father and I were best friends before we got together. You two are on the right path, you just don't know it yet. Now, come along and I'll show you to your room."

As embarrassing as it was, you two were assigned to sleep in your childhood room, with all the plushies and little toy collectibles still on your shelves, untouched. "We cleaned as much as we could since you'll be sharing your room with your boyfriend," your mom said, drawing the curtains open. "I hope you don't mind my sweet baby's collection, Yukimiya. They had too many hobbies growing up!" 

"It's alright. I can say it's the same for me, though it's just soccer-related," Yukki replied, examining your toy collections. "Oh? An athlete? Sweetheart, you never told me your boyfriend was the sporty type! We're gonna have the athlete gene in our family!"

"Mom, please stop," you groaned, pushing her out of your room, "and again, best friend."

Your mom just laughed as she walked out. "I'll give you two some time alone now," she teased as she closed the door behind her. You sighed and plopped on your bed. You two couldn't even fit on this bed, and you don't have anything for him to lie down on if he pushes sleeping on the floor (which will not be happening, not on your watch.)

"Your mom sounds fun," Yukki commented, pulling your chair from your desk to the bed. He sat down on it as he watched you think about something. "We can't fit," he added, guessing your worries. "And you're not sleeping on the floor," you replied,

"We'll figure it out."

Your mom scolded you that night for planning to sleep on the couch, pulling you back to your room and practically pushing you toward Yukki. He was enjoying all of this as your mom told you to stay in your room and you being a huffing mess. Your mom left you both alone in your room, and you turned to punch his arm. "I can hear you laughing the whole time, asshole," you groaned. Yukki's laughter filled the room as he tried to catch your punches. "Hey, I just love seeing you in this situation."

"Whatever. I'll be by the wall."

You climbed on the bed, claiming your spot. He laid beside you. In the dark. It was awkward given this was the first time you were this close and vulnerable. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. You?"

"Yep. Don't roll on my spot in the morning and cuddle me."

You laughed, turning to give him one more punch.

"In your dreams, Ken."

"Yeah, in my dreams."

You'd like to think that it was a comedy skit, the way you two just started to play along with your aunties and uncles after getting tired of correcting them everytime they assume that you two are an actual couple. The aunties fell in love instantly when they laid eyes on Yukki, working his charm with every smile and response. They complimented you for choosing such a handsome and kind man, and you'd fake laugh and respond, "Yeah". Your uncles loved him the most because he'd engage in their conversation about soccer, easily getting into their good graces. It was too good to be true.

Now the kids love him too.

"In your dreams?" you asked him after the party had died. You led him to the garden where you sat on the coffee table. "Hmm?"

"What did you mean by that?" You asked again.

"Did you know you rolled on my spot?" Yukki asked instead with a smile on his face, "You look cute in your sleep," You scowled at him, a blush of embarrassment slowly appearing on your cheeks. "You're making things up, Kenyu,"

"I took a picture as proof," he said, fishing his phone from his pocket. "No! No, don't show me! God, Yukki!" You stood up from your seat to playfully pull on his sweater, which Yukki found so silly. "Careful! This is expensive!" He joked as he held your wrists to stop you from pulling him, "I will pay for it as long as you delete that photo!" 

The laughter died down and you finally let go of him, sitting back on your chair. There was a brief silence between the two of you, only the soft chatter of the ladies inside can be heard. Yukki sighed, looking up at the lavender skies. "I realized something," he said softly, "I realize I can no longer hide this from you. This might be the worst timing, given that we already had given up correcting everyone in your family, but I need you to know this."

"Eh? What are you talking about? Are sick from all the-"

"I like you."

Yukimiya kept staring at the sky as you looked at him in shock. Is your best friend of 3 years liking you back? He doesn't know but hearing that made you think that the gods and your ancestors actually answered your prayers for the longest time. "It started when we became such close friends. Your family mistakenly calling me your boyfriend kinda made me wanna come clean with how I feel for you. I wanna confront this feeling that I've been pushing back and ignoring for the sake of our friendship. We've played along with everyone here today and it made me believe we could be something, and I have a good feeling that you feel the same...

Do you?"

"Do I...?"

Yukimiya chuckled and brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. "Like me?"

"... I love you."

"Really?" Yukki asked, his smile widening. Now, this was something so new to you. You have seen him smile, mostly grin and smirk, but never a full smile. This one was the first. His joy was contagious as you caught yourself smiling along with him. You shook your head, confirming that yes, you really love him. Yes, you knew for the longest time. Yes, you don't mind having him as your boyfriend.

Yes, the bed was a little warmer that night...

And yes, your mother was the happiest one when she found out months later that you and Yukki are officially a couple, reminding you again of how she and your father met and got together for the hundredth time in your lifetime, though she's more excited about the fact that you guys finally have an athlete in the family. 

[angelsdvsts]

"such a thoughtful person, i'll be sure to give you some good payments. i could be extremely giving," her voice was filled with a teasing manner, eyes glistening at the different ways she can repay him; a little something to say thank you. "you seem awfully confident that i'll be able to satisfy you. . . i'm beginning to think you're placing me on a pedestal, going to be gut wrenching if you find out that i'm not truly up to your standards," a pout appears across her lips, knowing that her devilish manner would keep him locked in, that a single taste of her might drive him crazy enough to keep coming back for more. "think i much prefer you going in blind, it'll actually prove to me if you have the skills to read if i'm really feeling it or if i'm faking to get you off," lips curves, wanting nothing more than to forever leave him guessing about her true intentions. ayla had no doubts that he'd be able to please her like no other and maybe a small part of her was terrified she'd be attached. "like you said, i'm tight everywhere.." her voice barley above a whisper -- having the urge to dress up all pretty for the camera, undress in front of it and allow her digits to explore her body everywhere, making sure he got to see each and every angle. "i do not believe that you'd chase me down the halls and allow me to skip class," laughter falls from her lips, yet there was a part of her that had a deep appeal for it, to miss her boring professor go on and on for an hour and do something more entertaining with her time. "one cold breeze and my nipples would be hard as shit," she admits, knowing just how easily she gotten cold -- but she had a good feeling that he would enjoy the view. amusement twinkles in her bambied eyes as chuckles falls from lips, "oh, do i have to prepare myself for an awkward talk before we fuck?" a part of her did wonder what he did say to the girls before indulging in a night of them. ayla subtly rocks her hips, arm loosely hung around his neck as she gasps, "gentleman my ass, i know that's all you can think about right now!" she exclaims, digit move to caress his cheek, "i could tell from your eyes, you're imagining me climbed on top of you while you bury yourself deep inside of me, am i right?" like magnetics, the two couldn't really stray far away from one another. "and why would i do that? it'd only make you try to get me under your control," soft moan falls at the feeling of large hand grasping her ass. "control yourself, we're in public. . . " she mutters against the corner of his lips, teasing him once more by nibbling upon his bottom lip, the taste of blood lingers causing her to smooth it out with her tongue once more. "remind me to share my chapstick with you later, didn't mean to draw blood."

"y'know i'm not a very materialistic type of guy, so whatever payment you can offer me is greatly appreciated", and if that just so happened to include ayla spreading her legs for him then arlo would be thankful for it. "there's no doubt you'll be able to satisfy me", homme is quick to remark, hues dipping to her rosebud mouth, those sinful lips that he just knows would look so pretty wrapped around his cock. "but you gotta tell me what you like, ayla. unless you want me going in blind?" but either way arlo was fairly confident that he could show her a good time and have her coming back for more. she was already so different than the girls he used to fuck, the ones who spoke a big game about their kinkiness yet when the time came all they wanted was a light spanking and to be called a good girl — it was fine, arlo had a decent time but it never made him hunger for more. their desires just didn't align with his. "just how tight what, ayla? how tight you are between those pretty thighs? or maybe that other hole that you probably haven't let anyone play with yet?" if she decided to follow through and send him some educational videos arlo would be sure to sit and watch every damn minute, soaking up her beautiful body and how she knew how hot she was, how badly he wanted her. "seeing you in the hallway would make me chase you down and pull you away from your classes, ruin that perfect attendance you might having going on right now — do you want that?" arlo had never been the most academically minded student, his talents lay in soccer and everyone knew it, so if he happened to miss a lecture or two it was okay, he was their soccer star and nobody wanted to give him shit for needing to decompress. "no bra?" arlo was a little in the dark about what difference a bra did or didn't make when it came to women wearing them, but he did know that without one those perky tits and pebbled nipples would be even more noticeable. "then i think you should get that dress out, have it hanging up for our next date." he had no idea what his past hookups thought of him now, but he could hazard a guess that they hated him for seemingly dropping them the moment he rolled that condom off and tossed it. "i really did try, like . . . it's awkward, having that type of talk before fucking someone but i did it and i thought they got it y'know?" but he wouldn't let that worry him, not when he had ayla sitting pretty on his lap, rubbing against his hardening cock. "i'm a gentleman, ayla. i wouldn't dream of trying to fuck you in my car when we leave here", and yet his tone indicates something entirely different, that if she gave him the chance he'd blow her damn mind. "really? i think you need to prove it, baby. prove how uncontrollable you are and maybe i'll believe you." cock strains against the seam of his trousers as she toys with his lips, a quiet groan escaping, hands moving from her hips down toward her ass. "do it again and i'll be the one getting carried away."

[woozisguitar]

my loooove congrats on your milestone omgg 🤧❤ also i'd lay my soul down on the road for a jun fic from you sjksjk. i still think about the way you put ttpd for jun in your svt as ttpd songs IT SUITS HIM SO WELL. so maybe something inspired by that? a fic, a drabble, or just even how you think he fits the elements of the song in general. honestly, you can do anything you like you have the full freedom to be creative ofc <3

congrats againnn i'm so happy for you 😭💕 also feel free to ditch the fic if you're not up for it, it's totally okay ml <333

esa my loveee 💕💕💕💕💕 thank you so much!! the fact you remember I put ttpd for jun I rlly hope you like it!! sorry it took a while jshdlj love you and thank you again 😭😭 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

requests for 200 celebration post: open (but slow updates!)

warning: kinda angsty and long, sorry 😞 BUT its a happy ending dw

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department I think some things I never say Like, "Who uses typewriters anyway?"

when you first met junhui, you found him to be a little… weird. there was no better way to put it other than this, and he was not weird in a bad way. sort of eccentric rather? or maybe reserved? this was in the third year of university, in a creative writing class. with no other seat remaining, you took one next to him. you tried to smile and make pleasantries, an attempt to make a friend in the literature department as this was your only english class. now that you think about it, perhaps it wasn't just junhui, because the professor decided to call this class of 30-some students “the tortured poets department,” and assigned the semester project, which was writing a short book of poems about the person next to you, who was also your now-assigned partner. that was the first time junhui spoke to you. a simple hello and introduction, an attempt to make acquaintance with the person he was going to spend the next few months writing about. over time, you found that junhui had rather a … peculiar sense of humor. he liked cats and often resorted to using only cat memes in conversations. he liked spicy food, albeit his tolerance was not that high. oh! and he owned a typewriter and his only explanation ever was ‘i'm a writer and this is the most efficient tool,’ with an expression as blank as the paper he was writing on. you teased him ever so often, asking the rhetorical question, ‘who uses typewriters anyways?’ throwing a small teasing smile in his direction which he bashfully returned.

But you're in self-sabotage mode Throwing spikes down on the road But I've seen this episode and still loved the show Who else decodes you?

during a discussion lecture about franz kafka, you discovered junhui might have more underlying layers compared to what he tells people. he would often point at a self-criticizing quote or excerpt and joke that it was about him. but his eyes often told a different story. he also had… days when he’d disappear and his only answer was he had to get the inspiration out of his head and on paper. over time, you got used to this, the sudden disappearance, the sometimes concerning jokes, all of it. and you still stayed by his side as a friend. it wasn't uncommon for the professors and class members to ask you about junhui’s absence and what surprised you more was that you knew exactly where he’d be.. 

And who's gonna hold you like me? And who's gonna know you, if not me? I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

this friendship with junhui eventually blurred into something more. it wasn’t lovers, not yet, but it also wasn’t just friends. you’d discuss philosophies and arts beyond the confines of the project and class. no, he was slowly taking the place of the closest person in your life, your best friend. and you liked to believe you did for him too. junhui would often talk about making it big as a writer, meeting big names at even bigger venues. you’d often laugh at his dramatics and found them endearing. 

but now, years after not hearing from him, you knew he made it big. you read all his books, hell, you even have copies in your library but you’d always deny if asked. ‘we aren’t who we want to be. nor are we in a place where we should be. we’re modern idiots, that’s all,’ is what he said before he left your apartment and that was the last you heard from him. none of your tears, crying, begging could stop him at that moment. looking back, the only trace of his existence, apart from the wounds on your heart, was the stupid typewriter snow globe he got you.

And who's gonna hold you like me? Nobody No-fucking-body Nobody

so you let him go. despite your hurt, you knew you had to let him go. that was the only way he'd realize no one could love him, hold him, know him like you. you went to class the next day and found that junhui had shifted to finishing his semester online. he already had the credits to graduate, all he had to do was sit through the last week of this semester. your professor asked if you’d like to submit your part of the book and present alone, to which you agreed. this set of poems was, after all, evidence that what you felt for him was real. the junhui you knew was real.

You smoked, then ate seven bars of chocolate We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist I scratch your head, you fall asleep Like a tattooed golden retriever

the absence of his presence haunted you like the echo of a poem you never wrote. you tried to live your life normally, walking past the old shops and stores, allowing yourself to indulge in the memories of junhui once in a while. like the convenience store outside which you dared him to eat seven bars of chocolate in one go, or the alleyway where you and him tried your first cigarette, and immediately regretting it, making you giggle quietly to yourself in the dead of night. you adopted a cat, sylvie, in hopes to distract yourself, but that ended up being a terrible plan because she reminded you of him in every possible way. she would fall asleep the same way junhui would in your lap. petting her was the closest new equivalent of scratching his head as he slept.

But you awaken with dread Pounding nails in your head But I've read this one where you come undone I chose this cyclone with you

things weren't working out for junhui either. ever since he left you, he convinced himself it was for the best. he knew about his tendencies, his weird habits and attributes, and he also knew you'd accept him, flaws and all. and while he had made peace with the idea of sabotaging himself, he would rather die than let anything hurt you, even himself. he convinced himself, in a true poetic fashion, that leaving you meant he would never be able to hurt you ever again and you won’t have to deal with any of his tendencies. ever since then, he would often wake up in sweat, remnants of a nightmare and faint outlines of your figure still prominent when he’d close his eyes. he would see his books, his poems, come to life in these dreams starring you as the main character. on some nights, the memories with you would plague his mind and feel like nails pounding in the forefront of his skull. but junhui’s conviction and love for you outweighed everything else. even if he knew this would kill him, this heartbreak, he would still endure it because it had you written all over it.

And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) And who's gonna know you like me? (Who's gonna know you?)

so he wrote. and he wrote. till his brain was filled with letters and every waking moment felt the need to be penned down in his diary. he thought that maybe if he made it big, he would go back to you and tell you proudly that he did it. he would finally be able to confess his feelings and emotions rather than using words as camouflage. he wouldn't be a modern idiot trying to find his place in this world. he would be your idiot. just yours. he knew, in the back of his mind, the chances of you still feeling the same as him were slim to none, but he still convinced himself that he had to do this for you. during his first book release, he spent the entire tour and interview, looking for you in every face. when questioned about his dedication, ‘to the one I’d always leave my typewriter with,’ he would simply laugh and say it was an inside joke and the person he’s dedicating this book to would know. 

but years passed and you never reached out. when junhui tried to visit you at your old university, he found that you moved after graduation and severed contact with everyone. he tried calling, texting, letters to your parent’s home, all of it but you never responded. he visited every single place in this world that could have a tie to you and searched, but alas he could not find you. when he returned, he was about to give up hope to ever find you again and accept his fate. that’s when he saw you, standing against the railing overlooking the park lake. you looked exactly as he remembered you, and for a second he was transported back to your apartment. you hadn't noticed him looking at you yet, and he basked in your presence from afar for a moment. but you looked up and your eyes met his.

I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots" And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?)

for the first time in years, junhui braved up, put on his smile, and walked towards you. with each step, he could feel his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. when he reached you his first thought was that he was wrong. he should never have left. he had everything he could've asked for but he didn’t have you and everything else felt like dust without you. and that you were much, much more beautiful than when he left. when he met your eyes, he saw swirls of sadness, anger, but he also liked to believe he saw hints of love.

“hi,” he squeaked out, “i’ve been looking for you.”

“i know. my parents called to tell me about the letters,” you said, guarding your face devoid of any expression, crossing your arms in front of you, “why reach out now junhui?”

“i was wrong. all those years ago, i was wrong. i shouldn’t have left. ever. you were the only person in this entire fucking world who saw me, my bestest friend. and… and i just left you,” he finished, breathless.

No-fucking-body (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) Nobody (Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?) Nobody

“yeah you did. you left me all alone for years junhui. who exactly do you think you are? you’re not franz kafka and i’m not milena jesenská. i don’t care what messed up idea of love you have in your mind, but i am willing to love you. i will always be willing to love you. i don’t care how much it will ruin me in the process, i know you’ll save me in the end, because we are y/n and junhui. we make our own story. let me rescue you this time, junhui,” you ended with the quote, tears brimming your eyes.

“letters to milena,” he breathed out, “you read kafka? you hated his works. always complained that they were too sad and depressing.”

“you liked them though. i did everything i could to feel closer to you. i even have that stupid typewriter snowglobe you got me,” you giggled, wiping the corner of your eyes.

junhui wiped his own eyes, smiling at you fondly.

“so, mr. writer, do you want to follow the steps of the ones who came before you or are we writing our own story where i finally get to hold you forever? there’s also space for a new typewriter in my apartment, you know.”

junhui laughed, wiping his tears and nodded, “yeah, fuck the poets. let’s be modern idiots and write our own story.” junhui kissed you for the first time that night, against the lake with the moon shining bright above you, in a true poetic fashion.

Sometimes, I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave And I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be, ‘cause we're crazy So tell me, who else is gonna know me? At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding Who's gonna hold you? (Who?) Me Who's gonna know you? (Who?)Me

“i know it’s too early to say this now,” junhui started as the two of you lay wrapped up in bed in the comfort of your apartment, his fingers drawing patterns on the ring finger of your left hand, “but i will put a ring on this finger someday. i think i’ll die if you leave again.” you giggled at his promise and kissed his nose. “i think i would die too, so i guess it’s a good thing i don’t ever plan on leaving,” you wrapped your arms around his frame, snuggling closer to him. junhui hummed, his heart content for once in his life.

Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?

“everyone probably thinks we’re crazy,” you said after a moment of silence.

“i guess but they don’t know us like us, so there’s that,” he said, his voice drifting off, “as long as i’m holding you, i don’t really care about the people now.”

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department Who else decodes you?

with his typewriter sitting in the corner of your living room, you knew your life with him was now for the better. he was still a tortured poet for the world, but at the end of the day, it was still you who could decode him. no one else.

a/n: the cat being called slyvie is a reference to Sylvia Plath (sorry im a nerd like that 😔)

[mistressofstars]

A Lecture on Desire - Part II

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 1.1k

Carol looked at her. "How do you become a poet?"

"By feeling things - too much, I suppose," Therese answered conscientiously.

- Patricia Highsmith, The Price of Salt

Part II

The hiss of steaming milk, the sharp whir of grinders blending into a steady hum of conversation. People weave through the space with trays and bags, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the noise.

It’s your first day behind the counter, and every part of your new barista job feels like an uphill battle.

„Y/N, the line’s building! Keep it moving!” Your colleague snaps, but their words barely register. You slide a latte across the counter to a waiting customer, quickly wiping down a sticky spot before taking the next order. Your apron feels tight against your waist, and the sleeves of your shirt are damp from a botched attempt at steaming milk earlier. The heat from the machines only adds to your flustered state, making your hair stick to your temple as you try to keep up. “Next!” you call, forcing a smile.

After a chaotic morning, the café finally quiets with the lull after morning classes. You tuck a los

A scent reaches you. A faint trace of sweetness, like jasmine and earthy notes of musk and oakmoss …

You‘re about to turn right when you hear a smooth voice „Double espresso, to go dear.“

… something smoky, like tobacco or leather?

You blink, startled, as your brain catches up.

Professor Hahn stands at the counter. Her hair is open, a few strands falling loosely around her face. She wears a dark coat over a purple turtleneck, the same coat you noticed from the other day when you caught sight of her outside the library. She looks just as effortless, just as composed.

“Of course! Just a moment.” Your hands fumble slightly as you prepare the order, the movements automatic but your nerves far from steady. You can feel her watching you, every move sharp and calculating, as if she’s already figured out more about you than you’d like her to know.

„Here you go,“ your voice is steadier than you feel, but there’s a tremor beneath the words that you can’t quite mask. Kathryn takes the cup from you, her fingers brushing yours lightly, sending an unexpected jolt through you. She lets the moment linger before offering a small, knowing smile. “Rough day, honey?” There’s something playful hiding beneath her voice. She glances at the cappuccino stains on your apron before meeting your gaze again.

“I’m still getting the hang of it.” You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

“Mm. I can tell,” she says, her voice teasing.

You nod, your heart racing as she continues. “I liked your take on the reading in class,” she says, removing her glasses slowly before taking a deliberate sip of her espresso.

You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off „It’s a good start,” she adds, her gaze lingering on you, making your pulse quicken. You feel a heat rise in your cheeks.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile, and for a moment, the air between you seems to thicken. There’s something almost daring in her tone as she adds, “Well, anyway, you’ll get the hang of it… if you want to, that is.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with more than one meaning. You’re not sure if she’s talking about your class answers, your new job, or something else entirely.

“Well,” she says, as she prepares to leave.

„I‘ll see you in class, Miss Y/LN“, without another word, she turns and heads for the door, the bell above it jingling softly as she steps out into the cool air. The faintest trace of her scent lingers in the space, almost tangible.

Your first shift comes to an and end while wiping the counter you notice them, next to the cash register. Kathryn Hahn’s reading glasses.

…

You walk into class the next day, a bit of nervous energy humming through your veins. It’s been impossible not to think about the way Kathryn looked at you yesterday.

But now, as you settle into your seat the air feels uncomfortably charged as Kathryn walks into the lecture hall, heading straight to the front, taking her place at the podium without so much as a glance.

Your palms feel sweaty, but you try to shake it off. She starts the lecture, as usual, moving into a discussion of The Price of Salt. When you raise your hand and contribute your thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re interpreting it the way it was meant,” she responds curtly. The dismissal is subtle, but it stings just the same. She doesn’t look at you directly, her eyes scanning over the class instead and continues the discussion with someone else, leaving your point hanging in the air.

The rest of the class is uncomfortable, and when it ends, you’re still reeling. You leave the room quickly, trying to shake off the cold feeling in your chest, but as you gather your things, you realise - the glasses. They’re still in your bag, you had meant to return them to her personally today.

You know you should return them, but the thought of facing her now unsettles you, so you decide bring them to her office. The department building is almost empty and you slip into a side corridor near the staircase. Standing outside her office, the glasses feel heavy in your hand.

After a moment of hesitation, you make a quick decision. Instead of knocking, you approach the department assistant, handing her the glasses.

“Excuse me,” you say, “I believe Professor Hahn left these in the lecture hall“, your voice steady but your stomach fluttering. „Could you make sure she gets them back?”.

You get back to your apartment later that evening, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. You let the silence of the space swallow you whole, the hum of the city outside muted behind your windows.

Your mind keeps drifting so you you decide to do some reading for class.

The ping of an email snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance at the open e-mail tab: Kathryn Hahn.

Your eyes widen and your heart picks up a little, and you’re almost afraid to open it. Your hands hover over the mouse. You klick.

Subject: Glasses

Dear Miss Y/Ln,

I assume I must have forgotten my glasses at the café. I’m not usually so forgetful, but it seems that day was an exception. Thank you for returning them to me.

As a gesture of appreciation, I’d like to invite you to lunch this Saturday at 2 p.m. Consider it a thank you for your promptness.

Do let me know if that suits you.

Sincerely,

K. Hahn

[ultravjiolencee]

𝗣𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀

pairing! fred weasley x grumpy and slytherin reader.

The dank, chilly potions classroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts was filled with the sound of bubbling cauldrons, scratching quills, and the low muttering of students reading from their textbooks. Professor Snape stalked between the rows of desks, his black robes billowing behind him like a shadow.

You sat at your usual spot near the back of the classroom, your slytherin crest visible on your robes as you focused on your neatly written notes.

You liked Potions. It required precision, patience, and quiet—all things you excelled at.

Fred Weasley, on the other hand, was decidedly out of his element.

Seated a few desks away from you, he was barely pretending to follow the instructions written on the board. His twin, George, had managed to skip the class today (something about “an urgent experiment”), leaving Fred to fend for himself.

Not that he minded. With George absent, Fred had a new focus.

Fred leaned forward in his chair, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. He glanced at you, who were diligently jotting down notes, your eyes narrowed in concentration. With a flick of his wand, he sent the note floating across the aisle until it landed neatly on your desk.

You frowned, startled, and glanced at the note.

Your initial instinct was to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of you.

You unfolded the parchment.

“Does Snape have a potion to fix bad attitudes? Asking for a Slytherin I know.”

You raised an eyebrow and glanced at Fred, who was grinning at you like a mischievous fox.

You rolled your eyes, crumpling the note and returning to your work.

Fred, undeterred, scribbled another note that appeared on your desk a few minutes later.

“You didn’t laugh. That’s bad for your health, you know. Laughter’s a great potion ingredient—works wonders for grumpy Slytherins.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, fighting the urge to smirk. You grabbed your quill and scrawled a response before flicking the note back to him.

“Maybe you should test your theory on yourself, Weasley. Merlin knows you need it more than I do.”

Fred opened the note and chuckled softly, earning a glare from Snape, who paused mid-stride.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape drawled, his voice as cold as the dungeon air. “Care to share what’s so amusing with the rest of the class?”

Fred quickly crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket, his face the picture of innocence. “Nothing, Professor. Just… uh, marveling at how inspiring your lesson is.”

Snape’s lip curled in distaste, but he moved on, clearly deciding Fred wasn’t worth the effort.

Then, he waited until Snape’s attention was elsewhere before sending another note.

“Nice save, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you if he catches you laughing at my genius.”

You sighed, but you couldn’t suppress the small smirk that tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Your ‘genius’ is going to get you a week of detention if you’re not careful.”

Fred read your response and grinned, scribbling another reply.

“Worth it. Especially if it gets you to smile. Are you smiling? Be honest.”

You hesitated before writing back.

“I’m smirking. That’s the best you’ll get.”

As the lesson neared its end and Snape began inspecting cauldrons, Fred decided to send one last note. This time, he took extra care with his handwriting.

“Listen, I know you’re too cool and mysterious to admit it, but you think I’m funny. Just say it once. Admit that Fred Weasley makes you laugh, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of class.”

You stared at the note, your quill hovering over the parchment. After a moment’s hesitation, you wrote back.

“Fine. You’re not that bad. Happy now?”

Fred read your reply and flashed you a triumphant smile. He quickly added another line beneath your response before sending the note back.

“Extremely. But just so you know, I’m not leaving you alone. This is too much fun.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, maybe more from exasperation. It was a quiet, almost inaudible sound, but Fred caught it. His grin widened as if he’d won a great victory.

As the students packed up their supplies, Fred made his way over to you. You were stuffing your notes into your bag, your usual cool expression back in place.

“So,” Fred said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Admit it—you’d miss me if I weren’t in this class.”

“I’d miss the peace and quiet” you retorted, brushing past him.

Fred laughed, falling into step beside you.

“I’ll take it for a yes if that’s the best I can get from my favorite slytherin”

You didn’t respond, but as you reached the corridor, Fred thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile on your face.

And that, to him, was better than any potion he could ever brew.

[justagaymoth]

It's out

I'm not finished but here it is so far

I don’t want a man or anybody I just need a warm body to hold. I don't want love of any kind. I don’t even love my friends its not like a hate them. I just don't love very often. That doesn't mean the people I love are any special. The main person I love is not “the one” whatever that means. If they were, it would be incsest. The only person I truly love constantly is my sister. This is not to say i dont care about humanity or the people in my life i just dont love them. I dont feel anything in my heart for them. Not my parents, not my friends, not the guys that ask me out because i'm pretty. I hate it when anyone says they love me because i can't love them back no matter how badly i want to. The guilt and disgust I feel when I hear the word love aimed at me like a missile that could kill a hundred men or more.

My life is pretty okay right now. Im in my first month of my semester of college and three boys have asked me out and two have asked me to parties. I like to think they asked me out because of my smart and witty comments in class but in reality its because of my face and boobs. I hate collage boys. Well most of them one is pretty alright he is in my biology 101 a first noticed him when I accidentally saw his test score on a pop quiz. I just happened to be looking that way. I was staring day dreaming about my sci fi fantasy world i've been thinking about since I was 5. The main thing that pushed me to try so hard to learn to read was that world. I needed to write it down and publish it one day. Maybe some other bullied kids would find as much comfort in that world as me. Anyways he was one of three people who didn't get a D or below on that test and this girl I didn't know were the only ones who got a decent grade.The third person who got a decent grade was me.I know this because everyone else growed or looked very sad or angry. The girl was so excited she passes she let out a tiny shriek. He got an A+ I got an A.

“Congratulations on your grade, that was a difficult quiz,” was the first thing I ever said to him.

“Thanks, hopefully you didn't do too bad.” I chuckled. I still don't know why I did that.

“I got an A. I figured I would get a B or C,” I said i was surprised i told him that last part.

“Why would you suspect a C you always make amazing comments in class. Sometimes it seems you know more than our professor.”

“You notice what i say in class? I thought no one payed attention to the professor much less me." Wait, I didn't mean to say that out loud.

“Sometimes your comments in class teach me more than Professor Browns,” he chuckled after he said that. His chuckles are like music. I don't love him. Don't get this twisted, this is not a love story. And this is definitely not one of those love stories that says that it's not a love story in the beginning of the movie but by the end they are in love.there was a short pause then he spoke again.

“I forgot to tell you my name, I'm Bayley but my friends call me Bark. I have a feeling we will be friends,” after he said that he grabbed my purple pen and started writing something a the straw rapper from his pesi. “Here is my number. I need more smart friends,” he said smiling and handed me his straw rapper.

“My name is Sophia but I hate my name so call me whatever you like.”

“Well I better get to my next class bye So-” he stopped himself from saying Sophia and just waved and smiled.

I kinda hope I see Bayely again. Something about him

seem different from the other guys who gave me their numbers. I think I might actually message him. I hear a ringing sound from my phone it's a phone call from my sister.

“Hey Sophia, how are you? We haven't talked on the phone in so long. I apologize for that I've been busy with school.” I could not help but smile it makes me happy when my sister calls me. She is the only one who I actually don't mind calling me Sophia.

“Hey Emma, I'm doing pretty well. Speaking of school, another guy gave me his number.”

“Wow, isn't that like the 5th guy or something? Do you think you are gonna go out with him? Is he hot?”

“He is the first guy to give me his number and not ask me out I think he wants to be friends or something. He said he needs more smart friends. It's weird a guy wants to be my friend and doesn't see me as just a hot body.”

“So Sophia, do you think you are going to text him?”

“Yeah probably he has a rare combination of brains and being attractive. He actually made me chuckle I don't know how he did that.”

“Does someone have a crush?” She said that in a sing song voice she is clearly in her romance obsessed high school phase.

“No but if he asked to fuck i might say yes.” I probably shouldn't have said that. It's okay Emma is a senior in highschool. She lost her virginity last summer to her now ex girlfriend.

“College must be wild.”

“It's really not especially compared to high school which is probably for the best.”

“I have to go Sophia, I still have some homework.”

“Okay Emma if you need any help with your homework call me back cause I'm kinda a huge nerd.”

“Okay bye I love you sister”

“Love you too Emma” I mean it's true I love my sister and myself are the only ones I really love in this world.

I begin to type out “hi this is Sophia”. Remembering when Bayley was about to call me Sophia but stopped himself I really liked when he did that. I press send hoping he doesn't ask me out. A few minutes later I hear I ding from my phone. It's Bayley. “Hey this is Bayley. How are you?”

“I am okay just bored I finished my homework ages ago. How are you Bayley?”

“This is a weird question but can I call you?” Bayley texted

I didn't text him back, instead he called me himself.

“Hey Bayley, why did you want to call me?”

“I just want to be closer to you.” Oh fuck he wants me doesn't he?

“I'm sorry Bayley, I don't want to go out with you.”

“I don't want that either I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that I just really need someone to talk to it's getting boring. I hate being alone and I am not on good terms with my family. Oh shit I didn't mean to say the family stuff out loud. I literally just met you. I am just really awkward.”

“It's okay Bayley. I need people to talk to as well my friends from high school were shit I only have my sister and she is 2 years younger than me.”

“How old are you So-” he stopped himself from saying Sophia he remembers I don't like that name how sweet. I still don't love him.

“I'm 19. How about you?”

“I'm 20 I turn 21 in October. I don't know what I'm going to do and who I'm going to hang out with. All I know is I don't want to spend my birthday by myself.”

“What day is your birthday, Bayley?”

“It's October 20th”

“Okay,” I said looking up how many days till then on Google. It's 21 days till then. Woah I can't believe it's September 30th already.

“Do you want to hang out this weekend? There is an orchard right by my house where we can go there.” I asked hopefully he says yes. I really need something to do.

“Yeah that sounds fun. I mean how could it not you are witty and pretty.” I laughed loudly when he said that.

“Shit it's already 7:30. I need to eat dinner.” I feel a little sad to end our phone call.

“Alright bye So” he said it just like he was saying someone's name. I think I like So better than Sophia.

I hang out every weekend till his birthday. Those 21 days were some of the best of my life. I still don't want to date him or anything. However every time we hang out he gets hotter. I really want to fuck him but I don't want to ruin my only friendship I have. So I resit the urge to tell him how handsome he looks every time I see him. The more I see him the happier I feel. Hanging out with him is good for my mental health. I like his jokes. He has called me pretty a couple times so maybe calling him handsome wouldn't be so bad. It's not like it means I want to date him or anything.

My alarm rings at 9 am on October 20th. My first class starts at 10:30. The first thing I do after seeing that it's Bayely’s birthday is I texted him a message that reads “Happy birthday Bayley I've really enjoyed getting to know you. It's really nice to have something to do on the weekends besides homework, job and watching New Girl.” I could help but think Maybe I could do you sometime. Of course I didn't send that. I made him a card already and drew him. I'm not very good. It was the first thing I drew in a year. I was depressed so I stopped drawing a year ago and I just never started up again. I might as well start now. Anyways the card has two paragraphs in it describing how I felt on our adventures with him. We have been hanging out every weekend for the past 3 weeks and we have coffee and do our homework for our biology 101 and help each other.

He's leaned his head on my shoulder a few times it usually stays there for hours. It's like my shoulder is the place his head has been searching for all his life. What am I even saying? I really should be in love when I'm with him I feel happy but not in love. When he puts his head on my shoulder my stomach settles. I feel so relaxed I feel like falling asleep. That's not how I felt when I was in love at age 16. I felt energized and my heart would swell up and fly. I don't feel that way with him. I don't know if this is what people feel for their friends because I don't remember the last time I loved any of my friends at the time. I just feel comfortable, happy and horny when I'm with him. I don't know if this is love. I don't want to date him because that would be a change. I like how it is now. The only change I want is for me to fuck him.

My phone rings. It's 20 minutes till my class. I'm driving there now. My phone is hooked up to the speakers I'm playing She And Him. Zoe Dechanel is so amazing. Sometimes I think I'm in love with her but that's not how it works. She is a celebrity. I don't think I've ever been this excited for biology 101. I really like science but that's not why I'm happy. Augh I'm so fucking horny right now. I'm also nervous because I sorta wrote that fact on the card. I don't remember everything I wrote because if I memorized it I would not give it to him. I'm so afraid I'm going to ruin his birthday with this card. I want him to have the best birthday possibly. If he wants to I plan to take him to his favorite coffee shop this weekend and then my house if he wants. I have so many things to show him at my house. I don't want to ruin what I have with him. I don't really want friends besides the casual ones I see once a month for science club. I just feel overwhelmed with too many friends and too many people. I don't know.

Oh shit I'm in the class he is standing next to me. We both arrived 30 or so minutes early to make sure we could review the notes we took yesterday. He is just standing there with A huge smile on his face. Shit he sees the card.

“Uh happy birthday. I made you a stupid card and I'm not very good at writing or drawing. I mean not when it comes to non science stuff. Well…” I say awkwardly.

“I can't believe you remembered!” He says excitedly opening the card. I want to disappear. This is so embarrassing. I just stand there staring at him. After what feels like hours but can't be more than 5 minutes. He hugs me. I'm still in shock. I feel nothing but fear.

“I love it. You are so pretty don't worry I don't want to date you either. I kept trying to give you hints that I wanted to sleep with you, this is the best way to tell me.” he whispers so quietly I can barely hear him. I've never heard him whisper and it's so hot. My weekend plans are so happening! I look to see if anyone is in the hallway when I see no one I kiss his check them whisper. “I have several birthday surprises planned for you this weekend.” He smiled in the hottest way possible. Not the same smile as when he was waiting for the card. I think he knows one of the surprises is sex he is clueless about the others.

I can't pay attention to the lecture today. I'm just thinking about sex and Bayley’s birthday. I can't stop replaying what just happened in my head. It was perfect. Maybe this wasn't so impossible afterall. I hope he doesn't find a girlfriend. I don't want to be his girlfriend but if he found one we could never talk. most people I talk to I don't want their partner to speak to someone they used to fuck or date. I hope this lasts longer than a few months like all the others. Most people don't want what I want or they do at first then they change their mind and I never speak to them or they call me when they get drunk or lonely. It's annoying.

I snap back into reality when the teacher asks me what is a difference between cells and animal cells.Thank god we were learning about something I already know today.

“Plant cells have cell walls which add an extra layer of protection. Plant cells also have Chloroplasts which play a major role in photosynthesis.”

“Thank you Sophia, see someone was paying attention.”

I quickly glance at Bayley. He is starting. I should probably help him review the slides this weekend. He is not paying attention just like me. The only difference is he is not going into science as a major.

update!!

I started writing a story about a loveless aromantic aplatonic allosexual nonbinary person. They met a guy named Bayely his nickname is Bark. they meet in a collage biology class and they don't fall in love or get into any type of relationship. They after a few months of being friends he develops sexual feelings for the main charter. and they become friends with benefits but the benefits are sex and cuddles. he has never cuddled anyone besides family because all of his romantic partners have just wanted him for his body. their story focusses on their abnormal friendship but its not a queer platonic relationship. eventually the main charter wants a kid and has the awkward conversation of asking Bark to help them explaining that he does not have to have a father role in the kids life if he does not want to. he says yes after a month of thinking it over he says he wants a more uncle like role in this kids life. after a year of sometimes helping out with this kid he wants a more fatherly role in this kids life. a few months later he moves in with the main charter to take care of the one year old. Bark and the main character have separate rooms they are pretty much friends with befits roommates who are raising a kid together. I have not written all of the story yet I only started writing it today I have 692 words so far. I got the idea for this story while daydreaming about what I want. I might call the main charter Soe (pronounced like the word so) as a shortened version of the charters birth name Sophia. Might post somewhere if anyone wants to read it when its finished comment or like this post if this sounds interesting to you

[anti-dazai-blog]

wouldn’t it be funny if Fyodor had two living parents who thought he was just off at college but he was using his tuition money for terrorism instead

[lilywave]

this was for a class assignment but i figured i’d post it here too! i’m actually really proud of this one