#BUT BUT BUT MAYBE PERHAPS MAYBE IT'S ALREADY EVENING???

[joelsgoldrush]

➽ summary: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

➽ word count: 12.4k words

➽ warnings/tags: mdni smut 18+ angst. fluff. feels. enemies to lovers. petnames. multiple focalizors/POVs. memory loss. x1 logan. mutant!reader. flashbacks. dirty talk. oral (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. unprotected p in v. missionary. doggy. creampie. cum swallowing.

➽ a/n: inspired by “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind”, one of the most hauntingly beautiful (and life-changing) films ever made. i took some creative liberties when it came to charles' powers, so just follow along. i’d love to know your thoughts on this one, hope you like it as much as i do! <3

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.

Alexander Pope.

Logan thinks Jean is speaking to him, but her words dissolve into fragments, lost before they reach him. Her reddish lips shape the vowels and consonants with precision, yet the meaning is drowned out by the pulse in his ears. She’s agitated, her long strides barely matching his pace, heels striking the wooden floor in a staccato rhythm.

A few children peek their heads out from their rooms, curiosity tugging at their expressions as the tension unravels in the hallway. Had it always stretched this far into eternity? It feels as though he’s been walking it for centuries now.

If Jean Grey is the embodiment of grace and intellect, then Logan carries the weight of all the world’s stubbornness. It clings to him like a birthright. Defying her beliefs—or anyone’s—is as instinctual as breathing. She’s trying to dissuade him, to talk him out of this reckless act: asking Charles to meddle in what she’s called his personal issues. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the steady cadence of his steps toward the man’s office, each one heavier with purpose.

Jean’s voice grows sharper, her warnings echoing in his mind. This is a mistake. You’ll regret it. You’ll want to undo it. Don’t be stupid, Logan. Don’t do this to her—don’t do this to yourself.

But her protests are futile. The cards have already been laid out. Only meters from the door, he comes to a sudden halt. Jean, caught mid-stride, almost stumbles into his back. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers across her face. Maybe, just maybe, she’s convinced him to reconsider. A tentative smile begins to form on her lips, until he turns to her with a look so unyielding, it steals the breath from her lungs.

She has never seen him like this. This resolute, this… haunted. His jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed so tightly it seems etched in stone. There’s no trace of relief or satisfaction in his expression. Only the grim determination of a man about to pass a point of no return.

Why is he doing this? Soon, there will be hands prying into his thoughts, a marauder pulling apart his memories. Think about her. Now think about this moment. What do you remember? Each memory bearing your name, inked into his unconscious, will be inspected, cataloged, and then erased.

A mind already scarred will be stripped even further, the void swallowing everything. It has to come from a place of self-loathing, he thinks, because no reasonable explanation suffices. Perhaps he’s always been this broken, this damaged, and it was only a matter of time before he sought refuge in the very solution that had once been his calvary.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says with a tilt of his head which aims to deliver a tacit message: stay back. Don’t follow me. I have to do this. I need to.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks to himself, to willingly want to forget, to crave oblivion. To stop caring.

His fist hovers over the door, but he doesn’t have to knock. Charles’s been waiting for him. His voice resonates behind Logan’s eyelids, calm and inescapable. Come in.

“Coward.”

That’s the last thing he hears before he steps into the office, leaving her behind.

The first time you saw him, he was a contained storm, seconds away from coming undone in front of a rather small audience. Hardly the most convenient introduction.

You were in Charles’ office, attending one of his Physics lessons—not because you needed to. He’d already taught you these principles long ago, in a different time, under different circumstances. But lately, Charles had been trying to delegate some of his responsibilities, hoping to carve out time for the pressing matters that demanded his full attention. Ever the sweetheart, you’d offered to help, stepping in to take over this class.

Which is why you spent those past few weeks studying him—not just his teaching style, but the way he presented the topics: the analogies he drew, the subtle inflections in his tone. You’d promised yourself perfection, committed to live up to his standard, and that was exactly what you were working toward.

The sound of a door slamming shattered the flow of the lesson. A man burst into the room as though escaping from some unseen predator, shutting the door with a loud, final thud. He didn’t turn to face you. Instead, he lingered by the door, chest pressed against it, his ragged breathing filling the silence. The students abandoned whatever fragments of attention they had left for the class—this new stranger was far more compelling.

And, truthfully, he’d caught your attention, too.

You hesitated, fists clenching slightly at your sides, bracing for something you couldn’t name. A familiar voice cut through your thoughts, grounding you: This is the man I’ve been telling you about.

Apparently, this was Logan Howlett in the flesh. You certainly didn’t expect Charles’ newest recruit to look like this. 

“Good morning, Logan,” Charles greeted him when the man finally spun around. From this distance, you could see the tension carved into his features, the crease in his forehead betraying his distress. Charles, still composed, redirected his focus to the students. “I’d like your definitions of weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk on Wednesday, all right? That’ll be all.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, gathering their belongings in a flurry of notebooks and murmured goodbyes, barely sparing you a glance as they shuffled out. You offered them a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand in acknowledgment, but your attention was drawn elsewhere. Logan was looking at you—or rather, through you—with a gaze that felt assessing. You never quite met his eye.

He stood there barefoot, dressed only in a sweater and sweatpants, his breath still uneven. Disoriented. His eyes swept across the room, his expression distant yet guarded, as though he was questioning the reality of it all. Considering the way he carried himself, it almost seemed like this was his first encounter with other mutants—but you knew better.

At some point, Charles decided to break the tension. “I’m Charles Xavier,” he began, his tone inviting. “Would you like some breakfast?”

But, of course, his cordiality and kindness were dismissed, being met with a gruff, “Where am I?”

“Westchester, New York,” Charles replied evenly, maneuvering his wheelchair closer. “You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”

You hadn’t been part of the mission that led to this moment; that had been Scott and Storm. In fact, you hadn’t even met Logan or the girl they’d brought with him—Rogue, as you later learned. Although at the time, rooted in the aftermath, you stepped forward, bridging the distance between yourself and Logan. You extended a hand toward him, offering your name with a cautious smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The gesture lingered awkwardly in the air, refusing even the pretense of acknowledgment. His eyes locked on yours, piercing and unrelenting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was his way of dissecting you. Then his gaze shifted back to Charles, impatience dripping from every word he uttered. “I don’t need medical attention. Where’s the girl?”

Oh. So that’s how he wants to play this. You withdrew your hand, doing your best to mask the sting of rejection as you pivoted on your heels and returned to your place beside Charles. “Jerk,” you muttered, low enough that it almost drowned beneath your breath, fussing with your sleeves in a vain effort to seem unaffected.

He didn’t miss it. His expression hardened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Come again?”

To end the exchange right there, Charles cleared his throat, effectively steering the conversation into a different direction. Seizing the opportunity, he wheeled himself closer to the brown-haired man, his composure intact. What you admired about him was his self-control, something you’d tried to master in the years spent under his guidance without success. Yet, you couldn’t fathom how he managed not to tell Logan to just fuck off. “About Rogue, she’s doing fine.”

Logan arched a brow, his sneer cutting through the air like a blade. “Really?” You couldn’t grasp how he could hold so much bitterness toward a person he barely knew. His voice was thick with condescension, and a dozen sharp retorts swirled in your mind, each one eager to escape your lips. Your mouth parted to respond on Charles’ behalf, but he beat you to it.

“You’re in my school for the gifted. For mutants.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the dense air. Even the act of breathing felt strained, a soundless tug-of-war for the air around you. “You do know you’re not the only one with gifts, don’t you?”

“Is that what you tell those kids?” Logan’s scoff was a window into his beliefs. “That they have gifts?” 

“It’s no more than the truth.”

“Yeah? Truth my ass.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The words escaped you before you could stop them, fury flaring in your chest. You stepped forward, the crackling heat of frustration coursing through your veins, ending in your fingertips. His blank stare only fanned the flames. “We took you in. We saved your life. How about showing a little fucking gratitude?”

Logan advanced, and his eyes bored into yours with a stinging glint of smugness. “I don’t remember asking to be saved.”

Your jaw tightened. You could’ve cracked a tooth as well. “Well, the least you can do is not act like a complete prick.”

A hand encircled your wrist, its grip firm but soothing. Charles’ touch anchored you, grounding you back in the moment. Your breath faltered, tearing your gaze away from Logan’s eyes to meet Charles’ calm expression.

“Don’t be so hard on our guest, my dear,” he murmured, as if the hostility in the room didn’t exist. It could’ve also been that he was too practiced at disarming it. He didn’t bother to glance at Logan, speaking as though the man was just a shadow. “Give him some time. He needs it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bowed your head. You sidestepped Logan without another word, avoiding his presence like he was a flame that threatened to scorch. The tension clung to your skin, and you flung the room.

From that day on, Logan becomes the only subject you seem capable of discussing.

It’s everything about him—his walk, his voice, the sheer audacity of his existence—that drives you to the brink of madness. You tell yourself to let it go, to not let it eat away at you, but your mind refuses to cooperate. Each day, it does a stellar job of reminding you that you now share the same roof as a man with forks for hands.

Logan is, undeniably, the source of your every frustration.

“He’s an idiot,” you grumble around a bite of your lunch, settling into one of the chairs in the kitchen. Scott, Ororo, and Jean are gathered around the table with you, savoring a rare break before the afternoon classes pull them back into their routines. “I can confirm it.”

“Trust me, we know,” Ororo snaps, her tone more cutting than you expected. The words catch you off guard, and you pause, napkin halfway to your lips, to lift your eyebrows in surprise. “Look, I’m sorry,” she continues, her voice softening just a fraction, “but could you please talk about something else? It’s been Logan this, Logan that, for weeks now.”

“I think I understand what she means,” Scott chimes in, his tone lighter, nearly playful. You lift your hand for a high five, and he obliges with a grin, stealing a laugh from you.

“See? He gets it!”

Leaning back in his chair, your friend shakes his head. “I must admit I don't like the guy either. He’s—”

Jean’s elbow shoots out, jabbing Scott in the ribs just as Logan crosses the kitchen threshold. Scott’s indignant “Hey!” is muffled by your exaggerated cough, though it does little to mask the smirk threatening to break across your face.

How does the saying go? Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Logan’s eyes sweep across the room, his silence louder than the faint hum of the refrigerator. He strides toward the cupboard with methodical ease, and Storm bites her lip to stifle a laugh once she catches you watching him far longer than you should have. His back muscles tense and flex as he stretches his arms, the white tank clinging tighter with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop talking just because of me,” he remarks, his voice gravelly as he rummages through the cupboard, his focus presumably on some elusive snack. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Your response comes out of instinct, words laced with irritation. “It’s hard not to,” you retort curtly, putting down your sandwich with a firm slap of your palms against your jeans.

That gets his attention. Logan turns around to confront you, a flicker of amusement twitching at the edges of his mouth. It’s that toothy smile of his that sets your blood simmering. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You jump to your feet, matching his intensity. “Such a pity I can’t say the same about you.” Without missing a beat, you step closer, snatching the bag of chips he’s holding. Hiding them behind your back, tilting your head in mock innocence, and then saying, “Oops.”

His brows draw upward, though his tone stays measured, as if speaking to a child. “C’mon,” he replies, making a half-hearted grab for the bag. “How old are you? Twelve?”

Unable to suppress the grin threatening to break free, you rest your back against the counter. “We both know you can do much better than that.”

Already preparing yourself for the lecture Ororo’s going to unload on you the moment he leaves, you watch as Logan exhales sharply. His irritation is palpable in the way he leans in, one hand planting itself on the counter behind you, his frame eclipsing yours. The proximity is electric, his scent, a mix of leather and something woodsy, fogging your senses. Hazel eyes, so deep you could drown in them, peer down at you, as he attempts to strip away every layer you’re desperately trying to hold together.

Safe to say, it’s working. Damn it. 

“Alright,” he finally says, tapping his fingers against the cool surface. “What do you want from me?”

Your galloping heartbeat is a major detail you choose to ignore, instead turning to the others for support. With an exaggerated motion, you point to each of your friends in turn. “Ororo and Scott were the ones who found you that day,” you start, trailing off, “and Jean ran a ton of tests on you to make sure you were okay. Have you even bothered to thank them for their hospitality?”

You believe you can joke with him—it’s how you usually bond with others, how most of your friendships have started. But you can’t help questioning if Logan can even get your sense of humor. The room falls silent, and his eyes flicker, just briefly, to your friends. 

“You’re right, you’re right. My bad, princess.” One of his big, manly lands on your shoulder, the pressure of it too casual, too familiar, working the muscle there. Your fingers slacken around the bag of chips, the feeling of his touch making it harder to maintain your grip. “Guys, I’m deeply sorry for my lack of amiability. Hope you can forgive me.” The sarcasm is thick in his voice, but it’s the sensation that clings to you, that doesn’t seem to fade—the warmth of it seeping through the layers of your clothes, pressing into your skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.

His hand leaves only when he yanks the bag from your grasp, and the warmth that had been just beside you evaporates with his retreat. In an instant, he’s already pulling away, his parting words a careless “See you around,” tossed over his shoulder.

No one dares to speak after that. Because to speak would be to acknowledge what has just happened. Your stomach has turned into a knot, that kind of knot sailors make that are impossible for beginners to undo. Logan’s fingers left a burn in your shoulder. Can you still smell him, the trail he left? Scott is the first to speak after a minute or so. “What… was that?”

“I have no clue,” Jean says between bites, staring reflectively at you. “Care to elaborate?”

Your tongue feels heavy, your throat parched. Even if you tried, a rational explanation wouldn’t come.

Ever since you were a child, you had yearned to grow up, to experience love as only adults could. In your young, unformed mind, it all seemed like a simple equation: adults dated; adults embraced love in the flesh; adults reveled in freedoms that children could only dream of, waiting patiently for their time to come.

And you did grow up. You did fall in love. But now he’s forgotten you, and nothing could have prepared you for that kind of ending. It wasn’t the closure you would have chosen, not the goodbye you imagined for you and Logan.

You find yourself caught in the in-between—not quite a child, yet not fully an adult either. Because surely, an adult would know how to handle this pain. An adult would find a way to cope. But you feel small. Weak. Hopeless.

It leaves you wondering just how much you are willing to forsake.

More weeks go by, and Logan remains in the mansion, defying the departure you’d expected. Part of you is relieved. He moves through the halls like a shadow, his eyes always on Rogue: checking on her, observing her interactions with the rest of the students at the mansion. She’s thriving, really. Blending in with her peers, forming bonds, especially with a boy named Billy. They are quite the pair.

Yet, despite Rogue’s happiness, Logan can’t seem to shake the grim air that surrounds him, an aura that emanates a quiet kind of disgust.

One night, you’re flipping through channels in the living room, stopping when an old love movie catches your attention. You place the remote down on a cushion, and pull your knees up to your chest, the murmur of the characters’ voices the only sound in the otherwise hushed room. You don’t think anyone else is awake at this hour.

 “Can’t sleep?”

There he is again. Always intruding, always finding his way back to you. The predator creeping into the vixen’s nest. He moves closer, slowly, and you lift your gaze to him, replying, “Actually, I’m a sleepwalker.”

Your comment earns a half-smile from Logan as he drops onto the couch beside you, his leg brushing against yours momentarily, worn denim against bare skin. His attention shifts to the TV, to the grainy images of the film playing out. You steal a glance at him, tracing the hard lines of his side profile.

“Feelin’ romantic tonight?” he asks.

“Not precisely,” you retort, fingers toying with the frayed edges of the blanket pooled at your feet. “There’s nothing else on. Sometimes you have to make do with what’s there.” Your gaze drifts back to him, lingering just a second too long before you add, “What about you? Any ghosts keeping you up?”

“You could call them that,” he says after a pause, his face still angled away. It must be easier to speak to you with this thin, invisible wall between you. “I have nightmares.”

“So you’re the one screaming at two in the morning?”

“Exactly. That’s me.” He ends up meeting your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, harboring an emotion he doesn’t voice. “M’sorry if I ever woke you up.”

“I’m usually awake at that time, too.” Your eyes flick to the screen. The couple in the movie bursts out of a building into the rain, their body language unmistakably revealing the heated argument unfolding between them. The man, clad in a raincoat, removes it to cover the woman, his supposed girlfriend. She’s visibly upset, but accepts the gesture nevertheless. “You can always knock on my door if you need anything. Unless I’m snoring—then I’ll be useless.”

Logan clicks his tongue, his focus shifting to the film as well. The man shouts, ‘Because I love you, for God’s sake!’ He casts a glimpse in your direction, his expression unreadable. “Same goes for you.” The woman in the film responds with a strangled, ‘Then prove it!’

“Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

The man cradles the woman’s face before kissing her. She throws her arms around his neck, and the music swells, evolving into a much more melodic song. A chorus of angelic voices replaces the earlier tense harmony. The camera lingers on every angle of their kiss, every desperate touch, as the world outside their embrace ceases to exist.

“This is cheesy,” Logan mutters, his heel bumping against the floor in repeated, short motions. Is he nervous?

“Yeah, so cheesy,” you reply quickly, pulling the blanket over your lap and curling into yourself. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about kissing you, not even remotely, but you are.

A quiet yawn escapes you, and you rub your fist against your eyes, sleep beginning to take over your body. Logan catches it, his own yawn following like a reflex. “Looks like the movie’s workin’ wonders,” he quips.

You let out a drowsy giggle. “Shut up,” you murmur, but then he’s inching closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. His warmth seeps through, and after a few seconds of hesitation, you allow yourself to lean into his frame, resting your head on his arm. It’s awkward, your neck already protesting the angle, but you accept it. You’ll take the stiffness tomorrow without complaint, because this moment is worth it.

It won’t last long, though, this rare tenderness. These nights, the quiet ones, are when Logan opens up the most—when Jean and Storm aren’t around, when it’s just the two of you. That’s when he approaches you, like a wary black cat testing the waters. But he doesn’t need to tread carefully. Not with you.

“What if I were to fall asleep… hypothetically?” Your eyelids grow heavier with each blink, the pauses between each one stretching longer. Your cheek nuzzles against him, seeking warmth, and you feel the subtle tug of his hand as he pulls the blanket over his legs as well.

“Hypothetically,” he begins, rasping his words near your temple, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Within moments, sleep claims you. You never find out what happens after that, but he stays, trailing quietly behind. No nightmares or shadows from his past dare to haunt him that night.

It was inevitable that an encounter like that would spiral into something more. You weren’t naïve. You could connect the dots, and the picture was clear: Logan wanted you, too. Desire often walked a fine line, and from hatred to something else, it’s hardly a leap—just a small, barely perceptible step. It could change with the shift of light, from dawn to dusk. But you’d need the strength to cross that line, to be bold enough to make the first move.

And now, with the sun already dipped below the horizon, taking its long-awaited rest after a full day of burning up in the sky, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, though you hadn’t started that way. Scott had lingered for a while, insisting he didn’t mind keeping you company. You’d thanked him with a polite smile before subtly nudging him out. It hadn’t taken much—just a few hints. Simplicity at its finest.

At the table, a neat pile of student papers spreads before you. Your pen dances across the pages, leaving corrections and grades in its wake. It’s then that he appears. He doesn’t speak at first, but his presence saturates the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him; it must be the unspoken familiarity of how he fills a space. Or maybe it’s just how attuned you’ve become to his every movement.

Logan leans in behind you, close enough that you feel the heat he radiates at your back. His low hum sends a shiver down your spine as he peers over your shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be playin’ the teacher?”

Your grip on the pen tightens, a small tremor in your fingers giving away the tension pooling in your stomach. You exhale softly, blowing on the fresh ink. “Would you prefer to have me doing something else?”

Smugness prickles at the edges of your words, but the resolve in your chest is faltering.

“Now that you mention it…” His voice dips, grating next to the shell of your ear as his chest brushes your back. His presence is magnetic, the scrape of his beard scratching your skin while he tilts your head to one side. His fingers sweep your hair over your shoulder, lips mapping the nape of your neck, tasting your fevered skin. “I might have a few ideas in mind.”

Your breath hitches. You try for composure, but it wavers in your reply. “Really?” you ask, because playing dumb always has its merits, after all. “Want to show me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand moves deliberately, tracing a sensual, teasing path up your abdomen. His palm settles over one of your breasts, his thumb brushing the sensitive peak through your sweater. “I don’t think you’d want me to do it here,” he says, his voice thick with suggestion. “Too public for what I’ve got planned for you.”

You disentangle yourself from him, slipping off the chair with an unsteady grace, but Logan doesn’t give you time to find your feet. He smashes his lips with yours, the force of his kiss almost sending you reeling. His tongue presses insistently, seeking entry, as if the urgency in his touch could dissolve every barrier between you. He grabs your cheeks, holding you in place as though you might slip away, drawing you so close there’s barely space to breathe.

You’re caught off guard, not knowing where to put your hands, searching for purchase. The cold metal of the refrigerator handle digs into your lower back as he backs you against it, his groans reverberating through your mouth like a growled confession.

“My bedroom,” you manage to gasp between kisses. “Take me to my bedroom.”

Logan obliges, intertwining his fingers with yours. Together, you ascend the stairs, your laughter mingling in the noiseless night when he missteps and stumbles, momentarily breaking the spell. But he recovers quickly, finding your room in mere seconds. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and he presses you against the wood with a force you’d never experienced, his hands sliding down to grip your ass and knead the supple flesh with a possessive fervor. It all helps to feed the fire pooling in your core.

“Quiet, baby,” he whispers, slipping his fingers beneath the back of your sweatpants. His nails trace fiery lines along your skin, igniting your every nerve. “Don’t want anyone wakin’ up to those pretty sounds you make. They’re just for me, right?”

You nod frantically, longing for more, arching into his hands as your hips grind against his, your body moving with a will of its own. The friction is exquisite, a tantalizing promise. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his words laced with unfiltered hunger. “I’ve thought about havin’ you like this ever since I met you.”

His confession sends a surge of pride through your chest, an ache that feels equal parts affection and astonishment. Ever since the beginning? When he could barely look at you without scowling, his disdain practically tangible? “You hid it well,” you reply, breathless as you trace the outline of his erection over his jeans. The way it twitches under your undivided attention makes your pulse race. “I thought you hated me.”

He lets out a huff of laughter. “I thought the same about you,” he counters, before crushing his lips to yours once more. This time, you can’t help but smile into the kiss, your bodies moving as one, the pent-up tension between you unraveling in waves. “Guess we were both wrong.”

Your pants hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. It should embarrass you, how desperate and utterly needy you sound, the pleas spilling from your lips like the filthiest confessions. But the hunger in you is too vast, too insistent, drowning any possible flicker of shame. Decency was abandoned the moment you crossed that threshold. Logan nudges your legs apart with his knee, and the instant you feel him against your center, a contained sigh escapes you, half-resignation, half-surrender. Thought dissolves, leaving only instinct as you rock against him in slow circles, seeking relief.

“When was the last time someone took care of you?” He toys lazily with the waistband of your panties, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t give him an immediate answer, choosing instead to grind harder against his thigh, your breath hitching at the pressure. “Don’t go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he says, dipping his head to mouth at your collarbone, the scent of his cologne heady and intoxicating. “Judging by the way you’re basically humpin’ me, I’d say it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember,” you blurt out, your head thudding against the door when his teeth nip at the delicate curve of your neck. Your pulse thrums beneath his lips, and you’re seconds from biting your tongue just to keep from crying out. “Stop teasing.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a wicked smile against your skin, his knee retreating only to be replaced by his fingers, trailing them along the fabric covering your heat. “I like it when you get bossy. It reminds me why I like you so damn much.” He tugs the fabric of your underwear aside, the cool air hitting your wetness for only a moment before his fingers glide over your arousal, testing your patience. One digit slides into you, curling slightly as his palm presses over your mouth, muffling the whine that falls from your parted lips. “So wet for me, princess.”

Your legs shake under the weight of sensation, threatening to give out as you lean into the door for balance. His fingers move inside you with a sharp rhythm, hitting that spot with each furious thrust. The pressure builds, hot and insistent, and it’s overwhelming, but then he drops to his knees, and the sight alone sends a jolt through your core.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds is molten. He laps at you with long strokes, his pace never faltering, pumping his digits in sync with the flick of his tongue, coaxing every sound you’ve tried so hard to stifle. “Oh, fuck. Logan—” 

He groans against your core, his eyes remaining locked on your face, soaking in every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His focus is relentless, as though your reactions fuel him. You rake your hands through his hair, clutching at his dark locks with haste whenever his wet muscle lavishes extra attention on your clit, the intensity of his ministrations making your voice break, a choked gasp dying on your lips.

Your climax teeters on the edge, faster than you anticipated. “Close,” you manage to huff, the obscene noises he elicits driving you wild. “I’m gonna come. Please, come here—”

Logan detaches himself from you, standing tall with a fierce determination in his eyes. He’s set on pushing you over the edge with his fingers alone. His lips crash against yours, biting and licking, swallowing every desperate mewl that falls from your mouth, spit glistening down his chin. Three knuckles deep, coaxing your body to respond, your walls tighten around him, shuddering as he corners you against the door, the sharp edge of pleasure sending your knees buckling. Your orgasm washes over you, rendering you boneless in his hold. Limp and spent, you can barely return his kisses, panting harshly against his mouth, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

As you steady your breath, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes flicker down to his slick palm, and a rush of pride floods you. "That was amazing," you breathe, your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, reaching for his belt to tug at it. “My turn now.”

He ends up with his back pressed against the headboard, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You’re positioned between his legs, stimulating him over the fabric of his boxers. “It won’t take too long,” he says, and you feel the weight of his words more than hear them as you pull him free, revealing the hardness beneath. He’s already swollen, the tip wet with precum that coats your thumb as you stroke him once, feeling the heat pulse beneath your touch. A shiver runs through him, his legs stiffening as though on the edge of restraint. Bewitched by the size of him, you lean forward to slip the leaking head past your lips. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s difficult to take all of him at once, but you push through, your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. As you work him with your hand, your tongue traces the veins that snake along his length, feeling him throb. Logan’s body betrays him, his fists tightening around the sheets as if holding on to his last thread of control, desperately keeping his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck up into you.

“Honey, pull out,” he warns, stroking your back. “M’not jokin’. You’re gonna make me come.” But you don’t stop. Instead, you deepen your movements, cheeks hollowing as you take him with more enthusiasm, pushing him toward the back of your throat. When he realizes what you’re doing, a moan escapes him, laced with a dark laugh. “Filthy girl. So that’s what you want? To choke on my cum? Should’ve asked for it sooner.”

Not long afterwards, you feel the first splash of his release hitting your tastebuds. Ropes of his seed flood your mouth, some of it dribbling out to stain the corner of your lips. He watches, his thumb gently swiping over the edge, collecting what’s spilled, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves.

“Show me,” he asks, still breathless. You lean closer, your faces a whisper apart, and then you part your lips, revealing the evidence of your devotion like a masterpiece on display. His fingers find your chin, holding you there as he bites into his lower lip, the pressure turning the skin pale. “Now swallow,” he commands, and you obey, the motion deliberate, your satisfaction mirrored in the curve of his grin. He kisses you languidly, as if savoring the moment. “Where have you been all my life?”

The question invites countless answers, but you choose to murmur, “Down the hallway.”

“Logan, are you even listening?”

Charles’ voice slices through the playful moment, forcing Logan’s hands to still against your sides. The team sits around the table, embroiled in serious discussions that demand focus and discipline. Yet Logan’s fixation on you has rendered him deaf to anything beyond the sound of your laughter. Not a single word of the last hour and a half has stuck, his mind entirely preoccupied by the warmth of you perched on his lap.

He’d insisted he was much more comfortable than any chair, and you’d indulged him, leaning into his chest as his fingers danced teasingly along your ribs. “Of course I am,” Logan drawls, though the way his hand resumes tracing lazy circles on your stomach says otherwise, his entire attention remaining fixed on you.

“I don’t think you are,” Charles counters, leaning forward with both palms flat on his desk. His sharp gaze locks to you, narrowing faintly. “Do I need to seat you two on opposite ends of the room, or can you manage to behave?”

You stiffen in response, the easy comfort of moments ago evaporating. Sliding off Logan’s lap, you settle into the nearest chair, your departure catching him off guard. Your eyes meet his subtly, and you offer him an apologetic smile. Beneath the table, your fingers squeeze his knee, a silent reassurance. Finally, you direct your attention to Charles, straightening in your seat as if to demonstrate your newfound focus.

Logan, however, is less cooperative. His arms cross over his chest, and a crease forms between his brows, the picture of rebellion. Nothing that Charles says registers in his brain. All he can think about is how much better it felt to have you on his lap, where you weren’t bothering anyone. He contents himself with watching you now, contemplating your profile and the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your notebook.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s not the same. You’ve been dating for a month, much to the surprise of everyone in the mansion. It’s as if the idea of the two of you together had never even crossed their minds. Not even Rogue believed it when she came to ask Logan if the rumors were true. He hadn’t known how to respond to her, caught between mirth and disbelief himself.

It’s been decades since he’s felt this alive. He’s head over heels for you in a way that’s exhilarating. Seeing you, even across a crowded room, lights a fire in him, and he has to actively fight the urge to walk over, pull you close, and kiss you senseless right there in front of your friends.

As the meeting finally draws to a close, Charles asks him to stay for a while. “I just need to have a quick word with you,” he says, waiting until the others leave.

Once you’re out of earshot, Charles sighs, shaking his head like an exhausted parent addressing his wayward child. “Look, I’m glad you two worked through your differences,” he begins, a note of cautious joviality in his tone, “but this... well, this is the opposite of that.”

Logan exhales wearily, rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, and regretting it instantly. Don’t shrug him off, his inner voice scolds him. “C’mon, Charles. You’re overreactin’.”

The man arches a brow. “Am I? Watching the two of you cuddling during a meeting feels like chaperoning teenagers. Honestly, I must admit you’re even worse than them at times.”

That remark lands harder than Logan expects. He opens his not-so-smart-mouth, ready with a retort, but no words come out. For once, his quick wit fails him, leaving him standing there in uncharacteristic silence.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Charles’ eyes fall shut. “Just… try to be more present, alright? And don’t distract her, or yourself, too much. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Later, when he recounts the conversation to you, you start pacing nervously across his bedroom, your teeth worrying at your nails.

“Maybe he’s right,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Darlin’—”

“I just don’t want him to be angry with us,” you cut him off, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Turning toward him, you sit down on the edge of his bed, your shoulder brushing his as your eyes bore into the carpet. “Do you think we should... give each other some space?”

Your suggestion feels like a punch to his gut. He sits up straighter, hands finding their way to your hips as he guides you onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. “I think we’re fine the way we are,” he says, tipping his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours in a loving gesture, coaxing a small smile from you. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Are you happy with me?”

You nod—once, twice, like it’s the only answer you could possibly give. “I love you,” you whisper, the words trembling, your lips curving into a smile that he feels against his own when he kisses you.

“God,” he grumbles against your mouth, long fingers tightening on your hips. “I never get tired of hearin’ that.” Logan cups your ass through your clothes, rocking you against him, and a groan escapes his throat as your center presses against his half-hard cock. “Say it again,” he rasps, his voice wanting.

“I love you,” you breathe, your head falling back when his hands move to unbutton your shirt, his touch reverent and greedy all at once. “I love you so much.”

Before you know it, he’s rolled you onto your back, hovering above you as he peels away the layers between you. He can’t comprehend how he got so lucky, how he gets to have you like this every day, so pliant and eager beneath his body. Your whimpers grow softer, more airy, but even then, you’re still whispering how madly in love you are with him.

This is a memory he’ll hold on to when Charles inevitably asks him to reconsider—to think about what’s best for both you and him. Fragile moments like this will slip through his fingers, but for now, they’re his to cherish.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

It turns out that love doesn’t come neatly wrapped in perfection. No—it’s a chaotic blend of tender glances and fiery clashes, of whispered promises and cutting comebacks. It’s arguments that sting as much as they heal, moments that don’t glitter but still matter, making the difference.

“Fuck off!” you snap, shoving the door against its frame, trying to shut him out. But Logan’s hand wedges in the gap, his strength effortlessly outmatching yours. “Get out, Logan.”

“No.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he grits through clenched teeth, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Behind him, Jean calls your name, but he doesn’t turn. “Not now, Jean!” His voice echoes down the hall, and the sound of her retreating steps leaves the air tense.

You’ve already crossed the room, standing by the window. The sunlight filters through, painting your silhouette in warm flickers. Outside, the kids are in their break, passing a ball, their laughter carried by the breeze. Logan moves toward you, his presence heavy, and you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going on that mission,” you say firmly.

“No, you’re not.”

Your head snaps toward him, a storm unraveling in your gaze. “Charles wants me there. The team wants me there,” you shoot back, jabbing a finger into his chest with each word, “and most importantly, I want to go. You don’t get to decide for me.”

Logan doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch. He can’t understand how you don’t see his side of things, how the thought of you being in danger like this twists his insides into knots. “I can’t lose you.”

“Logan—”

“No, you don’t get it!” The words burst out of him. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt, and we can’t get you back in time?” His fists clench at his sides, fighting the need to pull you into his arms, to feel that you’re still here with him, still safe. “It’d kill me, because I love you with everything that I am. Just thinkin’ about losin’ you makes me sick.”

Your expression softens, but only for a moment. You take a step in his direction, closing the space between you. There’s no hesitation in your tone when you speak, leaving space for conviction. “I had a life before you, Logan. I’ve been here since I was a child, learning how to fight, how to survive. I’ve gone on missions for years—missions that were just as dangerous as this one. I don’t need you to protect me like this.” Your voice wavers, just barely. “I appreciate that you care, but I’m just as capable as you are.”

How long can someone hold their breath? Logan doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until your arms encircle his waist, your embrace melting the tension that’s been coiling in his chest. You bury your face against him, your breath steadying, and he draws a long breath, pressing his lips to your forehead like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a softness that feels almost out of place after the heated exchange.

“You get so bossy sometimes.”

"I thought you said you liked me bossy," you answer, your voice low, laced with mixed feelings, as you look up at him through hooded eyes.

Logan’s lips twitch into what aims to simulate a smile, but it’s weighed down by the sadness pooling in his gaze. It doesn’t reach the crinkle of his eyes, doesn’t carry the warmth it usually does. 

“I do,” he says, his voice rough, barely audible, brushing a thumb across your cheek. The words hang between you, carrying a plea for things to feel less heavy, for this closeness to fix what words can’t.

The arguments come more frequently now. The love hasn’t faded—of course, it hasn’t—but it feels buried beneath the noise. You and Logan clash over everything, over nothing, over things neither of you can quite name, all the fucking time.

It’s a cycle that none of you can seem to break, passion feeding the fire until it burns too bright, too hot. One of you always storms out, slamming doors or throwing words that linger in the air like acid smoke. And yet, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how lost you both feel, the love is still there. Aching, waiting for the dust to settle.

You tell yourself it’s just a rough patch. That love like this isn’t easy, that it’s supposed to be messy. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too long after another fight, you can’t help but wonder how much more the two of you can take before something breaks for good.

Lust becomes your apology, an untamed collision of anger and desire that you can’t resist. It’s not gentle—it’s frenzied and blazing. The bed creaks beneath you, the sounds of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass enveloping the room. Every thrust drives you closer, the ferocity of it making your head bump into the headboard, but all you can think about is how full he makes you feel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, drooling all over the pillow, ass high up in the air as Logan continues to pound into you. He pulls out all of a sudden, making you gasp in protest. That’s when you feel his tongue against your slit, eating you out from behind, spreading your cheeks to see just how much further he can go. Your hand flies back, pressing him into your skin. “So good, baby. F-fuck.”

There’s no leaving him, not even in your wildest dreams. When he spills inside you, you always ask him to hold you close, whispering for him to stay there. To keep you full of him. And he does, fusing your body with the mattress, his weight anchoring you to the pleasure he knows how to grant you. 

But then, it’s morning. The sun filters through the curtains, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets, and you’re tangled together, his arm heavy across your waist. You stare at the ceiling, your mind crawling back to the fight, to the anger that seemed so vital only hours ago. You have to force yourself to remember why you were so mad in the first place. As his hand slides over your hip, pulling you toward him, the memory slips further away.

Dating Logan means understanding the darkness he carries, the nightmares he has almost every night. Usually, you’re woken by his movements, his rambling, the tremors that run through his body. You’ve perfected a way of rousing him gently, pulling him from the grip of whatever horrors his mind conjures without causing him more harm.

Though tonight, you must’ve been drained. You didn’t notice the moment the nightmare began.

“Honey? Oh, fuck. Wake up, c’mon.” His voice pulls you from the depths of sleep, and when your eyes flutter open and adjust to the dim light, the first thing you see is Logan, sitting rigid, staring at your arm as though it’s breaking him apart. The pain in his gaze is nearly palpable.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice groggy as you sit up, still partly disoriented. “Logan, are you okay?”

Then you see it: Blood. Dark stains seeping into the sheets, trailing from a jagged cut running the length of your forearm. It isn’t deep, and oddly, it doesn’t even hurt that much. But Logan looks stricken, his eyes flickering between your wound and his own hands.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” you assure him as you fumble to grab the ruined sheets, bundling them up to contain the mess. Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, you switch it on, bathing the room in a golden glow. That’s when you notice the droplets of blood on his knuckles, the torn skin where his claws must have pierced through. This has never happened before. Neither of you know what to say or how to react. When you reach for his hand, he recoils, shaking his head like he’s trying to will the scene away. “Hey, don’t do that.” 

“I knew it’d happen eventually.” He’s spiraling, rising to his feet. A man trying to escape himself. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his chest and back, his body tense with the effort of holding his pieces together. Turning to face you, his expression is the embodiment of torment. In his eyes, it’s as though the prophecy has been confirmed, irrevocably, by his own doing. “I hurt you. I told you it was going to happen.”

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, pushing yourself off the bed to meet him. You’re tired, too tired to be arguing like this. “It won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure? You said the same thing before, and now look. Look at where we are.”

You’re at a loss for how to calm him. The exhaustion weighing on you makes your thoughts sluggish, and you’re afraid of saying something you’ll regret. But giving up isn’t an option—not with him, not because of this. Slowly, you step back and spin in place, letting him see you fully, the wound and all.

“You see? I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m not hurt. Please, Logan, believe me when I say I’m okay.”

He doesn’t respond, but the uncertainty etched into his face lingers. For a moment, you think you’ve reassured him, as he lets you guide him back to the bed. Together, you pull the sheets up to cover your bodies, and he leans into the pillows with a weary sigh. He mutters something about being sweaty, so you don’t rest your head on his chest as usual, settling into the curve of his shoulder instead. The rhythm of his breathing, uneven at first, begins to steady.

At some point, the warmth of his body disappears. You stir faintly, but your mind is too clouded by sleep to register it as anything more than the remnants of a rather vivid dream.

Logan remains standing, staring at Charles, refusing the invitation to sit down. “You told Jean,” he says, and the other man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even attempt to deny it. “I asked you to keep it between us.”

“I thought she might help you reconsider,” Charles answers, looking more serious than usual, his piercing eyes fixed on Logan. “Logan, I still don’t believe this is the right path for you. It’s not the solution to your problems. You can’t run from her, from this—relying on forgetting won’t bring you peace.”

Who really knows what’s best for him? Logan certainly doesn’t. After all these decades of walking the earth, what has he truly learned? His long life feels like a cruel irony, offering time without clarity. What use is immortality when you’re paralyzed by indecision, unsure of what you truly want?

“I can’t leave her. At least, not willingly,” he explains, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the arm of a chair, the gesture lacking finesse. “She’ll get over it. She’s stronger than she thinks.”

“You’re deciding for her.”

To that, Logan has no reply. He only looks away.

“When I got here, you told me you’d help with whatever I needed.” Logan crosses the room, lowering himself into a chair by Charles’ desk, his posture stiff. He lifts his chin slightly, trying to convey a confidence he doesn’t actually feel. “This is what I need you to do. Today.”

“Let’s start with your most recent memories and work backward from there.” Charles rolls himself closer, his chair nearly brushing Logan’s legs. “There’s an emotional core to every memory, and when you eradicate that core, it begins to degrade. By the time I’m done, those memories will have withered, as in a dream upon waking.”

Logan’s throat tightens at the description. There’s no comfort in Charles’ words. It doesn’t sound like a dream. It sounds like a nightmare.

“Do you want to proceed?”

“Yes.” Logan’s reply is immediate, though it scrapes his throat like gravel.

Charles nods once, solemnly. “Then tell me your most recent memory of her.”

I think I was preparing a class when she burst through the door, uninvited. I’d been trying to keep my distance from her, because of... well, all of this. But it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to leave, so I let her stay. She came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and asked if I had much left to do. I told her everything else could wait. Big mistake.

We were lying on my bed. Somehow, we always ended up there, tangled together. It wasn’t strictly... sexual. There’s something profoundly vulnerable about sharing that space. Snuggling, you could call it. Now that I think about it, she likes resting her head on my chest. Says it’s the best way to hear my heartbeat and find out if it matches hers.

“Focus, Logan.”

Yeah, I know. You’re right. Anyway, she asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I laughed. Obviously, she thought I was mocking her, so I had to convince her I wasn’t. I just thought the question was funny.

“Why did you laugh?”

Because it was exactly the kind of question she’d ask. She hadn’t before, but I’d been waiting for it. She told me she thought soulmates existed, and that I was hers. And I laughed again, and she threatened to leave. I held her tighter.

I told her I didn’t know if soulmates were real. I didn’t have that kind of certainty. What I did know, I said, was that I loved her. That was the only thing I was sure of. Soulmates or no soulmates, I loved her. I was right where I wanted to be. Those were my exact words.

“When did this happen?”

Yesterday. Before she left with Ororo and Scott for their mission. That’s why I’m choosing to do this now.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you again. Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?”

Yes, Charles. Please, don’t ask me again.

Throwing open the mansion’s entry door, you let it swing wide as you step inside. You could use a shower, but right now, all you care about is finding him. Where is he?

Before starting your search, a cluster of students rushes toward you, their arms wrapping around your waist. Their laughter fills your senses as they chatter excitedly, hugging you tightly. “We missed you!” A boy exclaims, and you can’t help but smile, ruffling his hair.

“Have you seen Professor Logan?” you ask, crouching to meet the eye of one of the younger girls.

She grins, her innocent smile spreading, and she points toward the kitchen. “He’s in there.”

You thank her and make your way to the kitchen, your heart beating a little faster. You find him standing by the counter, slicing bread. His movements are methodical, his posture calm, but something feels off. You pause in the doorway, scrutinizing his face for a sign, any sign, that he’s happy to see you.

But his gaze flicks to you for only a brief moment, cool and detached, before returning to his task.

“Hey,” you call softly, tilting your head. His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t stop cutting. “I’m back,” you add, stepping closer, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment.

It takes him a few seconds to respond, and when he does, his voice sounds flat. “I see.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a fork. “Good for you, I guess.”

The words hit you like a slap. A joke, surely. But why? You take a hesitant step forward, your brows furrowing. “Logan, why—”

Before you can finish, a hand grabs yours, yanking you out of the kitchen. Startled, you turn to see Jean, her expression pale and stricken.

“Jean?” you ask, confused. “Is this another one of Logan’s pranks?”

Her lips twitch, and tears glisten in her eyes when she swallows thickly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I tried to stop him. I really did. But he—he wouldn’t listen!” Her hands tighten around yours, quivering. You’ve never seen her like this before.

“Wait—slow down,” you urge, your stomach twisting.

“I swear, I tried to talk him out of it,” she pleads, each of the words she utters rushing out like a flood. “You know how stubborn he can get.”

It doesn’t take too long for her panic to feel contagious. The pit in your abdomen deepens as you glance back toward the kitchen, where Logan stands just out of sight.

Something is wrong—terribly wrong.

“Jean, what did he do?”

Despite all his wisdom, Charles had known this moment would come the second he agreed to help Logan.

The door to his office flies open, slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the room. You storm in, your strides long and charged with anger, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Madness blazes in your eyes. “You did what?!”

“My dear—”

“You erased me from my boyfriend’s memory!” The words erupt from you, shaking the very air. You fling your arms wide, your fury spilling over. Before he can respond, you turn on his bookshelf, yanking ancient, cherished volumes from their resting places. One by one, you ignite them, flames devouring their fragile pages in an instant.

Then, there’s a momentary pause—a flicker of silence before you seize another book. This one you hurl in his direction, not quite at his face, but close enough to graze the air near his shoulder before it hits the floor with a heavy thud. The sound echoes, a physical punctuation to your rage.

“You made me disappear! He doesn’t fucking know who I am!”

His expression, pained and weary, holds no exasperation—only regret. “He asked me to do it.”

“What kind of an answer is that?” The question hangs underlined by the tears that stream down your face. Your voice breaks, the pain behind it cutting deeper than any accusation. “You could’ve said no, Charles. How many times have you denied me things?”

“You didn’t see him in the way I did, he was—” He stops himself, faltering. No words can repair what he has already destroyed. “I’m sorry.”

You stand there, breathing hard, the space between you filled with smoldering ash and a silence so loud it feels suffocating. The remains of his books lie scattered, the faint scent of burnt paper lingering in the air. Charles watches you, but he doesn’t move to stop you. He doesn’t fight you.

The fury ebbs, leaving behind a hollow ache that takes its place in your chest. “If you’re so willing to erase love like it’s nothing, then do it for me, too.”

Charles’s brows knit together. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Logan doesn’t remember me. I walk into a room, and he looks right through me. Like I’m a stranger, like I never mattered. So tell me, what’s the point in remembering him if he’s already forgotten me?”

“I don’t believe forgetting will give you the peace you’re looking for.”

“Is that what you told him as well? Clearly, it worked out well.”

Touché.

“I’ve already hurt you enough,” he whispers.

“And you’ll keep hurting me if you don’t do this. I can’t carry this alone.” You kneel in front of him, clutching the edge of his wheelchair. “If you could take it away from him, you can take it away from me, too.”

Charles stares down at you, his mouth tightening, as if the weight of your words presses down on him. His hands, usually so steady, shift uncomfortably in his lap. It’s clear he can’t believe this is the second time he’s found himself in this situation, faced with the same desperate request. “Are you sure?”

You nod your head. “He wanted to forget me. Now, I want to forget him.”

He exhales slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. “All right,” he says softly, though his voice carries a sadness he doesn’t try to hide. “But I need you to understand… once it’s done, there’s no going back.”

 “That’s the point.” You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, as though erasing the tears could also erase the doubt creeping in.

“Then sit,” he counters, motioning to the chair Logan sat in days ago.

You hesitate for a moment, the finality of the act looming large. Slowly, you lower yourself into the chair, gripping its arms with all your earnest. Charles wheels himself closer, and the reality of what’s about to happen sets in.

“Tell me your last memory of him,” he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close your eyes, and the image surfaces instantly: Logan, holding you close, whispering that he loves you. No soulmates, no destiny—just love. You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again as you begin to recount it. “The last time he looked at me like I was his whole world.”

Charles nods, his expression unreadable, placing his hands on your temples. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I had to leave the next day, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. My things were already packed. I walked into Logan’s room and asked him if he was busy. A week isn’t a lot, but ever since he moved here, we hadn’t been apart from each other. I was anxious about that. I thought it’d be so hard to fall asleep without him at night. What—oh, God, what’ll happen now?

“I need you to keep going, darling.”

Don’t call me that. 

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

I convinced him to lie in bed with me. I had my head on his chest, and he kissed my forehead. His beard scratched me in the right way. It never hurt or bothered me. I had once dated a guy who had a beard, and it was just so uncomfortable. But that wasn’t Logan’s case. He would kiss me and hug me, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

There was a question I’d been meaning to ask him. It was about soulmates, and the existence of them. I thought Logan was my soulmate, and I said it to him. I asked if he believed in them, but he laughed. He told me he wasn’t making fun of me or anything, just that he thought the question was funny.

Logan said he didn’t know whether soulmates existed or not, but he knew for a fact that he loved me. He didn’t care about anything else. He loved me. He really did. Do you think he loved me, Charles?

“Yes. I do believe so.”

Then why did you take that away from me?

“I’m sorry.”

I hate you.

“I know.”

Your head pounds, an ache that feels like it’s splitting you in two. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your vision blurs, forcing you to blink repeatedly until the world around you sharpens into focus.

Four blank walls. The stark, colorless void offers nothing but the oppressive weight of emptiness. This must be your mind, stripped bare. Somewhere in the depths of this space, Charles is at work, pulling threads and unraveling every memory of Logan.

You push yourself off the cold floor. A soundless shift disturbs the space—a door appears out of nowhere, its frame faintly glowing, and without hesitation, you reach for the handle and swing it open.

On the other side is a fragment of your past: that night months ago, sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Logan had decided to join you. The memory pulls you in, and suddenly, you’re no longer standing—you’re on the couch. Your clothes have altered to match that night. Logan sits beside you, the warmth of his presence impossibly real.

This moment feels untouched by time, but deep down, you know the truth. Charles is erasing it even as you relive it. Soon, this too will vanish.

The scene begins to warp. It’s no longer the movie on the screen. The couple has been replaced by you and Logan. You’re watching yourselves from a third perspective, your bodies framed by the flickering light of the TV. It’s deeply unsettling, but in this fragmented state of consciousness, it doesn’t feel worth questioning.

“Logan?”

“Tell me.”

You grab a cushion and smack him on the arm, the motion instinctive. “You idiot!”

“What was that for?” he asks, laughing as he takes the cushion from your hands, tossing it aside. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You erased me from your memory!” you accuse him, even as you know the futility of it. He’s merely a fragment, a faint echo of who he once was to you. A lingering shard of memory caught in the tangled wires of your brain, sparking as it teeters on the edge of a short circuit. “You’re not even real, are you?”

“No,” he admits, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just in your mind. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. You’re just what’s left.” You lower your gaze, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “How long do you think it’ll take Charles to erase you?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The words you long for, the closure you might crave, are swallowed up. His lips vanish mid-formulation, and then you’re staring at a blank void where his mouth used to be. The rest of his features begins to fade—his eyes dissolve into nothingness, followed by his nose, his brows, the lines of his face. All that’s left is the space where he once sat, and even that feels tenuous.

You’re on your own now. The memory of him—of that night, the first time you truly shared an intimate moment—has been swept away like smoke in the wind. You collapse onto the floor, trembling as sobs tear through you, your hands pressed tightly against your face, attempting to contain your anguish. “I don’t want to forget you,” you choke out between hiccupped breaths, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “I never asked for any of this.”

“I know,” a familiar voice murmurs behind you, and there he is—Logan. This time, he’s wearing his suit. His claws are unsheathed, gleaming. “I shouldn’t have done it first. I don’t know what I was thinking’.”

You push yourself to your feet, drawn to him. When you move to hug him, he takes a step back, raising his claws as if to protect you from getting harmed. “I can’t retract them. If I hug you, I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper, pressing forward and slotting yourself between his arms, ignoring the danger. Your face finds its habitual place against his chest, and you inhale deeply, inhaling his scent. “I just want you.”

His arms fold around you hesitantly, careful yet incomplete. You feel a sharp pain, a searing slice along your ribs that rips a scream from your throat. The agony is blinding, drowning your world into darkness.

When you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else entirely. The bed feels soft beneath you, the sheets tangled around your legs. Logan is there beside you, his body warm against yours, both of you naked under the sheets.

“You’re lost in thought,” he says, his voice tender, taking a strand of your hair, twisting it gently before tucking it behind your ear. “You alright?”

His face won’t stay still. Beard, no beard. A moustache that fades as quickly as it appears. Hair long, then short. Sideburns one moment, smooth skin the next. He’s a shifting mosaic of himself. You realize you can’t remember what he looked like the last time you saw him.

“I’m forgetting you.” Your fingertips trace the curve of his cheek, memorizing each detail. “I don’t think I can stop it now.”

He’s seconds away from crying, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels both desperate and resigned. “Stay here with me,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands sliding over your arms, your stomach, your legs. “Don’t let me go.”

“You did it to me first,” you say, voice thick with emotion, pulling him closer, down until his body presses fully against yours. His weight feels real, but you know it’s not. Nothing about this moment is.

His voice breaks, repeating the same mantra. “Stay here with me. Don’t let me go.”

The touches multiply. It’s no longer just his hands on your skin. It’s as if the entire universe is reaching for you. The cacophony of touches, the overlapping voices—“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”—swirls into a suffocating chaos.

Logan begins to blur, like a photograph left too long in the sun. His face fades first, then his body, until all that remains is a ghost of his shadow. Then even that is gone. The bed disappears beneath you, leaving you adrift in an empty expanse. You can’t tell if you’re still there, or if you’ve vanished with him.

You exhale slowly. Silence, at last.

The second first time you see him, he’s sitting alone outside on a weathered bench, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’s completely alone, and you pause a few steps away, studying him for a moment. He doesn’t seem like someone you would’ve missed at the mansion. Charles mentioned he’d recently joined the team, a mutant who had spent too long wandering the earth.

You clear your throat, trying not to overthink it. “Mind if I take a seat?” you ask, your hands clasped behind your back as you wait for his reply.

He shifts to one end of the bench, leaving you more than enough room, though his movements seem cautious. You sit down, exhaling softly as an awkward silence stretches between you. His demeanor isn’t exactly inviting, and you wonder how to bridge the gap.

After a moment, you stretch out your hand, offering a polite smile, giving him your name. He glances at your hand, then takes it. “M’Logan,” he says simply, though you already knew that from your previous talk with Charles. His fingers are rough, calloused, yet they linger a beat longer than necessary before letting go. “The other day, I was in the kitchen, and you walked in. You were acting… strange.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between his face and your hand that still feels warm from his touch. “I don’t remember that. Are you sure it was me?”

Logan hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought so… but maybe not.” His lips press into a thin line, shrugging. “Never mind. I could be wrong.”

Tilting your head, you study him. There’s something familiar that you can’t quite place. “Have we met before? Outside this place, I mean. It’s just… I feel like I know you. Like I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t figure out where.”

His eyes meet yours then, like your question has triggered something dormant. He leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he lets out a low chuckle. “Funny you’d say that. I wasn’t planning on bringing it up, but… I got the same feeling.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.” His lips quirk into a smile, one that matches yours.

Inside the mansion, Charles and Jean watch the scene through the window. Jean folds her arms across her chest, her expression caught between awe and disbelief. “This is crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

“Don’t get me started,” Charles replies.

“They don’t know what happened, but they still feel it. Like they’re connected.” She peers down at Charles, her voice quieter now. “You erased everything, didn’t you? Every memory, every trace.”

Charles keeps his eyes on the scene outside, his features softening as he watches the two of you talk. He sighs, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You’re asking me for an explanation I don’t have. I guess some things… refuse to be forgotten.”

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

Friedrich Nietzsche.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, car sex (unfortunately for Kunikida), breath play, dazai levels of whining, but he always gets what he wants doesn't he, Approx. 1.5k words

“Don’t even think about it,” you breathed, grinding your hips against Dazai’s. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as a moan left his lips before it turned into a strained laugh. Dazai guided your hand to his neck. He bit at your lower lip playfully, languid thrusts drawing out your pleasure with every deep stroke. 

“Pretty please?” Dazai whispered to your ear, his lazy smile widening as your fingers grazed the bandages he always wrapped himself in. “I’ll be a real good boy about it.”

“You’ve been anything but for the last half-hour,” you retorted. “I’ll think about it.”

Dazai pouted, his trademark gaze of innocence returning. He knew how to get what he wanted; even if it required you to play this game of fetch every time. Instead, you ground your hips down, enjoying the friction of him bottoming out in you.

The parking lot was empty this late, keeping your undertakings pleasantly obscured under the roof of your car. 

You weren’t meant to be here, precisely. 

Nor Kunikida’s car– it was supposed to be back hours ago. But then again Dazai was ever the opportunist; why waste a perfectly good vehicle when you’ve already used it the whole day to spy on a client? Might as well give yourself a treat for a job well done.

Dazai brushed your hair to the side, teeth sinking into your soft skin. You couldn’t move much, your hips straddling Dazai’s and the steering wheel digging into your back with his every thrust. He was keeping you in place, not giving much of any opportunity even as you wriggled and panted against his lips. 

Postponing your orgasm was becoming somewhat of a speciality of his, especially with how grumpy it got you the longer he played around. That was what he wanted, more often than not. Predicting your actions was easy, and knowing how far to push to reach your breaking point–

easier.

Then he might get what he wanted. 

Your hands drew him closer, your focus waning as the pressure built up again. You weren’t going to let Dazai ruin this one too. Maybe it counted as giving in or perhaps you felt like you were taking control this time, but…

Delicate fingers trailed around Dazai’s neck, making him shudder the moment he realised what you were up to. He wanted it, of course. As much as it annoyed you how desperate he would get only to have your hands wrap around his throat, the pressure building with every second.

You knew he liked the thrill of it. The suicidal maniac in him was ecstatic–playing with life like that. You on the other hand felt your worry building every time he so much as looked at you with that pleading gaze. It was only a play, no real harm behind it.

Plenty of people were into breath play, and yet…it felt different. 

It scared you, sometimes—just a bit.

“Change of heart?” Dazai’s eyes were hooded. He looked beautiful like this, flush all the way down his chest. His hand trailed up your thigh, gripping tightly.

“We make a deal?” you asked, arching forward. He was easy to bargain with, like this. “I do this, and you give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had? No half-assing here, Osamu.”

Dazai fluttered his lashes and his grin turned vicious. “I do as you please, oh great beauty of mine.” And you could only blink your eyes closed, hands wrapped around his neck in preparation.

Dazai raised you up suddenly, his cock slipping out of you.

“Wh-at?” you asked, grabbing into his shoulders for balance. 

“I’m a fast worker, what can I say?” Dazai smirked. 

His hand went to your entrance, drawing slow steady drags of his fingers against your wet pussy lips. The moment his fingers entered you, a shudder crawled up your spine. 

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. His fingers made quick work, moving within your walls and twisting to your sweet spot often enough to make you dizzy. You almost forgot what you were meant to do with your hands.

“Fuck,” you said, trying to force your attention back into focus. 

Dazai was looking at you, enjoying every second of it. 

A few more strokes and his hand pulled away, only for his cock to enter you again, sudden and filling. Your thighs clenched around him, breath coming ragged. The fingers now covered in your wetness went to skilfully move over your clit, thumb rocking back and forth in time with Dazai’s every thrust.

You had to remind yourself to breathe, eyes back to Dazai’s face. He was watching you, head thrown back as a smirk tilted his lips. You could have been a sight to see for all you knew.

But that didn’t bother you.

You reached up, tracing his jawline with both hands before going lower. Dazai’s whole focus was on you, every detail engraving itself in his mind as you wrapped your hands around his neck. 

Such delicate work under these circumstances wasn’t ideal. You felt Dazai try to swallow under your hands, the pressure barely there to distract him. But he knew this was only a warmup. It takes time for you to ease into it; this wasn’t the first time you were hesitant to do this.

Dazai’s cheeks reddened. Slowly, ever so slowly, your pressure increased, and you marvelled at the way Dazai moaned weakly from the sensation of literary being suffocated. 

Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut, head thrown back as his hold on you waist tightened.

He was beautiful like this, so vulnerable and entirely at your mercy. 

You tried to regulate, watching his every twitch and grunt for the air he lacked. You were bringing him to the brink only to relax just enough to get his bearings back together. 

Your legs were trembling from the strain, seeing as Dazai’s trust became sporadic, trying to force out as much of his strength into fucking you. Your lower belly tingled with your release which was steadily building up. 

Dazai’s thumb didn’t stop, his hand going down to your entrance to gather more of your wetness before coming back to stroke at your clit. You could barely breathe at this point.

Dazai looked at you, choked sounds falling from his open mouth even as his upper teeth bit into his lip. He was having the time of his life.

“Good boy.” You smiled, diving for a kiss as your hands squeezed firmer, swallowing Dazai’s whine as your tongue trailed inside his mouth. Saliva trickled down his chin, making him a bigger mess with every second.

You felt his legs spasm, the tension increasing. Your pussy clenched around him, just the way he liked before he was near.

You held him, not letting go even as his belly fluttered, twitching with every strain to push his orgasm forward. You forced him into the seat, Dazai’s neck bared prettily as you hovered over him, the sound of your kissing filling the air almost as much as his rapid trusts as he struggled to reach you. 

“Come on, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” you panted against Dazai’s lips.

Pleasure seeped in, not suddenly this time, but a steady buildup of more more more–and you were cumming, cunt fluttering around his cock enough to force Dazai’s eyes open, staring wide at the rooftop as a pitiful moan vibrated right from his chest. You felt his cock twitch inside you a moment later, his spent shooting inside you, warm and thick.

You only loosened your hold on him when you were sure he was coming down from the high. Dazai’s head lolled to the side, eyes still closed as he breathed hard between coughs for air. He looked utterly exhausted, his face pale with overstrain. He barely had the strength to move, let alone slip out of you. 

Not that you could help, flopping against his chest to breathe in his musky scent. The air around you was hot, almost foggy. Like in those sappy romance movies where the couple run away to their car to finally have some alone time.

Except this one wasn’t yours.

You pulled yourself back, reaching with a groan for your phone. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Dazai asked, kissing at your shoulder. He looked so pretty as he blinked at you, face serene. 

“Looking for a nearby car wash,” you said, forcing your eyes to the screen. 

A silence before Dazai’s hearty laugh filled the space. You looked at him, eyebrow raised. 

“Were you expecting something else?” 

“Not in the slightest,” Dazai said, clearing a tear from his eye. He still smiled when he said, “Kunikida sure has a great friend in you.”

“In both of us.” You leaned in for a quick peck. “Seeing as we’ll be splitting the bill.”

Dazai groaned but it didn’t sound as sincere as he would’ve liked. He pulled you in close, pouting all the while as you pretended not to notice him. He got his way this time around, it’s not like he had much to complain about. 

[theveil-and-thepath]

Mini PAC n°1 - What will happen until the end of the week?

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

You can pick more than one! Just follow your heart!

This is my first time fully using Lenormand cards, let's see how it goes.

*This is a source of entertainment, your destiny is in your hands.*

Pile 1

Wip, star, bouquet, mice, crossroad. Dog, fox, snake. Heart, birds, bear. Birds, garden, snake.

You'll suddenly accomplish something that you greatly desire, but in order for this to happen you'll need to defend your position and status and not let other people bring you down.

This thing you accomplish will have the double effect of solving some of your problems and concerns, and it might make some discontent people who steal your energy leave your life.

You'll interact with several people who are your seniors or more experienced than you. Only one has your true interest at heart, but all three are smart and will teach you new things about how to behave.

You may hear positive gossip about you. Some will say you have more money or are more important than you see yourself.

You may feel, or hear the promise of, the support of a powerful friend.

Keep an eye open in the places you go to this week. You can have fun at a party or event, but some will envy how you look.

Your spiritual protection practices are working, you'll see how you're more resitant to evil eye now.

Pile 2

Anchor, bear, book, heart, cross. Wip, letter, mountain. Coffin, mountain, tower. Snake, wip, ring.

Some of you will meet the love of your life, your counterpart. Maybe it's a new friend. Regardless, it's a fated encounter with someone who's as or more mature than you, stable in life, very smart/went to a good school, this person knows when to shut up and when to talk; try not to get a wrong first impression of them because theyll like you more than they'll convey. Your guides are planning your encounter.

You may start to study something new that you've been meaning to for a while.You may have an insight or receive a tarot reading (can be on youtube) that will help explain your recent love problems.

If you think of an ex this week, it's so that you see it all in a new light and move on, or to remind you how to avoid the same undesired result.

You may receive an email postponing an event or listing extra requirements you need to meet to accomplish a goal of yours.

You need to rest and sleep well before a big day.

Beware of double faced people offering you things too good to be true, perhaps they want you close to them so they can ruin your life more easily.

Be smart against those who are cunning and trying to get rid of you because they see you as competition.

Pile 3

Man, book, rider, lily, woman. Fox, anchor, child. Dog, bear, tree. Tower, heart, anchor.

A relationship you already have may progress this week and this person may reveal positive feelings that they've kept hidden. You may feel that one of your connections originated in past lives.

A good week for school and learning.

To start a new venture, you need to be smart not work hard. You may take a significant step to solidify a new project of yours.

You have great friends and family. This week you'll express your gratitude to the universe for having them. You may even receive help from old friends.

Old relationships become stronger.

This week you'll see how much support you have around you, you'll also be proud of how far you've come and how solid it's the life you've built.

Pile 4

Letter,sun, heart,bouquet, scythe. Tree, mice, wip. Anchor, sun,bouquet. Key, woman,clover.

What a bright and blessed week of reaping your rewards. Someone will compliment your work, give you amazing feedback, may say they want to keep in touch for future endeavors or ask for your number so they can call you on a date.

All the good things you desire? This week you can be so close to them it's just up to you to pick it up and take it for your life.

You receive the yes, the answer you wanted to get.

Your crush will text you, or your partner may ask you out.

If you're in a relationship, texting can turn into sexting, or you'll receive a kiss or offer for a sexy night out of a sudden.

You'll get rid of energy vampires or bad habits that have been draining your energy and slowing you down.

You'll cut off junk food or reject a specific food or drink for the sake of your health.

You may go to the doctor or start a health treatment.

This week feels so good, that some of you will get married or become engaged. May start dating too.

You'll feel your spirit guides close and showing you good things about your future.

You reach the jackpot. Somehow you'll know what you'll have to do so you level up big time.

You may receive the opportunity of a lifetime. Big thing!!! Receive it.

You're so smart and capable that people can't help but admire you.

This week you'll know that you can do it!

[bvidzsoo]

Your little monster

✗ Mafia heir!Mingi ✗ 

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

∞ Warning: pretty suggestive, language, guns, violence, blood, murder, toxicity ∞ Word count: 3.4k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, established relationship!au, mafia reader!au, Harley Quinn x Joker inspired relationship, smut ∞ Rating: mature ∞ Summary: Oh, how sweet it feels ruling the world. Perhaps you went a little bit overboard as you now have to rescue your boyfriend from going to prison, but it's not like you haven't done worse things together. One might say love turned you two mad.

∞ A/N: Despite being completely depressed today, hey, the inspiration came to finally write this lmao. Now we only have San's part left behind and I'll finally be done with this little mafia drabble mini-series, and I'm already thinking of starting something new and longer due to the current comeback, sigh. Let me know if I forgot anything that should be considered for a warning, I haven't detailed anything too much. Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy! <3

✗ For ambience, listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥  Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥ 

            The explosion replayed on the TV made my skin crawl most excitingly as I grinned in contentment, the cowboy hat lowered over my eyes as I sat in the metal chair, its coldness seeping through my leather attire. A sheen coat of sweat glinted around my temples and between my breasts, the air was rather humid inside the station, even with the open windows. Police officers ran around like jesters, their walkie-talkies staticky every few seconds as they were addressed or had to address someone. My eyes followed every movement closely, surveying the officers' steps and the security of this place. It wasn’t as tight as I had thought it would be given the high criminal rate in this part of the city, but that was only beneficial for me as I grinned under my hand, smacking my lips together before I sighed loudly, making sure my long, exposed, legs would get every men’s attention that passed by the lobby. It wasn’t a lobby, per se, but the chairs placed there were obviously for visitors. Not that any visitor was allowed in at this hour, but nobody seemed to be paying much attention to me, yet. If only they had known what was hiding underneath my leather bomber jacket, strapped to my vest, maybe they would have thought twice about letting me walk in here and sit around unsupervised.

My eyes strayed back onto the TV again, and I chuckled at the shitty quality of the video, but it was unmistakable who the people in it were. Besides, the names flashing in big, red, font on the screen made it rather obvious who the two criminals running away in their Pontiac were. Song Mingi and me. The Firebird, of course, wasn’t ours, but Mingi’s little friend who owned it was late with his payment, so, we made a little bargain with him. Not that the man has had much of a choice saying no to us, it was between his gorgeous white cabriolet or his life. The scum had begged rather pitifully for his life, it had been entertaining holding my gun against his temple, playing Russian Roulette with him. I knew there had been no bullets in the gun, but the man didn’t, and seeing him beg for his life filled me with arousal and excitement like nothing else. There was something about men falling to their knees and praying for their lives that had a certain effect on me, filling me with an adrenaline rush I couldn’t find anywhere else even if I actively searched for it. Not even robbing banks or forcing our way inside households was as exhilarating as making men cry was.

And the man I liked seeing cry the most was Mingi, whether it was underneath me from overstimulation, or because I waterboarded him for even so much as for looking into another female’s direction, the exhilarating power rush was always the same. It was maddening, it was addicting, and I never wanted it to stop. And that is exactly why I never stopped seeking it out. As the TV volume was increased by a passer-by general, a cup of coffee in his hand despite the ungodly hour, I finally caught someone’s attention. The man sitting at the reception, sometimes forced to operate even three phones at one time, looked up with furrowed eyebrows and pointed at me.

“You, lady!” He called loudly, making me grin to myself as I straightened up in my seat, “What business do you have here? Come here!”

The general’s eyes fell on me as I stood up, well aware that my mini-skirt barely concealed anything, yet I made myself look bashful as I adjusted the cowboy hat on top of my head, making sure nobody could see my eyes or my unmistakable flaming ginger hair. I tipped my hat in his direction before I headed for the reception, making sure to sway my hips sensually. The man at the reception frowned at me, apparently not so easily charmed, but he’d eventually be one of my prey as well, all men gave in, after all.

“You called for me?” I grinned and bit my bottom lip, making the man sigh loudly.

“Yes, what is your business here at this hour, lady?” The man sounded irritated, but I didn’t let that get to me as I pouted, my butcher knife pressed uncomfortably into my hip as I shifted my weight around on my feet.

“You see, my boyfriend is in one of your cells, and—”

“Visiting hours start at 9 o’clock, lady, you have to leave.” I tried not to grit my teeth at the interruption and hummed, forcing a sweet smile onto my lips.

“But I’m not here to visit him, Mr. Officer.” I purred, placing my arms over his desk as I leaned forward, pushing my breasts out. I knew if the light fell just right on my exposed skin, the officer could see just what was hidden under my bomber jacket, but wasn’t life boring without a little thrill? “I’m here to bail him out, of sorts.”

The man’s eyes paused on my breasts for a second and I chuckled, they were all the same, manipulating them had always been too easy. The man gulped, then looked back up at my face, his lips pursed but his pupils had slightly dilated. He was too easy.

“What’s the man’s name?”

“I can’t tell you that just yet,” I giggled, reaching forward to play with the shiny badges plastered against his left breast, “I must check if my little cowboy is fine, first. Then, you’ll know if I found him or not.”

The man glanced down at my perfectly manicured stiletto nails still playing with his badges, and he made no moves to push my hand away. How stupid, a jerk of my arm and I’d be able to slash his throat open. How foolish. But when he looked at my face again, I made sure my expression remained innocent, hiding all my thoughts just like I had been once taught by Master Song, the big bad dog, our mafia head and boss of the city, Mingi’s father. Dream big and aim high, if you know how to manipulate men, you might end up living the dream life. It had been too easy so far, Mingi is too dumb for his own good, but he’s amazing at his craft, and thus, I can’t really leave a man that knows what to do with his dick. Besides, once Master Song is gone, Mingi will be the next heir, and then I will have the whole world at my feet. Perfect.

“Your name, lady?” The office grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing now that I was evading all of his questions.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know, sweets.” I chuckled, then gripped his badge and yanked him forward by it, making him yelp loudly. The general looked our way, eyebrows furrowed, before he slowly started approaching us, hand on his gun, “Take a wild guess, the news has been raging about us all night long.”

Perhaps blowing up a whole factory owned by the government wasn’t the smartest of Mingi and me, Master Song would punish us adequately if we decided to go back instead of hiding out on one of his private islands until he had cooled off. The perks of dating a mafia head’s son, I suppose. The officer at the desk finally glanced over to the TV, and I took the momentum to slam his head hard enough into the desk to make him pass out. The general was by my side now, and before he could gain the upper head and point his gun at my head, I whirled around and fetched my sharp knife, grinning at him. I kneeled him hard in the gut before spinning him around, knife pressing hard into his smooth flesh. I chuckled as the general didn’t touch his gun, all eyes on us in shock. Then, guns were pointed at us and I scoffed, resting my chin on the general’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” I tsked, “I’m going to slit his throat before you could fire your guns, idiots. Now be good dogs and lower your guns before I blow this whole place up.”

And just on cue, the small microchips I had planted around the offices started beeping, connected to the little machine I had sitting against my lower back. I press one tiny little green button, and this whole place is gone in seconds. The atmosphere was tense as everyone stood frozen, prompting me to press the knife harder into the man’s throat. The general hissed and raised his arms in surrender, “Lower your guns! She’ll blow this whole place up.”

“I damn will!” I giggled and watched the man’s profile. He was old, but he was still handsome. Not my type, but he was definitely eye candy for the older ladies, “Now, you will take me to my love if you want everyone to go home once their shifts are over. And no funny business, Mr. General, or your guts will be all over the floor.”

The general sighed quietly, then pointed towards the back, “Song Mingi is down that hallway.”

“Lovely, now chop chop, I ain’t got all night!” I huffed and manhandled the man around, pushing him towards the door he had mentioned. And just to prove a point to any stupid officer who thought they could somehow have the upper hand here, I reached behind my back with my left arm, feeling around for the nth number of buttons that were lined on the small device. Finding the one I’d been searching for, I sent a flying kiss towards the officers who remained back. However, once the light turned red as I pushed the small button, an explosion inside the building went off, setting the alarms and water system off. Lights flashed in the building and chaos instantly ensued as I giggled, grinning at the general who watched me with wide eyes, “Oopsie, I thought that button was for your lovely cop cars…well, at least they’ll understand I’m not playing around here.”

“You’re crazy.” The general hissed angrily as we walked through the door, forgotten about now that people had to take care of whichever room I had blown up. I think it was the supply room, but I couldn’t be too sure, there were too many small bombs hidden around this place, fascinating, isn’t it?! I pressed a kiss against the man’s cheek to annoy him further, and he made a sound in the back of his throat, looking disgusted.

“You’re no fun, Mr General, lighten up a bit!” I rolled my eyes and forced him forward when he tried to stop walking, “If you were less handsome, I would’ve killed you the second we passed through this door. I know my way around here, this isn’t my first rodeo, sweets.”

            The general had to go once he tried to slam me against a wall and point my own weapon against me. Poor thing was now bleeding out on the floor of an inmate I decided to set free for my own satisfaction. The rows of the cells seemed to be never-ending as I changed the ammunition for my gun once again, leaving a wake of blood in my footsteps, the hallways littered with injured and dying officers since they didn’t understand playing nice would’ve kept them alive. Greedy bastards, when will they learn that the mafia controls everything? Besides, I’m way more skilled than they ever will be. Most cells were empty and my patience was running thin, wondering whether they had fucked me over and led me towards the wrong door and hallway. Maybe Mingi had been already transported from here to a highly guarded prison, from which breaking him out would’ve been way too difficult, but not impossible. Anything for my pookie, besides, Master Song would kill me for getting his son in trouble and abandoning him. So, really, until the enterprise was solely mine, I had to cater to the likes of these dumb and irritating men in power.

My heels resounded in the quietness of the hallway loudly, and I groaned when another cell turned out to be empty. My hands gripped the gun tightly as I made sure to stay alert, well aware that I didn’t have much time before the whole police force and military would rush over us. But I still had two cells to check, so I continued to have hope. My heart stuttered in my chest when suddenly two hands came through the bars lazily, hanging out casually as if he had no worries in this world. The skin was heavily tattooed on both hands, nails painted black and chapped, his thick fingers littered with expensive rings and chunky bracelets that hung around his dainty wrists. With a grin on my face, I sped up, coming to a stop in front of the cell, coming face to face with the familiar image of my lover’s face. His eyeliner was all smudged and his lips were bloody and swollen, yet the attractive smirk was still present on his lips as his dark, and sharp, eyes travelled all over my body. He wore similar attire, all black and leather, his vest low cut and showing off his chest tattoos, the hem of the vest stopping just above his hips to show off their sultriness, his happy trail dark.

“All dressed up for me, sugar?” The deep rumble of his voice had my skin covered in goosebumps and my stomach coiling in lust. God, despite knowing each other since we were kids, I still hadn’t gotten used to the vision he was.

Song Mingi.

He might’ve been a dumb and easily manipulable man, good for his riches and for his big dick, but one look at his attractive face never failed to make me forget my grand scheme for the future. One touch and I’d unravel, one kiss and I had no idea who I was anymore. He was hypnotic and consuming, toxic and violent, but God could I seemingly not walk away and try to fix my life. Not that I had any chance of righting all my wrongdoings, I’ve been too deep into this criminal life to find salvation at this point.

“Come on, baby, won’t you get me out?” Mingi bit his bottom lip as we continued staring at each other, suddenly a dark thought crossing my mind as I smirked, tipping my hat up so that our eyes met.

“Like you did the last time?” If it hadn’t been simply for my wits and smartness, I’d be still rotting away in that godawful prison. Mingi’s expression fell for a second before he chuckled amusedly, quirking an eyebrow up.

“You need no rescuing, doll, I knew you could do it by yourself.” Mingi’s deep tone rumbled through his chest as I took a step towards him. The sirens had gone off at some point, signalling an emergency. I knew we were tight on time, but to make sure we still had some more minutes, I had set off the bombs on all the parked cars in front of the station so that they’d be distracted for a bit longer.

“Really, love?” I tilted my head, stopping in front of the bars in hand reach. Mingi hummed as his hands slipped forward, settling on my hips as he squeezed hard, licking his lips as his eyes stayed on my breasts. We usually wore matching outfits just for the fun of it, but the vest I was currently wearing was bought for different activities, “You want me to believe that? I know you were fucking that blonde bitch while I was fighting off five guards.”

The hiss was sharp as my eyes narrowed at Mingi, who had mastered the perfect innocent expression sometime in the past and was looking at me with it now, “Sugar, I was busy looking over the shipment, you know that. My father had sent a team to get you, but you were already soaking in our bath, waiting for me—”

“You’re full of shit.” I snapped, reaching forward abruptly to wrap my fingers around Mingi’s warm throat. His necklaces were heavy and chunky, but they looked fucking amazing on him. I ignored him for my own sake as I pressed my thumb harsher into his throat, making Mingi swallow nervously, “This is the last time I let you off the hook, Mingi. If you fuck anyone else ever again, I’ll cut your dick off before I take your whole legacy in the family.”

Mingi grinned, licking the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward, thinking he had the upper hand, “You love my dick too much to do that.”

“I’ve met plenty of men with bigger dicks than yours.”

“Let me out.” Mingi’s tone dropped as a fire appeared in his eyes, his jaw clenched. I laughed tauntingly, biting my lower lip as I released his neck while pushing him backwards, our eyes trained on each other. After more than ten years of partnership, we still didn’t trust each other. Maybe it was because Mingi wasn’t as dumb as I liked to think he was, and he could see right through me and my intentions. Maybe it was because I liked to play with him and threaten to fuck him up too often, but neither one of us was a trustworthy person, and I knew Mingi hated it. As if the SMG tattoo sitting on my collarbones wasn’t enough to prove my devotion to him. Nobody would even touch me out of fear now that I was forever branded to him, and I made sure those who did touch him, lost all of their fingers and toes too.

The gunshot echoed loudly as I shot the lock off, who needs a key when you have a gun? I pulled the door slowly open and Mingi remained patient, that is until I stepped in his way when he tried to leave. Without warning, I was slammed against the concrete wall, air knocked from my lungs as his swollen lips pressed against mine bruisingly, one large palm fondling my exposed ass cheek. My moan was swallowed by his desperate tongue as it pushed against mine, fingers curling around my thigh and hiking one leg up so that he could press his semi-hard on into me, groaning at the friction. I sucked at his tongue hungrily, my free hand tangling in his dark locks and yanking on them just like he liked it, making Mingi whine as he rutted against me, fondling my thigh and ass as if he hadn’t touched me in forever. This wasn’t the place nor time for this, but keeping our hands off each other was impossible even after years of being together. I knew things like this turned Mingi on all the time, and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t get a kick out of it too.

“My father will kill us this time, babe.” Mingi mumbled against my lips as he bit my bottom lip, grabbing my hand that held the gun to point it at his temple, “Fuck, I want to be inside you so badly, baby.”

“Fuck me then before they get here,” I provoked him, biting all over his face before I nipped at the skin of his hot neck, “Feel me up babe, see what I have hidden just for you.”

Mingi gulped, eyes hungry as his hands gripped my sides, feeling me up all over my torso and back, cupping both my ass cheeks to hoist me up, forcing me to grip his hips with my thighs tightly. I had all of his favourite weapons strapped onto myself, knowing he’d make good use of them, “You’ll be the death of me one day, Y/N.”

“I know I will.” I smirked, then captured his lips in a frenzied kiss again as we heard shouts closing in on us, “Seems like you’ll have to wait with fucking me, besides, our new jacuzzi was installed today. It would be a shame not trying it out after the day we had.”

“I love the way you think,” Mingi grinned and took his gun from the holster from my waist and lowered me onto the ground, gripping my jaw to tilt my head up, “And I didn’t fuck that blonde, sugar, she stole the watch I had gotten from you and she’s now floating away head down in the river.”

I cackled as the shouts were clear as day now, the officers were here. Oh, how much fun we were just about to have. After sharing one more lustful kiss, our ammunition was cleared without hesitance.

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[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: minor alabasta spoilers, arranged marriage, I kind of went ham on the descriptions and readers backstory in general, violence, mother issues

𝐚/𝐧: *arises from where i fell off the face of the earth and throws down an offering* greetings.

“Respectfully…” You took a moment to compose yourself, sipping from your teacup and raising your eyes to settle on your soon-to-be husband. “You are the scum of the earth, Mr. Toleson.”

Mr. Toleson, quite used to this, only rolled his eyes and moved to pour you more tea. “Pray tell me what I have done to receive such contempt, Miss?”

That question could not easily be answered. Did your contempt stem from your lack of choice, or from Mr. Toleson’s less than agreeable disposition? Or perhaps from society’s overall decision that whatever may happen, you should sit still and be merry. Who cares if your marriage is loveless and your life unfulfilled?

You dropped another sugar cube in your tea and stirred it around. Maybe it was everything all at once. And Mr. Toleson’s… superiority in age didn’t help matters either. The rickety man just reached his late fifties, his hair reaching a color not yet gray, but most definitely not the brown of his youth. You’d seen pictures. He was a handsome boy twenty years ago, when you were but a lemon-shaped babe in the womb.

“I had plans,” you answer at last. “Plans that do not include you.”

His eyes twinkled like the idea was preposterous, his mustaches curling with his lips. Mr. Toleson gazed at you like a child, only discomforting you even further about the idea of sharing a marriage bed. “What plans, Miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snapped back. “I’m going to be chained to you all my life. Even after you die, which I assume will be soon given the state of you, I’ll be forced into widowhood. I look awful in black, you know, and pretending to grieve would do nothing for my mental state—oh, where are you going?”

Mr. Toleson had thrown down his napkin, face hot and brows screwed together. He peered down his nose at your poor attempt at hiding a smile. “When you’re my wife,” he said, tone even and dark, gaze even more so. “You’ll do well to learn manners, Miss.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, for certain, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Mr. Toleson huffed out his too-small nose and spun on his heel, barking at a poor attendant to fix the table’s preposterous flower arrangement.

You gave the young boy a sorry look and stood to leave when a sharp voice filtered in from the next room. 

“Mr. Toleson! Where are you going—?” Your mother’s shrill tone cut short, a growl of your name soon to follow.

“Shit.” You whirled on the attendant boy with a pointed finger. He froze, eyes wide as several petals fell loose onto the table. “Please,” you hissed, pressing your palms together. “Ypu must help me.”

The boy dropped the flowers back into the vase, splashing a bit of water. With a single nod, he beelined for the window, unlatching it and swinging it open. You rushed over, his hands pushing you outside. “This is the only way out, my lady.”

“I’ll fall—wait!” You were swinging your legs over the sill before you realized what you were doing. Heart pattering in your chest, you cast him a look, but he was already shutting the window and drawing the curtains behind you. “Oh, dear.”

Down below, about twenty feet down and beyond the hedged yard, were the streets of the city, carts pulled by mules and passersby tracking dirt and mud and other materials across the dirt roads. You glanced around the outer wall of Mr. Toleson’s house. A trellis ran down the side just one window away, which you could use to climb down to then jump into the hedges. Stealing a breath, you began to inch along the window sill, setting a delicate foot on the wide declarative trim running from each window to the next. When it didn’t crumble beneath your foot, you went on, barely breathing as you clung flush to the wall.

Reaching the window, precariously making a step up to the next sill, you nearly tipped backward when you caught your mother’s back through the window. Feet slipping, you scurried down the trellis, losing your grip every few seconds and clinging to the wall. Eventually, you touched the earth, dusting off your dress as you faced the garden wall. Ivy ran all along it, but you’d done enough exploring whilst avoiding Mr. Toleson’s advances to know that a gate hid behind the green. It led right into a damp, drippy alleyway. You cringed down at your custom-made shoes, costing a fortune for certain. Sacrifices had to be made, and today, your shoes paid the price. 

Your wedding was a day away, and with it the end of your happiness. Not that anyone cared about your happiness those days. Expelling a sigh, you wandered the streets till nightfall, returning to the grand house in the dead of night.

Your mother paced the entry hall when you stepped inside, the tall door booming shut behind you. Her eyes were on you like a hawk, her words sharp knives. “Where have you been?”

“Uptown,” you drawled, tossing your now dirtied shoes across the carpet. “Downtown. Midtown. Where haven’t I been is the real question.”

She looked close to exploding, cheeks inflated and lips pinched together. “You embarrassed me—You embarrassed Mr. Toleson!”

Waving an absent hand, “I couldn’t care less, woman. Now let me be before I drop dead of melancholy.”

A stiff utterance of your name struck the air, the impact on your back fleeting as you swept upstairs. Again and again, she cried your name till it sounded more like a beg than an order, and it halfway made you desire to face her. But facing your mother and having her see you had long been a futile task. 

Her voice struck your back until you reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hall, whipping open your bedroom door and slamming it back behind you. Swiftly locking it, you clawed at your chest, skin constricting and choking you out. That woman… your mother could never understand.

Once, you hoped maybe she could. Your oldest servant, a frail woman who’d been serving your mother for a decade, told you that your mother went through the same unfortunate situation as you. She walked an aisle leading to shackles, just as you would at tomorrow’s soon-coming dusk. But time had turned that woman cold, making her hellbent on sentencing you to the same fate.

Eyes scanning the room, you gave a shaken sigh. Tomorrow you would be forced into a similar room, but that one you would share with Mr. Toleson. Your skin crawled. “At least he only wants my money. He cares for nothing else.”

You slipped into bed, unsure of the next good sleep you’d receive.

જ ⁀ ➴

Up with the sun, you dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful not to make a sound as you exited onto the street. There was ample time between sunrise and the ceremony, each second passing with a daunting swiftness. Soon, the morning bells rang throughout the city, signaling that noon had fallen. 

You stared up at the sky as the chimes fell silent, chest constricting. This walk around the city had done nothing to quell your distress. In anything, it made it worse; people on the street beamed and congratulated you on sight, offering you flowers and well-wishes. You received them all with practiced kindness, even as doom lurked behind you.

“Just a few more hours,” you mumbled, taking refuge in a damp alley. “I can visit the old pond… perhaps the frogs will be out.”

Nodding, you slipped back out with a ducked chin, walking quickly through the crowds until so little as three people were around and the the stone streets faded into soft dirt paths underfoot. Through sparse trees and lonely wood, you made your way to the duckpond on the outskirts of the city. Not a soul around; perfect.

You plopped yourself on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest, oblivious to the dust curling around you. Maybe, if you stayed right there all day, no one would find you. You could sit through the whole ceremony—through the whole year, till weeds crawled up your limbs and rocks were surfaced by the winds. You’d become part of this pond when the rain fills it beyond the banks, dissolving into an urban legend of what happens to heartbroken young women.

You smiled for the first time in many weeks. That fate sounded as lovely as anything.

The reverie broke as voices crept up behind you. Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted two entities: the first being the constable, and the second farther behind him. This group of people was more like a gaggle, or perhaps a rabble, their boisterous tones causing the constable to cast them a glare.

You jumped to your feet before he could face forward again and darted toward to big oak tree you used to climb in your youth, skidding to a halt right behind it. The constable was good friends with your fiance and would surely escort you back home the instant he saw you. 

“Are you sure we can fish here?”

“I’m sure no one’s told us we can’t.”

“Sanji!”

One of the voices, presumably the one called Sanji, laughed in reply while their counterpart grumbled under their breath. Part of you felt the need to jump out and warn them against it, because surely the constable would be quick to apprehend them. But then he would also surely apprehend you.

“Sirs,” the gruff voice of the constable barked, right on cue. “Fishing in this pond is strictly prohibited. It’s for viewing only by law.”

The one called Sanji clicked his tongue. “Is there some sort of sign we missed? Because there’s no warning stopping us.”

Oh, dear. “I’m here to stop you. Now please, put away your tack and gear.” There were a few indignant huffs, but no rustling of a confrontation. Good, good… 

“Right. Now, have either of you gentlemen spotted a young woman about?” The constable proceeded to give your exact description, spiking a panic within you. The search party had already begun. “No? Drat. Perhaps I’m at the wrong pond… Good day to you…”

You remained behind the tree for five long minutes, listening to the constable’s steps fade away and the conversation between the two men go on. Peeking out, you saw a tall skinny blond and a man with dark skin at the pond’s edge, fishing of all things.

Puffing your cheeks, you stepped out with crossed arms. “He told you it's not allowed!”

Their heads swiveled around, eyes wide and startled. The blond was the first to recover, his hold on the fishing rod slackening as an easy smile slid across his face. “My, my, what kind of nymph are you?”

Your cheeks warmed as his eyes scanned you up and down. “The angry kind.”

The other man quirked a brow, quicker than the other. “Was that guy looking for you?”

Alarms went off in your mind. “Never mind that, just don’t fish in my pond.”

“Whatever you say~”

“Sanji!” 

Satisfied, you trudged off, letting their bickering be drowned out gradually. With the knowledge that the whole city now knew to look out for you, probably thinking the aloof noble girl just lost track of time, you took the long way around, slinking through dirty alcoves you once called your kingdom some years ago. 

This whole city was your empire, in your mind. You and the other young girls and boys traipsed about without a care, creating your own world only the lot of you could see. You, of course, were high empress of all alleyways.

Growing up like this meant your mighty empire was toppled. All your old friends had new lives now, time ticking by with mundane tasks and masks to keep up. Many of them would attend your wedding,  but they might as well be strangers now. Such was the way of your city. You get old and you lose your life. 

A subtle burn welled up behind your eyes as you rounded a dark corner and found the old crates you’d formed into a palace, untouched and frozen in time as the curling alleys of the city grew dusty from neglect. You stopped short at the sight, quickly snapping back to reality and darting away, running as fast as you could to get away. Left and right, you were reminded of how expansive these alleys really were, and how easy it was to get lost in them.

Not that you would ever get lost; you’d cling to your memories as long as possible. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was a surprise when instead of a dead end, you turned to find a long alley leading out to the market. The scent of the baker’s stall and sweet rolls being sold wafted down to you, providing a momentary calm—before that laugh broke it all down.

Creeping back around the corner, you waited for the laugh to stop, peering around to find that you weren’t alone. Near the mouth of the alley, a boy stood clutching his chest, laughter fading even as he glanced out onto the street. For just three whole seconds, you swore he was something out of a novel.

Pretty face  scarred on one side, but it didn’t make him any less to look at. Hair windswept despite the stillness, clothes ratty in some places and newly stitched up in others. Whoever he was, you’d never seen him before, so where exactly did he come from?

“Hey.” You blinked widely, realizing quite too late that you’d been caught. Locked in severe eye contact, you ever so slowly retreated back around the corner, flattening yourself against the wall. Maybe if you didn’t breathe, he’d think he hallucinated and walk away.

“Hey,” that boy said again, closer now. “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t make a sound, flush against the wall as if trying to disappear even when his face appeared in your peripheral. He blinked, waiting for you to do something. “Why’re you being so weird?”

“I, well…” You glanced around, anywhere but his face. “I was taking a walk.” You tensed up, held your breath, and blurted, “I don’t talk to strangers!”

You stared hard at the ground, hoping that he’d think you were crazy and walk away, but then the boy laughed at you. Gasping softly, you raised your head and gazed at him softly, lips parted slightly. Nobody had ever laughed at you before, at least not to your face like this boy, heaving as his chuckles faded. 

“You’re talking to me anyway.” He had you there. His eyes glinted despite the sun being obscured by the tall buildings. 

“I…”

He thrust out his hand suddenly. “I’m Luffy.” His hand, his face. His hand, his face. Your eyes darted back and forth until you finally settled on his hand. Dirty, that was the first thing you noticed, and then the callouses. You’d only seen hands like that on a sailor. 

You blinked back up at his face, locking in on his eyes. Sailors weren’t to be trusted. They took young girls’ hearts, along with something more personal, and set back off to sea. That’s what your mother said, but you had a feeling your mother had never seen someone like Luffy before. You’d never seen anyone like Luffy, so bright he could’ve been the sun itself. You took his hand quickly, shaking it firmly, and introduced yourself. 

Luffy chuckled. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I suppose not. Do you sail?”

“How’d you know?” Luffy tilted his head, leaning back on his heels, and you forgot how to speak. Luffy wasn’t too bad to look at. He was unlike any of the handsome boys you’d seen in court, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps it endeared you more. Luffy, whoever he was, was different from everything you knew.

“You hands, I suppose. They’re like a sailors’.”

His laugh was odd, like a shi-shi-shi sound, prompting a stifled snort out of you as well. “Yep! I’m a pirate!”

Instantly, your whole face dropped, frozen in place. “Oh… that’s… something.”

Pirates were very different from regular sailors. They stole and pillaged and plundered and did many other terrible deeds. Your great-grandfather had been killed by a pirate… but you’d never known him. It’s all hearsay. Besides, Luffy didn’t look like he would ever think of maiming you. He looked like your next good friend, even if just for now. 

“Your crew is here, then?” you asked, moving to sit atop a set of crates along the wall. Luffy jumped as he followed, plopping in the dirt in front of you instead. 

“Mhmm. They’re… somewhere.” He snickered. “We just left Alabasta, y’know.”

You leaned forward to gawk at him. “So you saw what happened? With Crocodile? It was crazy.”

Again with that strange laugh of his. “Yep. I’m the one who beat his ass into the ground!”

“You—huh?” Tilting your head, his smile infected you, tugging at your lips. “So, you’re the savior of Alabasta? Not that marine?”

You sat in awe as he told you everything, going so far back that you learned exactly how he met Princess Vivi. By the end of an hour, you were on the edge of your seat, knees snug against your chest as Luffy described it all in grand detail. 

“Wow… that sounds amazing. Not the part where you nearly drowned in sand, but you know.” Resting your chin on your knees, “You must feel so… free out there.”

Luffy nodded quickly, eyes unfocused for a moment, staring at the unseen. “Yeah. It’s amazing.”

Your smile grew dim and melancholy. The bells of evening rang in the distance. “Thank you for telling me your story, Luffy. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression one you could only call cute. “You wanted to know… what’re you so sad for?”

You hummed, startled. “I’m not sad.”

“Are too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “So what is it?”

For some time, you didn’t say another word. Luffy stood now, hands planted on either side of yours knees as he stared right at you. It wasn’t threatening or seductive, simply curious in a way you’d never witnessed. Like he truly wanted to know. And so, you told him.

“I’m getting married. Today.” You shut your eyes and grimaced. “And I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“So… don’t?”

You reeled back. “Did you not hear me? I have to.” Luffy only tilted his head as you scoffed at the sky. “My only choice is to comply with the path set before me. If I stray too far… I can’t stray too far.”

You hardly realized how angry you’d gotten till Luffy’s finger poked at your forehead once, twice, three times. You blinked slowly. “What?”

“I don’t really get it,” he said. “But you seem pretty sure.” He was right in your face, oblivious to the fluster rising in your face. And then he smiled a beaming smile. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“There you are!” A coil formed in the pit of your stomach, eyes slowly drifting to the mouth of the alley. The constable stalked toward you looking as relieved as he was pissed off. “Your mother’s been sending everyone out for you, miss. Have you lost your mind?”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring how Luffy stared at you all perplexed-like. “I’ll… I was looking for some flowers for the parlor. Didn’t find a patch in bloom. I’ll head back now.”

The constable stepped forth, not yet noticing Luffy. He began to loom over you, and only when Luffy inched closer to your side did the constable’s gaze flicker to him. Disgust was the only word to describe how the constable looked at Luffy. “Let me escort you home, miss. Wouldn’t want you to lose your way again.”

You looked between the two of them nervously. “Of course, sir.” You stood from the crate and moved to follow the constable, hoping beyond hope Luffy would forget the entire ordeal, for his sake. The constable was going to forget all about your new friend, if only Luffy stayed quiet.

“Hey.” You tightened every muscle in your body. “Who’s she marrying anyway?”

The constable jerked to a stop, his deepset brow furrowing.

“Only the most powerful man around,” the constable replied very carefully, very calculated. He sized the boy up. “She’s very lucky to be marrying Mr. Toleson.”

“Let’s go, sir,” you insisted, daring to hook your arm through the constable’s and nearly drag him away. He dug his feet in. “Introduce me to your friend, miss.”

“He’s—he’s not my friend,” you blurted, eyes glued to the ground. “Sir, let us go. I’ve made us late enough. I have to prepare—”

Luffy took a daring step forward. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone if you don’t want to.”

The constable gritted is teeth, hand closing around your arm. “What would you know about what she wants?”

“Let’s go—”

“She doesn’t like this Tole guy,” Luffy persisted. Your eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at you, sight set on the tall man beside you. “So she shouldn’t marry him. Tole-y can find someone who actually likes him if he’s so desperate—”

“Shut. Up.” Dangerous. Your tone was dangerous, wide glare moreso. Luffy silently eyed you, looking right through to your soul. “Goodbye. We have to go. Places to be. Come, Constable.”

Halfway turned, the constable kept one eye on your friend, feet slowly following after you—when Luffy reached out, grabbed your shoulder, and tried to tug you to his side. You whipped around to smack him, but your palm swiped at air. 

Luffy stood five feet back, his arm stretched beyond comprehension and latched onto your shoulder.

“What the…” Head foggy, you barely registered the click of a gun till it rose in your peripheral. Everything went by far too quickly, and suddenly you stared down the head of the constable’s pistol, gasping like you hadn’t a clue how you’d got there. 

“Get out of here, Luffy,” you ordered, not taking your stare off the constable. “I won’t say it again.”

He was gone when you finally chanced a look over your shoulder. The constable swiftly took your arm in a vice and led you onto the street, holstering his gun and muttering, “Street rats have no place here.”

“Sea dog,” you corrected absently, quite out of your own head. “He’s a pirate, so, sea dog.”

As if that would cease his endless muttering.

You were shut inside your house and shuffled away to a sunny parlor, tended to by maids you’d known since birth, their chattering unable to draw you out of your stupor as they powdered your face and tightened a corset round your waist till the room started spinning. 

Meanwhile, a pirate boy returned to his friends, not sparing their newly caught fish a second glance as he asked Robin if she’d heard anything about a wedding in the city. The archeologist grinned as if she knew precisely what had transpired in that alley, though she couldn’t possibly have.

At any rate, the notorious Straw Hat pirates now prepared to act on their captain’s whim, not one of them questioning when he said his “new friend” was in trouble.

જ ⁀ ➴

The carriage ride to the chapel was so you bumpy you were half convinced the driver did it on purpose. You sat wobbling from side to side, eyes glazed over, and you let your mind drift away—you became a specter, wandering blindly till you blinked, and you stood in a sunny side-room, waiting to be fetched for the altar.

Your arms like gooseskin, you peered into a spotless mirror despondently. Your hair was done up prettily, face caked in different powders and creams. The sickening scent of rose perfume surrounded on all sides. The dress fit nicely, not too tight, not too loose. Perfect. Not a thing was out of place.

It all set in at once; by the end of the hour you’d be Mrs. Toleman. Your mother would receive all the benefits, all the praise. She’d smile and really mean it. Your husband would be free from bankruptcy, your family’s massive inheritance given to him the moment you say, “I do.” You’d stand on his arm the rest of his life, the perfect ornament, so quiet and dull. 

An older woman fussed over the tears dotting your lashes, roughly swatting them away with her handkerchief, chastising you for such childishness. 

“If my daughter were in your position,” she said after nearly gauging your eye. “She’d be ecstatic.”

You gazed quite darkly. “Your daughter was in my position,” you whispered, causing her to freeze putting away her handkerchief. “I’m sure you recall her escaping to the circus very clearly.”

A sharp gasp. A drawn hand. Your mother stepped into the room, flustered beyond compare, and the maid resigned to fume quietly. You wished she would slap you. Perhaps the strike would redden your face so much that the whole thing was called off. 

“Well,” your mother exasperated, eyes raking down your form. “I hope you’re ready. Look pleasant.”

She weaved an arm through yours as a bouquet of lilies was shoved in your hands. A sneeze crawled up your nose and died as you held your breath, for the next moment you faced two long and full rows of people you’d never met and would never see again. 

Despite the petals and music and lovely weather, it felt very much like a funeral march. The empty faces of the guests chilled you to the bone, not one of them sparing even a grin. A few checked their watches. One boy tugged on a young girl’s pigtail, and the girl was swatted for disturbing the peace. A ginger girl fought with a green-haired male in one of the farther pews. Against the far wall a blonde caterer absently smoked a cigarette. Somewhere, a bird sounded like it was dying, crooning a sad song.

This damn city. These damn people. You’d die here, physically, spiritually, and mentally so. White hot panic welled up within you, but it was far too late to even think of darting for the door; you stood before your groom, gazing blankly into his chest.

You felt as if you were dying, a life so short flashing before your eyes as your hands were taken into the clammy grasp of Mr. Toleson. He wore no smile, no warmth upon his face. Only cold indifference. You hoped you looked the same, lest he spy your terror. 

The officiator droaned on meaningless words, warbled by your dazed mind. Only when your hands were squeezed harshly did you refocus, blinking widely.

Clearing his throat, the officiator shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Were you at this bit already? Heart thundering, you didn’t dare to look at Mr. Toleson, panicked gaze flickering to the now bated audience. Every eye stared at you, boring into you fiercely, only worsening your condition. 

“I…”

Mr. Toleson gripped you tightly, painfully. He gritted out just for you to hear, “You what? We haven’t got all day…”

“I–I…” A gulping breath. A flash of red ribbon and straw. Cutting your eyes across the room, you settled on a boy near the back of the pews, a grin emblazoned on his face. He caught your eye and held it fast. You hardly believed your eyes, yet understood in an instant.

“Miss,” said the officiator.

Luffy tilted his head, as if asking are we doing this? You chanced a flicker of a smile. 

You ripped your hands from Mr. Toleson’s sweaty grip, eyes wide and childish smile inching across your face as the room filled with sharp gasps. Gaze flickering up to Mr. Toleson’s aghast expression, you lurched back three, four, five steps till your heel met the edge of the raised platform. A hand settled on the small of your back as you slipped to the floor. The caterer planted his feet beside you, face grim as he gritted down on his cigarette. 

“Are you alright?” he muttered. You gave a quick nod.

The point of no return had come, and you’d taken the path once blocked by a landslide, the path you’d dismissed entirely just an hour ago. Your mother gasped your name, a hissed out word, drawing your gaze quickly. She was deathly pale, like she was about to be sick. No sympathy of yours rose to meet her, none at all, and the freedom of two words boomed from your chest. 

”I don’t!”

Silence. You heaved in a breath of air, and no one said a word. Like time had stood still.

Then a litheful, frightening laughter ripped through the church and everything sped up all at once. Mr. Toleson’s face rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. 

“Why… you…” He hadn’t so much as taken a step when the caterer whirled around and kicked him right in the chest. Only when he blew his hair out of his face and stomped out his cigarette, looking like he’d done this twelve hundred times before, that you started to think he wasn’t a caterer at all. 

“I’ve seen you before,” you thought aloud. Chaos erupted all around, guests rising from their chairs in a panic, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh! You were at the pond!”

Sanji, that was his name. He dodged a punch from one of the quicker groomsmen, an easy smile on his face. He faced you then, hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s your priority, love?”

You flushed, whether from the tease or endearment, you didn’t know. “Well—”

“You!” your mother’s shrill voice cut the air. You turned just in time to catch her pouncing at you, her hand clawing for your arm. Her nails barely got close to scratching you when a hand branched out of her chest and drove her back by a vice around her neck. Somebody screamed as guests began a mad rush to escape the inevitable fight; everyone had the same guess—pirates.

You’d never been so happy, even with the disembodied hand issue.

Mr. Toleson rose to his feet, nursing his chest, his eyes aflame. He whirled in the groomsmen. “Don’t just stand there!”

The men broke out of their daze. The constable shook himself out of his shock as several other burly men of the town shouted angrily. You inched backward as dozens of eyes settled on you, heart quickening, when that ginger girl from before rushed up with a bow staff and gave several men severe head trauma. The green haired man drew three swords out of nowhere. That other man from the pond jumped over a pew, a slingshot in hand. And a tall, graceful woman stared down your petrified mother. 

Only those willing to put up a fight were left, leaving only the rougher men of the town and the pirates of your friend Luffy. 

Sanji flung an attacker off his back and sent the guy flying your way, wiping the smile from your face as you yelped and dodged. You scurried off to the side, nearly tripping head over heels in your dress, having to hike up your skirts as you twirled in and out of the swiftly rising rabble.

Luffy’s marksman remained unscathed at his vantage point, lining up a shot and letting it fly. You gasped delightfully when the constable was nailed right in the forehead and hit the floor unconscious. From your place flush against the wall, you beamed at the destruction.

Pews turned to splinters under the power of the swordsman. Refreshments scattered across the floor as the ginger was thrown into a table and jumped back up again. Flowers fluttered around as the raven haired woman used some kind of magic to extend her reach. And Luffy—he laughed through it all. People jumped at him with fists and clubs, yet he threw them all off like it was nothing. Perhaps to him it was.

You stifled another smile behind your hands. The people of your town were absolutely demolished by these pirates. These glorious, heroic pirates you would be thanking for the rest of your life—

“You did this.” In an instant your wrists were captured by your ex-fiancee. “Witch. Where’d you get the money to pay them, huh?”

“Let go,” you bit back, jerking away only for his hold to tighten, prepared for your escape this time. 

He yanked you closer. “After everything I’ve done for your family—” 

You spat in his eyes and kneed his crotch, watching satisfied as he crumbled to the floor. “Family my ass.”

You darted into the chaos without another word. Men lay unconscious every few steps, their bloody and bruised faces staring up at you. You tripped over someone’s leg, growled sharply, and took hold of your skirts. One by one you ripped off the layers of tulle, leaving you in your knee-length bloomers, dress reduced to the lacy bodice and shreds of fabric at your hips. Finally you yanked your heels off, hopping on one foot and then the other. 

Right as you were about to drop your left shoe, the man of honor, some guy called Henry, made for you swiftly. Gasping, you gripped the toe of the heel and clubbed him over the head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder a second later. You shrieked and dropped to the ground, slipping out of the grip and rolling to the side. The swordsman appeared suddenly and cut the man down in one move. The body dropped beside you. You blinked, gasped, and let a delayed scream flee your lips. The swordsman reached to grab your wrist and hoisted you to your feet. “You okay?”

“Y-you killed him!” you cried.

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I hit him with the hilt.”

Sure enough, the man only had a gash on his temple and some head trauma most likely. The swordsman looked you up and down briefly. “Watch out for the ero-cook lookin’ like that.”

You hardly cared if you looked indecent. “Where’s Luffy?”

He didn't get to answer—a laugh you quickly grew to recognize had you whipping around, eyes peeled. 

His profile shone in the evening light bleeding from the windows. He stood with his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, a blinding smile on his face. Transfixed, you wondered, not for the last time, if he was more than human.

When his laughter died down Luffy held his fists close to his chest and looked around as if searching for another fight, his gaze finding you. Your heart skipped, but his smile dropped deathly fast. You didn’t have the chance to wonder before his fist zipped a hair's breadth away from your cheek. You hit the ground instantly, head ducked between your knees. You might have remained there forever, wondering just what possessed him, if you were stupid for trusting him, overwhelmed by something akin to heartbreak—when two sandaled feet entered your sight.

“Hey,” he said, giving you deja vu. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?”

Eyes wider chest heaving, you sprang to your feet and got nose to nose with him. Luffy merely blinked widely, unfazed. “What’s wrong with you!? First, you help me, then you try to hit me! Why—Don’t touch me!” 

He gripped your shoulders and spun you around in one fluid motion. All your sputtering got caught in your throat. Two feet away Mr. Toleson lay flat on his back with the worst bloody nose you’d ever seen. 

One. Two…

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Ugly laughed. Louder and more all-consuming than you ever had before. You tried to choke on it, only making the sound sizzle into harsh snickers. 

Luffy felt like he was in a trance, watching you dazedly as he broke into his own fit of laughter.

“Gah!” Your mother bolted for the door, throwing a fretful glance over her shoulder. She paused, wove around a man limping for the exit, and dragged Mr. Toleson to his feet. Coughing, your would-be fiancée set his grim sights on Luffy. Your mother tugged him with her, more forceful now. “Come. She isn’t worth your life.”

Really, it shouldn’t have bothered you. She’d never done anything for you, yet—her words struck you oddly, fiercely. They were gone before you recovered. You glanced around at a loss as Luffy stood a strong pillar in your peripheral. Your eyes darted to meet him as the final pieces of your world crumbled to dust, and you found nothing but cool assurance; you sighed out a breath you’d been holding since you were ten. 

“Good riddance,” you choked. Luffy’s lips ticked up in a smile. The figures of his friends came into focus as they gathered around in the wreckage of the church. Emotion tingled in every corner of your body. “Thank you, all of you. I’m… forever in your debt.”

That wasn’t all you wished to express by far. You’d been thinking it the whole while, perhaps even from the first moment you learned he was a pirate. The request teetered precariously on the tip of your tongue when the caterer cut you off.

“No need, madam,” he said with a flourish of his wrist. “Always a pleasure to assist.”

His eyes took you in gratefully, and he was quick to wipe away the small bit of blood leaving his nose. You grinned, almost grimacing, and gave an awkward laugh. “Of course…” Luffy’s shoulder brushed your own, drawing your gaze to him. His bright eyes had you wanting to reach up and brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, you refrained. “Just what kind of pirates are you? I didn’t think your lot were in the business of wedding crashing.”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders, barely smiling as he replied, “I like you.”

You choked on nothing. “Well—that’s—indeed.”

The silence of the room, only some harsh breaths breaking it, had you questioning what came next. Your adrenaline crashed all at once as your eyes got heavy and your shoulders sagged all at once. You rubbed at your eyes and suppressed a yawn, shivering as a breeze drifted by. 

The ginger girl noticed the change at once, moving to your side despite her own exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up. That can’t be comfortable.”

For some reason, you didn’t jerk away from her touch, so gentle and kind as she took your arm. “Yeah. Uhm, I can go to my servants’ quarters. They won’t say anything…”

The girl scoffed, catching your eye. “No way. You’re going to our ship.” She blanched a second later, backtracking. “If that’s okay with you.”

You watched for any sign of falsehood, and found none at all. You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s fine. Can we go now?”

The girl—Nami, you later learned—giggled and swiftly ushered you out of the wreckage and into the sun. You gave a soft laugh of your own, still very reserved yet filled with the tentativeness of someone realizing that everything would be okay. 

And Luffy watched you leave, his lips tugging upwards subconsciously. He stood solidly as each of his friends followed after you, till only Robin remained. She had her arms crossed, head tilted low and eyes scrutinizing. She took in Luffy’s stance, his twitchy fingers, his eyes transfixed on empty space. All usual features on her friend; it was his dopey grin that gave it all away.

“Captain,” Robin spoke. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded. He didn’t even stutter, his reply instant. “Why?”

She nearly chuckled, holding back if only to humor him. She nudged his shoulder with her own to spur him into motion, and the pair walked slowly into the streets. 

“What do you know about your new friend?” she asked as they passed under a bakery sign squeaky as it swung with the wind. 

He paused. “She’s fancy… and unhappy.” Luffy kicked a pebble and watched it skip all the way to the end of the sloped path. “Very unhappy. She’ll be happier with us.”

Robin’s heart went tender as she looked away, hiding a smirk. “Have you told her that?”

Catching her eye, Luffy smiled. “She knows.”

They caught up enough to spy the others as Usopp and Nami had their arms around your shoulders, bickering absently whilst you snickered quietly between them. Robin nodded, for who was she to argue? Besides, maybe you did. The smile on your face may have betrayed just that.

જ ⁀ ➴

You still heard the boisterous laughter of your new friends even as you swept away from the galley, heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable. They were amazing, sure, but overwhelming at best. All you needed was a moment and you could return unnoticed to the good food and warm company. As soon as you got some air.

You instinctively reached to pick up a skirt as you rose the stairs to the deck, only to grab at air, look down, and grin at the sight of Nami’s brown trousers. 

The cool night breeze hit you like a wall the moment you stepped outside, shooting shivers down your spine. The saltiness of the sea clung to your skin and clumped in your hair, filling your nose with every deep breath of air. 

The deck felt odd against your bare feet, grating against your skin just enough to make you wary of splinters despite the apparent fine craftsmanship of the wood. You leaned into the ship rail and gazed down upon the rolling waters. A soft and steady kussshhh kussshhh greeted you, a gentle sea spray kissing your cheeks.

So far, the sea was far greater than you’d ever conceived. Freedom rippled in every gust of wind billowing in the sails; the waves sang songs of grandauer; the stars winked secrets you couldn’t hear but felt in the creak of your bones. The music of the world had finally included you in its symphony, and you would never go back. 

Never.

You heard him before you saw him, his bumbling, careless steps thumping against the deck. Luffy came up out of the belly of the ship, gazed around once, and settled his sights on you. You met eyes and simply existed; he smiled first; you returned a grin. Luffy approached with all the familiarity he shouldn’t have given you in such a short time. 

“You disappeared,” he said too loudly, threatening to break the perfect silence settled around you. 

“I did,” you whispered back. After pursing your lips, you turned back to the sea and waited, assuming he would take the hint. It took two seconds longer than you anticipated, but Luffy’s shoulder soon bumped against your own. 

When he spoke again, he was softer, “How do you feel?”

You sucked in a lunfull of cold air and laughed it out. “Free. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”

He nodded, because he wanted to say so many things but at the same time had no clue what to say at all. Luffy had never experienced this before, being at a loss for words; all evening he’d dwelled in this confusion that only grew every time you smiled and he lost his breath. What was so different about you that all his words felt terribly redundant? 

“Wow.” He turned his head quickly, blinking at you. You were already looking right at him. 

“Huh?”

You shook your head, shy smile dripping in tease. “You’re quiet. I didn’t take you as someone to just dwell like this.”

How many minutes had passed? Luffy wasn’t sure, but you looked content, so he didn’t really care. His eyes danced all over your face, puzzlement laid in his brow. You tilted your head and began to worry about the cloudy look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you said. Luffy gave a wordless nod, still looking so lost. You wanted to touch him, the realization setting in suddenly, hand itching to grip his arm. “Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.” Crossing your arms, you turned to watch the curling white foam ripple off the ship. “It certainly made things harder for you. They might tell the Navy, and I can imagine that’s plain hell.”

“They won’t catch us,” he scoffed, catching your eye. “And like I said, I like you.”

Your lips pursed before you let slip a chuckle, face far too warm for your liking. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. “Right. How could I forget. Is that all?”

“You’re… funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Real funny. Odd. Makes me feel funny.” He said it with such nonchalance you wondered if he was joking, but the longer you stood and stared at your feet the more aware you were of his presence at your side. Finally, you lifted your head, finding him staring out to sea. He was one to talk about being odd. You hardly understood what was so odd about you; you felt fairly normal if you said so yourself—but that wasn’t exactly the point. 

Because Luffy was confused after all, just like he looked to be. The conflicted boy never strayed far from your shoulder, his hand brushing yours every few seconds. You hardly knew him—you didn’t know him—yet you couldn’t deny the overwhelming trust clawing its way into your heart. 

So, really, there wasn’t much more debate on whether you should ask. 

“Let me stay.” “Join my crew.”

The pair of you whipped your heads around suddenly. Eyes wide, you smiled, bursting into laughter with him, leaning into his side so he was half holding you up, your forehead hitting his chest—you missed hugs, sighing deeply as his warm hands brushed your skin and—

Cold rushed up your spine. You jerked away, an apology on your lips, when Luffy grunted and reeled you back in. You hit his chest with a thump as his arms wrapped around you three times. Eyes wide, body stiff, his deep breathing enveloped you till all you heard was in and out, in and out, that steady yet unsure rhythm. 

“I’d like to join your crew,” you said after a while. 

He focused on the space ahead of him, hold loosening bit by bit. “I’d like you to stay.”

You pulled away, and this time he let you. “Somehow, I feel I’m making a grave mistake.” He tilted his head all puppy-like, so you reveled in his puzzlement. Spinning out of his arms you faced the sea again. “You’ll most likely get me killed, Captain.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, heart thuding at the sly grin planted on your profile. Captain. He liked that. He always did, but now especially—when it came from you. 

“I won’t let that happen,” he said with such casualty. He stepped into your line of sight. “You do want to stay, don’t you?”

As if you had a choice, you mused. Even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing in your eyes. You smiled softly at him, a spark of wild excitement in your eyes. “More than anything.”

It started small, only a grin until it grew too wide to remain shut, his teeth shining seconds later. His eyes squinted, head thrown back, and you swore his laugh echoed to the very depths of the sea, encircling your whole being.

He fascinated you, filling you with this sense of freedom you’d never known before. Luffy was larger than life, and you stood there to witness his existence. Somehow, even then, you understood the gravity of who he would become. 

What an odd pair the two of you made. Him so unrestrained and you so proper—though surely the longer you spent with him the less true that became. Neither of you really cared either way; you found the other wildly fascinating, and in that moment on the deck as he blinded you with his smile, that’s really all that mattered.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @kryscent

[the-au-thor]

A Complete Guide to Delivering Bad News | Spencer Reid Blurb

"You're scared. I'm scared. But we'll figure it out—together."

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: click here!

You crossed the door softly, your steps as silent as a ghost. Even the usual clack of your heels didn’t echo through the living room like it normally would when you had something to say. But this time, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. That sharp, gnawing sensation of uncertainty weighed on you, as though the longer you delayed walking to the study, where Spencer was probably sitting and reading, the more time you have to solve that Rubik’s Cube. Yet, when you turned down the hallway and reached the study’s threshold, you realized it was less like a cube and more like a Penrose staircase.

Frozen in place, you stood just inside the doorway, clutching the straps of your bag tightly, already regretting your choice of heels. You watched him from the shadows in that gentle, looming silence—like some kind of deadly warning: break the stillness, and face the consequences. It was as if Spencer were a mythical beast, an ogre, perhaps, who would be angered by any interruption of his reading. But you knew better. He’d finish the book soon enough, lifting his gaze once it was done.

When Spencer read for pleasure, he took his time, savoring every page. But when it was for work or research, he read ravenously—devouring words, lines, and paragraphs like a starving predator. He absorbed them completely, committing every critical detail to memory. Not a single line was ever lost on him.

It only took him a few long seconds to finish his book before he closed it with an almost annoyed snap. He seemed frustrated—maybe the mystery remained unsolved, and that was bound to irritate him. Running a hand through his soft, slightly unkempt hair that was overdue for a cut, he finally lifted his eyes. His chocolate gaze settled on you, and you could see the surprise flicker across his face.

His hand rose to his mouth, his fist partially covering it—a thoughtful gesture you’d come to recognize as religiously Spencer. Behind his reading glasses, which he’d started wearing again after a mandatory work eye exam, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he saw something in you that he couldn’t quite name.

“Hey,” he greeted you simply. “Didn’t think you’d come by today.”

That was just how he was. Spencer didn’t bother with formalities or obligatory social niceties. No “hello” or “how are you.” He always went straight to the point.

For a moment, you forgot how to speak. Looking down at the tips of your stilettos, you let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I was nearby and thought I’d stop by to say hi. But you’re working on a case, so… obviously, it’s a bad time. I’ll just come back when we agreed.”

You faltered, retreating into your own nervousness.

You didn’t believe in irrational fears. Every fear had a source—either a clear, imminent danger or a subtle, buried trigger. Natural fears, like the instinct to flee from a hungry predator, were different from conditioned ones, like the rising panic in a crowded room with stifling air. Whether natural or induced, you couldn’t yet tell which kind of fear this was.

“Hey, no.” Spencer stood, crossing the room to you in just two strides. His hand gently wrapped around your arm, holding you in place as you glanced down at his touch. “You always do this—you show up, say something half-formed, and then you leave. You don’t have to come over just because it’s a day we planned. You know you can come by anytime, right?”

Your brow furrowed slightly as you shook your head.

“There are planned days because you work,” you replied. “And I respect your work too much to get in the way.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. Slowly, he leaned closer to you, his movements deliberate, testing, teasing. You knew what he was doing—he loved the control, the way he could make you feel completely his without even touching you.

It didn’t take much for you to melt into him. With Spencer, you felt like water—your boundaries dissolving, your willpower slipping. When he kissed you, it was as though every principle, belief, and argument you had vanished. You became something fragile yet intensely alive, caught in the paradox of being both deconstructed and reconstructed by him.

When his lips finally met yours, you surrendered, feeling his breath warm against your skin. Your eyes fell closed, not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was a way to shield yourself from the overwhelming rush of it all, or maybe it was your body’s instinctive attempt to hold onto the feeling, locking it inside where it couldn’t escape.

But then something snapped—you realized it was you, shifting closer to him, pulling him to you as your hands clung desperately to his frame. The fear coursing through you drove you into his arms, like this might be the last time you’d let yourself do this.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. His hands moved from your cheeks to the small of your back, gentle yet unyielding, like he was afraid of breaking you but couldn’t resist the pull to touch you.

He always touched you. When you ate together, your feet would inevitably find each other beneath the table, a playful connection. On rare, rainy afternoons spent watching TV instead of him reading aloud to you, your legs would tangle in an unspoken agreement of intimacy. Even in the quietest moments, when you rested beside him, he would absentmindedly brush his fingers along your shoulder or twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, completely unaware of how tethered he kept you.

As his hands returned to your cheeks, you knew the kiss was ending. He pulled back, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses to your lips before stopping altogether. His smile brushed your forehead as he rested his lips there, lingering for a moment before taking your hand.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, his tone light. “I was working on some research for an old case that’s been reopened. The FBI wants every department to solve at least one old case. But I could use a break—you have great timing.” His eyes sparkled with intensity as he lifted your entwined hands to his lips, kissing your fingers. “How about Chinese takeout?”

Your stomach churned at the suggestion, bile rising at the back of your throat. Normally, you’d say yes, but today, the thought of eating anything made you shake your head. You stopped him halfway down the hall, unable to speak as a tight knot formed in your throat. The words were there, tangled, trapped, unable to escape.

"I need to tell you something."

You couldn’t look him in the eye, so you focused on the undone buttons of his blue plaid shirt. He wore a gray vest over it, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Normally, you’d call it formal, but on him, it was quintessential. Spencer Reid simply wouldn’t be Spencer without his signature style.

"Hey," he whispered, dropping his smile and replacing it with a worried expression, as if your single sentence had triggered his defenses "What is it? What’s wrong?"

You lifted your gaze, realizing your eyes were clouded with unshed tears, ones you didn’t want to let fall but knew would eventually betray you. You hated being the cliché of the girl who cries before saying something important, but there you were. You also hated how you couldn’t rein in your emotions.

You’d tried convincing yourself to see him as just another man you had to interview. That didn’t work. Then you told yourself: He’s older than yoy; he can only ever be your friend. And finally, you can’t love him. And yet, here you were, in love with him, tears threatening to spill over because of him.

"I’m so sorry," you said, pulling your hand free from his.

You wanted to hold on, to cling to him like your lungs clung to air. But touching him only made it harder. Touching him hurt. Looking at him hurt. Loving him hurt.

When you looked at him again, his expression was pained. Spencer couldn’t help it. His job sometimes required him to mask his emotions, and though he had the ability to do it at will, he never did so with you. He allowed himself to be vulnerable around you, and that made you feel even worse. You wanted to give him the same, but your defensive nature always got in the way, tugging at you like two ends of a rope being pulled in opposite directions.

"Why are you apologizing? Seriously, love, you’re scaring me"

Spencer covered his mouth with his hand, studying you thoughtfully. He was trying not to analyze you—you could tell. He always made an effort because he knew how much you hated being read. He had told you before that he preferred hearing things directly from you when you were ready, instead of taking what was yours to give.

You, on the other hand, nervously tucked your hair back and glanced around again, as if the vase, the mirror, or the coffee table might lend you courage. But if courage came, it would have to come from within.

"I know," you stammered. "And I’m sorry for that too. Normally, I’m good with words, you know that, but..."

"Hey," he said again, softly, stepping closer and gently cradling your face to make you look at him. When his kind brown eyes met yours, part of you calmed, finding solace somewhere between the dark freckle in his iris and his pupil. You closed your eyes to shut him out. You didn’t need solace; you needed the dizzying unease to summon the courage.

"You know you can tell me anything," he paused, giving you space to speak, but you didn’t. "Love?" he called again, but you couldn’t answer. Not if the first thing you’d see upon opening your eyes would be him. "Is it really that bad?"

That’s when the first sob escaped you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was the release of all the panic bottled up over the past two weeks and three hours. Two weeks of sleepless nights, subpar work performance, and the subsequent three hours of pure anguish and tension. Nothing about this was okay.

"If I tell you, you’ll hate me," you said, muffled against the fabric of his vest as he embraced you.

Spencer’s hands traced soothing circles on your back and nape, but he tensed at your words. You’d expected that. You were being so ambiguous he could’ve easily imagined you were about to tell him you had mere months to live. You couldn’t help it. That flickering fear ticked away like the seconds on a time bomb, and your tears continued to flow, defying your determination to hold them back.

"I could never hate you," he said with the certainty of someone stating that grass is green and water, when liquid, is wet. "The only way to deliver bad news is to just say it."

"I can’t do it."

"Then pretend you’re a doctor, and I’m your patient. Follow the protocol," he suggested. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm yourself despite the tears that kept falling.

"What’s the protocol?"

"First, the doctor must keep their emotions in check."

You scoffed.

"I already failed at that."

Spencer chuckled.

"Alright, let’s move to step two: practice ahead of time what you’re going to say."

"I did," you nodded, sighing as you tried to breathe normally through your sobs. "But I forgot everything."

"That’s okay. Step three: make sure the environment is pleasant and safe."

You glanced around. Still in the hallway, it was safe but far from pleasant. You stepped back, slowly pulling away from Spencer, and led him to the living room, sitting him on the plush sofa. Instead of taking a seat beside him, as you would’ve preferred, you sat across from him. The space between you felt like a chasm. Spencer looked at you attentively, restraining himself, when it should’ve been you—the one delivering this ethical "protocol"—who was calm.

"What’s next?"

Admittedly, it was more an excuse to stall the inevitable than genuine curiosity, but Spencer had started this game with his suggestion, so you felt he should guide you through it.

"Choose the right moment. Is this really urgent?"

You nodded quickly, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your cardigan and trying to stop the tears, even as more threatened to replace the ones you’d just dried.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Then the next step is to look the person in the eye and explain everything without overcomplicating it,” Spencer instructed.

Without thinking, you automatically looked at him, your expression contorted in pain as you blinked rapidly to chase away the tears.

“Okay,” you said, your voice breaking into a hushed whisper, but he heard you clearly. “Well… two weeks ago, I had that episode, remember?”

Spencer nodded, his eyebrows lifting in alarm at the memory.

“Yes, but you said it was stress from finals. I insisted you see a doctor. Stress can cause fainting spells, but there’s usually an underlying reason. I would’ve felt much better ruling out anything serious.”

You nodded slowly.

“I went to the doctor this morning.”

Suddenly, Spencer’s expression turned as pale as rice paper. A tremor ran through him, and you could sense it even from where you were sitting.

“It’s not serious… is it?”

His chin quivered with acute panic as he looked away, avoiding your eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

You gave yourself five seconds to muster the courage, then let it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a sharp, ringing sound—like a clap too close to your ear that left you dazed and half-deaf. Then came the dreaded silence. You could hear the ticking of the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall, the streetcars outside, even the construction at the end of the avenue. It all swirled around you, as if every small noise now existed inside the room. Even your heartbeat thundered loudly, like a persistent panic alarm inside your chest.

This was what you had feared the most: his silence. You would’ve preferred if he’d yelled, growled, or outright refused to be a father. But his silence was so calm it became deafening.

Minutes passed, and you started to feel suffocated, restless. You fiddled with your hands, glancing at your pale pink-painted nails. You wondered how long it would take before your fingers swelled so much your rings wouldn’t fit. You also questioned if you could do this alone.

You liked kids, and your job would allow you to spend time with a newborn without risking your career. You’d had great parents, who would undoubtedly make excellent grandparents. Your mom—above all—would probably be the first in line outside your apartment, ready to be your main support system.

But you wouldn’t have Spencer, and the baby wouldn’t have a dad.

Life without Spencer… you’d never considered that as a possibility. And you were the type of person who sat down and analyzed every possible option.

Hot tears burned your eyes again, and you decided this was the end of it. You wouldn’t break down in front of your baby’s father. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed the bitter saltiness of your tears and stood slowly, smoothing your cardigan and your hair.

When you finally looked at Spencer, you were startled to see his face filled with distress, still seated in the same position. His eyes were brimming with tears, and he barely seemed aware that you’d moved.

His gaze rose to meet yours, and he finally spoke.

“Do you promise?” he asked in a whisper.

Under different circumstances, you might’ve made a sarcastic comment, but you didn’t have the energy to joke. Instead, you nodded silently.

“I just found out this morning. Honestly, I didn’t even suspect. If it hadn’t been for the fainting and nausea, I wouldn’t have gone to the doctor. My cycle was even normal last month.”

“Yeah, that can happen sometimes. It’s called implantation bleeding. It occurs when the fertilized egg moves into the uterus,” he said, shrugging, “in simple terms, of course. But sometimes… it could be something else. Did the doctor say anything more?”

Your hand rested on your stomach, as it had done instinctively since you’d learned the news. You couldn’t feel any difference, but you knew something tiny was growing inside you.

“They said everything’s perfect, but I have to go back in a few weeks for my first ultrasound.”

Spencer nodded, and for a moment, you wanted to shake him, to force out the words you needed to hear. But you decided to give him the time he needed to process the news.

He frowned, looking confused.

“Why were you scared?”

That word unlocked the fear you’d been holding back, and the heat of fresh tears returned to your eyes.

“Because it wasn’t in the plan,” you mumbled, feeling your nose start to tingle, your chin trembling again. “God…” You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and shook your head. “We don’t even have a plan.”

Spencer stood from the couch and pulled you gently toward him, cradling the back of your neck in his hand as he kissed your forehead tenderly.

“I know I said I was being careful, and I was, I swear,” you sobbed, finally letting your fear and sadness pour out. “But I don’t know what happened. The gynecologist said it could’ve been something like a certain food. Even with the most careful use, the pills only have a…”

“98% effectiveness. I know,” Spencer interrupted, stepping back just enough to wipe your face and study you carefully.

You felt like a mess. The tears had left you congested, but none of that seemed to faze him.

“I think I was more prepared for you to explode about it than to act all understanding and loving.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m always understanding and loving.”

You bumped your forehead lightly against his shoulder, embarrassed by your outburst.

“I know. But you once said you were afraid of having kids. You said it was because of your mom…”

“I know what I said,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His warm breath brushed your skin like a caress. “But I didn’t really mean it. I’ve always wanted kids.”

“Really? But what about me? I’m not even sure I’m the woman you’d want to have a family with. I’m so younger than you, and I know that bothers you, even if you don’t say it. Then there’s your job. And I’m not… you know, cool or a badass. I don’t hunt serial killers for a living.”

Spencer laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that made you step back with a frown.

Here you were, spilling your insecurities, and he was laughing in response.

"That’s never mattered to me," he said, shaking his head. Honestly, it’s a relief you don’t “hunt serial killers for a living.” I’d spend my life worried sick about you."

You frowned harder, scrunching your eyebrows together so much it almost hurt.

"Like I do for you all the time."

Spencer nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You’re amazing. The kindest, most caring, thoughtful, and intelligent woman I’ve ever met. “Cool” is honestly the simplest word I could use to start describing you."

He took your hands in his, his eyes dropping to them as he smiled faintly, shaking his head in thought.

"Sometimes, I’m scared that one day you’ll realize you could do better than someone as damaged as me and leave."

You gently pulled your hands free from his and stepped closer, cupping his face in your palms. Your fingers traced the small creases at the corners of his eyes and the ever-present shadows beneath them. You tried to think of something you’d change about him, but nothing came to mind. You shook your head firmly.

"If I wanted to be with someone else, I would be. I’d never play games with your feelings, and you know that," you said with a smile. "I don’t care about your traumas. Do you care about mine?"

He shook his head, his typical shy smile appearing as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"The only reason I ever think about our age difference is because I worry that one day I won’t be able to walk as fast as you."

This time, you were the one to laugh.

"Then I’ll walk slower."

You knew people who had larger age gaps in their relationships. The only reason it ever came up between the two of you was because a few others had noticed. Sixteen years wasn’t that much, and even if it were, it had never really mattered to you. You were 28, and Spencer was 44—a fact that might have concerned others, but for the two of you, it was just a number.

Spencer ran his hand along your arm, his fingers stopping to rest on the hand you still had on his cheek. He smiled softly.

"I can’t imagine a better woman to start a family with than you. And I know the undefined nature of our relationship must’ve worried you."

"What are we going to do?" you asked quietly.

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, first, I guess we’ll have to start looking for a house with a yard," he said, glancing around the room with a laugh "We’ll tell our friends and our parents."

His expression grew somber at that last part, and you immediately understood why.

"Your mom is going to be an amazing grandmother, whether she knows it or not. The baby will know. And we’ll be there to help her remember. I know that."

He nodded, his eyes glistening with emotion, before his smile returned.

"I’m sorry I was so scared. I must’ve scared you too."

He sighed and chuckled, sitting back down on the couch. But instead of letting you stay standing, he pulled you down with him, wrapping you in his arms and encouraging you to lean against him.

"I thought the doctor had found something strange or serious," he admitted.

You laughed softly.

"I didn’t know how to tell you. We’ve never talked about relationships or kids—except that one time you mentioned schizophrenia and I panicked."

"Next time you have a pregnancy scare, I want to be involved. I don’t want you going through that alone."

You frowned, looking up at him in mild surprise.

"I’m barely two months pregnant, and you’re already thinking about another one? You’re insane."

He groaned in mock protest.

"An only child? I was an only child, and I was constantly bored."

"And I’m the middle child with three siblings on either side. Let me tell you—sometimes it’s better to play alone"

"Four," he countered with a grin.

"Two," you replied, negotiating with a smile.

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Three, and that’s my final offer."

[amirasainz]

Hiii, first of if I just want to say that I absolutely love your stories. Secondly could you perhaps write a bit more about Dark! Charles and Alex x Reader like maybe Reader had a child or something like that only if you’re comfortable with that of course

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl

Attention: this is just a story! Nothing what is happening here, is happening in real life.

Part 1 Part 2

Obsession

Yn’s days had fallen into an odd rhythm, one she never thought would define her life. From the moment Charles and Alexandra had taken her, she had slowly adjusted to her new reality, though not willingly. Their twisted love and obsessive protectiveness were suffocating. And now, with her baby boy, Theo, in the picture, their fixation had only grown.

She tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, even under their constant watch. Like today, she insisted on taking Theo for a walk. Alexandra, as usual, trailed behind her, her presence an unyielding shadow.

---

Yn pushed the stroller along the serene pathway, breathing in the crisp air. It was one of those rare moments of peace where she felt almost human again.

"Enjoying the fresh air, mon amour?" Alexandra's voice was a sultry purr, her heels clicking against the cobblestone path as she sauntered closer. Yn didn’t answer, pretending to focus on Theo instead.

"Don’t ignore me," Alexandra warned, her tone firm but laced with amusement. She reached out and placed a possessive hand on Yn’s hip before sliding it down to her butt. Yn flinched but tried to stay calm for Theo’s sake.

“Do you have to be so handsy all the time?” Yn snapped, unable to contain her frustration.

Alexandra smirked and spun Yn around to face her, ignoring the protest. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Yn’s ear as she whispered, "Of course I do. You're mine, Yn. Ours."

Before Yn could respond, Alexandra’s hand moved to her stomach, caressing it with an unsettling reverence. Her eyes lit up with an obsessive glow.

"You’ve already given us one perfect little boy," Alexandra murmured, her gaze shifting briefly to Theo, who was babbling happily in the stroller. "But I think it’s time for another. Don’t you agree?"

Yn froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you talking about?"

Alexandra tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Oh, you know exactly what I mean." She leaned in further, capturing Yn’s lips in a firm, possessive kiss. Yn tried to pull away, but Alexandra held her firmly in place, her hands gripping Yn’s waist as if she would never let go.

When Alexandra finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead against Yn’s, her voice soft but filled with determination. "Another baby, Yn. You’re going to give us another baby."

---

By the time they returned home, Yn’s nerves were frazzled. Theo had fallen asleep, his tiny fists curled against his chest, blissfully unaware of the tension between the adults.

As soon as they stepped inside, Charles appeared, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Yn and Theo. "There’s my family," he said warmly, his French accent thick. He approached Yn, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that always made her uneasy.

“Charles,” Yn greeted stiffly, trying to sidestep him, but he was quicker. He caught her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

“Charles, what are you doing?” she protested, but he ignored her, stepping between her legs and holding her hips firmly.

“You look beautiful, mon amour,” he said, his voice low as his hands slid to her waist. He leaned in, kissing her neck, then her jawline, and finally her lips. Unlike Alexandra’s kiss earlier, Charles’ was gentler but no less possessive.

“Stop,” Yn muttered against his lips, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“You’ve already given me the most wonderful gift,” Charles murmured, his hand moving to her stomach. “Theo is perfect. But I can’t help wanting more.” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I want another baby, Yn. I want to see you glowing with life again.”

Yn shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “Charles, I can’t… I won’t—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, kissing her again, his hands gripping her waist. “We’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

---

Dinner was a quiet affair, but the tension was palpable. Alexandra and Charles exchanged looks across the table, their shared obsession evident. Yn ate in silence, her appetite diminished by their earlier declarations.

After Theo was tucked in for the night, Yn tried to retreat to her room, hoping for a moment of solitude. But she didn’t make it far.

“Going somewhere, mon amour?” Alexandra’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Yn turned to find both Alexandra and Charles standing there, their expressions a mix of adoration and hunger.

“I’m tired,” Yn said quickly, but neither of them seemed to care. Alexandra closed the distance between them first, cupping Yn’s face in her hands and kissing her deeply.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Alexandra whispered against her lips, her hands sliding down Yn’s body.

Charles joined them, pulling Yn close from behind. His hands rested on her hips as he pressed kisses to her neck. “We’re not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice filled with promise.

Yn felt trapped between them, their touches overwhelming. Alexandra’s fingers traced her stomach again, while Charles’ hands roamed her waist.

“You’re ours, Yn,” Alexandra said softly, her lips brushing against Yn’s ear. “And we want to grow our family. Don’t we, Charles?”

“Absolutely,” Charles agreed, turning Yn to face him. He kissed her deeply, his hands anchoring her in place. “Another baby, Yn. It’s all we want.”

They didn’t give her a chance to protest, their kisses and touches silencing her words. Yn’s mind raced, torn between fear and the strange, inescapable pull of their obsessive love.

She knew one thing for sure: escape wasn’t an option. Not when Charles and Alexandra had made it clear—they would never let her go.

[cutehoons02]

I NEED TO MEET MY HUMAN PILLOW??

*pairing: bad boy producer Chan x good girl

*tags: problems of insomnia, mocking, teasing, not understanding each other, little jealousy, fluff at the end

* synopsis: Chan has been unable to sleep for more than 4 hours for almost a month and maybe he will just have to find his soul mate to overcome his insomnia…

If you like i would write a second part

* word count: 4k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

Chan loved to produce music, he could be one of the most famous idols and love performing and dancing in front of thousands of people or singing vintage songs to his fans but one thing that stimulated him more and more was spending hours producing, correct verses of poems he had written while he was on the other side of the world or, start to try to feel the rhythm of melodies that were beginning to take shape in his head but also in his console and computer; that was the thing he loved most about being a singer not the events where everyone was impeccably dressed and looked like puppets. He also loved to produce because he could only do so after the exhausting dance workouts or the various recorded content they did during the week for fans, all the other members of the group went back to their dorm rooms to rest or walked around the Korean capital like normal people; instead, he was for weeks, let’s not fool ourselves, he always suffered from insomnia and did not even remember how good it was to wake up after a nice eight-hour sleep. That night was another night out in his studio composing or writing down some verses for the next album, the only company he had was that of his little dog who was snoring and making beautiful dreams, he was a little bit jealous because he too would have wanted to sleep so happily and at 4 in the morning he lay down on the sofa that he had bought for other members and began to scroll through various social notifications until his eyes were closed for a few hours.

Y/n had been working for the Stray Kids for almost a year in the social media department, loved how every week she could knock down his ideas and have even for twenty minutes of fun members recording funny challenges in the pool while they tried to record, while they were traveling to some European city for some event such as the fashion week; with her caramel macchiato and sweet pretzel she walked into the floor where most of the employees had a small recreation room with a small kitchen and tables, but a light coming from the studio where they were recording songs made her turn back. Y/n was a curious person and sometimes he did not want to have all this curiosity. Still, without thinking about it he knocked slowly at the door and after a minute without an answer, he came in. She saw the leader of Stray Kids lying on his belly with slightly ruffled hair and wearing a baseball hat sleeping peacefully with his dog next to him who had already seen the foreign presence of Y/n and ran down to lick them a shoe. Chan was really the representation of the dream boy of Y/n but after a year they had very few interactions together and those few they had were embarrassing, only Felix knew of the small crush she had on Y/n for Chan, but Chan behaved as if it did not exist or perhaps he had never liked because he always wore something pink, always had in his hand one of those coffees all processed even worse that drink green color called matcha, or sometimes brought them homemade cookies to cheer and give a little sweetness to the guys after hours of training and this thing always made him raise his eyes because not even a year later all hung from the lips of Y/ n and did not understand why. It was almost 8:30 and all the other members were coming to work Y/n thought it wasn’t so nice to find all the other members making fun of Chan because he was sleeping in a super sweet position. Still, his face was squashed in the pillow and those beatings of his "children" would have played a few tricks on him, so Y/n slowly spiked with his little hand hidden in the sweatshirt in Chan’s side but did not move an inch, had never touched him by a centimeter and was seriously nervous in the pottery touch so for a moment she set aside her shyness for the leader and slightly pulled him off, heard a small sound coming from his mouth and the arm that he had dangling in the armrest of the sofa put it into the Y/n sweatshirt and his heart began to pump slightly more than necessary. He hated the effect it had on her and hated how everyone got along instead she was to his eyes like a ghost, Y/n put his slightly cold hand in Chan’s face and looked at him for a second before talking to him "Christopher Bang Chan get up there are paparazzi at the door taking pictures of you!" raised his voice slightly to wake him, Everyone knew of Chan’s fear of the paparazzi but he seemed to be seriously in his dream world so he took his pretzel and put it under his nose as if it were an animal and pulled his hair out of his hat and gave him a slight slap in the face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and after a few seconds he saw two hazel eyes looking at her evil and immediately moved away from his grip and dropped his sweet pretzel in Chan’s chest.

Of all the people who could find him in that state, the girl who smelled of cotton candy and spring flowers had to wake him up! “Do you know that it is strictly forbidden to enter my studio, especially for a person who has nothing to do with music?" He got up slightly from the couch and began to sit as if it were a feline and saw for a second the eye of Y/n linger in the black underwear of the Supreme, knew the effect he had on girls but a sweet smile formed on his lips because even the sweet and shy Y/n had a soft spot for him, but he immediately turned away and went to his Cafe, It was obviously not a normal coffee but had cream on top and little bits of sugar, Chan tore his eyes, how could you drink something like that to wake up if they had invented the existence of a nice steaming cup of coffee without sugar to wake up.

"Uhm sorry, i didn’t want to invade your privacy but i saw a flake light coming from your studio and i had thought that someone had forgotten it on or i was afraid that you were.." You didn’t even finish the sentence because with a snap he gave you the sign to be quiet and nonchalance got up and started drinking from your straw your caramel macchiato and ate even a piece of your pretzel. “Or maybe you were just curious and wanted to pry and invade my privacy" Rolled your eyes and looked at Chan "I didn’t want to invade your privacy i would never, i was saying that, i was afraid something happened to you or maybe you left the light on for that i entered, i even knocked for almost a minute but no one answered me" you had never had such a long conversation with the leader of the group and in your head, you did not want to seem cynical towards him but he had seriously misread you. "They never told you that it’s bad manners to roll your eyes in front of a person, god how do you drink this thing at 8 o'clock in the morning to wake up is definitely disgusting. Well now you see I’m fine so you could leave i don’t need a little girl to take care of me!" was literally finishing that concoction of sugars and saw Y/n to caress his dog. “I know it’s rude to roll your eyes in front of someone but it’s not my fault if when you wake up you’re slightly bad mood, there are personal rooms with a bed because people need to feel comfortable and sleep, It is not healthy for your body and mind to sleep at work and especially in a sofa that is also small for your physique, if you have problems with sleep there are a lot of purely natural remedies. God, how does this little dog worship you if you’re like that?" Chan looked at you very badly and he laughed slightly "In addition to not tolerating your presence, are you psychoanalyzing me? What do you know about my insomnia problems Y/n, It’s not your business and i repeat, I have no need to listen to the advice of a young girl at her first steps into the world of adults so go away and thank you for this breakfast 5 stars Michelin i will never try again in my life to drink something with so many sugars" You felt the door open and Felix with his angelic hair entered the room laughing "Don’t tell me you spent the night here again inside Chan, you have to seriously find some remedy for your insomnia because you behave like a jerk with everyone, Even with Y/n that is the sweetest girl on this planet" The two guys looked at you, one was smiling instead of the other would have never met you. “Let me be Felix didn’t start the day well and I have to do not know how many things with you, and the less time i’m away from sweet things the better!" A small puff came out of your mouth and you greeted Felix before heading into the recreation room where everyone seemed happy and relaxed.

Chan without even realizing it was chewing and sipping little sips of your caramel macchiato and Changbin was literally open-mouthed, his leader had not had a drink with so much sugar in his life and drank those drinks only Y/n. "Why are you drinking a caramel macchiato with double cream and double caramel? Don’t tell me you’ve overcome your insomnia thanks to some sugars?" Chan looked at Changbin first and then in his hand, the glass of Y/n's half-finished drink had drunk it all himself without anyone’s help. " You know i don’t like to waste food so for once even if this thing is literally disgusting i’ve bought it" The group members nodded but were extremely worried about their leader because it was almost a month that he had not slept peacefully for more than 4 hours and had tried everything, from herbal teas, some members have even tried to sleep with him but with little result, natural herbal infusions, medicines, they had even taken him to make especially relaxing massages to see him fall asleep and relax but none of these things made them see their leader relaxed and sleep for even 6 hours."You know i saw a series where a guy could get sleep when he was with his lover maybe it’s happening to you too, maybe your soul mate is close to you and fate is trying to give you some signals to try sleeping with her and relax. I read on the internet that many couples can only fall asleep when they are together maybe you are also doing something like this!" Chan had seriously the balls to listen to his members at that time. "Sure Han, you see somewhere my soul mate with whom i can share my beauty sleep. I thought i had raised normal human beings, not dreamers who believe in fairy tales of fate". A light knock removed the problems of Chan’s insomnia and Y/n came in with a bag of gingerbread-shaped cookies all colored, Chan at that moment would have wanted to have a thousand paparazzi in front of him instead of the young content creator of the Stray Kids with her perfume of cotton candy and flowers, "We have to go record some content in the terrace but before i brought you some cookies, i know that many of you love them so..." Chan did not finish the sentence in Y/n that he took his bag and threw all his cookies into the basket where there were all the empty boxes of fried chicken with the liquid of various drinks. All members looked down at Y/n and then at Chan "What the fuck is going on with you Chan, Y/n had made those cookies, especially for me because you are so bad with her?" Chan looked at Han furiously and with a veil of sadness Y/n leaving the room and maybe it was true he had to find some remedy for his lack of sleep because he had never felt so tired, a bad mood and bad with a person.

It had been a few days since that episode and Chan had not slept much and his appearance was getting worse even with the makeup to perfection he seemed extremely tired and hurt from all the events that had happened, he tried to talk to you but you were immediately away from his gaze and deserved it, some members with him were distant and angry, but the others had tried again to make them drink insomnia-cures and take care of their leader as he had done with them countless times. It was nine o'clock in the evening and he had just finished recording a piece for the new album with Felix "Chris, i think it’s better if we stop working today and go for a night walk. We can also get some drinks or snacks during the walk" Chris nodded, he loved spending time with his Australian friend so they found themselves walking near Han River in an area that they had never been to. Chan saw Felix get up and give him a bag full of snacks both sweet and savory. “Well now i think it’s time to come home at 11 o'clock in the evening but you want to go into your study or our dorm you will have to go apologize with Y/n, see that house with red bricks? She lives with her friends from the university and surely they will be awake because there is light on. Do the right thing because no one will open your dorm room or even your study, good night Chris!".

Chan was speechless until he saw the Uber with Felix inside and started walking to the apartment you shared with your friends, had serious fear and embarrassment to play but heard from the small lobby the laughter of your friends and took courage. "Second floor, the black door I left you a tip in the door good work" a voice unknown to him made open the door of the hall, started to climb up to the second floor quickly and in front of if there was a tiny girl with red hair with the slightly opened mouth "Do i look or do you look frightfully like the boy who is attached to the posters in Sunaa’s room, where is my dinner? Oh my, you’re not the pizza boy but that guy who sang that Green Day song that Y/n had to spend a whole night editing for videos of your concert". Chan thought he was living in a simulation who was this Sunaa who had her posts in the room and who was this chick who spoke like a machine? "Uhm nice to meet you, i'm Bang Chan i know that maybe it is really me in the posters in your friend’s room, there by chance, Y/n in the house, i should talk to him" Sunaa’s friend let him in the house and a smell of chocolate cake came from the kitchen and a girl slightly busy checking the oven watched him enter their kitchen "Y/n is taking a shower but in 5 minutes she will be here, make yourself at home, you want some cookies, freshly baked cake, hot tea with cookies..." the other girl was trying to get her cake out of the oven and gave Lily the red-haired girl a little look. " Sorry i don’t often come to this house except for my boyfriend so when i meet strangers if i’m slightly embarrassed i talk about it, i am Lily a friend of Y/n, the pastry lady next to me is Sarah, Sunaa the girl with your posters right now will be over the ocean somewhere because she’s a hostess and you know her Y/n works for your group" Chan felt slowly less embarrassed and looked carefully at the kitchen that divided the living room with a large white sofa and two pink puffs. " I would be fine with a glass of water and a cookie, it’s okay if I’m the one who should be embarrassed at this moment to show up at 11 in a house made up only of girls". “Don’t worry Lily’s boyfriend comes to visit her at 2 am to sleep with her even for only five hours we are used to, oh Y/n look who came to visit you is Felix right? It’s not that Bang Chan you say so much that he is an asshole to you but that he finds him extremely" would run with the hair half wet by your friend Sarah to put a hand on his mouth and watch Chan amused while eating a cookie, you had heard an extremely and uncharacteristically familiar voice coming from the living room but you thought it was your brain to make it here, instead there really in front of you was that individual Bang Chan sitting in your living room with a grin.

"What are you doing in my house? Do you want to make fun of me, to throw your anger on me and invade my living space and also in my house?" Your friends looked at you slightly surprised, but you were always the one who tried to make peace when there was a difference between them. " I just wanted to talk to you Y/n and i would like to do it in private" Chan looked at your friends and bowed and saw you walking down a corridor and entered a beautiful clean room with obviously a slightly pink bed, some vinyl of artists like The Weeknd-Childish Gambino-Ariana Grande-Beatles etc, There were lots of pictures of you and your friends and family attached, but one thing made him smile and warm his heart you had some Stray Kids albums and lots of photos you took with members during your travels. Until that moment he knew you had become friends with the other members but he did not realize that this year with some you had really formed a good relationship of trust and mutual friendship, especially with the youngest ones who were almost your age.

"I’ve been a serious asshole to you for the past year and i don’t even know why, at first i did not even notice your presence but slowly i saw that you were always with some of the group and bothered me because you were always so happy and positive with everyone but this is not a reason why i had to act like an asshole with you. I even brought you your favorite snacks i guess, i don’t want to start with lies about our relationship, i didn’t know that you lived here Felix brought me and he gave me this bag." You knew that Chan was a smart guy and good with everyone and annuities, honestly, you did not expect to see him at your home and much less in your room, you could not stand it because even if your room was slightly large it took too much space and you felt suffocated. "Understood, it was not necessary to come here to me at almost midnight you could tell me even at work and then there is no relationship to start, we have never been friends or who knows else so" A slight yawn formed in your mouth and you watched Chan look at you like a puppy and then sat down in your bed "Well i could first apologize to you and then slowly become your "friend" as you are with Felix or Han" You were seriously tired of everything and every one and you didn’t want to become friends with Han also because your heart was beating faster in his presence and this thing did not happen when you were with Han or with Felix. "I accept your apologies Chan but at this time i would only sleep and it is now midnight and i know that the Y/n is awake and head on his shoulders is going to fall asleep standing, what do you say we talk about this face when i’m ready and with a good caramel macchiato hand that gives me the right dose of sugars to wake up?". Chan was a bit amazed by the honesty that you had to get him away from you but you said you wanted to talk to him awake so maybe he didn’t completely lose hope with you. " Sure, it was better as you said yourself if i spoke to you at work not at midnight when you can see that you are really tired and that you are looking forward to sleeping maybe i should go. Don’t need me to walk you to the door go to bed tomorrow at 8 we must be ready to go out of Seoul to record" You saw him coming out of the door and heard a light whisper "Blessed are you that you will sleep this night".

you walked in his direction and you took an arm and made it turn "If you want to sleep with me, in the sense of trying to sleep not to do strange things, oh god you got me right? I know you can’t sleep anywhere but my bed is the most comfortable and i also use a special fragrance that I itch every time I change the sheets to relax and make me sleep better if you don’t snore and if you don’t get too excited there’s room for you too because it’s enough big" Chan looked at you carefully, your cheeks were slightly reddened and you hid your hands in the big sweatshirt that you wore as pajamas and a smile formed in his mouth "You have a strange way of asking things Y/n, Meanwhile I tried them all so if you’re not embarrassed to have a guy in bed with you willingly also because I don’t even know what part of Seoul we are and I have no desire to go back to the dormitory." " No embarrassment I asked you and then you’re not the first guy who sleeps with me, as long as you don’t snore or that you don’t move much" Chan felt a pinch of protection or maybe jealousy towards you and nodded sitting in your bed, He took off his sweatshirt and a slightly over t-shirt where he showed extremely big biceps and thank god he had on pants because he would not be able to sleep in jeans. You looked at him carefully but turned away immediately because you did not want to be a maniac because of his biceps or his big hands, Chan knew the effect it made you carefully, and a smile formed on his lips, and lay down in your bed. " Well thank you Y/n, tomorrow morning i will offer you a caramel macchiato or i will go to get it at dawn while it is already much if i can sleep for three hours" Y/n raised her duvet and became small as she entered her bed and made herself comfortable near the end of the bed on her side.

"Don’t be so negative, try i can imagine things that make you happy i know the sea in Australia or beaches before trying to sleep you, i do this when i’m nervous and then i can sleep" Chan saw you so far away from him that he started to laugh "Y/n, you can sit back and relax. In what sense do you imagine beautiful things? don’t tell me that before falling asleep you fantasize about me!" You looked terrible Chan and threw your pillow in his face "Are you crazy? Why should i ever dream about you when i have to put up with you already at work and even when i enter Sunaa’s room i must see your face! The less i have you in my thoughts the better" Chan was seriously laughing at the situation that you had just created and for a while, he did not feel so happy and worry-free before going to bed. " You said that you imagine beautiful things so you will surely fantasize about me, i'm the most beautiful of the group, Y/n. Now however you sleep that tomorrow morning you have to be presentable at work otherwise you will take words" You looked up and lay down, giving Chan your back and without being seen you smiled and i put a hand on your head for the slight embarrassment that was growing in you.

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 2

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

You were in the middle of packing, taking photos off the walls and putting them away in boxes, piles of clothes littered on the floor based on whether you were taking them or donating.

"Didn't realise we weren't close enough, eh?" Bakugou said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of your room.

Startled you looked at him clutching the photos close to your chest."Knock at least Katsuki, you scared the shit out of me." You grumbled as you regained composure and turned back to the task at hand. Partially to get it done, mostly to avoid Bakugou's gaze while you had this unavoidable confrontation.

You should have told him you were moving out, it was a rational thing, you were friends infact best friends, had seen each other at worst, dealt with it too. Should have had an adult conversation about it. But what would have you said "Hey! Katsuki I am moving out because I am in love with you but you have a girlfriend and the sole thought of her makes me sick" yeah not a good argument or maybe evening worst you would just end up crying sobbing pathetically while pointing out you were there for him more but that's not how it works, you suppose. He deserves happiness, and you are glad he found it. You just wanted to find yours too.

"Haruki, your assistant, let it slip that you are moving", Bakugou snarled, nostrils flaring, fists tightening, tell-tale signs that he is not mad but disheartened.

"I was going to tell you", you defended, turning to face him.

"When? huh, when were you going to tell me?", He hissed "When everything was packed, and you had to bid farewell like some sort of formality?", He continued ,moving towards you, for the first time locking eyes and seeing the red-rimmed, swollen eyes your cheeks were sunken too. "What happened, peanut?", He questioned, pulling the photos from your hand and setting the to the side. "Did I do something? I'll fix it, fucks sake talk to me, tell what was it that made you run I'll fix it", He cupped your face and made you look at him.

"I don't think you can fix this one, Suki", you murmured, voice almost catching in your throat because you'll lose him, you'll lose his friendship. For a moment you wished you weren't in love with him, that you could be normal around him, could be a part of his life, let him be a part of yours. But, you had to fall in love with him, ruin whatever ever you had.

"This new apartment is closer to my agency, plus how long do we go about living here, Suki?", you said before woefully pulling yourself away from him, choosing to pack up remaining of things.

"You should have said something, I deserve to at least know, you know? I go to work and your assistant, fucking Haruki, is looking for couches for you.", He said bitterly,"He knew, he was informed, he was fucking involved, and I wasn't, aren't we close? is that fucker closer to you, huh tell me?" He gritted out.

"If you were any less busy with your fucking girlfriend, then maybe you would have helped me," you yelled, words almost getting clogged in your throat, anger finally taking over.

Both of you stare wide eyed at each other, truth finally out, you behaviour making sense to Bakugou, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

He moved closer to you, reaching out, but you pull away like it burns because if you were being honest it does, Bakugou winces at you withdrawal. Your anger, your distance, you silence making sense you heart finally bared open in front of him.

"If you can't tell me what I want to hear then you shouldn't say anything",you croaked, knowing that you are being selfish,"I want a confession Suki and not consolation", you finalized.

Bakugou looked at you before he left the room, perhaps you already knew his decision but that didn't make your heart hurt any less.

─ ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ── ・┈ ・ ─

[fanbasetwo]

✦ ZB1 MAKNAE LINE TAKING CARE OF THEIR GIRLFRIEND WHILE SHE'S ON HER PERIODS!

001. PAIRING , zb1 maknae line ! afab reader

002. GENRE , scenario, reaction work

003. WARNING(S) , mentions of blood and cramps obviously, kissing, cuddling, pet names, lmk if more

NOTE FROM SENA , literally on my periods as I write this. basically dedicated to me and my period twin @teaxeee! take care of yourself sweetie 🤍 MASTERLIST!!

SHEN RICKY . . . ✦

“Baby, are you okay?” Ricky's voice rang out once more, tinted with a sense of worry. He had completely lost track of how many times he had checked on you that day, but he just couldn't help it. Not knowing how long you had been in the bathroom was one more reason Ricky was getting even more anxious because you were on your period. When you finally got out, you walked slowly, looking totally pale and sickly. His sharp gaze picked it up at once. “You should have just told me,” he murmured and came up to you in seconds. Without letting you say another word, he swept you off your feet into his arms, once again swooping you with ease. Unable to protest, you buried your head into his chest while the unrelenting beat of his heart soothed your pain. “I've got you,” he whispered in that soft way of his, escorting you to the couch, where comfort and Ricky's caring heart awaited.

KIM GYUVIN . . . ✦

You lay awake in bed, glaring spitefully at your boyfriend, who was snoring softly beside you. Gyuvin was such a picture of peace, blissfully ignorant of your battle with the dreadful cramps. The green-eyed monster made its home in your rib cage. “Hey! Quit snoring,” you whispered, poking him hard. Maybe it was the mood swings, or perhaps it was pure injustice, but if you could not get any sleep, he would not either. Gyuvin stirred before opening his eyes slowly. He did not say anything but shamelessly nestled you closer while curling you in the protective embrace of his arms. For a moment, he let his hands fall on your belly. Circles his fingers with slow and soft movements on your belly “Still hurts?” he managed to say, a little sleepy but shown great care and gentleness. Your growing outrage melted halfway into oblivion as you gazed into his half-open eyes and tousled hair. “Not much now,” you murmured against his touch. He surely was your haven amid all this pain.

PARK GUNWOOK . . . ✦

Gunwook wasn't the type who liked much physical touch, but he had pretty much been nothing but kind to you. That didn't prevent him from being justifiably frightened of your moods during your periods. Today was no different. “What is wrong?” he asked, freaking out because you suddenly broke into tears. His dark sarcasm, one that regularly made you laugh, had surprisingly worked against him. “Did I say something wrong? Baby, please...” he was just racking his brain now to come to terms with what click had gone awry. In the moment, tears bubbling in your throat, you slurred something unintelligible, leaving him even more frazzled. But Gunwook would never give up on you. He scooped you into his arms and began to cover your tear-stained cheeks with desperate but awkward kisses. “Don't cry,” he murmured, sounding much more like his usual self. “I'll stop making jokes, I promise.” It was typecast to make him cringe, but he'd surely do anything else, probably endure your periods, just to get a smile back on your face.

HAN YUJIN . . . ✦

Yujin had always been the shy one in your relationship, and while you were still navigating its early stages, moments of awkwardness were inevitable—like today. Unaware of the red spot that had appeared on your pants, you walked beside him after your date, chatting casually. Yujin suddenly slowed, his cheeks tinged pink as he glanced at you. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, his voice soft but steady. Before you could respond, he was already shrugging off his jacket and draping it gently over your shoulders. It was oversized, enveloping you completely and, unbeknownst to you, discreetly covering the red period spot on your pants. You blinked at him, confused by his sudden action but touched by the gesture. “Thanks…” you mumbled, still unsure what had prompted it. Yujin gave a small, reassuring smile, his hand brushing yours. He didn’t need to say anything; his quiet thoughtfulness spoke volumes.

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese/GoldenSpice AU where Golden Cheese is sent back in time to when Burning Spice was still a hero (how? By Timekeeper. Why? Who knows? Maybe Timekeeper wanted to actually help people for once, albeit in this extremely convoluted and unconventional way. Maybe she was just bored and wanted to mess with time and people again. Maybe both. Who knows...)

Burning Spice is still beloved by the world as the Herald of Change, and by the Wild Spices as their strong, boisterous and kind-hearted leader. He finds her lost and confused (and far beyond angry) in the middle of Wild Spice territory by chance (or did Timekeeper drop her in at the right place and time on purpose?) and not only is he instantly moved to help her out of a genuine sense of altruism... but he's instantly smitten with her, too. So captivated is he by both her beauty and her personality, even while the latter manifests as "harsh" and "paranoid" when they first meet, that it's practically love at first sight.

So now Golden Cheese is stuck living amongst the ancient Wild Spices while she tries to figure out how to return to when and where she came from. She is also stuck dealing with Burning Spice on a regular basis, who now spends every moment of free time he gets by her side, pestering her (in her eyes). He's up front about his feelings and how he wants to court her, and does not relent even after she rebuffs him repeatedly ("doesn't take no for an answer" is a core personality trait of his across all time, apparently).

There she is, trapped in the distant past, completely alone save for the Wild Spices who are kind enough to take her in, desperately racking her brain day in and day out for a way to get back home, all while the man she'd previously only known as a threat to her and to the world at large is not only an unironically good person here and now, but is actively hitting on her every chance he gets.

Maybe she eventually calms down and learns to open up and get along with these people while she's there; she's stranded until further notice, she might as well (and they're so warm and friendly in this time; so unlike what she knows them to be in the future...). Maybe she realizes that she could perhaps change the future - even save it, if she dares to dream - by somehow stopping Burning Spice's descent into villainy before it happens.

...Maybe she ends up liking Burning Spice quite a bit, because it turns out he can be very charming when he's not behaving like a genocidal maniac. Not that she admits to that, at least for a while.

And maybe the Burning Spice in the future knows she's missing and does everything in his power to find out where (and when) she is, because he really will stop at absolutely nothing to have her and her Soul Jam in his grasp again.

This is, like, the 5th AU to infect my brain and it's the dumbest one so far. Send help and asks because I'm already trying to prep and cook stuff for this thing, and I want to hear what y'all think

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 4

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

A weariness clung to his body, one he couldn’t quite explain beyond being so utterly drained that even taking a shower felt like a monumental effort.

With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from where he’d been slouched against the desk and slowly blew out the candles scattered around the office. Darkness didn’t bother him. He was used to it—had spent years orienting himself in the black void of the underground. The faint moonlight spilling through the window was more than enough. Compared to those shadowed depths, this was child’s play.

That night, the moon seemed unusually bright. His tired gaze drifted to the large arched window behind his desk. Waxing moon… or was it full already?

‘Don’t they say some bullshit about omegas going into heat during the full moon?’

He scoffed. “Urban myth,” he muttered. It sounded like something out of a witch’s tale. But, come to think of it, wasn’t she supposed to be in season?

The stack of paperwork on his desk taunted him with the reminder that he’d probably have to pull an all-nighter. The thought made his jaw clench. After everything that had happened that day, he muttered a curt, “Fuck it,” and extinguished the last candle. The room plunged into shadow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

But then his attention snagged on the slightly ajar door leading to his bedroom. It wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either—a hesitation in its placement that mirrored her presence in his life. Maybe she didn’t feel she had the right to close it entirely. Or perhaps she didn’t want to invite him in.

Levi wasn’t sure what possessed him to check. Maybe he wanted to ensure she was asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse, though he hated the idea of coming off as some kind of creep.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. His sharp ears picked up no stirring from the other side of the door. She was asleep—curled into a small ball beneath the blankets. Her face was peaceful, framed by a tangle of hair splayed across the pillow.

‘She looks young,’ he thought absently, then corrected himself: Younger.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and tore his gaze away. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, retreating into the safety of the bathroom.

As he stripped off his clothes, a faint scent clung to the fabric. It wasn’t unpleasant—not even close—but it was strong enough to make his body react in a way he resented.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, frowning deeply. “It’s not my fault,” he groaned, trying to shake the thought from his head. She wasn’t in heat, after all. If she had been, he’d already be climbing the walls. He grimaced at the thought of what that would’ve meant—both a curse and a convenience. Her hormones would have made her eager, desperate even, and he… well, he wouldn’t have had the luxury to hesitate. Instinct would’ve taken over, and by now, it would all be over—messy, but over.

But she wasn’t in heat, and that was both a blessing and a complication. On one hand, it spared them both the humiliation of fumbling through something neither of them wanted. On the other hand, he was standing half-naked in his bathroom, trying to keep his thoughts clean while the girl he barely knew slept just a room away.

‘It’s like jerking off to the thought of a coworker,’ he thought with disgust. ‘Not illegal, but it feels like it.’

He needed a clear head—desperately. Most of his squad had gone through their ruts recently, their youth amplifying every primal urge. She smelled too good for a group of young, horny alphas to ignore. A cold shower might’ve been the smart choice, but the chill of the rain earlier still clung to his skin, and he just wanted to collapse into bed.

His bed wasn’t an option, though—not tonight. Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the couch in the corner of his office. He propped it against the armrest and sank down, throwing a thin gray blanket over himself. His head rested against his arm, and his other hand lazily scratched at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up. The dim glow of the moonlight played across the room, and he stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but his mind restless.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he murmured to himself.

The sharpness of his fags could be perceived by his tongue that, under the foreign texture couldn’t stop feeling it. That, the thickness of his saliva and the clear feeling that his loose pants were perhaps a bit tight. It was obvious, she smelled too good, his own nature being highlighted by the time of the year and, in particular, the lack of exposure. Frowning and sighing loudly, he rolled over to a side searching for a position comfortable enough for him to fall asleep into.

Sleep came eventually. For Levi, sleeping on a couch with a makeshift pillow and a mission-worn blanket was a luxury compared to the alternatives. For once, exhaustion was kind.

On the other side of the room, her mind kept replaying the scene.

“Die. Just go. You’re making this harder for me,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the small French balcony of the borrowed household. The late-night air was cold against her skin as she stared down at the street below. It was late, the streets below barely lit, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door of her room before returning to the darkness beyond.

The young man standing below, dark-haired with striking gold eyes, still wore his military uniform. He looked up at her with an pleading expressing, “Come on, Y/N,” he called up, his voice a mix of desperation and imploring. “Are you really going to let it all go? I can talk to someone—someone higher up that with what’s going on. We can change this. You don’t have to do it.”

Her grip tightened on the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles white with tension. She shook her head sharply, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. His words only deepened the ache inside her. Referring to her loss of the season to “what’s going on” made it sound trivial, dismissive, when it had torn her apart. “Stop it,” she whispered. Her voice trembled as she added, “I’m doing this for my family.”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said softly, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve the life you’ve worked for—just as much as your siblings do.”

“Y/N!”

The shout startled her, and she flinched, slamming the window shut as the door to her room swung open. She spun around, pressing her back against the glass, hands behind her to brace it closed. Her heart thundered in her chest, afraid of being caught—not by her two-year-old sister, but by someone who might hold more authority.

“What is it, Mae?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice as the toddler raised her arms to be picked up. She obliged, hoisting the little girl onto her hip before sitting on the bed, her exhaustion evident. Her tangled hair framed her face, damp from the cold towels she’d used to try to soothe her pounding headache.

“Are you leaving because I used your makeup?” Mae pouted, her large, curious eyes searching Y/N’s face.

Y/N managed a tired smile. The memory of her two younger sisters destroying her makeup a few days earlier flickered briefly in her mind. Back then it had infuriated her, now it seemed like a distant worry. “No, Mae. I’m leaving because I’m getting married. Remember?” she said, her tone soft, trying to explain in a way the toddler could understand.

“What about being princesses?” Mae pouted harder.

It broke her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled her sister into a tender hug. The pounding in her head and the dull ache in her lower belly were relentless, her body rebelling against her refusal to conceive this season—as if she’d had a choice.

Mae was innocence incarnate, her wide-eyed questions too pure for the weight they carried. But her older brother, on the other hand, had been no help. She’d found one of the WANTED posters of her soon-to-be husband plastered on her dressing table as a joke.

“You think this is funny?!” Y/N snapped, shaking the boy by his shoulders. Her anger surged, raw and unrestrained, but she bit back the urge to slap him. “I’m doing this for you, idiot! For you, for Ed, for Mom!”

“You’re not in charge,” the boy spat, his voice cracking but defiant. “Dad’s home, remember?”

The arrogance in his tone made her blood boil. Ever since their father’s return, the boy had become insufferable, emboldened by his status as the favored child and the budding dominance of his alpha nature.

“You want to be a man so badly? Then act like one and know your place!” she hissed, shoving the crumpled poster into his chest.

“You’re marrying a subversive,” he sneered with disdain, parroting words he clearly didn’t understand.

“I’m marrying someone who’ll make sure you don’t have to live off scraps and pity from the military, you little fool!” she snarled. Her hands trembled as frustration and heartbreak collided.

That memory dissolved into another—curled on her bed, her body wracked with cramps. The bathroom light, still on, spilled into the room. From the cracked door, she could hear her parents arguing. The light from the corridor illuminated the carpeted floor by the ajar door, casting her parents' distorted shadows like a muppets show against the ground.

“She needs to rest,” her mother said, trying to placate the man’s rising fury. “These things happens —”

“She’s ruining us!” her father screamed. “This was our chance, and she’s screwing it all up!”

Her sobs grew louder, muffled only by the pillow she pressed against her face. She lay with her back to the slightly open door, as if trying to shield herself from the conflict. They had been arguing for a while about the possibility, the events all pointing in one direction. That alone had fueled this outrage. ‘How am I going to tell them?’ The thought made her chest tighten with anxiety.

They argued over a possibility, now she had to confirmed them that it was a reality. Only minutes ago, she had walked to the bathroom—the golden light of the candle still flickering there. When her fingers came away stained with blood, the confirmation of what she already knew—her heat had passed, her body rejecting what it was supposed to do.

“She’s not doing it on purpose!” her mother argued.

“Then fix her! Give her some calming tea, call the damn doctor, do something! You think he'll keep her if she’s not useful?!”

She gripped the pillow tightly before tossing it over her head and pressing it hard against her face, as if she could make the world vanish for a moment. Silently pleading for the shouting to stop. ‘Please… just stop.’

None of the memories from the past week came to her in order; they just replayed chaotically in her mind. When her tired eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room, she realized she had been tearing up in her sleep. The shadows cast inside the room weren’t her parents', and the voices weren’t theirs either. Sitting up slightly, she became aware of her surroundings. The sheets felt rough, and the mattress was smaller than what she was used to.

The memory of when she had fallen asleep completely eluded her, but the clock on the nightstand indicated it was already morning. She couldn’t tell by the window; the rain was still pouring heavily outside. The hushed whispers of two people on the other side of the room made her debate whether to sit up or feign sleep. She quickly chose the latter as the sound of someone opening the door reached her ears. Curling up in the bed, she pulled the sheets over her face, nearly hiding herself entirely.

With her face almost fully covered, the scent of the bed surrounded her. There was something subtly unsettling about the lingering fragrance of someone else on the sheets—a constant reminder that this wasn’t her bed. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, it was oddly soothing. Her decision to pretend to be asleep shifted into the realization that she could drift off again. Perhaps her subconscious was taking over, responding instinctively to the alpha's scent that enveloped her—a primal comfort, making her feel safe and protected.

—

“Hi~” came Hange’s singsong voice as they opened the door without knocking. “Knock, knock,” they added playfully, as if mocking the concept of knocking before barging in.

Levi, standing in the middle of the room with his uniform half on and a toothbrush in his mouth, turned to glance at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d be less ready at this hour,” Hange remarked, stepping fully into the room.

Levi spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with a towel before muttering, “What are you doing here?” His eyes landed on the tray they carried. “And with a tray?”

“I brought breakfast for the newlywed couple!”

“Shh!” Levi hissed, moving swiftly to grab the tray before Hange accidentally dropped it. He motioned for silence, his expression stern. She was still asleep, and the message was clear.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange whispered. As Levi set the tray on the coffee table and resumed getting ready, an unusual silence settled between them. It didn’t last long.

“So…” Hange began, their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “How was it? How is she?”

Levi ignored the question, muttering a vague reply through clenched teeth as he moved about the room, clearly trying to avoid the topic.

Hange’s sharp eyes followed him, their face shifting into a grimace as the tension grew. “I’m not exactly a purebred alpha,” they finally said, “but… you don’t smell very taken to me.”

Levi, who had just sneaked inside his room a little while ago to pick up his stuff, sighed loudly and stopped moving, giving himself a moment to respond. “… I couldn’t,” he admitted finally.

Hange pressed their lips together, unusually quiet for a moment. When Levi turned to face them, their expression said it all.

“Come on,” Levi snapped. “You’re a non-stop talker, and now you shut the hell up? Say something.”

“I’m… finding it.”

Levi rolled his eyes, grumbling in frustration.

“Oh boy…” Hange finally ventured. “Well. Maybe she was just tired? Tonight, after she’s settled—”

“We agreed I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to.”

The blank stare Hange gave him was enough to make Levi snap. “What did you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know?!” Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air. “Claim her? Maybe?!”

From an outsider’s perspective, the exchange might have been hilarious—their expressions exaggerated, their words intense, yet still whispered fiercely to avoid waking her.

Levi scowled. “Well, excuse me. Excuse me for not being a fucking rapist.”

Hange’s attempt at a lighter tone wasn’t helping. “Some would argue that you are—you’re an alpha, after all.”

“You’re an alpha too, you idiot,” Levi shot back, finding no humor in their dark joke.

“Hardly. I’m more beta than alpha.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You should’ve seen the puppy eyes she gave me. I’ve got fucking lots of kinks, but that’s not one of them.”

Hange clicked their tongue and shook their head. “Omega puppy eyes… the deadliest weapon of all.” They crossed their arms, leaning back thoughtfully. “Zackly’s going to kill you, though.”

“Tch.” Levi rolled his eyes. “He can suck my dick.”

That made Hange laugh more than they should have. “Seriously, though—what the hell are you going to do with an unclaimed omega in the middle of a military facility? I can catch her scent, and I’m a low-breed alpha.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d help me with,” Levi admitted, reluctant to ask for help but clearly out of his depth.

Hange didn’t answer, instead moving toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Levi muttered, darting across the room to stop them, but they had already cracked it open to peek inside.

“You’re going to wake her up,” Levi hissed, his whisper dropping to an even lower register.

Hange ignored him, their eyes fixed on the small portion of her face visible above the sheets. “… What about a convent? Maybe I can talk to a priest.”

“A convent?” Levi echoed in disbelief as his exasperation grew “That’s your solution?”

“Either that or bars on all the windows. No one gets in, no one gets out.” Hange turned to him, smirking.

Levi shot them his best deadpan expression. “We’ve gone from a convent to a prison. And you’re supposed to be the brains here?”

“I gave you a solution,” Hange retorted, leaning closer as their whispered argument continued. “Claim her.”

“I can’t!” Levi snapped, his frustration boiling over.

“Then trust,” Hange said, spreading their arms in a gesture of faith. “Then trust our soldiers. I trust them—they’ll behave,” though their tone sounded less certain with each word. “Maybe Jean will get a little too excited, like a puppy with a new toy, but he’s a good kid.”

Levi’s flat expression didn’t waver. “You trust Floch around her without me in the picture?”

The brunette, who had been sporting a confident, almost cheerful smile while defending the few original members of the Scouts before they were nearly wiped out, suddenly shifted to a serious, defeated expression. Waving a hand in the air, they muttered, "You made your point loud and clear."

The silence that followed was thick, as both stood by the door frame. Levi, arms crossed, was deep in thought. Meanwhile, Hange continued to stare at her, their eyes scanning her face across the dimly lit room.

"I’ll just… lock her up here for a couple of days until her scent calms down. It’s not ideal, but—"

Levi’s quiet musings, spoken with a defeated tone, were abruptly interrupted by Hange muttering under their breath, "She’s hella cute, though."

Levi’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"What? Can’t I compliment your wife?" the brunette asked jokingly, still admiring the sleeping girl. They tilted their head to the side, trying to get a better view. "You’re one lucky bastard."

"Four-eyes!" Levi snapped, using the old nickname he hadn’t used in years out of respect for his friend’s new position. The commander chuckled. "Stop staring at her," Levi ordered.

"I’m doing nothing," Hange shrugged, though their eyes remained fixed on the sleeping girl.

"I can fucking smell you, idiot!" Levi growled, clearly indicating that he could easily detect how Hange’s body reacted to his new wife. The spicy, interested aroma they gave off was more than enough for Levi to know that Hange found her more than just pretty.

Hange barely contained a laugh, forcing a straight face to speak. "Question, and this one’s serious," they said, their eyes twinkling. Levi’s tired expression only seemed to amuse them more. "If you two… ever get down to business, would you consider a threesom—"

"DON’T HIT ME!" Hange quickly added as Levi’s hand moved with lightning speed to smack the back of their head.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake her up," Levi muttered, but Hange was already caressing the back of their head where Levi had smacked them. "And over my dead, cold body. You heard me?"

"Ugh," Hange groaned, rubbing the back of their head with their left hand. "You purebreds… are so territorial. You’re missing half the fun."

Levi remained with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And you’ll be missing your only remaining eye if you ever bring that shit into my room again."

When she woke up again, the clock on the nightstand read 11 am.

(I'm sorry if this chapter was shitty, I'd been so stressed with work lately but I didn't want to let you all down another week in a row T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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[jweekgoji]

Hiiiii, I really love your Yan! Sentinel x Prime!Reader, also your SentinelxReaderxStarscream are the best as well! I am a huge fan of both works and both characters, your writings are so *chef kiss* Can I request a somewhat mix of both please? Maybe the Prime!Reader are close with Starscream and it makes Sentinel angry/jealous? Obviously you don't have to, but if you do write for it please take your time :3

Prime!Reader/Starscream/Sentinel

tw: jealousy, rivalry (between Starscream&Sentinel), gender neutral reader. word count: ~1270 a/n: good to know you enjoyed my other fics~ sorry for making you wait too long! the last weeks are exhausting ~_~

Being one of the 13 Primes is no simple task when you have to stand between two fires.

The incoming attack from the Quintessons didn't give you a single cycle of peace either. Over and over again, you've had to brainstorm a new plan with your brothers and sisters on how to push the enemy away from Cybertron. It's exhausting.

At times, you long to lock yourself away in your own chambers, switch off your audio receptors to finally get a break from it all. But luck never seems to be on your side. Every new day started with a new problem, and for some reason, you only had to hear about it from two bots you knew.

Starscream and Sentinel.

Your day could start with an early call from Starscream, where your subordinate, though not literally, hinted at having him accompany you at all times. His presence is absolutely required!

Well that's just Prime.

But when you hear a knock on your door, you don't have to guess twice to find out who it could be. When you finally open the door, standing before you is none other than your faithful servant, Sentinel.

“You look as beautiful as ever,”  Sentinel smiles as he looks in your optics. “And your armour is so wonderfully polished, as I can see.”

Starting your afternoon meeting with compliments was something he was used to, even if his attempts to charm you with his speeches never worked. You are many cycles older than him, Sentinel's behaviour only amuses you at best.

“Zeta Prime would like to discuss something with you, let me escort you to him,” he holds his servos behind his back, taking a couple of steps back from the doorway.

“Zeta wants to see me?” you have a momentary thought. In the current time, that means another long meeting, hours of planning and working out...You nod.

“After you,” he humbly motions for you to go through first, his bright blue optics just drilling your own.

As you walk through the long corridors of the tower, the loud clacking of heels comes from somewhere behind you.

“There you are! I've been waiting for you for like practically half an hour now! Where were you all the time...’ Starscream says in annoyance, his wings twitching faintly as the high guard notices...him.

For a moment, a spark of competition runs between your two subjects. Fortunately, or not for them, it never caught your attention, though perhaps you simply preferred to turn a blind eye to it. You have too many responsibilities right now to waste time on those two.

Sentinel still holds that casual pose, helmet tilted slightly, as if the mere sight of the enraged flyer gives him some kind of enjoyment. It doesn't even help that he's standing behind you, you can't even see that nasty grin on Sentinel's face! Oh, how that slimy, hypocritical glitch is annoying-.

“Not now, Starscream. I'll deal with this later. Wait for me here,’ you calmly respond, then turn around and disappear behind the doors of the hall, where the rest of the Primes are already waiting.

The door slams shut, leaving the high guard and the advisor alone. Starscream frowns, his red optics aimed at Sentinel, who looks equally displeased.

Even though Sentinel was lucky enough to see you first today, the advisor had to come up with all sorts of excuses for you to pay the slightest bit of attention to him. He's occasionally lucky because you prefer Starscream's company to his own! Or so he thinks at first. As one of the Primes, you spend a lot of time on the battlefield, which makes you more often accompanied by Starscream.

Sentinel hates that. Most of the Primes, even Zeta himself calls on him far more often than you do! He's YOUR advisor, how can you care more about some guard?

Knowing Sentinel, if you were even with him for almost all of your time, any side glance would make him extremely jealous.

“You're doing this on purpose. Wasting their time on something that isn't helpful in the war,” Starscream crosses his arms over his chassis, not even hiding his displeasure.

“Me? I would never ,” the Sentinel makes an indignant look that is painfully unserious. “I'm just a mere asvisor to them, helping out with a word here and there. Are you afraid of getting screwed, perhaps?’

“To whom, you? Don't be ridiculous,” Starscream rolls his optics, then steps closer to the Sentinel. “They hardly notice you.”

“You want to bet, Screamer?”

“Bet.”

You don't know how long it's been since you left them alone, but by the time you arrive, Starscream and Sentinel are there, waiting for you. Not a hint of hostility between them, which is surprising. Whatever had happened there during your absence, they had found another target.

After that day, you completely forgot about such a concept as “peacefulness”. Every day, personal space was violated by one of them. If Starscream insisted on accompanying your every move, Sentinel would surely find another reason to distract and then steal you away from poor jet.

It went on like this time after time until you decided to end this madness once and for all.

When Sentinel unexpectedly received your message, he was hardly strong enough not to give the slightest sign of how extremely pleased he was. You, waiting for HIM, in your chambers? Oh, how much that could mean....

How surprised he was to see none other than Starscream at the door- Oh, lovely. Just when he's fantasising about nice things, you find a chance to ruin his dreams.

Had you left them alone for a split second, another fight would surely have broken out, but luckily neither of them have time to utter a word before you suddenly open the door.

“Come in.”

Starscream and Sentinel throw each other a quick fleeting glance, but not another word and they enter your room. It's large, rich, in your style. They've rarely had the chance to be here, even for a moment.

You stand beside your desk, seated in the centre of the room. You can recall many nights spent at it, searching for solutions to Cybertron's problems. Your gaze is neutral, though inside you are far from calm.

“May I ask the reason why you decided to call me and...’’ Sentinel pauses briefly before looking at his colleague again. Starscream gives him the same look, as if daring him to make yet another annoying comment.

“Your behaviour,” you begin first again, closing your optics for a moment, trying to remain calm.

“It's all Sentinel's fault,” Starscream blurts out sharply, pointing at the blue-and-gold fur.

“Of course— stop. What?!” Sentinel exclaims, now it's his turn to be outraged.

“Incompetent, arrogant toady, he should have been removed from his position a long time ago, ” Starscream continues to recount, which can't help but cause Sentinel's optic to twitch.

“I'm talking about the both of you.”

Well, that certainly got their attention. And thankfully, so did shutting up.

No matter how tempting the idea of removing the two of them from their positions and sending them away, you can't raise your hand and dismiss them. How lucky you are that one of your brothers, while drinking high grade energon, blabbed to you about everything and gave you some wonderful idea.

“Whoever completes as many of my errands as possible during the week will receive a special reward from me.”

You pause again for a moment, watching their reactions. Both of your best subordinates look startled, but, extremely interested. For that reason, you continue.

“I expect excellent results. Don't disappoint.”

[ragvas]

Giant Stepmom

Amanda was a vision of perfection, a stepmother who had always been more than just a maternal figure to you. She stood 5' 9" (175 cm), with an enviable hourglass figure and a full D-cup chest. Her presence was captivating, from her warm smile to the way she carried herself with effortless grace. For as long as you could remember, you had admired her from afar, her beauty and charm quietly stealing your thoughts.

One day, while browsing the internet, you stumbled upon something that caught your attention: MILF MAX pills. The website claimed they could enhance a woman’s body in unimaginable ways, making her taller, curvier, and more confident. The idea intrigued you—Amanda was already stunning, but what if she became even more so? The thought sent your imagination spiraling.

After weeks of debating, you made a decision. You ordered the pills, convincing yourself that it was harmless. Amanda didn’t have to know. You’d slip one into her drink, and she’d experience the benefits without any suspicion.

It was a quiet evening when you finally put your plan into action. Amanda was relaxing in the kitchen, wearing a snug blouse and jeans that highlighted her curves. You prepared her favorite smoothie, carefully dissolving one of the pills into it before handing it to her.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said with a warm smile, taking a sip. She didn’t suspect a thing, chatting with you as she drank.

The next morning, you noticed something different. Amanda was standing in front of the mirror in the hallway, adjusting her blouse. It looked tighter than usual, the fabric straining slightly around her chest. Her D-cup breasts seemed fuller, rounder—perhaps an E-cup now.

She frowned slightly. “Hmm, did this shrink in the wash?” she muttered to herself, tugging at the hem.

You tried to act casual, but your heart was racing. Had the pill worked? You couldn’t help but notice that she looked... taller, too. When she turned to grab her bag, you realized she was now closer to 5' 10" (178 cm).

Amanda looked over her shoulder, catching your gaze in the mirror. She tilted her head slightly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she finished buttoning her blouse. The fabric was indeed straining against her new, larger breasts—now a full E-cup. She stepped closer to you, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and a hint of excitement. "Is everything okay?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her touch sent a jolt through you, and you felt the warmth of her palm even through your shirt. You nodded, trying to play it cool, but the tremor in your voice gave you away. She raised an eyebrow. "You seem... nervous."

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words to explain your feelings. "It's just... you look so... amazing today, Amanda," you managed to murmur. You couldn't tear your eyes away from her newfound grandeur. The way the blouse struggled to contain her breasts was mesmerizing. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Did you, uh, do something different with your hair?"

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "No, darling," she replied, her hand moving to her hair, which cascaded down her back like a chestnut waterfall. She twirled a lock around her finger, drawing your gaze even further up to her bust. "But I did feel like I'd outgrown my clothes. Maybe I need to go shopping." She stepped closer, her breasts brushing against your chest as she peered into the mirror. "What do you think?" Her voice was a purr, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I-I think you're... stunning," you stuttered, your eyes widening as you felt her breasts press against you. They felt so soft, so warm. You hadn't realized how much larger they had gotten until now, and the sensation was overwhelming. You took a step back, trying to compose yourself.

Her smirk grew wider, her eyes flicking down to her chest and back up to yours. "Thanks," she said, her voice a playful purr. She took a moment to appreciate her reflection, watching her E-cup breasts shift as she moved. "But I don't think I've changed that much," she mused, though the gleam in her eyes said she knew something was up. She playfully poked one of her nipples, causing it to peak under the fabric, and took a step closer. "Maybe I just need to get a better bra," she said, her breasts brushing against your chest again.

Your heart raced as her breasts brushed against you, and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty for your part in her transformation. But as you watched her play with her hair, the way the light danced off her deep brown eyes, and the way her full, red lips curved into a knowing smile, you felt something else—excitement. "I'm sure you'll find the perfect one," you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. You stepped aside, allowing her to pass, and couldn't help but stare at her hips as they swayed with her new height.

Amanda's eyes never left yours as she stepped away from the mirror, her smirk deepening as she saw the effect she had on you. She knew something was amiss, but she couldn't resist playing along. As she passed you, she leaned in close, her breath tickling your ear. "Maybe you should come with me and help me choose," she whispered, her voice thick with innuendo. Her hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. She walked away, the sound of her heels echoing in the hallway as she grew to 5' 11" (180 cm). The fabric of her blouse stretched tautly over her chest, now a generous F-cup, and her jeans hugged her hips, highlighting every curve. Her confidence grew with each step, and she could feel a strange power thrumming through her veins.

You nodded, your throat dry, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sure, I'd love to help," you managed to say, your eyes still glued to her swaying hips. The guilt was slowly being overtaken by curiosity and a thrill you hadn’t anticipated. You followed her, trying not to stare too blatantly at her growing frame. As she grew to 6 feet (183 cm), you felt a mix of awe and anxiety. This was more than you bargained for, but somehow, it was also everything you'd ever hoped for.

Amanda felt the pill's effects coursing through her, her body responding to the newfound power with an eager hunger. She turned to face you, her eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief. "I'm sure you would," she said, her voice dripping with double-entendres. She took a deep breath, her F-cup breasts rising and falling dramatically. She reached out and gently adjusted your collar, her fingers lingering around your neck, a hint of possession in her touch. "But first," she began, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I think we should have a little... talk." She led you into the living room, her towering figure casting a long shadow as she grew another inch to 6' 1" (186 cm). The fabric of her blouse strained further, hinting at the massive orbs beneath, now threatening to spill over. Her gaze was intense, and you couldn't help but feel both thrilled and intimidated as she sat down on the couch, her legs crossing elegantly and her breasts threatening to escape their fabric prison.

Your heart was racing as you followed her, trying to comprehend the situation. The living room felt smaller with her larger presence, and you sat down on the edge of the couch, knees slightly apart, trying not to stare at the way her breasts jiggled slightly with each movement. "W-what do you mean, Amanda?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She leaned back into the couch, her legs crossing and uncrossing, giving you brief glimpses of her smooth, toned thighs. At 6' 1" (186 cm) now, her breasts had grown to a G-cup, and the blouse was barely hanging on. She took a deep breath, causing her chest to heave, and you couldn't help but gasp at the sight. "Well," she began, her eyes twinkling, "I can't help but feel like something's... different." She leaned to the side, her breasts spilling slightly over the edge of the arm rest. "I've never felt so... alive. And I have a feeling you might know something about it."

You felt your cheeks burn as you sat on the edge of the couch. Her breasts looked so... huge. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, your voice shaking. You stared at the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

Amanda chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "I think you do," she said, her voice a velvety purr. She leaned back further, the couch groaning under her weight as her breasts strained against the blouse. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, the fabric parting to reveal her cleavage—deep and inviting. "Tell me," she continued, her eyes locked on yours, "what's been going through that naughty little mind of yours?" She grew another inch to 6' 2" (188 cm), and you could see her G-cup breasts pushing against the seams of her blouse. Her gaze was both challenging and alluring, making it hard for you to maintain your innocent act.

You squirmed under her gaze, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on you. "I-I just noticed you looked a little... bigger," you said, your eyes darting to her chest and back to her eyes. "It's probably just a... fluke." You tried to laugh it off, but the tremble in your voice betrayed your nerves. You sat up straight, trying to regain some semblance of control, but her presence was too overwhelming.

Amanda watched you fidget, her eyes narrowing slightly as she grew another inch to 6' 3" (191 cm), her breasts swelling to an H-cup. She knew you weren't telling her everything, but she enjoyed watching you squirm. "Bigger, huh?" she said, her voice a playful tease. She reached up and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, revealing the lacy bra that was now barely containing her voluminous breasts. The material was stretched to its limits, and you could see the faint outline of her areolae through the fabric. She leaned closer, her breath warm and sweet. "What makes you say that?" She let the question linger, her hand drifting to the bulging fabric of her blouse, tracing the curve of her cleavage. "Could it be these?" She asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, her eyes searching yours for any hint of guilt or admission.

You couldn't help but gulp at the sight of her breasts straining against the lace. "I-I just thought you might have had a really good breakfast," you tried to joke, your voice failing to hide your nerves. You felt your body responding to her closeness, your heart racing and your palms sweating. Her hand on her chest was hypnotizing, and you felt your resolve slipping away as she grew to 6' 4" (194 cm), her H-cup breasts threatening to spill out completely. "Maybe it's just my imagination," you added, hoping she wouldn't see through your facade.

Amanda's eyes searched yours, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she grew to 6' 5" (196 cm), her breasts now a jaw-dropping I-cup. She leaned back again, her massive breasts shifting and threatening to pop out of her bra with every movement. The fabric of her blouse was stretched so taut that you could clearly see the peaks of her nipples. She took off her blouse and reached behind her back and slowly unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her breasts bounced slightly as they were released from their confines, now fully exposed and seemingly gravity-defying. "Is it?" she asked, her voice a sultry whisper. "Or is there something else at play here?" She cupped one of her breasts, her hand barely covering half of it, and squeezed gently, her nipple stiffening in response. "You seem... interested in my 'breakfast'." She watched you, her smile growing wider, enjoying the power she held over you.

You couldn't take your eyes off her, the sight of her bare, colossal I-cup breasts taking your breath away. You swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't give you away. "I-I just... I mean, you do look... different," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt your face flush and your palms sweat as you stared at her bare chest. The room felt like it was closing in around you, the air thick with tension and desire.

"Different, hm?" she mused, her eyes never leaving yours. She grew another inch to 6' 6" (198 cm), her breasts now a monstrous J-cup. She leaned in closer, her nipples grazing your arm as she spoke. "How so?" Her voice was a seductive purr, filled with amusement and power. She knew you were hiding something, and she was going to make you admit it. Her hand trailed down to your thigh, her fingers lightly stroking the fabric of your pants, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

You gulped, feeling the heat of her breasts against you, and her touch sent a bolt of electricity through you. "I-I don't know," you lied again, your voice barely above a whisper. You tried to inch away, but your body was frozen in place. "It's probably just... stress," you said, trying to sound casual. But as she grew to 6' 7" (201 cm), her J-cup breasts pressing against you, you couldn't ignore the truth anymore.

Her hand slid further up your thigh, her nails lightly scratching the fabric. She leaned closer, her warm breath tickling your ear. "Stress, huh?" she whispered, a hint of mocking in her voice. She grew another inch to 6' 8" (203 cm), her J-cup breasts now threatening to swallow your arm. Her hand moved to your neck, her thumb gently stroking the pulse point that was racing under her touch. "Or could it be something more?" she purred, her voice dripping with desire. You could feel her power, her dominance, and it was intoxicating. Her breasts grew heavier, filling out to a K-cup, and she leaned back, watching your reaction with a predatory smile. "You know, I've been feeling... insatiable lately," she said, her eyes never leaving yours. "And I have a feeling you might be the one to satisfy me."

You felt a mix of fear and excitement as her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her eyes dark with intent. You couldn't lie to her anymore—she had you in the palm of her hand. "I-I might have done something," you admitted, your voice shaking. "But I didn't mean for it to go this far," you protested weakly.

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that resonated through your core. Her hand moved to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. "Far?" she echoed, her K-cup breasts rising and falling with each breath. "Darling, we're just getting started." She grew another inch to 6' 9" (206 cm), her breasts now a colossal L-cup. Her eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions playing out—desire, power, and a hint of possessiveness. "Tell me," she whispered, "what did you do?"

Your heart raced as Amanda's hand remained on your cheek, her thumb tracing circles that sent shivers down your spine. The weight of her breasts against your arm was unbearable, and you couldn't help but stare into her eyes, lost in their warm depths. "I-I found these pills," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "MILF MAX. They're supposed to make women more... curvy." You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the thrill of her touch kept you from looking away. "I just wanted to see if they worked," you added hastily, your eyes darting to her chest. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Amanda's eyes searched yours, a cocktail of emotions swirling in their depths. She grew another inch to 6' 10" (208 cm), her L-cup breasts swelling further, their weight slowly surrounding your arm further and further. She leaned back, her breasts bouncing slightly, and you could see the wheels turning in her mind. She took a deep breath, her chest heaving, and you felt the couch sink beneath her. "MILF MAX, huh?" she murmured, a smirk playing on her lips. She grew another inch to 6' 11" (211 cm), her breasts now a massive M-cup. Her hand slid away from your cheek, down to cup one of her massive breasts, her fingers barely wrapping around the base. "And what did you hope to achieve with these... pills?" she asked, her voice a purr as she gently squeezed her nipple, watching the effect it had on you. You felt your breath hitch as her eyes grew more intense, the power in her gaze making you feel both tiny and incredibly important. "Was it for me, or for you?" she inquired, her hand moving to trace the outline of her other breast, her thumb brushing over the nipple.

You swallowed hard, her question hitting a nerve. "For... for you?" You murmured, unable to tear your gaze away from her breasts. "I... I just wanted you to be a bit... bigger. I... didn't know it would be... so much," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of awe and trepidation. Her touch was hypnotic, and you felt yourself leaning into her, your body responding to her dominance despite your fear.

Her smirk grew into a knowing smile, and she leaned in closer, her M-cup breasts pressing into your side. "Ah, so you did slip me something," she said, her voice a warm caress. "How clever of you to choose my favorite smoothie." She grew another inch to 7 feet (214 cm), her breasts now a staggering N-cup, their weight and presence overwhelming the space around you. "And just how big do you want me to get, darling?" she purred, her hand sliding down to rest on her stomach. The fabric of her jeans strained against her hips, the seams threatening to burst with every movement.

You felt the couch groan under the new weight of her body, her closeness making it hard to think. "I... I don't know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Her breasts were so... massive. You felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. "I... just wanted your breasts to be a bit... bigger," you said, your eyes darting to her chest. "But this... it's more than I could have ever imagined."

A glint of mischief entered her eyes at your admission. "A bit bigger?" she echoed, her voice filled with amusement as she grew to 7' 1" (216 cm), her breasts now a staggering O-cup. "I am feeling a bit parched." She leaned back, her breasts spilling over the arm of the couch. "Why don't you make me a smoothie, darling?" she said, her tone a seductive purr. "Just the way you did yesterday. It was so delicious. Uhm..."

You nodded, your gaze lingering on her breasts. "Of... of course," you murmured, standing up shakily. Your legs felt weak under her intense gaze. "W... what flavor?" you asked, trying to sound casual as you retreated into the kitchen, her words echoing in your mind.

Amanda watched you leave, a smug smile playing on her lips. As you retreated into the kitchen, she grew another inch to 7' 2" (219 cm), her breasts swelling to a size P. She leaned back into the couch, her breasts spilling around her, the fabric of the couch stretching under her weight. She called after you, her voice a siren's song, "Same as yesterday, darling. Don't forget the secret ingredient." She winked, the hint of a challenge in her eyes.

You felt a mix of excitement and dread as you went into the kitchen. You knew what she meant by "the secret ingredient." You grabbed another MILF MAX pill from the bottle you hid in the kitchen yesterday and crushed it with a spoon before mixing it into the smoothie. As you watched the pill dissolve, you couldn't help but wonder how much more she would grow. You brought the smoothie back out to her, your heart racing as you handed it over. "Here you go," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

She took the smoothie from your trembling hand with a knowing smile, her eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, darling," she said, her voice a purr. She took a sip, savoring the taste. As she grew another inch to 7' 3" (221 cm), her breasts expanded further, reaching a size Q. "Mm, just how I like it," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the pulsing vein in your neck. "Now, tell me," she began, leaning back into the couch, "what other... changes have you noticed in me?"

You swallowed hard, unable to ignore the way your body was responding to her. "Well, you're definitely... curvier," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Your breasts are... much larger."

She chuckled, her Q-cup breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. "Much larger, huh?" she said, arching an eyebrow. She took another sip of the smoothie, her eyes never leaving yours. As she grew to 7' 4" (224 cm), the couch groaned under her weight, her breasts swelling to a size R. She reached out and placed her hand on your leg, her touch feather-light yet electric. "And do you like what you see?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

You felt your body respond to her touch, a warmth spreading through you. "I... I do," you admitted, your voice hoarse. "They're... amazing." You couldn't help but stare at her breasts, now spilling over her massive thighs. You felt your heart race as she grew another inch to 7' 5" (227 cm).

Her eyes glinted with satisfaction at your admission. She took another sip of her smoothie, the cold liquid sliding down her throat as she grew to 7' 6" (229 cm), her R-cup breasts swelling to a size S.

"Good boy," she murmured, her hand moving up to gently squeeze your thigh. "Now, tell me more. What about my touch? Is it different?" She grew another inch to 7' 7" (232 cm), her breasts now a tantalizing T-cup, and you felt the couch sink a bit more. Her grip tightened slightly, a gentle reminder of her power.

You nodded, your heart racing under her touch. "Y-yes," you stuttered. "It's... stronger, more... intense." You could feel your body responding, your thoughts a jumbled mess as she grew to 7' 8" (234 cm). Her breasts, now an U-cup, seemed to fill the room, their weight and presence impossible to ignore.

Amanda took another sip of her smoothie, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she felt your body respond. She grew another inch to 7' 9" (237 cm), her breasts now a size V. "Intense, you say?" She leaned in closer.

Setting her drink aside, she reached out and placed her hand on your chest, feeling your heart pound beneath her palm. "Let's see if I can make it even more intense," she whispered, her eyes darkening with desire as she grew to 7' 10" (239 cm), her breasts swelling to a W-cup.

Her hand slid up to your neck, her grip firm but gentle, as she grew another inch to 7' 11" (242 cm). Her massive W-cup breasts creating a valley of cleavage that beckoned you closer. "Tell me," she breathed, "what do you want?"

You swallowed hard, your heart racing under her hand. "I... I want to see how much more you can grow," you confessed, your voice shaking with excitement and nerves.

Amanda's smile grew wider as she took another sip, her breasts swelling to a X-cup. "Is that all?" she teased, her hand sliding up to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. She grew another inch to 8 feet (244 cm), her breasts now an Y-cup, filling the space between you. "I think you want more than just that," she whispered, her eyes searching yours.

You felt a jolt of desire at her touch. "I-I do," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I want... I want to see all of you." You couldn't believe the words leaving your mouth, but it was true. You were utterly captivated by her transformation.

She grew another inch to 8' 1" (247 cm), her breasts now a Z-cup. Her eyes searched yours, the power in her gaze making you feel both terrified and thrilled. "You want to see all of me?" she purred, her hand moving down to rest on your chest again. "I can give you that."

With an elegance that seemed impossible for her immense size, Amanda rose to her full, towering height. Her impossibly large breasts swayed heavily, mesmerizing you with their hypnotic rhythm as she loomed over you like a divine being made flesh. Her eyes locked onto yours, a playful spark dancing within their depths, as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans. The strained denim groaned in protest, clinging to her widened hips before finally surrendering to her strength. Slowly, she peeled the fabric away, revealing her soaked panties, the thin material no match for the swelling curves it barely concealed.

With a smirk that radiated confidence and mischief, Amanda hooked her fingers into the flimsy waistband and tore the panties clean off in a single motion, the ripping sound echoing through the room like a declaration of her growing dominance. The remnants of her clothing fell at her feet, and she stepped forward, fully bare, her towering figure casting an imposing shadow over you. Her every motion radiated sensuality, her curves glowing with an aura of overwhelming power and allure.

She leaned down with deliberate slowness, her massive breasts hanging heavily and brushing against your chest, her warmth enveloping you completely. Her lips claimed yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was overpowering, her sheer size and presence making your heart race and your mind whirl. Her hand cupped your cheek with surprising gentleness, a stark contrast to the raw, unstoppable force she had become. You were utterly lost, drowning in her dominance and the overwhelming reality of her transformation.

"Is this what you wanted?" she murmured against your mouth, her voice thick with desire. She grew another inch to 8' 2" (249 cm), her breasts reaching an A2-cup, the weight of them seeming to anchor her to the earth. Her hand slid down to your crotch, feeling your arousal with a knowing smirk. "To see me like this?"

You nodded, unable to speak, your eyes wide as you took in the sight of her. The fabric of your clothes strained against the pressure of her breasts, and you could feel her power, her dominance, her absolute control. "Y-yes," you managed to get out, your voice trembling.

Amanda chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to resonate in the very air around you. "Good," she said, her voice a warm caress as she grew another inch to 8' 3" (252 cm), her breasts now a formidable B2-cup. She reached down, her fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders, leaving you bare before her. "Because, darling," she whispered, her breath hot on your skin, "once we start, there's no going back."

You could feel your body responding to her, your heart racing and your breath coming in short gasps. You nodded, unable to find the words to express the mix of emotions coursing through you.

She took a step back, her eyes raking over your exposed chest, and with a knowing smile, she grew another inch to 8' 4" (254 cm). "Your heart is racing," she said, her voice a seductive purr as she reached out to lay her hand over your chest. "Why is that?"

You felt her hand cover your heart, the warmth of her palm spreading through your body. "I-it's just... the way you're looking at me," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Her touch was like a brand, searing your skin with the reality of her power and beauty.

She grew another inch to 8' 5" (257 cm), her breasts reaching an even more monstrous C2-cup. "Is it fear, or excitement?" she asked, her eyes searching yours. "Or perhaps a bit of both?" Her hand trailed down your torso, the heat from her skin leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You couldn't lie to her. Not anymore. "Both," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation. Her touch was like nothing you had ever felt before, the power behind it making you feel both weak and incredibly alive.

A slow smile spread across her face, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she grew another inch to 8' 6" (259 cm), her breasts swelling to a D2-cup. "Both," she echoed, her voice a seductive purr. "Perfect." She stepped closer, her massive breasts brushing against your bare chest, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body.

"Now, tell me," she whispered, her hand sliding down to the button of your pants, "are you ready to experience all of me?" Her touch was a tease, her fingertips tracing the outline of your growing erection through the fabric. You could feel the warmth of her breath on your neck as she grew another inch to 8' 7" (262 cm). Her breasts now an E2-cup, their weight was staggering.

Anon: You nodded, your breath coming in shallow pants. "Y-yes," you managed to get out, your voice barely a whisper. The anticipation was unbearable, your body aching for more.

She leaned down, her massive E2-cup breasts enveloping you as she kissed you again, deeper this time. As her tongue danced with yours, you felt her hand deftly unbutton and unzip your pants, the warmth of her palm sending shivers down your spine. She grew another inch to 8' 8" (264 cm), her breasts swelling to a F2-cup. Her hand slipped inside, wrapping around you, her gentle grip sending bolts of pleasure through your core. "You're mine now," she murmured, her voice a low, sultry growl.

You whimpered into her mouth, unable to resist her touch. Her hand felt so warm, so powerful. You nodded, your body trembling with need. "Y-yes," you breathed, the words a surrender to her dominance.

A triumphant smile claimed her lips as she grew another inch to 8' 9" (267 cm), her breasts now a G2-cup. She felt your hardness in her hand, growing firmer with every beat of your racing heart. "Good," she murmured, her grip tightening slightly as she grew to 8' 10" (270 cm). "You're going to need all that stamina," she whispered, her eyes gleaming.

With surprising grace, she knelt before you. Her hands, now larger and more powerful than ever before, reached for the waistband of your pants. With a single, smooth motion, she pulled them down, taking your socks with them in one swift tug. You felt the fabric slide down your legs, leaving you utterly bare before her. She took in the sight of you, her eyes hungry and filled with a motherly possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.

She leaned in, her smile widening as she took in the sight of your arousal. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of power and affection, and she planted a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of your erect cock. The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a gentle yet overwhelming wave of pleasure. Then, with a swift, fluid motion that defied her new size, she rose to her feet, now 8' 11" (272 cm) with breathtaking H2-cup breasts. She towered over you, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire as she licked her lips.

With a dramatic flourish, Amanda took the smoothie from the table and downed it in one gulp, her Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. Her eyes closed in ecstasy.

As the potent mixture of the MILF MAX pill and the smoothie surged through her body, Amanda couldn't help but revel in the feeling. She placed the empty glass down and cupped her breasts, now massive H2-cups, with both hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. As she did, her eyes snapped open, and a loud, guttural moan escaped her lips, reverberating through the room. Milk burst forth from her swollen nipples in powerful streams, soaking her hands and cascading down her torso like a torrent. Her body shuddered, and she quickly grew another 5 inches, reaching an imposing 9'5" (287 cm), her head nearly brushing the ceiling. The overwhelming sensation left her panting, her eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger as she looked down at you with an almost predatory grin.

You stared in amazement as milk spurted from her nipples, painting her chest and hands in a display of unbridled power. You felt your own desires stirring, a strange mix of arousal and awe. "A-Amanda?" You stuttered, your voice filled with wonder and confusion.

She looked down at you, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "It seems the pills have a few more surprises for us," she said, her voice thick with lust as she wiped the excess milk off her hands with her thumbs, smearing it across her swollen, pebbled areolae. "Do you like what you see?" she asked, her smile wicked and her eyes gleaming as she grew to 9' 6" (290 cm), her breasts now an I2-cup.

You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the scene playing out before you. "It's... amazing," you murmured, your voice thick with desire.

"A-amazing," she echoed, her voice dripping with amusement as she grew to 9' 7" (292 cm), her I2-cup breasts swelling to a J2-cup. She took a step closer, the floorboards creaking beneath her immense weight. "And do you know what's even better than watching me grow?" she whispered, her breath hot on your skin.

You shook your head, your eyes glued to the mesmerizing sight of her breasts, now swollen and leaking milk. "W-what?" you asked, your voice barely a whimper.

"Better than watching me grow," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she leaned down and scooped you into her arms with surprising ease. You were so small compared to her, your body fitting perfectly against her chest, her massive J2-cup breasts enveloping you as if you were a tiny toy to be played with. "Is feeling it," she said, her voice a seductive whisper.

With a playful smile, she gently cradled you in the crook of one arm, her hand easily supporting your butt. The other hand guided one of her swollen, milk-soaked nipples to your mouth, pressing it against your parted lips with a firm but tender touch. You felt the heat of her skin, the softness of her aureolae, and the hardness of her nipple as it filled your mouth. She was so large, so powerful, that holding you was as effortless as cradling a baby to her bosom.

The taste of her milk was unlike anything you've ever experienced - sweet, slightly tangy, and filled with a warmth that seemed to spread through your entire body. You instinctively began to suckle, the action feeling so natural despite the surreal situation.

A soft moan escaped Amanda's lips as she felt your mouth latch onto her nipple, the warmth of your mouth sending waves of pleasure through her. Her moan deepened, echoing through the room, as she suddenly surged taller, her height increasing to an imposing 9' 9" (298 cm), her head almost hitting the ceiling. She carefully bent her head, her forehead grazing the ceiling. She began to navigate the room, her towering 9' 9" (298 cm) frame bent slightly to accommodate the human-sized doorways that now felt like tight, claustrophobic tunnels. The floorboards creaked beneath her, a testament to the weight of her J2-cup breasts that she held you against as she made her way to the bedroom.

You couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort as you nursed from her, the warm milk coating your tongue and filling your mouth. You looked up at her, your eyes filled with a mix of awe and love, watching her navigate the room with a grace that seemed almost godlike.

She looked down at you with a motherly affection that sent a thrill through your body. Her hand gently stroked your hair as you continued to suckle, her milk seemingly never-ending. "You're doing so well," she murmured, her voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate through the very air. She grew another inch to 9' 10" (300 cm), her breasts now a K2-cup, the weight of them seemingly increasing with every drop of milk that spilled into your mouth.

As she lay you down on the bed, her massive body looming over you, the mattress groaned under the weight of her newfound size. She hovered over you, her breasts hanging low, the nipples still leaking milk onto your face. Her hand caressed your cheek, her eyes filled with love and desire. "You've made me so happy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she suddenly grew to 10 feet (305 cm), her K2-cup breasts now a L2-cup, swollen and heavy with milk. "I never knew I could feel so alive."

You looked up at her, the warm milk dripping down your cheeks as you reached up to cup one of her breasts.

"Mmm," she moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt your small hand against her massive L2-cup. "I like that," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. With a gentle touch, she guided her other breast to your mouth, and you eagerly took the nipple between your lips, the sweet, warm milk filling your mouth. Her hand slipped down your body, her fingers tracing the contours of your abs before moving lower.

You felt her hand on your thigh, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you continued to drink from her. The feeling of her power and dominance was intoxicating, making you want to give in to her completely.

As you suckled greedily, Amanda's eyes grew dark with need. She grew another inch to 10' 1" (308 cm), her L2-cup breasts swelling to M2-cups. Her hand slid down further.

With a gentle but firm grip, she wrapped her fingers around your erection, stroking it with surprising finesse for someone so large. Her touch sent electric currents through your body, making you moan around her nipple. She chuckled, the sound low and thrilling, and grew to 10' 3" (313 cm), her M2-cup breasts now a size N2-cup.

"You like that, don't you?" she whispered, her eyes half-lidded with lust as she grew to 10' 4" (315 cm). Her strokes grew more confident, her hand moving in time with the rhythm of your suckling. "This power... it's like nothing I've ever felt before," she murmured, her voice thick with pleasure.

You nodded, the sensation of her massive breasts and her stroking hand overwhelming your senses. Your body responded to her touch, your hips moving in sync with her hand.

"Mmm," she purred, her voice a siren's call that seemed to resonate in your very bones. "It seems we've unlocked more than just growth with those pills," she said, her eyes gleaming as she grew to 10' 5" (318 cm), her breasts now an O2-cup. Her hand moved with purpose, her strokes becoming more demanding as she grew to 10' 6" (320 cm) with P2-cup breasts. "You like it when I'm in charge, don't you?" she whispered, her thumb circling the sensitive head of your cock as her milk flowed freely into your mouth.

You nodded, your mouth too full of her to respond with words. The taste of her milk was intoxicating, and the feeling of her massive breasts against your body was more than you could ever have imagined.

She grew another inch to 10' 7" (323 cm), her breasts swelling to a Q2-cup size. "Good," she murmured, her strokes growing more deliberate. "Because, my little one," she said, her voice a sultry purr, "I'm just getting started." She leaned down, her breasts engulfing you as she whispered in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You nodded fervently, your mouth still full of her warm, sweet milk. Your body was a symphony of pleasure, her strokes and the weight of her breasts creating a crescendo that left you trembling beneath her.

Her smile grew wider as she felt your response, her strokes becoming more deliberate, her hand a vice grip around your shaft as she grew to 10' 8" (326 cm) with R2-cup breasts. She watched your face, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, as her hand worked its magic. "Mm, yes," she whispered, her own breathing growing heavier. "Take it all in, darling."

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as her breasts grew to an unimaginable size of S2 cup, filling your vision. The taste of her milk, the power in her touch, it was all consuming. You nodded again, eager for whatever she had planned next.

With a smirk, Amanda gently pulled her nipple from your mouth. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, "You're going to make me grow so much more, aren't you?" Her hand tightened around your erection, stroking faster as she grew to 10' 9" (328 cm).

You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with need. The room felt hot, the air thick with the scent of her milk and the power that surrounded her.

Amanda's smile grew more wicked as she felt your body respond to her words. She knew exactly what you wanted, what you craved. She leaned in closer, her massive S2-cup breasts pressing against you, the weight of them a delicious pressure as she whispered in your ear. "You want to make me grow more, don't you?" Her hand didn't stop moving, her strokes growing faster, more urgent.

You nodded frantically, the pleasure building within you as you felt her breasts against your body, her milk-soaked nipple grazing your cheek. "Y-yes," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from the overwhelming sensations.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she grew another inch to 10' 10" (331 cm), her S2-cup breasts swelling quickly to a T2-cup. "Keep going," she encouraged, her voice a low, seductive growl. "Make me feel as powerful as you know I am." Her hand tightened around you, her strokes becoming more forceful as she watched you squirm beneath her.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Her power, her beauty, it was all too much to handle. "A-amanda," you moaned, the sound muffled by the soft flesh of her breast.

With a low chuckle, she leaned in further, her T2-cup breasts pressing down on you like pillows of pure ecstasy. "That's it," she murmured, her hand moving with the precision of a maestro. "Make me grow, baby."

You could feel the orgasm building within you, each stroke of her hand pushing you closer to the edge. Her breasts felt like heaven against your body, the warmth of her milk seeping into your skin.

She grew to 10' 11" (333 cm), her breasts now an U2-cup size, and her hand didn't miss a beat. Her grip was like steel, yet her touch was as soft as a feather. "Tell me," she whispered, her eyes dark with desire. "What do you want?"

You gasped for air, her breasts smothering you, the sweet scent of her milk filling your nose. "I-I want you to keep growing," you managed to say, the pressure of her breasts against your chest making it hard to breathe.

A wicked smile curved her lips as she grew to 11' 1" (338 cm) with V2-cup breasts. "Is that all?" she teased, her strokes growing more deliberate. "Tell me, what do you really want?"

You felt the room spinning as her breasts grew, your mind racing with the implications of her question. "I-I want... I want to worship you," you confessed, the words slipping from your mouth before you could think them through.

Her strokes grew even more forceful, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she grew to 11' 2" (341 cm), her breasts now a size W2-cup. "Worship me?" she repeated, her voice a purr. "How do you intend to do that?"

You nodded, your eyes wide with desire as you stared up at her. "Any way you want," you murmured, feeling her power wash over you.

She grew to 11' 3" (343 cm), her breasts now a X2-cup. "I want you to crave every inch of me," she said, her hand moving faster as her excitement grew. "To adore me as the goddess I am becoming."

You nodded, lost in the sensation of her powerful strokes. The weight of her breasts was both terrifying and exhilarating, leaving you feeling incredibly vulnerable and small.

A thrill shot through Amanda as she felt your submission. She grew another inch to 11' 4" (346 cm), her X2-cup breasts now an Y2-cup size. "You want to worship these?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper, her hand still working its magic on your erection.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you replied, your voice a needy whimper.

She leaned in closer, her Y2-cup breasts now pressing down on you like heavenly pillows, their weight both crushing and comforting. "Good boy," she murmured, her hand moving with the confidence of a goddess. "Now, tell me, what is it you want from me?"

You struggled to form words, your mind racing with the sensations of her touch and the overwhelming presence of her massive breasts. "I-I want to make you big," you managed to say, your voice quivering with passion.

Her eyes lit up with excitement as she grew to 11' 5" (348 cm), her Y2-cup breasts swelling to become Z2-cups. "How big, baby?" she whispered, her hand stroking you with purposeful intent. "How much do you want to see me grow?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of her massive breasts against you. "As big as you can get," you replied, your voice trembling with excitement.

At your words, Amanda's smile grew wider, and she leaned closer, her Z2-cup breasts engulfing you completely. "Is that all?" she teased, her hand never stopping its delicious torment.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of your desire. The warmth and weight of her breasts was smothering, yet you felt a strange comfort in her power. "Y-yes," you panted, the pressure building within you.

Amanda's eyes gleamed with excitement as she grew to 11' 6" (351 cm), her breasts swelling to an A3-cup. "Keep telling me," she urged, her hand stroking faster. "How big do you want me to get?" Her voice was a siren's call, her breath warm and sweet with the scent of her milk.

You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the room spinning as her breasts grew to B3-cups.

"As... as big as the sky," you murmured, the words slipping out of your mouth unbidden, your body lost to the overwhelming pleasure of her touch.

A low, thrilled chuckle rumbled in her chest, vibrating through her B3-cup breasts and into your body. She grew to 11' 7" (354 cm), her breasts becoming C3-cups. "The sky, huh?" she said, her hand moving faster, her strokes more deliberate. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you?"

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure grew unbearable. Her breasts felt like the universe itself pressing down on you, a crushing force of beauty and power.

Amanda's eyes sparkled with excitement, her strokes growing more deliberate. "Well, I guess we'll have to see about that," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to echo in the room.

The room felt like it was spinning as the pressure of her C3-cup breasts grew, the sweet warmth of her milk seeping into every pore of your being. You nodded again, your eyes glazed over with need.

She leaned in closer, her C3-cup breasts pressing down on you, the warmth of her milk spreading across your chest like a warm blanket. "Anything for you," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. Her hand didn't stop moving, her strokes growing more intense as she grew to 11' 8" (356 cm) with D3-cup breasts.

As she felt you nearing climax, Amanda's eyes widened with excitement. She leaned down, her massive D3-cup breasts brushing against your legs, and took your throbbing erection into her mouth. Her warm, wet mouth closed around you, and she began to suck with surprising strength and skill. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You moaned loudly, your body arching off the bed as you grabbed onto her hair, pulling her closer as you reached the peak of your pleasure. Your eyes squeezed shut as you released, and she eagerly took it all, drinking your essence as if it were the finest nectar. Her throat contracted around you, milking every last drop. As she swallowed, you could feel the heat of your release spread through her, and she grew another 3 inches to 11' 11" (364 cm), her D3-cup breasts swelling to become E3-cups.

With a satisfied smirk, she pulled back, releasing your now-sensitive member from her warm, velvety embrace. Her tongue swiped over her lips, collecting every drop of your cum, and she watched you with hooded eyes as she brought one of her massive E3-cup breasts to her mouth. She suckled her own nipple with a slow, deliberate motion, drawing a stream of milk into her mouth. Her eyes never left yours as she swallowed, the muscles in her throat dancing with the effort. "Mmm," she hummed, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Ah... So refreshing... My milk is relly good... Hmm... No wonder you seem to love it so much, little one. If you are a good boy, I will let you suck some more later."

You lay there, panting, your eyes glued to the sight of her suckling her own nipple. The power dynamics in the room had shifted so much since this all began, and yet it felt so natural, so right. Her dominance was absolute, and you found yourself craving it. "I... I will," you breathed, still trying to process what had just happened.

She licked her lips, her E3-cup breasts heavy and full of milk. "Good," she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. With a grace that defied her new size, she leaned over you, her breasts looming like two moons. "But for now," she whispered, her breath warm on your skin, "I need more of your love."

"Why don't you go to the kitchen, sweetheart," she purred, her eyes filled with a mischievous glint, "and whip up one of those heavenly smoothies of yours? We have a long way to grow before I reach the skies."

-----

You can find more like this at my deviantart. 😊

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/ragvas

[ohhiimweird]

Reunited but a little Different (Dan Heng)

Or in which you see Imbibity dibity for the first time

Character: Dan Heng

Reader pronouns: they/them (gender neutral)

Tags: fluff, Dan Heng being insecure, Stelle is trailblazer cause that's who I chose

Dan Heng was someone who kept to himself, especially about his past. You were now beginning to suspect that all of his secrets weren't as bad as you thought they were. Because one of his secrets is that he's a beautiful dragon man.

You squinted at his true vidiyadhara form. His long, dark hair draped over his shoulders. A pair of horns sprouted from his temples. Aeons, was he showing skin?! Dan Heng? The most modest man you've ever met had a boob window. March and Stelle weren't as in awe as you were about this. You didn't get it. This man was gorgeous. Well, he was already handsome, and maybe you had a teensy tiny crush on him, but this was so different.

You kept staring even after Jing Yuan accompanied the rest of you to Scalegorge Waterscape. Dan Heng avoided eye contact with you the whole time. It was fine but also not fine at the same time. You found his pointy ears hidden beneath his hair. However, you couldn't gaze into those beautiful blue eyes he has. Oh well, he was never good with eye contact, anyways.

"Are you done staring?" Dan Heng's voice was the last thing you expected to hear.

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you immediately looked away from him. "I'm not staring," you blurted.

"You're a terrible liar."

You glanced back at him. His expression was unreadable. If you looked closely, there was a slight pout.

"Sorry. I don't mean it in a bad way, it's just..." You tried figuring out how to tell Dan Heng you thought he was hot, but you came up empty.

"I'm like a different person?" Dan Heng finished your sentence.

"Kind of...you're still you," you said. "I'm not gonna call you that other guy's name because you got hotter--"

Shit.

"You didn't hear that last bit," you interrupted yourself.

Dan Heng watched as you scurried towards March and Stelle. Your cheeks were dusted with shades of bright pink and red.

Dan Heng always thought you were a simple person. He admired that simplicity. Perhaps that's what he needed right now.

[serendipitous-girl]

warnings: suicidal thoughts, ideation, reckless behavior, depression, the works

You don't know the sound of the end until you hear it yourself. The last words you ever hear, are they harsh? Are they loving? Do they beat at your heart until it's a bloody and bruised mess of an organ? Or do they hold onto your fading love and cherish it like a generational heirloom.

Perhaps you did know what it sounded like, although you hadn't realized at the time. Saying the last love yous to your parents, kissing your baby brother's forehead for the last time. Joking around with your friends. It all came to an end, so suddenly and abruptly.

You were a ghost and surely this was some sort of hell. Trapped without those you know, struggling to survive in the strange unknown.

Your heart was empty, drained of all the blood and love it usually needs to survive. You were less than a ghost, you were a corpse. Maybe you should bury yourself alive, let the dirt swallow you whole until you are nothing but fleshy food for the creatures of the ground.

Sometimes, you wondered if you even still had blood beneath your veins. If you were to take a dagger and slice it across your palm, would that ruby red drip past or would it stay silent? Would your body cry out or would you stay forever mute?

How long have you been in this place? Months or years- it was hard to keep track when your brain had shut off long ago. A puppet for others pleasure, to be used and used. He didn't see you, not truly. He just wanted you to be useful, not to be a human.

Did you do something cruel in your old life? Was this some sort of divine punishment? Maybe this was the universe telling you, you don't deserve love or affection. You deserve this.

To be worked like a dog day and night. To be forced to save those you don't even know, all the while sacrificing your own sanity. None of these people can understand the way your body is nothing but a bag measly holding onto your soul when all you wished to do was let go.

Could they see the haunted look in your eyes? The dark bags under them? The sickly pallor of your skin? The way you dragged your feet as if it took too much energy to walk properly.

Or worse, did they see the way you treated your life with reckless abandon? The way you were so willing to die, like you were wishing it might happen already.

The night grows tired and the day awakens, more moments that you are away from your home. A fish out of water, a monster among gods.

You would have to get through another day, you would have to force yourself through it all. Just for those you didn't seem to even care for you nearly as much as you did for them. Would they die for you the way you would die for them? would they live for you the way you are for them?

One day, maybe, you might be able to feel that rope hug your neck. Or feel the liquid fill your lungs like an elixir of peace. One day, you might die. So you can once again feel alive.

But that day is not now, and it feels nowhere close. You have to protect those who can't protect themselves. You need to be there for them, even if they may not return the sentiment. Were you a hero? Perhaps, but it didn't matter. You'd take the chance to die if it were an option.

“Someday,” you whispered, your voice croaky and dry from lack of use, “I will return home.”

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.