#I am not even attempting to teach today

[dumbass-bisexual]

It’s Halloween and I’m an elementary school teacher so pray for me

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[thesummerestsolstice]

Notes on Keeping the Children Alive, by Maedhros Feanorian

One of them tried to bite me yesterday. A spirited effort, but doomed to failure. I will teach them how to do it better– their teeth are certainly sharp enough for it.

Woke up with flowers growing through the crack in my bedroom window. I suspect this is their doing. They are not very good liars.

Letting them climb on me has proved an effective bribe for good behavior.

They appear to like being tall. (possibly related to being descended from Turgon and Thingol??)

They stopped being afraid of me faster than most adults. Am I losing my touch???

Disregard previous note. Eldritch monsters recognize each other.

Am teaching them how to make the most of their shapeshifting abilities for political intimidation. They are shaping up to be menaces. Good.

Twins are old enough to begin swordfighting, and clearly eager, regardless of what Maglor says.

I have taught the children to argue with Maglor. I am certain they will eventually wear him down.

Gave the children more blankets so they would stop using my cloak as a blanket. New blankets have been resolutely ignored.

I am sure they'll stop commandeering my coat if I ask them.

I have decided not to ask them. (They are very cute when they are asleep)

Children are now attempting to negotiate their way out of bedtime.

Small animals appear to like the children. Especially birds.

They found a kitten in the stables yesterday. They would like to keep it.

Teaching the children to argue may have been an error.

Children asked whether it was possible to have three fathers. I am uncertain why. (Thingol homophobic??)

One of the children called me "Atar" today. Definitely did not cry about it. Not even a little bit.

It appears the children were asking about three fathers because they would like to be adopted.

I informed them that two fathers was the limit, but that Maglor could be their second mother, if they like.

Kano was too stunned at being acknowledged as the children's parent to correct them about calling him "Amme." Another successful plan.

(Kano, if you're reading this, then yes, this is payback for referring to me as a "brooding drama queen" for patrolling Himring's walls, in a very un-dramatic way, like a normal, responsible lord)

(Also, you of all people do not get to criticize me for being dramatic)

The children's Quenya is finally good enough for them to start reading higher level diplomacy treatises. I couldn't be prouder.

The children have never done anything wrong, ever, in their lives. I know this and I love them.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, preparations

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series masterlist

summary - lando and y/n begin their quest to prepare for their baby on the way, while their first baby is just happy to be included. 

masterlist

-

“baby? do you have everything?” you called out to your three year old, attempting to teach him some independence with his attire, yet regretting it instantly. finn walked into your view wearing a bright red ferrari t shirt, purple shorts, mismatched socks, and a papaya mclaren baseball cap to top off the look. 

“well don’t you look dashing?” your husband laughs out from behind you towards his son. 

“tank you, dada!” finn happily screeches back, “i pick it by myself!”

“you did?!” lando fakes his surprise to the young boy, holding his chest and raising his eyebrows for the emphasis, “you’re such a big boy, finn!”

“i am! i big like you dada!” finn jumps at the praise and begins to clap, excited by the attention and thrill of being compared to his father. you couldn’t help but join in on the laughs and allow finn to go out as he was dressed, even though you really wanted him to be a bit more coordinated - you couldn’t be bothered with the day ahead of you. 

you and lando were preparing the nursery today, and the first stop was shopping. although you had the large items such as the crib and changing station from finn, you wanted this baby to also have newer items and ones that were their own. especially since after finn grew out of most of his things, lando had just donated them in order to clear up space in the home. 

there was also another reason - the sex of the baby. you and lando had found out yesterday, and wanted a fresh nursery. 

-

yesterday - doctor’s office

you were lying back in the chair, gown on and ready for your ultrasound. lando’s hand had not left yours since getting out of the car on the way in. his grip was tight, as was your own. you were both riddled with nerves to find out the gender today. 

“i’m so excited,” you squeak out in a whisper to your husband, giggles filling your voice due to the butterflies filling your stomach. 

“me too, y/n. i hope it’s a girl,” he breathes out, joining in your quiet laughter, attempting to tame the nerves. 

“i think it will be, i had a dream two nights ago with a pink nursery in it,” you relay back to him, lando just stares back at you with a wide smile, a hand coming up slowly to stroke your stomach. 

-

and it was a girl. a strong, healthy girl the doctor said would be the size of a bell pepper at five months along. you and lando were absolutely giddy for the shopping trip and so was finn. to welcome little baby girl norris into this world in a few months was all the buzz in the home. finn was absolutely raving about having a little sister as you and your husband were so happy he was taking it well. 

“alright norris family, time to go!” lando calls out from the front door, “let’s go!” 

“i coming! i coming!” finn yells out, wobbling out of his room and towards lando’s legs. he stops an inch before the crash into them, but not without losing his balance and tumbling into your husband’s sturdy hold. not trusted by his own two feet anymore, he’s now perched on lando’s hip as you walk towards the door. 

“i think i’ve got everything,” you sigh out, looking into your bag one last time. 

“snacks?” lando asks, to begin your routine of a verbal checklist ever since your baby brain had kicked in. 

“goldfish and pretzels,” you reply, hearing a quiet ‘yay’ with a clap from your first-born. 

“wallet?”

“yes,”

“keys,”

“you have those,”

“right, wipes?”

“yes, i think it’s all here,”

“okay, we can always stop back if we need anything,” lando assures you as he pulls you closer for a quick kiss to the lips, “now let’s go if we want to get back a bit early,”

“right, right,” you move to kiss your son’s head and give him a quick tickle, “we’ve gotta go before dada’s in a mood, right baby?” finn giggles at your antics as lando rolls his eyes with a laugh, pushing his family out of the door. 

-

“momma! this one!” finn yells out into the store, leading you to turn around and see what he was presenting you with. 

“oh, honey,” you chuckle in amusement, “lan, look what our lovely son wants to purchase for our daughter,” you grab lando’s attention and he just groans beside you.

“really, finn? ferrari merch for my daughter too?” lando playfully scolds his son as finn just pushes the little red onesie closer to your filled up cart, “nuh uh, back it up mister,” lando grabs the onesie from finn and places it back on the rack, instead trading it for a certain papaya one. 

“is that better for you and your ego, lan?” you ask with a laugh, poking his stomach to tease him further.

“i can handle finn being a fan, but this baby? she’s gonna be full on papaya,” he swats your hand away with a chuckle and scoops his son into his arms, “no more ferrari for baby girl, got it?” lando waves a warning finger in front of finn’s face, but his son just gurgles in happiness at his dad’s attention, continuously trying to grab hold of his hand. 

“alright norris boys,” you announce to the two, “i think we have enough clothes and toys for baby girl until she’s four so let’s get going,” happy cheers erupt from the duo as you head to pay for your items. 

-

your little growing family arrived home close to dinner time, you carrying two babies and a diaper bag as your husband dragged the multiple large bags of purchased items into your home. 

“do you want to just throw those all into the nursery and we can sort it all tomorrow, lan?” you ask in his direction as you gently drop your son to his feet. with finn’s newfound freedom, he immediately runs over to his playmat in the living room, beginning the fairytale escapades of a three year old and a large amount of toy cars. 

“yes, love,” lando answers your question and heads towards the nursery, but not without placing a kiss to your awaiting lips. 

“i’m gonna get started on dinner,” you call back towards your husband as he starts towards the nursery.

“spaghetti?” your husband suggests with his signature puppy dog eyes.

“‘pageti!” his young twin cries out from the opposite direction, clapping his hands together for strong emphasis on his dinner choice.

“alright, spaghetti it is,” you giggle in amusement, “easier for me anyways,” you whisper the last part to yourself as you head into the kitchen and begin preparations. 

-

shit. you think to yourself as you turn uncomfortably in bed. who forgot to close the curtains last night? as you think, the culprit himself opens them further and you groan at the blinding light cascading throughout your bedroom. 

“lannnn,”

“i know, baby,” he laughs at you, proceeding to walk over towards you in bed, “but we have so much to do today in the nursery,”

“love, i know you’re excited to get this done,” as you look at him through squinted eyes, he takes a seat next to your horizontal frame, “but we do have four more months,”

“i know that,” lando begins, reaching his hand towards you to move your bed head out of your face, “but love, i’ve wanted to do all of this since you were seven weeks pregnant,”

“okay, fine,” you groan as he silently cheers, “help me up though,” he laughs, reaching both his hands around your body and lifting with ease. once stood on your own two feet after a few goodmorning kisses from lando, you head to the bathroom in order to wash up.

“our other baby will be up soon, so let’s knock out as much as we can before interruptions, yeah?” lando suggests as you start to brush your teeth. you simply nod in his direction and he happily runs over to give you a kiss on the forehead, “i’ll be in the nursery, come join me once  you’re done,” with a light tap on the bum and one more kiss to the top of your head, your giddy husband races out of the room. 

“it’s just you and me baby girl,” you caress your bump as you whisper to her, “we live in a house of crazy boys,” you laugh quietly to yourself at the memories, “but we all cannot wait to meet you,”

-

a/n - pls pls comment some baby girl names you'd enjoy to see! next couple chapters and she's hereee

[servicpop]

kinktober week 4 — impact play vallen ( ceo oc ) x bttm male reader

ⓘ riding crop use , basically pain kink , punishment , short

It started with dinner, you accidentally spilling red wine on Vallen's navy suit, — though he wasn't mad at all, he could easily afford five more if he wanted to — breaking a cup while trying to make yourself a drink, and then your overly clingy behaviour in his office while he was trying to finish paperwork for the night. Your audible groaning didn't help the countless pages of useless but important information he had to hand write.

You were draped over the couch Vallen had against one of the walls in his office, your head laying off the armrest turning your vision upside-down. Per usual, Vallen was sat at his desk with a pen in hand, quietly scribbling whatever he needed onto one piece of paper before moving to the other.

“Vallen, I'm so lonely can you please pay your boyfriend some attention?” There it was again, your whiny tone and your pouty lips chirping off about something Vallen didn't even care to listen to. But, just hearing your voice again broke his last straw.

Vallen abruptly pushed himself away from the desk, standing up with his back faced to you. From the absence of words, you knew he was pissed, and that was enough for you to sit up properly and fix up your posture. You heard the scraping of wood against wood as Vallen pulled open the bottom drawer from his desk, pulling out a long black stick with a fanned out edge.

The moment you saw him slap the edge against his palm, making that crackle noise, you realised that he was holding a riding crop.

The CEO turned around to face you, striding towards the couch where you sat with each footstep accompanied with the clack of his shoes against the polished wooden floors. There wasn't a frown on his face, nor did he have a monotone expression; Vallen wore an unsettling, sweet smile.

“Sweetheart I'm sure you're aware of how busy I am,” he cooes, carding his fingers through your hair, tucking back any fly-aways behind your ear. You shudder from the oddly soft touches despite the vein thats straining on his forehead. He brings the black riding crop to your cheek, gliding the leather along your skin.

“All you've done today was annoy me, isn't it time I teach you a lesson, hm?” His voice was dangerously smooth, like faux fur on an expensive coat. You don't have the heart to reply so you just swallow your words.

“Lay down across my lap,” Vallen drops an octave and the smile drops from his face. He leans back against the velvet couch, a knuckle pressed against his cheek as he waits for you to bend down. He looks down at you as if you were a tiny mouse and he was a cat with sharpened claws.

You would be a fool if you didn't obey, so you did, almost instantly laying down over his knees. He brings your hands behind your back, slipping off the tie he was wearing to bind your wrists together in a tight bow. You were just like a present on Christmas, bound with a little bow and waiting for Vallen to tear apart.

His fingers slid underneath the back of your pants, brushing against the small of your back before he pushed them down all the way to your ankles. He didn't bother fully taking them off.

He brought the riding crop to the mound of your ass, caressing your skin with small circles before he brought it up and slammed it down on your tender flesh. A surprised yelp tumbled out of your mouth as you flinched upon impact, wincing at the sting.

“Count, prince,” He corrected, using his free hand to slip down the crack and to your puckered hole. “Use your words.”

The tips of his fingers nudged at your opening, pushing past your tight rim to slip one finger in. He brought the crop up again and smacked it down, sending ripples through your now reddened cheek.

“T—Two,” you manage to choke out between whimpers. The sting made you squirm, instinctively trying to apply pressure to the 'wound.' As your hands attempt to wriggle out of its confinements, Vallen smacks your wrists with the tool, earning another pained gasp from you.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment while his fingers push up against your pelvic bone, sinking his finger into your tight channel.

“You're getting so red,” He chuckled hollowly, tracing the red marks on your skin with the leather, “I told you, it really is your color.”

Vallen leaned his head down to kiss your wrists before he moved the crop over your ass again. He delivered another smack, the sound piercing through the otherwise silent room. Your knees instinctively bend up as your legs squirm from the pain similar to a burn under your skin.

Vallen takes the opportunity to slip a second finger inside, his ring finger accompanying his middle. He doesn't move them, he keeps his fingers completely still inside of you, letting your muscles contract and clench down on them with each hit to your sensitive skin.

“Three,” you sob out, tears brimming your eyes as the pain builds up. His fingers are tormenting you, buried so deep that just a slight nudge of his fingers could get you writhing in pleasure. Vallen sets the riding crop down for a minute, sliding his fingers under your adams apple to lift your face up.

“Poor boy, let's switch it up.” Vallen's voice is full of sugar, like molasses dripping off his tongue. It made your throat clog and your stomach ache as if you really did eat something overly sugary.

He hoists you up by your torso, letting your knees bend and your calves press against the back of your thighs in a sitting position. He marvels at your pink cock flush against your lower stomach, letting out a small condescending chuckle.

“Why are they closed, dear?” he tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly as he places a hand on each of your knees, delicately pulling them apart. He fishes the riding crop from the couch, holding it firmly in his palms; he doesn't do anything with it just yet. His free hand makes it's way to cradle your cheek, dipping his thumb past your pink lips and into your mouth. You're sitting taller than him at the moment due to the fact that you were on your shins while he had both feet flat on the floor.

Vallen lets you suck his finger for a second and he can feel your warm, wet tongue over the pad of his thumb. He looks up at you with such bedroom eyes, dipping his head down to press a quick kiss to your chest covered by the thin fabric of your shirt. Your body tenses up at the light touch to your now hardened nipples, and Vallen takes advantage of the distraction.

He brings the leather of the riding crop to your tip, thwacking it with enough force to get you to whine and flinch but not enough to wholeheartedly hurt you. He lets the crop linger on the slit of your cockhead before he lifts it up slowly to peek at the underside of it.

“You're making such a mess” he muses, observing the dampness of the flap from the pre-cum bubbling from your urethra. It's smeared all over the material, creating a sticky mess all over yourself and the tool.

He uses his index finger to slide along the slit, gathering all the fluid on his finger before he shamelessly wipes his fingers clean on your stomach.

“How many is that now?” he questions you while pulling your shirt up and above your head, revealing your perky chest, untainted with red as of now.

“Four,” you hiccup, the pain made you fidgety but the pleasure kept you grounded. You saw the gradual color change from a lighter pink to red on your skin. You let out a choked moan when Vallen smacks your dick with the crop again, sending shockwaves of pain through your veins.

It hurts so bad that it's good.

Vallen's non-dominant hand seemed to be contradictory to the one holding the tool. He gently caressed and patted the supple skin of your chest, soothing you with honeyed touches. Vallen leans his face in closer to your skin, littering small kisses over your clavicle and latched his mouth onto one nipple.

“V—Vallen, don't,” you whine out, struggling with your restraints as you attempted to try and push him back. He knew you were weak where your chest was, and it was confirmed with the way your breathing elevated.

Your words fell to dead ears nonetheless, his hand gingerly twisting and flicking your buds while he kissed the other. The riding crop in his hands dragged up from the bottom of your stomach all the way to the nipple Vallen's mouth was previously tormenting.

He places the flap flat along your pink bud before hitting it harshly. Your body instinctively jerked back and a pained cry punched out of your throat as your chest slowly reddened.

“Too harsh? Is it too sensitive up here?” He feigned concern, cooing at you like a child. He moves his hand to rub your nipple soothing before delivering a lighter smack to it again. It was all raw and achy; you'd definitely need to place bandages over it for the next few days from how sensitive it'll get.

The dragging of leather down and up your length so teasingly was undoubtedly kindling a fire in the pit of your stomach. The cold leather slicked with your own fluid was so erotic, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin from the ticklish feeling.

“Val— wait, wait–!” Your words are all chopped up as Vallen slaps the area where your balls meet the underside of your cock, the hit sending ripples down your spine, making you bend forward and slam your legs shut. The tingling sensation was enough to pull you off the edge and you could feel your thighs convulse and that familiar feeling of an orgasm well up in your balls.

“That's my good boy,” Vallen's seductive tone rings through your ears and you're wriggling in the tie wrapped around your wrists, letting out a muffled whine through your throat. Your eyelashes flutter rapidly before your body can't hold it in anymore as you empty out your load.

The weight lifts from your balls and leaves you panting, body slumped and aching. The afterfeeling of the slaps started to sting and tingle.

You can't even bring your mind to realise the mess you made on Vallen's clothing, white splayed out across his thighs. Through dazed eyes you see him move his hands behind your back, untying you from the grasp of his tie.

“You won't bother me while I'm working again?” he asks, and he expects you to reply with a 'yes.' He slips a hand to your cheek, wiping away any stray tears that escaped from your tear ducts.

“I've learnt my lesson,” you mumble against the warmth of his palm, nuzzling into the affectionate gesture.

“Good.”

[spider-stark]

LITTLE DRAGON

Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary - Your elder brother, Jace, attempts to teach you how to wield a sword. Aegon, your new betrothed, interrupts.

Warnings - slight Jace x Reader but you can ignore that alright

Word Count - 3.8k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

“You aren’t tucking your elbows!”  

Jacaerys shouted from across the training yard, sparing your horrid fighting stance a half-moment’s glance before shifting his focus back to the weapons table laid before him, enamored by all the fresh steel he had to choose from.  

Sweat dripped from your hairline, trickling down your temples and giving your reddened cheeks a glossy sheen. The sun’s rays felt particularly relentless today, blistering down upon the yard and reminding you of just how much you hated summers spent in King’s Landing, already dreading the thought of being stuck here.   

You had grown accustomed to the cool, dampness of the island you had called home for the last several years. Dragonstone was almost always engulfed in a cover of clouds, and the soft breeze rolling-in from the Blackwater ensured that the warmer months were never quite as stifling as they were in King’s Landing.  

“I am tucking my elbows!” You howled at him, gritting your teeth against the growing pain in your biceps.  

The two of you had been out in the yard since sunrise, going over the basics of swordplay over and over and over again. By this point it felt like your brother’s instructions had been all but carved into your mind—plant your feet, square your shoulders, bend your knees, and tuck your elbows.  

Remembering the steps hadn’t been the hard part, however. The hard part was actually doing them—and doing them right.  

“No,” Jace grinned as he plucked a delicately forged rapier from the table. “You’re not.”  

You blew out a breath, frustrated as you dropped the faulty form all together and let your arms hang limp at your sides. The training sword hung heavy from your hand, the tip of its blunt blade digging into the dirt.  

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed, watching as your brother drew closer to you, admiring the nimble blade in his hand. “I’ve bent my elbows a thousand different ways—and none of them have been right!”  

“That’s the issue! You’re bending your elbows, not tucking them!” Jace reprimanded, though his voice remained gentle, as it oft was when speaking to you.  

Your patience was wearing thin as your frustration grew, aggravated by not only the sweltering heat and swordplay, but also yourself. Your brothers had mastered the basics of fighting when they were less than half your age—and yet you couldn’t even manage a half-decent defensive stance.  

Exasperated and nearly at the end of your rope, you knew that you probably looked as miserable as you sounded. “Are bending and tucking not the same thing?”  

“Bending your elbows is a subtle movement,” Jace started to explain, “it helps you maintain some degree of flexibility. But tucking your elbows is more rigid, making for a better defense mechanism. By keeping your elbows close to your body, you’re tightening your posture and making it harder for your enemies to land a blow.”  

Adjusting your grip on the training sword, you brought it back up into a ready position, both hands now clutching the hilt. “So all I need to do is pull my elbows in closer?”  

“Exactly!”  

Focusing on each of the movements, you slid one foot slightly ahead of the other, balancing yourself as he’d instructed earlier. You took care to keep your knees bent, just enough to ensure that you could easily dodge or leap out of the way of an incoming strike.  

Once you were confident that you had done those steps correctly, watching as Jace nodded along in silent approval, you lifted the sword so that the pommel fell just a few inches below your breastbone, the point rising high above your head.  

Then, finally, you tried tucking your elbows as close to your sides as you could, attempting to block as much of your torso as possible from incoming attacks.  

“Like this?” You asked him, gritting your teeth against the throbbing in your arms, still so unused to the weight of the weapon.  

Jace cocked his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well…”  

“Seven Hells, Jace!” You howled at him, trying to hold the position, “There are only so many ways to move your elbows!”  

“Yes, but now it’s not your elbows causing the problem!” He retaliated, extending his arm and using the tip of his rapier to point to your legs. “Standing like you are now, if you had to dodge your legs would probably lock up and slow you down. You need to drive your knees further apart!”  

You did as you were told, albeit a bit begrudgingly. 

“Better?” You hissed through your teeth, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you.  

Jace studied you, eyes narrowing as he scanned every inch of your form. “Push your shoulders further back,” he instructed, “and straighten your back out a little bit.”  

Again, you shifted into the new movements, adjusting and tweaking the positions to his liking. Your fingers hurt now, too, and painful blisters had already begun to form on your palms.  

“Straighter,” Jace snapped, still finding your posture to be sub-par. “And try to keep your toes pointed towards-”  

Your frustration finally peaked as you fell out of the intricate form, nearly doubling over as an exhausted groan ripped from your throat. Jace’s eyes widened at the sound, doubling back slightly.  

“And what next?!” You cried loudly, letting your sword fall to the ground. Throwing your aching arms out to the side in a dramatic display, you sneered at him, “Shall I hop on one-fucking-leg and shake my ass?”  

A sigh escaped your brother's parted lips, shaking his head as he leaned down to pick up your discarded weapon. Regret already seeped into your mind and dulled your anger as you began to prepare for the lecture that was surely about to leave his mouth—one that was no doubt about the level of discipline required for swordsmanship, and how you needed to maintain a level head.  

But, before he had the chance, another voice broke through.  

“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try,” Aegon quipped from somewhere behind you, sounding far too amused with himself. “Go on,” he urged, “give it a shot. I for one would love to watch.”  

With clenched fists you spun around to face him, glaring into his lilac eyes, resenting the way they sparkled with something like delight. It wasn’t until his gaze traveled south that you lost your cool, however, noticing how he eyed the low neckline of your tunic, watching as sweat slipped between your breasts.  

But as soon as you took a step towards him, fully prepared to strike the arrogant Prince, Jace snatched your wrist and held you back. Level-headed enough to think for the both of you, he refused to let you do anything that would give Queen Alicent further reason to despise you—even if he would have loved to watch his sister beat Aegon’s ass.  

“You’re interrupting our training,” Jace told him, keeping his voice respectful despite the undeniable edge of frustration.  

“Am I?” Aegon pursed his lips, staring at the training sword that was still discarded on the ground, abandoned when Jace realized he would have to hold you back from your uncle. “Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job, then. It’s easier to fight when the sword is in your hand-”  

Jace interrupted, “We should really get back to work,���  

“No need,” your uncle swiftly retorted, flashing a cocky smirk that only served to make your rage grow further. “I actually came here hoping for a moment alone with my niece,” he continued, pinning your brother with a stare, “you wouldn’t mind, would you?”  

You recognized the trap that he had set for your brother. If it were anyone other than Aegon, Jace would have wasted little time in telling them off, but this was different. Rejecting Aegon would create conflict—the one thing your mother had asked you and your siblings to avoid, if only to avoid upsetting the beast that was your step-grandmother, the Queen Alicent.  

“Now isn’t a good time,” Jace tried to protest, searching for some peaceful way to turn Aegon away. “You saw her just now, didn’t you? She’s clearly in need of more practice.”  

You were silent, primarily because you could feel Jace’s fingernails digging into your skin, a warning to stay silent. When it came to you, Jace wasn’t violent by any means, but he was more than willing to be assertive if it meant keeping you safe.  

Aegon drew a breath, still wearing that sly smile that made your skin crawl. “Very well,” he said, and you felt Jace’s grip on your wrist loosen at his assumed victory. “Then I’ll teach her myself.”  

Jace’s eyes grew wide, a muscle in his jaw feathering. Refusing to back down, his mouth fell open to speak, trying to form some other nonsense excuse to keep you from being alone with Aegon—but you stopped him.  

“It’s fine, Jace,” you told him, slipping your wrist from his grasp. “If Aegon believes himself capable of teaching me, then let him.”  

The look on Jace’s face stubbornly pleaded with you to take it back— to say that you were done with training for the day, to say anything that would keep you from being stuck with him.  

But you refused, steeling yourself and meeting his gaze with an equally unrelenting stubbornness. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to avoid Aegon forever, and you refused to let your uncle think that he had enough of an effect on you that you would resort to cowardly excuses to get out of being alone with him.  

Jace leaned closer to you and asked in a low voice, “Are you sure?”  

You grimaced at the question. “Yes,” you snapped, not wanting to appear as the image of a helpless little girl in front of your uncle. But then you saw the hurt flash in your brother’s dark, doe eyes and immediately felt guilty for it. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done,” you reached for his hand, squeezing it in yours, “I promise.”  

His brows furrowed, still unconvinced that it was a good idea to leave you alone with Aegon, but aware that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind. You smiled, a sweet and gentle kind of smile that was reserved only for your older brother.  

“You heard the woman, Jacaerys,” Aegon waved an impatient hand, sneering at Jace. “Leave me and my betrothed.”  

The word betrothed seemed to drip from his tongue like tar—a nasty and vile sort of sound that was used only to further antagonize Jace.  

Jace went rigid beside you, his cheeks growing red with anger. But his hand was still clasped in yours, and so you gave it another squeeze. “Go,” you told him, having switched roles with him and now being the one to counsel him in restraint. “I’ll be fine.”  

You knew that Jace didn’t fully believe you—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust Aegon. And while you were surrounded by a plethora of weapons that could be used in self-defense should Aegon try something, Jace also knew just how lousy you were at properly using them.  

Even so, he didn’t argue, biting his tongue and stifling his rage in favor of the peace your mother so desperately wanted.  

But even the prospect of peace wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling his hand from your grip and replacing it with the rapier he had chosen earlier, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned in, “If he tries something,” he whispered, “then shove the pointy end through his throat.”  

You held in a laugh, gripping the hilt tightly. “Got it.”  

With that, Jace stepped back and turned to take his leave, roughly knocking into your uncle’s shoulder as he pushed past him. Aegon cut his eyes, but you found it hard to tell whether it was because of Jace’s insolence or if it was because of how close you were with your brother.  

You didn’t care enough to ask.  

“Was there a need to provoke him?” You scoffed as soon as Jace was out of sight.  

Aegon feigned innocence. “Well, it’s not my fault that your brother is so easily provoked,” he said with a roguish grin. “He’s the one that’s so greedy with your time. I wouldn’t have to interrupt your pathetic sparring sessions if there was ever a time where Jace wasn’t stuck up your ass.”  

“Our betrothal was proposed five years ago,” you told him plainly, narrowing your eyes, “if you were that desperate to spend time with me, then I’m sure there were plenty of opportunities.”  

“You’ve been on Dragonstone.”  

“And you have a dragon,” you reminded him, fully aware that the flight to the island was quite short from King’s Landing.  

Aegon lifted one of his shoulders in a lazy gesture. “And you have a Jace. If I had been foolish enough to venture to Dragonstone these last few years, then I likely wouldn’t have left with my head.”  

A scowl etched onto your face at that, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely wrong for assuming that.  

While it had been five years since your betrothal to Aegon had been proposed by your mother, hoping that it might bridge the chasm that divided your family, it hadn’t been until this past month that the Queen Alicent had finally given way and consented to the match. And, if the rumors could be believed, then you had heard that her sudden change in heart was in part due to Aegon’s insistence. 

But regardless of any hearsay, you did know one thing for certain—Jace had always held onto the hope that the Queen would reject the proposal. You often told yourself that it was because he didn’t wish to see his little sister wed to your vile uncle, but many others—Aegon included, it seemed—believed that it was because your brother wished to have you for himself, as was the Targaryen way.  

You knew that there was merit to those claims, even if you sometimes didn’t want to admit it.  

“He wouldn’t have killed you,” you finally settled on an answer, your frustration mounting with each word. “Maimed, maybe, but Jace is no kinslayer.”  

Eyeing the rapier in your hand, Aegon asked, “And what about you?”  

You paused, glancing at the nimble blade of your weapon.  

It was thinner than the training sword you were using—and a lot sharper—but it was awkward to hold, all its weight concentrated towards the hilt rather than distributed throughout. Even if you did want to use it against Aegon, you were probably more likely to hurt yourself than him with how little experience you had and how poorly training with Jace had gone.  

After a moment, the corners of your mouth tilted upwards in a twisted imitation of a smile, flashing your teeth at him. “Let’s just say that I’m not my brother,” you answered, purposely vague.  

Aegon’s stare narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look intimidated by your declaration. “Then go ahead,” he responded coolly, spreading his arms out wide. “Give it your best shot.”  

Your eyes flickered around the yard, realizing for the first time that there were no guards around right now to witness your interaction. If you wanted to kill him, now would be as good a time as any—you could call it an accident, even if Queen Alicent would try to deny it. But due to your poor swordsmanship, it was a believable enough lie that you knew most would believe it; knew that your grandsire, King Viserys,  would believe it.  

If you killed Aegon now, then you wouldn’t be forced to marry him.  

If you killed him, then you knew your mother would sooner betroth you to Jace before ever even considering Aegon’s savage little brother, Aemond.  

And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? Jace was kind and pleasant and the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother would make you a Queen—a beloved Queen, at that.  

And yet…  

Aegon snorted a laugh, letting his hands fall when he saw your brow crease, your body unmoving as you refused to lunge for him. “You’re right, you’re not your brother. I might have little good to say about Jacaerys, but he’s undeniably Strong,” he quipped, the mischievous glint in his tone causing your blood to boil, “but not you—you’re just a coward.”  

Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, knuckles turning white as you gripped the hilt of the rapier tighter. Then, without Jace here to hold you back, a primal scream of frustration ripped from your throat as you launched yourself at Aegon.  

The rapier’s blade led the way, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. But your arms were weak and your footwork clumsy and predictable, and Aegon easily side-stepped your attack with a smirk.  

Breathing heavily, you went to swing the awkward blade again, but Aegon had already made his next move—taking advantage of your lack of speed and coming up beside you, snatching the hilt from your inexperienced grip and disarming you, tossing the weapon a few feet away so that you couldn’t try and get it back from him.  

But with your nerves still lit by frustration and a refusal to accept defeat, you curled your fists and aimed for his jaw.  

Aegon caught you by the wrists before your knuckles collided with his face. He held fast even as you struggled against his grip—firm but not rough.  

“Your brother was right,” he taunted with a laugh when you finally wore yourself out, “you do need practice.”  

“Shut up-” you snarled, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.  

You weren’t used to this.  

You weren’t used to fighting, you weren’t used to the heat, and you weren’t used to Aegon—or, at least, you weren’t used to being this close to Aegon.  

It suddenly hit you just how intimate the position seemed. Your heaving chest bumped against his as he held you close, his grip on your wrists never loosening, even once you had stopped fighting and he had been able to lower your arms to your sides.  

You weren’t sure that you had ever been this close to Aegon—close enough that you could smell the faint trace of mulled wine on his breath—and you felt your pulse skip at the realization, fear settling deep within your bones.  

You weren’t afraid of him, you realized, but of the fact that you didn’t quite mind being held by Aegon—not as much as you should have minded it, at least.  

“I could help you, you know.” He offered, his lilac eyes flashing with some distant emotion that you couldn’t recognize. “I wasn’t just trying to get rid of your brother when I said that I would teach you how to fight.”  

Still pressed close to his chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, his jaw tightening when you asked, “What do you know about swordplay?”  

“I was trained by the Kingsguard,” Aegon reminded you sharply, his offense evident by the sharp crease in his brow.  

You gave a dry laugh, thinking back on your childhood prior to moving to Dragonstone. “If memory serves me, you spent more time parading around with courtesan’s than training.”  

Your laughter was cut short, breath catching in your throat when you felt Aegon release his hold on your wrists just before one of his hands snapped upwards, his fingers curling around your jaw. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and you couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something intoxicating about the way he held you—his lilac eyes seeming to admire every contour of your face. 

“Even so,” he began, his voice hardly a whisper as he ignored your claim, “I still know more than enough about swordplay to teach my helpless little dragon how to defend herself.”  

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as the pet name slipped his lips. It stirred a hunger within you that you hadn’t known existed, and certainly didn’t expect. Your muscles went slack, relaxing in his grip as your lips parted ever so slightly, your body suddenly urging you to lean in and taste the honey that seemed to drip from his tongue.  

But even as you began to oblige with your body’s urges, rising on your toes to meet Aegon’s sweet, wine-stained lips, you heard some familiar voice chime in the back of your mind—urging caution, reminding you of who was holding you right now.  

Your deviant uncle—the son of Queen Alicent, who was all but your sweet mother’s sworn enemy. She might have asked you to wed Aegon out of duty, but she certainly hadn’t expected or wanted you to like your uncle, did she? In some twisted way, it felt like a betrayal to her and your true family to allow yourself to find pleasure in this—and yet you couldn’t quite deny the warmth flooding in the pit of your stomach at the feel of his touch against your face. 

But, taking advantage of that swift moment of clarity, you forced yourself to take a step back and reclaim some sort of control over yourself. As his hand fell, Aegon stood frozen in the agony of his own perceived rejection as he watched you turn on your heel, walking away from him without so much as a single word.  

But to his surprise, instead of exiting the yard altogether, you leaned down and plucked the blunt training sword off the ground where it had been abandoned far earlier. You left the rapier where Aegon had tossed it when he disarmed you, thinking you had no use for a blade that could cause actual injury. 

“Alright,” you took a deep breath as you turned back around to face him, offering a weak smile as you swallowed your nerves and said, “If you’re so confident in your skill, then teach me.”  

It was Aegon’s turn to pause now, a flicker of doubt dancing in his lilac eyes as his own insecurities continued to bear down on him. While he hadn’t wanted you to walk away, he also hadn’t expected you to say yes.  

But here you were—standing in front of him, not rejecting him, and allowing him to help, regardless of how wrong it might have felt. 

He's to be my husband, you thought to yourself, biting back against your feelings and trying to rationalize your desire to spend a bit of time with him, I should at least learn to tolerate him.

“Okay,” Aegon eventually said, his voice more uncertain than you’d ever heard it sound before; but hopeful too, wearing the faintest hints of a smile. “Show me your form.”  

As you did as he instructed, clumsily moving through each of the movements that Jace had shown you and listening to him laugh and correct your failures, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as you started to think that being stuck in King’s Landing wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And that, maybe, Aegon wasn’t so bad either.

a/n - had this sitting in my drafts for a bit cause i wasn't totally happy with it, but decided to polish it up and post it anyways cause why not lmao

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[midnightmoonkiss]

Language Of Love

AlHaitham X GN! Reader

“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language

“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”

A random conversation.

It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.

Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.

The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.

You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..

Or why you even came here..

No.

You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.

You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.

Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.

These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.

He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.

So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.

“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”

All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.

You had a plan.

A plan to woo this man.

The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.

Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”

Oh, you were already giddy.

Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?” He was eager to hear you answer.

Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.

“Do tell.”

Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”

You were met with silence, as expected.

He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?

You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’

Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!

“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“

–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.

And he was smirking on the inside.

“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”

“That’s not,”

“I can even demonstrate it for you.”

“Wait!”

You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.

He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.

“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”

You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.

“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”

“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”

“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”

His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.

He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.

Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.

The thought pleased the busy scholar.

“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.

“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”

“How about right now.”

“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.

“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”

“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”

“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”

[areyouwell]

Philophobia

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

Ch.3

Ch.1 <--

Ch.2 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

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

Word count: 15.6k (oh fuck me)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re doing great,”

“I haven’t done anything yet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Telekinesis,” was all he said. 

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

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

Much like everything else you did.

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

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

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

Something you would unpack later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or?” he prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit…” Bobby breathed from above. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You trusted each other completely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided for him. “That went well…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you referring to the comment Kitty made?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How much do you know about him?”

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

“Does he know that? About your parents?”

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

“Am I a bother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“You didn’t go with ‘em?”

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

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

None of you had a happy story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly?” 

“Honestly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘M still sorry about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck someone in the bin shed, obviously.” 

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

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

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

Clearly, they all did.

What was that argument about anyway…?

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

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

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

At least, it was for you. 

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

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

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

“Where’s it from?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan tucked you in, staying for so much longer than he needed to, before finally admitting to himself that adjusting your bedside clock for the fourth wasn’t necessary and he was just stalling. He didn’t want to leave. Shit, every fibre of his being was screaming against leaving. But he had to. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss against your brow before touching his forehead against your own, simply feeling you.

“Sleep well, firefly.” The nickname came to him in the moment, and he couldn’t help but think just how well it suited you. A blinking light in the darkness. You were a beacon of hope for him, and he hoped that one day, you could see yourself in the same light he saw you. 

Maybe one day.

[yuri-is-online]

Without Saying (Floyd and Ruggie x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, feral ariel (Floyd) vs light angst again (Ruggie). If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my masterlist.

Floyd

Under normal circumstances, a quiet Floyd was a suspicious Floyd but today- well today it was just odd. He doesn't look bored per se, just idle standing next to a very tall woman with similarly colored hair who is slowly, carefully, with extreme focus examining every inch of what you think is a novelty piggy bank shaped like the school's wishing well.

"Are you done yet Mamma?" Floyd sounds like he is being careful not to yawn.

"Hush now Floydie," she doesn't even blink, that's how tight her focus is, "Mamma is concentrating." Mrs. Leech's lips are tightly pursed while Floyd mutters something about going to get some candy and slinks off while you question if getting involved in this conversation is part of your job description or even smart. Unfortunately for you by the time you look back up from your clipboard Mrs. Leech has moved directly in front of your face in complete silence. "Human-" you go to scream but she silences you with a look you can't tell is from magic or practice raising the twins "Human can you help me with something?" She doesn't even wait for you to agree before holding up the piggy bank. "What exactly is the purpose of this object?"

"That?" You are surprised your voice doesn't give out entirely as she vigorously nods. "The piggy bank?"

"I see, I see." She nods sagely, immediately whipping around to where she evidently thought her son still was, shrugging undeterred as she decides to simply yell. "FLOYD! IT'S CALLED A PIGGY BANK."

"That's nice Mamma." Calls Floyd, oddly coming off as polite and rational from somewhere deep within the Mystery Shop. " But like what does it do?"

"EXCELLENT QUESTION! Say human what does it do?" You are deeply tempted to say that this woman cannot be serious but you don't really want to find out. You draw yourself up to your full height and nod.

"You put coins in it." Mrs. Leech blinks, a bit taken aback.

"Wait really?" Bravely, with a reasonable fear of being bitten, you reach over and gently lift up the top of the wishing well to show her the coin slot.

"I'm pretty sure this one plays a song when you put a coin in too." You explain.

"But it's so tiny?" She marvels, repeatedly opening and shutting the top of the bank. "How're you supposed to keep your money safe if it's so fragile? But then again I do keep most of mine with my husband..."

"Uhm it's supposed to be a fun gift for little kids." It occurs to you that she might find that offensive since it did look like she was buying it for herself. "To teach them about saving money, at least where I'm from anyway."

"Oh how cute. That settles it, I am definitely getting this." As if sensing that it is check out time Floyd shuffles over and immediately perks up.

"Little Shrimpy! Were you the one helping my mom?" He seems really happy, causing you to breathe a light sigh of relief. Mrs. Leech looks confused, zeroing in on you with the same concentration from earlier.

"Yeah. Trying to anyway." You nervously say; Mrs. Leech's attention turns to her son.

"Aww, how cute. You fishin' for a favor shrimpy?" Normally you would play along with his teasing, but your eyes dart awkwardly to Mrs. Leech whose attention is back on you, then the piggy bank, then you then her son, then you agai-

"Not really, I'm just trying to do my job." You awkwardly laugh and Floyd pouts.

"Spring or Summer?" Mrs. Leech asks cheerfully. To your surprise she has somehow managed to snatch up a second piggy bank within the .2 seconds since you took her attention off her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh just wondering that's all." She has a very serene smile on her face. Almost too serene. Like you just somehow signed away your soul because you didn't read some fine print. "I'm more partial to Spring myself." You try to look to Floyd for some context but for some reason, he's refusing to make eye contact. Weird.

Ruggie

"Thank you dear." The elderly beastwoman breathes a sigh of relief as you help her settle onto a bench next to the Coliseum. "Goodness, Ruggie warned me this place was big but I didn't realize just how serious he was." You nod, unscrewing the cap on one of the water bottles you brought with you for the old lady. She takes it thankfully and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, not that Granny Bucchi had been anything more than a bit winded when you found her, but it was still worrying to see an old woman bent over like that. "I really should have just waited for him."

"Didn't he promise to meet you at the mirror chamber?" You ask, trying not to sound too judgmental. You find it hard to believe someone who spoke as fondly of his grandmother at Ruggie wouldn't want to escort her around, Granny Bucchi looks at you sheepishly sort of confirming that.

"He doesn't actually know that I'm here just yet, I wanted to surprise him." She tries to pass you back the water back but you shake your head. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the sort you only ever get while relaxing with a cup of tea, or in this case a nice old lady who is genuinely enjoying the campus scenery. It's so nice Grim curls himself up into your lap for a little nap. Granny Bucchi scratches just the right place behind his ears to convince the "not a cat" to let out a very cat like purr.

"Did you send him a message to let him know your here?" You whisper, trying not to wake your baby. "If not I can send him one." She lets out a small laugh, similar in sound to her grandson's but still very much her somehow.

"Oh I am sure he'd be half way here already if he knew I had you to myself. Who knows what sort of ideas I could be putting in that head of yours." She winks and takes out her phone, squinting at the keys trying to piece together a message. "You should still send him one though, you'll probably be faster than me."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" You ask sheepishly. "You know so Ruggie knows you're ok." Lies you just want a picture of you with Granny Bucchi. Sure, to Twisted Wonderland she is just some lady, but she is easily celebrity tier to you with how much glowing praise Ruggie heaps on her.

"Oh please do!" To your surprise she seems genuinely excited and strikes a little pose. What a natural, Vil has nothing on this woman. Not that you are going to say that out loud because you don't have a death wish. You happily text Ruggie as Granny Bucchi looks on fondly. "Do you like taking pictures?" Her voice is much softer than it has been in the admittedly little conversation you have had. "Ruggie sends me a lot of the ones you've given him from your ghost camera, I keep trying to ask him if you're planning on being a photographer in the future but he always dodges the question." She's clearly curious and you can't blame her, you just aren't sure how to answer.

"The future is a bit complicated for me." Is what you settle on, really hoping it doesn't loose you points.

"Oh you don't need to feel bad about that." Her eyes are filled with warmth and affection that you haven't felt in a long time, it's enough to make you want to cry. "Technically the future is complicated for everyone, some of us just muscle through it better than others. Case in point." Granny hauls her self up and nudges you to turn around. Ruggie is staring at both of you with a strange look in his eyes, but when he makes eye contact with you he shakes himself out of whatever mood that was and jogs up to meet you both.

It would be nice, you think, if you could do this again.

[un-lawliet]

Hellooo hope ur having a good day! Can I request the first years founding out about Y/N being Gojo’s girlfriend and Megumi is not surprised at all LOL they’re literally his parents. <333

(THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I ADORE THIS TROUPE THANK YOU THANK YOU i hope this is ok :)))) )

“Not So Secret.”

— In which the first years want to find out what is distracting their teacher, and Megumi is fed up.

“This is stupid.”

“Shut up Megumi!”

It was stupid.

It was stupid that Nobara and Yuji were peering through a crack in the door using each-other to balance as they both held awkward positions to see, fixated on catching the conversation that their teacher was having over the phone, in what Itadori coined as the “Secret Mission”.

“This is the fourth time he’s stopped teaching to answer his phone.” Yuji whispers, raising his finger to rest on his chin, his eyebrows scrunched in conviction.

“Exactly!” Nobara adds, whipping her head to look at Megumi eyes narrowed, crossing her arms, “It’s weird.”

They should be training, their weapons left abandoned in the training yard. It was Nobara’s idea to follow the white haired sorcerer, and Yuji had dragged Megumi along, despite his complaints, claiming, with a look of acute determination, that this was far, far more important than any training.

Satoru Gojo was an enigma to even those closest to him, his actions seemingly devoid of a will or want for understanding. His borderline erratic nature is what made this new repeated routine of ditching the first years for a something so benign as a phone call so inanely baffling.

“S’not that weird.” Megumi mumbled, because it wasn’t, because despite his constant affirmation that he was forced into a family with Gojo, he knew the man, and he knew who Gojo was calling.

The way the man’s entire face lit up when he glanced at his ringing phone, how he practically skipped out of the classroom without a second glance to his precious students.

His glee was palpable.

Gojo was on the phone with you…obviously.

“Itadori move I can’t see!”

“Huh? Aren’t we supposed to be listening???”

“Yes! But I can’t hear anything over your stupid breath in my ear, back up!”

“But then how am I gonna hear!?”

They were being way too loud, Gojo could absolutely sense them, even without his six eyes, and Megumi couldn’t understand why their teacher was pretending not to notice.

—“Maybe if you stopped talking we would actually hear something!” Itadori huffed.

“You stop talking!”

“No, I think I’ll talk plenty.”

“Megumi.” Nobara hissed, both her and Yuji now staring at him, “Take this idiot away please.”

“Both of you are being loud y’know?” Megumi deadpanned.

And they both glared at him indignantly.

“Well at least we’re trying!” Itadori frowned, “You’re standing so far back, there’s no way you can hear from there.”

Megumi could easily tell them, at this point he was considering it just to get them to stop this God awful attempt to spy.

But honestly? It was too warm outside to train and Megumi the was not in the mood to sweat today, and with Gojo distracted he could guarantee at least ten more minutes where he could relax.

When he had first moved in with Gojo, he remembers how the man paced around his apartment, practicing ways in which to tell you he’d basically adopted two children, on a random evening without telling you first.

Megumi recalls how Tsumiki had giggled, a sweet smile of her face, and asked if you were his girlfriend to which Gojo began to gush about you.

Your hair, your eyes, the way you laughed at his jokes, Gojo had shared every little detail about you, only freezing when Megumi insisted, “So, she isn’t your girlfriend then?”

“It’s complicated, you wouldn’t get it.” Gojo had glared, hands on his hips as he muttered “Brat” under his breath.

And Megumi held back a grin.

Now, almost ten years later, you had practically become a Mother to Megumi, doting on him and Tsumiki without question.

You were a teacher in Jujitsu Tech, just like Gojo, only you took the second year students under your wing, and you adored teaching them.

Every mission you came back from, you came with pretty bows to match Tsumikis hair, and when Megumi started using his technique you were his biggest cheerleader, bringing his demon dogs treats, and patting his head with shiny eyes, weeping about how proud you were of him.

And at some point the white haired idiot managed to finally grasp your affections, Megumi doesn’t know how or when but he does remember over hearing Gojos obnoxious laugh after he kissed you when he assumed nobody else was home.

Brazenly declaring his love for you in which you bashfully reciprocated, leaning into him with a giggle.

“You’re laughing.” Gojo had said, “I told you a joke and you’re laughing, I love you.”

And Megumi ignored how he had to hold back a smile, refusing to acknowledge the warm feeling of family that resonated in his chest.

He was good at playing oblivious.

“How is someone so loud so hard to hear?!” Nobara was back to pressing her ear against the door, ignoring the two boys. “I mean seriously it’s like he’s not even there!”

He probably wasn’t, Megumi thinks, Gojo likes to mess with people, he would never give up this opportunity to tease his students.

Nobara was facing them again, her eyes crinkled with mischief, before she’s gesturing to Yuji.

“Itadori, come here.”

“What? Didn’t you just say to back up?”

…

“Come here.”

“Ok.”

Megumi watched, amused as Yuji made his way back to her, oblivious to the devilish look in her eye.

“Now what? I can’t hear anything either you know, so what do you-”

Itadori yelped as Nobara pushed him through the door, a charming “Of you go!” on her lips.

Both she and Megumi jumped to each side of the door, shielding themselves from the eyes of anyone who was in the room as Itadori groaned.

“The hell Kugisaki? You could have just asked me to go in, I would have done it!” He pouted, rubbing his head.

Nobara rolled her eyes, “Is he there you idiot?”

“Is who- Wait huh???”

Nobara moved to look into the room, trailing Megumi behind her, curiosity getting the better of her.

The room was empty, a door leading to the back of the school hanging open, Itadori stood, his mouth open as he pointed furiously.

“Is that Y/N?” He gasped, his eyes shining with disbelief.

And Nobara glanced over, her eyes widening as she watched you kiss Gojo on the cheek, the pair of you holding hands as Gojo ate an ice cream that you must have brought back with you.

“Y/N and Gojo? Gojo and Y/N?” Nobara and Yuji were speechless.

“Megumi look, look!” Itadori grabbed Megumis shoulder and yet again, Megumi found himself being dragged against his will.

Gojo was looking at you, a ridiculous smile painting his features, as you fussed over him, readjusting his blindfold, so you could see his pretty eyes.

“There you are.” You sighed, your voice light as he winked at you.

“How was the mission hm? You’re back early.” Gojo mused, a hand reaching up to pinch your cheek, pulling it slightly, “Someone’s getting stronger.”

“Would you rather I stayed away longer?” You teased, swatting his hand away.

“Nah, how would I get ice cream during a hard days work without you.” And you gasped, your eyes flitting over his face.

“I completely forgot! You’re teaching I’m sorry oh my God-”

You’re cut off by his laughter, leaning down to whisper cheekily in your ear, “Look behind you baby.”

And you did, your eyes widening as you see Gojo’s first year class poorly hiding, observing the pair of you.

“Ah.” You sighed, then your eyes widened “Wait Gumi’s there too?”

Gojo pulled you back to look at him, nodding “He’s really opening up huh? I knew he would~”

You nod, opening your mouth to reply, before you were suddenly interrupted by Nobara and Itadori’s horrified exclamation;

“YOU KNEW??”

And as you heard Megumi’s groan, trying to silence his stupid friends, you and Gojo both laughed, leaning into each other, enjoying the company.

the end.

masterlist here <3

(A/N : i love writing nobara, she’s lit my fave character after Gojo i think- BUT also i love hana i hate that people hate her because she’s a “nobara replacement” she ISNT leave her alone!!!)

ANYWAY THANK U FOR THE REQUEST I HOPE THIS IS WAS OK :))

[hazbinshusk]

husk x reader. written for @rileyglas. alastor has always enjoyed finding new ways to torture his favorite little bartender, and when he notices husk's eyes lingering just a little too long on you, he finds a new method of torment. husk can only take so much before he reaches a breaking point, so when you arrive at his door later that night, what else is he to do than claim what's his? 1.7k

featuring: jealous husk, possessive sex, and my first attempt at writing alastor.

(reader is afab and husk uses phrases like 'good girl'. Alastor calls you a 'lady').

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bambi ass motherfucking bastard.

Husk can’t help but glower as he watches that infuriating, nauseating grin spread wider on the Radio Demon’s face as he listens to you laugh from across the room. Alastor had summoned you away from the bar, from Husk, twenty minutes ago and the cat has been glaring daggers ever since. Even the ever-persistent Angel has given up on trying to wrest a conversation from the bartender, simply rolling his eyes as he picks up his drink and meandering off to find someone else to talk to.

Your back is to the bar and yet you swear you can feel the prickling on the back of your neck that means you’re being watched. When you dare a glance behind you, Alastor notices immediately, and gallantly sweeps an arm towards the bar.

“Why, how rude of me, my dear!” he announces, touching a hand to the small of your back as he guides you back over towards Husk. “Here I am taking immense pleasure out of your company and I’ve gone and neglected your needs.”

You’re a little surprised by the way he urges you back towards the bar but you go along with it obediently, taking a seat on the stool at the far end. Your eyebrow arches at the way Husk avoids your eye, his lips turned down in an even deeper scowl that you’re used to seeing. You turn your head to give Alastor a slightly uncertain smile. “It’s fine, I don’t need—”

“Nonsense!” Alastor waves you off, turning his attention to the bartender. You notice his smile widen incrementally as he meets Husk’s eye. “Husker, my good man, I’m sure you can fix the lady a drink, can’t you?”

Husk nods tightly, and Alastor continues talking as he turns to fulfil the request.

“You are a darling little thing,” he tells you, and you flinch slightly as he reaches up to touch his fingers to your chin. He tilts his head back and to the side at a bone-breaking angle to meet the cat’s eye. “Wouldn’t you agree, Husker?”

Husk sets a glass down in front of you a little too hard, the glass meeting the wood with a thud. He picks up the bottle he’d just poured from, taking a long, heavy slug from it. He meets your eye for a moment, studying your face before shrugging. And even though you know he doesn’t mean it, you still feel it sting. “Sure. Whatever you say, boss.”

Alastor chuckles, the sound distorting slightly. “My, my, we are testy today.” He turns his attention back to you, leaning his face down towards yours. “You’ll have to ignore my poor pet, my dear. I’m afraid his customer service leaves something to be desired.”

You clear your throat uncertainly, picking up your drink. You take a sip, letting the liquor warm your throat. You speak quietly. “Thank you, Husk.”

He meets your eye again, lips tightening into a thin line. “‘s fine.”

“Ah, maybe you’re just the thing to help teach him manners, after all!” Alastor says with amusement, and with a glance towards Husk, reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His smile widens even further as you hear a growl rumble quietly through Husk. “You are one of many talents. I can’t wait to see just how many you can share with me.”

*             *             *

Husk is still stewing hours later in his room, feathers fluffed out in agitation as he paces across the carpet. He starts at the sudden, soft knock on the door, his ears flicking towards the sound. His eyes widen, annoyance leaching from his features when he hears, “Husk?”

He strides across the room, and even though he recognizes your voice – part of him swears he already could anywhere – he’s still somehow surprised to see you at his door.

“Hey,” you say with a small, awkward smile, your hands clasped together in front of you. “Are you… are you okay?”

“’m fine,” he says cagily, and you notice him glance down the hall behind you.

“Husk.”

He shakes his head, avoiding your eye. You see his claws flex by his sides. “What’re you doin’ here, doll?”

You feel that same tiny thrill you felt whenever he let the pet name slip in private, and you swallowed. “I wanted to… you seemed upset. At the bar.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a sigh. His tone turns bitter, his tail whipping back and forth behind him. “You should be… ain’t you supposed to be sittin’ through one of Al’s broadcasts right now?”

The radio demon had invited you up to his tower for the evening, but you hadn’t realized Husk had heard that. You nod slowly. “And you’re… mad about that?”

“…No.”

You roll your eyes, tossing up a hand in exasperation. “Damn it, Husk, just tell me what’s—”

Your request dies on your lips as he reaches out and grabs your waist, tugging you into his room and kissing you, hard. You freeze for a moment in shock, feel his claws flex against your ribs, feel his teeth graze your lip. Then you’re kissing him back, and Husk groans into it, bringing you tighter against him.

The door is kicked closed and you’re forced back against it, your breath leaving you in a huff as your back meets the wood. Husk’s kiss is rough and deliriously needy, his body flush against yours. You find yourself twining your fingers in his fur, carding it through the soft fluff of his chest and up to his shoulders. He growls against your lips as your fingers find his cheeks, his wings curving around to cage you in against the door, trapped by his body against yours.

You hear a whimper and realize it’s yours when Husk presses his thigh up between your legs, his claws digging so tightly into your hips that you’re sure you feel them break the skin. When he finally allows you to breathe again, he moves his mouth to your neck, the rough edge of his tongue sending a shiver into the small of your back.

“Husk…?” you whisper in a shuddering breath. Still, he can hear the question in your voice and he speaks against your throat, voice hot and rough and so addictive already.

“Don’t like him talking to you,” he admits, teeth scraping against your collarbone. He lathes his tongue over the same spot and your eyes roll back. “Don’t like the way he fucking looks at you.”

“Who? Alas—” Husk growls, low and aggressive in the back of his throat, and you suddenly decide it’s better not to mention the other demon’s name. Still, the sound doesn’t repel you, instead you feel the fire blooming in your belly flare, and you swallow. You feel the need to reassure him somehow, and you bring his mouth back up to yours. You push the suspenders down his shoulders before fumbling with the fastenings of his pants, and Husk moans into your mouth as you slip your hand into them to palm his growing erection. He presses his forehead against yours for a moment before kissing you again. You let out a squeak of surprise as Husk bands his arms around your thighs and lifts you as though you weigh nothing at all.

He almost chuckles at the sound and you wrap your legs around his hips, whispering fuck as he presses his cock up against you. With your skirt now bunched up over your hips there’s almost nothing between his cock and your warmth, your wetness, and Husk curses.

“Not his,” he mutters into the kiss, so low you almost don’t recognize it as words. He slides his cock up against your cunt, and even through your underwear it makes you moan. Husk echoes the sentiment, dropping his head against your shoulder. He rubs his forehead against your collarbone, the side of your throat, and your jaw, his paws clutching at your thighs. He sounds needy, almost desperate. “Tell me…”

“Husk…”

“Tell me.” he entreats again, his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat. You can feel his fur tickle against the swell of your breasts. you reach between you, fingers brushing against the firm line of his cock before pushing your underwear aside. Husk whimpers at the first slide of his cock against your bare cunt. “Please…”

“I’m not his,” you assure him breathlessly, and the next words slip out without thinking when you feel the head of him pressing just inside of you. “I’m yours.”

Husk thrust himself into you and you both moan aloud, your head falling back against the door. Husk’s mouth finds your throat, and you shudder as you feel a rumbling purr roll through him.

“Say it again,” he orders brokenly. His cock is stretching you, the small barbs along its length making you cling to his shoulders, his back. He exhales heavily, unevenly as your fingers graze the spot where his wings meet his back. “Please, baby, say it again.”

“Yours.” Husk’s lifting you and pulling you down with each thrust, your thighs meeting his hips with a brutal, agonizingly delicious force, the feathers of his tail tickling against your calf. “Fucking yours, Husk.”

“Christ,” he laps at the curve of your breasts, presses kisses far too sweet for the way he fucks you to your sternum. Husk’s eyes are blown wide whenever they meet yours, his purr echoing in your ears. “Fucking Christ, yes… yes, you’re mine baby… fucking mine…”

“God… fuck, I’m gonna…”

“Feel so fucking good, kitten,” he tells you and you let out an almost pained moan, as he touched claws to your clit. You buck up against his touch, eyes squeezing closed as the movement sends him deeper inside you. His tail is wrapped around your calf so tight it’s almost painful, but you can’t think of anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, filling you, marking you with his teeth and his claws and his tongue. “So fucking good for me… tell him who you belong to an’ you can cum, baby… be a good girl and tell this whole fucking hotel you’re mine…”

“Fuck, Husk!”

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed

fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance

inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.

one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.

sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.

“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”

“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.

“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.

dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.

“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”

an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”

her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.

you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.

you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.

after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.

with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.

you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”

“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.

“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.

she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.

as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”

“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”

as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.

ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.

“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.

“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”

ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.

joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.

as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx

me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul

you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.

ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”

“did dina text you? check your phone.”

you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.

“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”

smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.

“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”

ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.

you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

[haowrld]

MATH CLASS AND FEELINGS — CHWE HANSOL

SYNOPSIS : you fall for vernon. it was simple but it hit so hard

NOTES : chwe vernon x gn!reader, ft.boo seungkwan, fluff, highschool!au, non-idollau, unrequited love, lowercase intended, overthinker reader vs chill vernon

WORD COUNT : 2.4k words

WARNINGS : attempts at killing someone(?), jealously and awkwardness from reader (its kind of embarrassing), reader panicking, seungkwan is supportive but a bit of a menace, MATH TALK AHHHH

A/N : may or may not be inspired by a crush i went through (still am) last school year lol so PRETTY SELF INDULGENT

MASTERLIST

now playing : accidentally in love by counting crows

“now, if anyone remembers that a plus b is equal c. it’s quite simple as that. we’re going to use the formula…”

you stare at the clock that is above the whiteboard, it is only a few more minutes before lunch finally comes. unfortunately, you had a few more minutes with math class. it was an alright class, the teacher was pretty funny at some point, but every single material that your teacher was trying to teach was almost sleep-inducing.

quietly working on the question on the board, you glance at vernon, a person that you had become friends with because of seungkwan, who was friends with everyone. vernon was an interesting one, you liked him because of his somewhat odd personality and your cheesy little banter that you had with him.

he was also classmates with you in two classes. right now, his desk was only a few spaces away from you, a utility cart with a projector was separating you two—when both of you had nothing to do, you and vernon would share glances with each other.

maybe you two were watching a movie for class, or a teacher takes too long to finish class since they keep on continuing to tell their whole life story. you and vernon would get some sort of entertainment with each other’s reaction.

it was nothing out of the ordinary to you. but seungkwan thinks it’s something more and you don’t even realize it. you remember seungkwan telling you that your conversations with vernon weren’t exactly like how you talked with your other friends. he basically called you and vernon, ‘a couple that he usually sees in the hallways teasing with one another’.

it didn’t make sense, but it was a joke of course.

vernon looks up and then down at his paper, trying to copy the formula. you notice how he was fiddling with the black beaded bracelet on his left wrist and how his eyes are very laser-focused on the board.

“okay, check in with whoever is next to you, if you got the answer correctly,” the teacher said. shuffling papers and quiet talks can be heard throughout the classroom.

you had no one to check it with since your deskmate, seungkwan, had called in sick today. you don’t mind though since you know you probably got the formula correctly. but it was kind of boring, having no one to talk to. seungkwan was kind of the only person you were close to in that math class.

so you look at vernon, you thought that maybe a conversation could work even when you two are so far away. vernon was listening to the teacher’s life story whilst he talked to his other seatmates, laughing with, it sort of looked like a fun conversation to you, with all the laughter and such that the teacher had to quiet it down.

it makes you kind of jealous of vernon, the way he could easily talk to anyone around his vicinity whenever the chance appeared.

vernon turns to look at you, he was chewing on mint gum. looking at his whole appearance, you notice everything about him. you notice his short, but fluffy dark brown hair that falls softly on his face. you notice how he doesn’t have any piercings on his ear. then you remember listening to his conversations with seungkwan about how he doesn’t like getting his ears getting pricked.

vernon looks back at the people with a grin when someone makes a joke, you listen to the way he talks (it was pretty low voice), and the way he laughs, which is something that you wouldn’t know how to describe.

it takes you a while to realize how long you have been looking at vernon. but he doesn’t mind at all. vernon shuffles through his backpack, pulling out the packet of mint gum that he was using, mouthing out the word, “gum?” smiling as he asked.

…

the bell rings, and everyone runs through the door as quickly as they could, including vernon, who gives you the rest of the gum packet before leaving.

it was simple yet, it hit you.

“oh no...” you like vernon.

🗯️﹕──���🧮﹕──﹕🗯️

“i was gone for like two days,” seungkwan says, “and that’s when you started liking vernon!?”

“shush shush!” you try to shush seungkwan up by covering his mouth, “he literally has the same classes as us. why are you yelling it?”

seungkwan grabs your wrist, forcing you to shove your hand down from his mouth, “i know, but he’s still not here yet,” he grins, “so you can talk about your fleeting feelings about him all you want.”

you look away from seungkwan, making him frown, “come on don’t be like that…” he pulls out his phone, showing you a picture of vernon from his gallery, “does this make you feel better?” he looks at you with his big round eyes that looked like a deer.

“no,” you reply sharply.

seungkwan sighs in disappointment, “i guess i’ll have to send more than one,” seungkwan then uses his phone to text something before setting it down.

you hear your phone vibrate. grabbing it you notice that seungkwan had sent you a message.

seungkwan : stop ignoring me

seungkwan : this is all ive got!!

seungkwan : [10 photos]

seungkwan : buy me lunch <33

the photos were of vernon, on different occasions where seungkwan took photos of him. one of them was when they were eating lunch together, and another one was when he was with him during drama class. all of them were amusing photos of vernon being silly. you found it cute. but then you read the rest of seungkwan’s message.

you turn to look at seungkwan, “i’m not buying you lunch,” which makes him grin.

“but you liked the photos right? i bet you did—” you don’t let seungkwan respond, you grab his phone. which makes him yell out, “what are you doing?!”

you hear the door opening but you don’t care. until you did, when you notice your peripheral vision, a person standing still, “hi, what’s happening with you two..?” you hear the familiar voice of vernon. you turn to find him looking at you, confusion yet amusement formed on his face when he notices your predicament, it looked like you were trying to kill seungkwan by the neck.

“vernon! hi uh—” you quickly let go of seungkwan, he gives you a face that could betray you later, you were shaking your head at seungkwan to not start something that he would regret before looking back at vernon who was already taking a seat, “you did not just see that.”

“yeah, sure i didn’t..” vernon smiles, taking a seat, “but what did i miss exactly?”

“oh, just talking about math…” seungkwan immediately led the conversation as you simply just listened to whatever he and vernon were talking about.

it had only been a few weeks since you started to like vernon, and you’ve been nothing but a quiet mess on the inside whenever you are with him.

“speaking of finals, we have the math finals a bit earlier right?” vernon says, “we could totally study together. it’s probably easier, from what the teacher said.”

“that’s probably a cool idea, we’d have to plan where to study,” you reply, “coffee shops tend to be too crowded..”

“how about my house?” vernon replies, before typing something on his phone, “you’re not that far from me seungkwan, right?”

“mhm, it’s just yn who’s going to drive there,” seungkwan says which makes you sigh. he then types something on his phone which makes your phone vibrate, it is a message from him, even when his desk was right next to yours.

seungkwan : this could be your chance to be closer!

seungkwan : heck, i could drive you there

seungkwan : and then boom! romance 🌹

you : it’s just a study session nothings gonna happen???

seungkwan : you never know, maybe it leads to a kiss 😉

you use your foot to tap on seungkwan’s ankle, at least hard enough to make him up let out a light “ahck!”

“hey, vernon…” you and seungkwan quickly look up, stopping at what you are doing to see who is talking, and find one of your classmates, taking out a piece paper before handing it to vernon.

“hi,” vernon says, “and what is this..?”

“i don’t know man, it's yours apparently,” your classmate replies before going to their seat.

vernon opens the paper, it had black sharpie ink written, “this looks interesting, look at this,”

the paper had such poor handwriting that it looked bad on purpose; it had to be some sort of a love confession because of the heart written next to vernon’s name.

“ohh, guess someone likes you,” you feel seungkwan suddenly nudge you.

“that’s silly,” vernon says, “i doubt it’s even real.” he immediately crumples the paper before shooting it in a nearby trash bin.

you look down, vernon was back to fiddling with his black-beaded bracelet. should you tell him that there is someone who actually likes him?

🗯️﹕──﹕🧮﹕──﹕🗯️

it was only a few days before your math final. and your head is going haywire. not because you're basically at vernon’s home, but because seungkwan left you alone with him.

seungkwan dropped you off, not before giving you some sort of life advice, his hands were squishing your face “if you tell him right then and there, then you’re gonna regret it for your whole life!”

“i know just please don’t squish my face—”

“good!” seungkwan lets go of your face, “now go get him!

“aren’t you coming with me?” you ask him nervously.

“who said i was?”

now you’re awkwardly sitting at the edge of vernon bed while he was somewhere outside his bedroom—he mentioned he was going to change into something comfortable. you twist and close the cap of the water bottle that he had given you.

“this is just a study session,” you tell yourself, taking a sip of the water bottle.

vernon enters the room, setting down piles of papers. you notice that he’s not wearing his usual clothes that he puts on at school but rather something more comfortable,

“i like your shirt,” you mention the graphic t-shirt that he was currently wearing.

“oh thanks, i like your outfit too,” vernon replies, sitting next to you before laying in bed.

“do you think we could pass this?” vernon asks, “without seungkwan, we could probably do well, but i’m not really sure.”

you turn to look at vernon, you notice how he looked like a dead person, with the way his arms are neatly folded to his chest, “i think we’ll do our best,” you say.

“yeah you’re right,” he gets off the bed before sitting on an empty chair, he gestures to you to take the other chair, which you do so.

“alright algebra..” vernon makes a noise like he is cracking his knuckles, you let out a quiet chuckle when he does it, “let’s see what you’ve got..”

doing math formulas without your notes was pretty difficult—you wouldn’t exactly call yourself a person who’s good at math, but vernon however, was easily getting the material, muttering to himself as he wrote the answers.

you stare at your paper, then at his, your head hurts at this point, “i don’t get it..”

“oh, it’s cool,” he says, “it’s basically…” vernon begins to explain carefully, his pencil traces over the simple mistake you had when you worked on it, “and then you have to find the square root of 20, but you have to do it on the inside, like this…” vernon leans closer just to write on your paper. easily solving the question.

“do you get it?” he asks you while he twists a piece of his hair, you feel your face flush when you look into his eyes, he had long eyelashes that fluttered when he blinked, and light brown eyes that looked at your own eyes.

you were not focused at all.

“if you don’t get it, i could totally write out a new problem for you—”

“can i tell you something?” you suddenly say. vernon looks at you confused before nodding. now you’re immediately regretting interrupting him, but then you remember seungkwan’s nagging voice in the back of your head, so you try to stay confident.

“tell me what?” vernon is now all eyes on you, a little curious as to what you are going to say.

“it’s stupid but..” you turn the chair to look at him directly, “i have been meaning to tell you thing for a while but i didn’t know how to tell you, it’s a lot for me and i know it’s going to be a lot for you since of course we have a literal math final coming up and,” you take a deep breath before continuing, “i just didn’t want to ruin our friendship but i think i am ready to tell you even if it becomes awkward—”

“whoa whoa, calm down yn,” he places his hands on your shoulders, “what’s wrong?”

you panic, you didn’t want to stop with what you were doing, but you didn’t want it to become a whole essay that you wouldn’t get to the point. so you take a the pack of sticky notes, writing something down before handing it to vernon. it was the only way to get to the somehow.

vernon takes the sticky note from you, staring at the writing. it takes him a while to say anything, “is this about me?” he simply asks.

you nod not looking at him directly, massaging your knuckles, something that keeps you calm in this embarrassing thing that you had just done to yourself. you’re probably going to vent to seungkwan on the way back home.

vernon takes out black pen. with a smile on his face, he begins writing something back on the sticky note. your brain is setting on fire, you were nervous that this might ruin your friendship with vernon or even make things awkward.

but now that it’s happening, you quickly close your eyes telling yourself that it’s gonna be the end of the world, it’s gonna be the end of the—

“yn,” vernon says before letting out a slight laugh, “open your palm” you feel a hand taking your stiff, nervous hands, “and also open your eyes, i promise it’s nothing scary,”

you carefully relax your hands, letting vernon return the sticky note of doom. when you slowly open your eyes, all that is written on the sticky note is a smiley face and the word ‘same’.

you look at vernon, who was smiling, “w-what…” you were baffled.

“now can we finish the math problem now, or are you still shocked..?”

you cover your mouth, still trying to process on what he just wrote, “uhm..” you reply, “let’s continue..??”

“good,” vernon says, typing something on his phone, “cause i’ve got a movie to show you later for our date.”

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[iid-smile]

his printer , shinazugawa sanemi

x fem!teacher!reader ! modern au, maths teacher sanemi, he's got a big fat crush on you! not proofread

author's note: idk what to put here.. i just couldnt stop thinking about teacher sanemi ahuhuhu 🌝

most people were very aware of mr shinazugawa's bias towards you.

no, more like a crush of sorts. you're a teacher, a fellow colleague of his, and your classroom just so happened to be next to where his maths lessons are held. coincidentally, your room is the only classroom in the school that doesn't have a printer, so you often make trips to his, because his is the closest.

teaching-wise, you're a lot more gentle on your students, so little to no noise was heard except for the shouting coming through the thin shared wall. somehow, mr shinazugawa always manages to get troublemakers to teach, undoubtedly growing more and more irritated and stressed with each day that passes. you don't blame him, obviously, since the only way to get them to behave seemed to be yelling at them.

really, the only time they saw a little bit of light was when an angel liked you walked in, just emitting that addicting aura everywhere you go, a soothing effect of sorts.

his lesson had just come to an end, the kids quickly packing up their things and running out, as per usual. he let out a frustrated sigh in a failed attempt to calm down, running a hand through his messy white hair from all the times he pulled and tugged at it in a silent fit of rage.

just another rowdy and loud set of students coming within the next few minutes. was he ready? not at all. he needs a break, and a long one, yet the school year just started.

suddenly, a very familiar figure moves into the doorway of his classroom, catching his eye. that relaxed, tender gaze that met his fiery ones. he pauses, quickly straightening himself out. he tries to school his facial expression to look more neutral, hoping that would be enough. the last thing he wanted to do was be rude to you.

"need something?" he asks you, his voice coming out a lot more harsh than he intended. in reality, the sight of you had made him a little flustered. a little too flustered. quickly, he glances away from you and crosses his arms over his chest in an effort to look nonchalant.

"just wanted to pop in here before your next class starts..." you slowly approach him, but make sure to keep a professional distance. "are you planning on having a test today, by any chance?"

he slightly raises an eyebrow at you, a little surprised. though the two of you were in different departments, he was used to questions about assignments and whatnot, but not about possible upcoming tests. "yes," he says, "i am. why're you asking?"

for a beat, your expression drops to worry, but you smile once again. "just a bit wary of coming in while the kids are trying to focus. i have some things to print later on, so..."

he lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgment at your reasoning. in all honesty, he never really minded it when you visited to use the printer, even if the kids got a little distracted or chatty. he didn't blame them at all, you were an easy topic to talk about when you were and weren't around.

"you don't really need to ask," he says bluntly. "the kids'll get distracted either way." he uncrosses his arms and lets them fall to his sides, taking a small step toward you. "you're free to come in when you want. printer's always here, don't gotta ask me so much."

you appear to be taken aback. "are you sure?"

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "yeah. 'course i'm sure." he says, gesturing a hand toward the printer. "nobody needs you going around the entire school to just print something. that takes up extra time you could use to be with the rest of your class."

he doesn't want to admit it out loud, but he also likes having you in close proximity. it provides a nice distraction on not-so-good days like these; which was every day. "saves your feet some rest too. besides, it's not like the kids are doing anything other than talking their asses off until class starts anyway." he says with a shrug. oh, was he talking too much? did he sound too casual?

you stare at him, and your permanent smile widens more, something he hasn't seen before. you actually looked happy— no, relieved. only now has he realised that the difference in your expressions could be so different. "thank you, shinaguzawa."

"it's no problem, miss." he offers the best smile he can himself, pretty crooked, but he's sure you can see it. with a little bow, you turn on your heel and exit the classroom, your hand grazing the doorframe for a moment. his eyes remain fixed to where you just were.

please come back and print some papers. soon too.

[brenwritesss]

idk if you weite for juju but juju watkins fluff to smut

Work For It

JuJu Watkins x reader

Summary: JuJu tries to teach you how to play basketball, only it leaves you wanting her to teach you more than just playing ball.

Warnings: smut and language

a/n: I have never played basketball, only watch it. Therefore, the tips in this could be very wrong. So, pls bear with me.

“Babe, you can’t be serious,” JuJu picks up the ball after another failed attempt at you trying to make a shot. You and your girlfriend had been in the USC gym for an hour, with her trying to teach you how to ball. Of course, this wasn’t your idea but your girlfriend could be pretty convincing when she wanted something. “Lock in, baby.”

“I’m trying,” you say as she passes the ball to you, standing off to the side to watch you make another shot. 

You threw the ball again, trying to create a smooth arch with your wrist like you had seen JuJu effortlessly so many times. But just as expected, the ball missed the net entirely like the last fifty times you had attempt to get it into the net. When the ball bounces off the backboard and shoots to the side, your shoulders sag. 

JuJu chases after the ball and picks it up. She turns to you, giving you a soft smile. A smile that makes you melt every single time. She walks closer to you. “At least your form is improving.”

That made you frown. “Let’s face it, only one of us is destined to be a basketball star.”

JuJu let out a low laugh, “come on, you got it.”

“I think I should plan the dates from now on.” You hesitantly grabbed the ball again as she handed it to you.

JuJu laughs again. “No, this is fun.”

“For you.”

JuJu sighs, walking to stand behind you. You thought she was just going to walk back to her spot beside you, but her soft, warm breaths hitting your neck proved otherwise. “What did I say about locking in?”

You turn your head to her. “How am I supposed to lock in when you’re right behind me?”

Her hand moves your chin so that you’re back to facing the hoop. Her hands are now gently placed on your waist, gently guiding your body to turn. “Look at where you want the ball to go,” she paused, bringing her foot in between yours and gently kicking your feet farther apart. “You need to get that strength in your shooting form from your legs. Consistent shots come from balance.”

You ground your feet to the gym floor, not taking your eyes off the net. “Now what?”

“Tuck your elbow in when you shoot, almost rolling the ball off your fingers, and follow through.” JuJu’s voice guiding you through this shot did indeed send a flare of heat through your body straight to your core. But you were more focused on making this damn shot rather than how wet you were becoming every second.

Her hands stayed on your waist as a way of providing you some comfort while you tried to shoot the ball. Following her instructions, you tucked in your elbow as you threw the ball and for the first time today, it had gone swiftly into the net. The second you practically heard the swish of the net, you jumped in excitement. “Hell fucking yes.”

JuJu laughed and grabbed you by the waist, picking you up effortlessly. “You did it. You fucking did it!”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around her and buried your face into the crook of her neck. “Couldn’t have done without my favorite teacher.”

“I’m proud of you baby.”

“Can’t believe I just did that,” you said into her neck. Her hand rubbed up and down your back, providing you comfort.

“I can,” she said. “I knew you were gonna get it.”

“Thank you for teaching me, babe.” You let go of her but her hands didn’t linger from your waist.

“Always,” she says before smiling down at you. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

Even after dating her for almost a year, she never failed to turn you into a blushing mess. “Stop.”

“I’m being serious,” she whispers, tracing your jawline with her thumb.

You looked up at her, your bottom lip subconsciously wedged between your teeth. “I think I could use your teaching skills again.”

JuJu raises her eyebrow, looking down your body before looking back at you, your gaze on her immediately making her hands tighten their grip. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Can’t seem to figure out what to do with my hands, you know?”

JuJu swallows hard. “Your hands?”

“Yeah, just can’t seem to use them correctly.”

JuJu chuckles and she lets her hand travel down your hip. “I got you, baby.”

“Need you so bad,” you whisper into her ear and you could swear you felt the shiver that ran through her body just then. You wrap your legs around her waist and her hands shift up to your ass to support you. You had assumed that she was going to take you right here, in the gym. However, her movements said otherwise as she carried you out of the gym and toward her car. She unlocks her car with ease and practically throws you into the backseat, getting in after you and shutting the door.

“What–” You’re cut off by the intense feeling of JuJu’s mouth on yours, immediately pushing her tongue past your lips, not even bothering to ask for permission. You moaned at the feeling of her tongue swirling around yours, which elicited a moan from her. JuJu’s hands pulled at your waist, fiddling with the waistband of your shorts. You slowly lay your back down on the backseat, pulling JuJu with you. Having her on top of you had to be the best feeling in the world. 

“Ju…” you breathed out as best you could as her mouth placed sloppy kisses along your jawline. Your hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her as close to your body as possible. The second she hit that sweet spot that she knew all too well, you knew you were done for. You dug your fingertips into the skin of her neck. “Need you now.”

Her response to your demand was her hands pulling your shirt off, leaving you in your bra. You raised your eyebrows at her as you silently questioned getting naked in the middle of a gym parking lot. As if she read your mind, she rubbed her hands up and down your sides, looking directly down at you and said, “relax baby, nobody’s gonna see us.”

“O-okay,” you whispered back and she took that as permission to continue, pulling off your shorts and leaving you in your underwear. Every small touch that lingered on your skin grew that puddle in your legs and you were starting to get impatient.

Moving your panties to the side, she pressed her thumb straight onto your throbbing clit, dragging it down your folds. “Fuck baby, so wet for me.” The pressure combined with how wet you were already caused you to let out an unintentional whimper, your legs shaking just a bit.

“Please,” you beg her. Beg her to soothe your throbbing cunt just how you liked it.

Her eyes flicked back up to yours. “Please what? Use your words.”

“Please,” you said, the word coming out in another whimper. “Please touch me. Do anything, just please, I can’t take this anymore.”

“Yeah? Want me to make you cum?” she asked you so bluntly you almost choked.

You nodded your head aggressively and closed your eyes at the feeling of her thumb re-attaching to your clit. “Yes…mhm. Need you to make me cum so bad.”

“Gotta work for it.”

Your eyes shot back open. “W-what?” 

Her thumb applied more pressure which only increased the throbbing. “You said you want to use your hands correctly. If you wanna cum, you gotta work for it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, only for your voice to crack when you speak, “babe you can’t be serious.”

“Use those pretty hands and fuck yourself like I fuck you,” she ordered, taking her thumb away from your clit and licking off your wetness. You could have sworn that in that moment, you could have cum just from watching that.

“JuJu–”

You’re cut off by her grabbing your hand and guiding your fingers to trail down your body, making your nipples harden and your breathing to pick up. She looked at you through her eyelashes, watching every expression that she could read on your face. How your breath hitched at your own touch. She guided your own fingers through your folds and you bit your lip at the touch. “Show me baby.”

You began rubbing your fingers against your sopping cunt, the most pornographic moans coming from your throat. You circled your clit just like JuJu had done minutes ago, even though it almost didn’t feel the same compared to when she did it. You brought your other hand up to toy with your already hardened nipple. 

JuJu is smiling at the sight in front of her, a low groan coming from her when you turn your head to the side, closing your eyes. She grabs your chin, tugging it towards her. “Nah, eyes open and on me.”

You obeyed her orders, keeping your eyes on her as you continued playing with yourself. After a couple minutes, your eyes widen and your breathing picks up even more as she puts her fingers inside your throbbing entrance. “JuJu, fuck baby.”

You stop touching your clit but she grabs your hand and puts it back on it. “Keep working, mama.”

The more she thrusts her fingers inside you, the harder you press against your clit. You were moaning so loud you wondered if anyone could hear you outside the car doors. Your sounds were music to JuJu’s ears. You were positive that she was thrusting harder just to hear your moans. Each one louder than the last.

“Just like that,” JuJu coos in your ear. She hovers her body over your own, kissing at your neck again as her fingers curl deep inside you. Your hand is now trembling over your cunt as you try to continue your own movements. “Wanna feel you cum,” she whispered into your mouth before devouring your lips. That was all you needed to come undone right underneath her. Your legs trembled and your arms shook. You moaned directly into her mouth as she helped you ride out your high. All that was left was your chest almost heaving from the stimulation. 

“There we go,” JuJu says, slowing down her fingers. “So pretty.”

You couldn’t say anything as you were trying to catch your breath. She realized just how disheveled you looked and brushed strands of hair out of your face. She caresses your cheek with her thumb, smiling at you. “You okay?

You nod your head. “Yeah, yeah I’m–holy shit.”

She laughs at how out of breath you are. “Did so good for me mama.” 

She grabs one of her shirts from her gym bag and pulls it over your head. Of course, it was too big for you which caused her to laugh even more. You glare at her. “You can’t just make me cum and then laugh at me.”

“You know how much you’re feeding me ego right now?” she asks before leaning down and giving you a gentle kiss before pulling you both up to a sitting position. “We should go get food.”

You looked at her confused, wondering how the hell she wanted to get food after that. “Food?”

“In N Out sounds really good right now.”

“Fine, but you’re paying.”