#I don't know if I was just swept up in that mess or if I caused it

[irilis]

I wonder if people I knew in high school would recognize me now.

[heegyukeluv]

can't take it? (enha's hyung line) 

enha's hyung line when reader has high stamina and can go multiple rounds.

pairing: hyung line x afab!reader

my's note: unironically just thought about it and wrote it lol

warnings: established relationship, pet names (baby, darling, babe, angel, pretty) SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, implied unprotected sex (please, don't!!!), implied multiple orgasms, cowgirl, dirty talk, overstimulation (both), oral (f. receiving), fingering, lowkey nipple play, choking, belly bulge kink(?), they cum inside. lmk if i missed something!!!

wc (total): 1.8k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers

Heeseung would see it as a challenge and force himself through it even though he's teetering on the edge of giving up.

“F–Fuck, Hee…” You cried out, your body jolting, exposed breasts moving up and down to your boyfriend’s hard and deep thrusts inside your dripping cunt.

You didn’t know exactly what to do with your hands as the overwhelming feeling grew in your lower stomach, indicating your second climax coming. Torn in between kneading your boobs and rubbing your own clit, you tried to give the best view to Heeseung.

But he wore an expression of intense focus, as if his sole purpose in life was to make you cum uncountable times. And to some extent, it was. His fingers were deep in your hips, holding you still as he just kept going, eyes focused on where you both encountered.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Heeseung didn’t care about overstimulating you – or himself. No, definitely not. So when you announced you had your orgasm, he continued on thrusting hard, fast, deep, tirelessly hitting your g-spot with his sensitive tip, since he had already cummed two times as well.

“S’too much–” You mumbled, shaking your head, squirming under the pressure he held to keep you stay as possible. “Too– Much–Ah, fuck, Hee–”

“Take it.” He managed to say, voice hoarse, low, determined, though his body was starting to betray his primal will.

The slapping sounds flooded the room as a lascivious, beautiful symphony. Heeseung looked up to catch a glimpse of hooded eyes and fucked out expression. He smirked, feeling proud of himself for leading you to the edge of insanity. 

Your nails scraped down his back when he leaned closer, slotting perfectly in between your legs that wrapped around his waist, leaving red trails as you clawed at him for any sort of grounding.

“Hee, I c-can’t–!” Your protest dissolved into a broken moan when his thumb found your overstimulated clit, circling it in unwavering motions.

Heeseung’s warm mouth found place on your hardened nipples, playing with them by swirling his tongue around it and sucking just slightly, his pace never lacking, giving you an overwhelming experience of stimulus; you felt Heeseung everywhere. 

You winced, skin tingling in despair as you cried beneath him, a complete whining mess. You were loving each second, head spinning and your chest pounding strongly; your tongue quickly swept on the corner your lips to clean your light drooling and consequently tasted the salty taste of your tears.

Heeseung trailed his hot muscle up to kiss you, a hint of a victorious grin gracing his lips as he watched you lose yourself before him. His only objective was to tire you and win that fucking stupid inner challenge. 

“You wanted it,” he groaned, close to your ear. You whimpered, feeling another wave of pleasure crossing you. “Fucking take it.”

Jay would politely ask for a break ever once and a while, falling on the bed, panting, struggling to find words in between heavy breaths.

“Oh, fuck,” Jay grunted, his body trembling slightly, thighs burning after rolling his hips in an admirable constancy.

He had cummed one time already with you positioned in all fours, but he could feel his second orgasm just as close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” he chanted, jaw clenching, his digits pressing your sides with a strength that got you clenching harder, knowing it would leave marks. You loved to be marked by Jay.

Under Jay’s sight, you looked extra gorgeous with your face down and ass up, rocking back and forth within each pound, moans getting lost in between the lewd slapping sounds. You could feel his balls smacking against your pussy, sending vibrations straight to your clit and a rush of delight towards your core.

“Jay!” You nearly screamed, but your voice got lost in the pillow you had buried your face. 

Still, your mouth fell open, the tears in the corner of your closed eyes smearing your makeup and staining the pillowcase, your hands fisting the bed as you whined Jay’s name.

Soon after, you felt his warm liquid filling you up again, your own release mixing with it and making a mess. 

Jay pumped a few more times to ride you in your high before dropping himself by your side, panting hard, body still weak due to the effort of pleasing you. He had his eyes fluttered close as he tried to regain his composure, air difficulty making its way down his burning lungs. He felt his throat dry and groaned when you turned his body upwards. 

“Just… A sec… Please… Darling…” He said in between ragged breaths and you giggled, grabbing the bottle of water on the nightstand and handing it to him, watching his neck moving as he drank on it.

After he finished and you drank a bit yourself, you shot him a glance. He quivered, eyes widening a little. 

“Want more,” you mumbled, straddling on the bed just to position yourself on top of him. “But don’t worry, I’ve got you,” and with a wink and a smirk mischievously dancing on your lips, you aligned Jay’s softened dick on your folds, starting to grind back and forth.

All he could do was to rest his hands on your hips and pray not to pass out.

Jake would be so tired after the first round but he mastered the art of making you cum with his tongue and fingers a few times before fucking you.

The slurping sounds echoed through the room as lascivious as the wet noises of Jake’s fingers. He was switching in between fucking you with his tongue and with his slender digits, the same ones that would curl on the exact shape to hit your sensitive spot.

You had no idea of how much you have cummed, your cries entering Jake’s ears deliciously and traveling all the way down to his leaking cock. 

He was so fucking turned on by your pretty sounds and your body searching for his own, searching for pleasure on his mouth and fingers. He could spend hours with his head buried between your legs; the pressure of your thighs against it was too good to dismiss, the sweet taste of your pussy melting on his palatar was addictive. 

Jake loved how high your libido was, nearly matching his own. However, he would be extra tired after having his orgasm, so he just learned how to get yourself done until he finished fucking you deep and hard.

“God, Jake– Your fingers– So good–” You threw your head on the pillow as your back arched, your hips grinding on his face and hands shamelessly. 

“Like my fingers, babe?” He asked within a grin, trying to ignore his aching dick screaming for some friction. 

Jake didn’t want to rut on the mattress, because he had a job to do and it was to fill you up with his seed after eating you out for who knows how long. His hands were messy with your juice, just like the sheets beneath you two. He couldn’t care less.

To have you, screaming his name just with his fingers and tongue was satisfying at most for him to worry about bed clothing. 

You nodded, lost into the blissful desire Jake provided so perfectly. You jolted forward when you felt his lips sucking on your clit, his fingers now far gone from your pulsing hole as he licked your folds, lapping his tongue with precision, nearly making out with your cunt.

“Cumming–” You whispered with a broken voice, just to scream after; the grip on Jake’s locks tightening, eliciting a moan from him. 

He chuckled, drinking from your arousal just like it was his favorite drink.

“Give me one more and then I fuck you with my cock, yeah?”

Sunghoon would match your energy. If you can go for a whole fucking night, so does he. 

“Yeah, ride my fucking dick, baby,” Sunghoon moaned, brows furrowing with how warm and wet you were around him, swallowing every centimeter of his shaft.

You were on top of him, bouncing, riding, doing anything that gave you the euphoria of being fulfilled. Both emotionally and physically. 

Sunghoon definitely loved you, and the biggest proof was when he started doing gym just to match your stamina in bed, now able to follow you throughout the whole night without tiring too much. He could do it just fine before, but he wanted to be sure he was giving you the best. Always.

“Fucking shit, so good,” he bit his lip, smirking, admiring the view of your boobs jumping as you tried new ways to pleasure yourself, his eyes wandering each curve of your body. You felt his dick throbbing inside you. “My baby is so good, feels so good,” he said in between moans as his hands gripped your hips to help you.

You decided to grind back and forth, the last two orgasms helping to ease the movements; your lips were parted chanting Sunghoon’s name like a beautiful, addictive mantra. 

He could feel how you started to squeeze his dick in no time, his finger sliding towards your clit to give just enough of friction. 

“I love your cock–” You slurred, drunk in Sunghoon’s scent getting all over you. The feeling of his hard length nearly destroying you inside was too good not to vocalize. “Love it so fucking much– So big, so deep– Mhm…” You sounded… delighted, as if you were experiencing the best sensation of your life – and you were. 

Your exposed neck as you threw your head back invited Sunghoon's long fingers to wrap around it gently, just to give a light press that interrupted your airways to work properly for a few seconds. Your mind entered a haze of ecstasy, one that got you accelerating your riding almost instantly and seeking for your release as soon as possible.

The coil in your stomach tightened, and at some point you started to notice you could feel Sunghoon’s dick in there as well. One of your hands gave away the support you found on his chest just to press your belly, provoking Sunghoon’s hips to buck forward as he felt the slight pressure. 

“F–Fuck,” he stammered, letting go from your neck and clit to hold you still on top of him, starting to thrust frantically. “Cum for me, angel– Cum with me.”

As if a command, your moans increased the volume, so did Sunghoon’s thrusts, until you came all over his body, your juices mixed with his seed coating his dick and part of his stomach.

He gave you nearly seconds to recompose, maneuvering your body to lay back on the bed. You both smirked, because you knew what was coming. 

“We’re in for a long night, pretty.”

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”

Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”

“Wait, I’m just here to-”

“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”

Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.

“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.

“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”

Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”

“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”

Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.

“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”

“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”

“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.

“So, what brings you to Gotham?”

Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”

“You go to school?”

“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”

“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”

Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?

“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”

Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?

"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"

Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"

"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"

"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."

Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."

Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."

"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.

'Careful,' Black Bat signed.

"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"

Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.

'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.

"You know sign language?"

"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."

He knew ghost-sign first, after all.

"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."

----

Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.

"You two can come back anytime."

Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.

"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."

"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"

"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."

Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.

----

"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"

Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.

"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."

"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.

"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"

"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.

"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.

"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"

"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"

[mzminola]

Jason: I'm just saying that it's messed up you guys just pretended it was a costume change and not a new Robin. I died and you swept it under the rug. Like I didn't matter. Tim: I hear you, but, counter, if Rogues think they can *succeed* at killing a Robin, they're more likely to try. And to try killing other capes, too. It was a protective measure. Jason: They try to kill us all the time anyway. And it's not like it worked, they clearly all know you're the third Robin. How long did it take Joker to figure the switch out, five milliseconds? Tim: Oh no, it took him like...a few hours, maybe a couple days. I was busy I don't know the exact timeline. His face when he thought you were still alive was amazing, though. Jason: What. Tim: As I said, I was busy trying to- Jason: No no no, go back to his face. Tim: Uh...well I landed on the windshield and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head? He just started like. Screaming. "I killed you!" over and over. Just absolutely losing it. Jason: . . . Tim: Like his entire world just ended. Total meltdown. Jason: . . . Tim: I guess he figured it out eventually, or went into denial, but it's not like any of the other Rogues would listen to him after the cops had to fish him out of that sewage tank, it made him a laughingstock, so that bought us more time- Jason: When the cops had to WHAT. Tim: Uh. Jason: *Sewage tank???* Tim: We may have uh. Wound up in a showdown by some of the open tanks. And I may have. Um. Flipped the Joker into one. Jason: . . . Jason: . . . Tim: ...You okay? Jason: The Joker got tossed into a LITERAL VAT OF SHIT and I MISSED IT.

[pseudowho]

The Rebounds

When your boyfriend dumps you, Maki and Yuuta know exactly how to cheer you up.

I don't normally write "aged up" fics but...here we go.

Warnings: 18+, soft!Dom Yuuta and less-soft!Dom Maki (bit of a drill sergeant really), lingerie, sex toys, threesome, double-penetration, alcohol use

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"You're...breaking up with me? After everything I've done for you-- don't you dare hang up-- bastard!"

You flung your phone across the sofa, burying your face in your hands, barely suppressing a tearful, infuriated scream. He was shit, but he was yours, and he had the audacity to toss you out like yesterday's newspaper--

A knock on your door. Not caring who it was, you snapped, shouting.

"Fuck off! I'm not home."

"Hey! Lose the attitude." Your door swept open with a bang, rattling against the wall. Maki stepped in without apology, dropping a bagged Cursed weapon on your doorstep, "You're the one who asked me to bring this--...what's up with you? Are you crying?"

Yuuta peered in behind Maki, dark hangdog eyes spotting you, concerned; "Crying? Hey, what's happened?" Yuuta nudged past Maki, stepping over to you, and grasping your shoulders, soft calloused hands surprisingly strong against your skin.

Arms around your knees, you hid your face, ashamed for being such a blotchy mess; "He dumped me. Just...called me up, and dumped me. Like I'm trash."

Yuuta's face crumpled for you, the briefest flash of anger, overlaid with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, Maki interrupting.

"Finally. That piece of shit was never worth yo--"

"Maki," chided Yuuta, still stroking your shoulders, gripping and possessive. Maki tsked, arms folded, turning aside, hovering between you and the door.

"...you shouldn't waste your time worrying about that guy," Maki offered, voice tight but softer now. She was silent for a moment, and Yuuta looked to her, silent agreement passing between them.

"She's right," offered Yuuta, bright, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, cupping your tearstained face. Yuuta looked to Maki again, a glint of something odd in his eyes. Maki nodded, barely perceptible.

"...in fact, you should come with us. We're going out! Dinner, drinks...we'll show you a good time instead, yeah?"

You prickled with shame again, eyes squeezing shut as Yuuta shushed you, pulling you to your feet, pushing you to Maki who began to bustle you to your bedroom while you argued weakly; "--...no, guys, I-- I'm not third wheeling, I don't need you to take me with you out of pity-- I'm interrupting--"

They spoke over you, Yuuta still holding you by the shoulders from behind while Maki perused your wardrobe.

"--'third wheeling', psh--"

"How could we ever pity our lovely friend--'

"--not interrupting anything, what do you think this is, huh--"

"Just some drinks, some dinner, maybe a bit of shopping..."

Maki held up a little red dress, looking to Yuuta; Yuuta nodded. Maki flicked her hand at Yuuta, banishing him from the room, before stepping to you, brandishing the dress.

"Get changed," she ordered, "or I'll do it for you."

You pouted, grumbling, beginning to strip while Maki rummaged for shoes. She pulled out some trainers, comparing them to your dress. Her eyes narrowed at you, half dressed, turning aside again and holding the shoes out to you.

"These. You'll look...cute." You scoffed, brushing your hair, making yourself presentable.

When you stepped out, Yuuta looked you up and down approvingly, catching Maki's eye again with that same unreadable glint; "His loss! You're our pretty girl for today then, huh?" You blushed, churlish that their attempts to cheer you up were working.

And treat you well they did, knowing you as only old friends do. Within a few hours, you found yourself smiling again, laughing alongside them as you ate, all of you handsy and affectionate; Maki, feeding you as Yuuta took photos of you both, eyes soft and full of love; Yuuta, reaching over to whirl little circles on your inner wrist; both of them, leaning in close, pressing against you as you broke down, sobbing quietly into your soju.

You hiccuped, the floral alcohol cut with your salty tears; "I just...I just don't understand why...why I'm not good enough..." you gulped, knocking back another shot.

"You're beautiful," Maki snipped, bluntly refilling all of your glasses, "and he couldn't see that." She slipped an arm round you from behind, her fine slim fingers coiling over your hip, stroking you.

"But we can," Yuuta cooed, "and we'll treat you like you deserve to be treated...because you are beautiful." His fingers continued to draw soft circles on your palm, your inner wrist, heading up your soft sensitive forearm. You shivered, the alcohol making your nerves electric, receptive. Yuuta smiled at your shiver, face leaned on one palm, eyes dark as they trailed, intoxicated, down your body. He sighed.

"I don't think she believes us, you know," he said to Maki. Maki huffed, her fingertips kneading at your hip as she tugged you closer. She took another shot, refilling her glass and pressing it to your lips.

"Open up," she commanded, smirking as you swallowed, some of the sweet wine dripping down your neck and breasts in your haste. You felt Maki's breath catch as her eyes followed the droplet.

"You're all sticky," Maki chastised, her finger grazing the drop away, pressing into your mouth so you could suck it off her finger, "...messy girl." Your skin burned, feeling like forbidden fruit beneath their touch. Yuuta watched you suck the soju off Maki's finger, the strange glimmer in his eyes growing deeper as his head dipped downwards, fringe flicking forward over his eyes.

"You're right," he hummed to Maki, whirling his glass, eyes still dipped and flinty as he took in Maki's arm around your waist; the way she pressed a kiss to your temple; how you slumped against her, supple and seeking warmth; how your fingers twitched as his drew hearts over your inner arm.

"She is messy," Yuuta continued, finishing the last of the soju, "we should...get her cleaned up, huh?" Maki smiled into your hair, humming, laughing as you trembled under her warm, botanical breath.

"Guys," you hummed, swoopy and warm with the drink, "you don't have to do this--"

"Have to?" Yuuta laughed, pulling you forwards by the forearm so you were nose to nose with him for a moment, close enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke, farqq enough to almost be an accident; "We don't have to...we want to. You deserve the best date. Right, Maki?"

Maki was already up, a smile at the corner of her mouth as she helped you to stand. You blushed, sputtering.

"--a date, I--guys--"

"Friends can go on dates," Maki insisted, her arm round your waist as Yuuta loped beside you, bopping his forehead to your shoulder, "but while we're here...there's something I'd like to get. Come on."

You were steered into a lingerie shop, suddenly surrounded by fragrant musk, silk, lace and erotica. You laughed as Yuuta gripped you by the waist, twirling you in the low lights. He smiled, pulling you into his deceptive softness, penetrating your defences. He dipped you back to some unheard tune, leaning down to bracket you, whispering;

"See anything you like?"

With his gaze fixed firmly on you, your eyes caressed the bras, chemises, the beautiful indulgent treasures. Yuuta saw your eyes linger on a set, and nosed your jaw;

"That one, huh? You're so pretty anyway, and that one would be..." Yuuta left the sentence unfinished, and you became acutely aware of his closeness, body flush to his lean strength, something so dangerously hypnotic about him. You felt undressed, already, in his arms.

Maki had reappeared, a subtle paper bag in her hands. She communicated wordlessly with Yuuta, again, following your gaze. Rifling through the rails, and casting an appraising eye over your body, Maki settled and headed to pay. Opening your mouth to argue again, your breath caught as Yuuta pulled you up from your dip, the drink and attention rushing to your head once more, feeling so loved, so wanted. Maki cast her eyes up and down you both, slow, predatory.

"Home?" So much unspoken promise, from just one word. Maki's eyes lapped at your body, enough to make you tremble. Yuuta and Maki held you between them. You could hardly remember the journey home, their touches edging you somewhere between uncertainty and euphoria. You accepted it without question, as you had always accepted their love.

Stepping into your apartment, Yuuta closed the door behind you. He stayed with his back to you, fingers tapping against the door handle. You had leaned, head tipped back against the wall, sighing, softly drunk, heartbeat between your legs. You tipped your head to look at Yuuta questioningly as he spoke, his voice quiet and measured.

"Hey, Maki...go and get set up, yeah? I don't...I don't think I can wait any longer," he finished weakly, laughter on his breath. Maki smirked, her burns like a bed of rose petals in the low light.

"Alright." Maki leaned in, pressing lingering kisses to your forehead, your nose, hovering just so above your lips. Her fingertips brushed your jaw, and she whispered; "Yuuta's gonna get you warmed up, okay baby?"

Maki walked away, taking your breath with her. Yuuta filled the gap, and you burned alive under their attentions, his hands pressed to the wall either side of you, trapping you in his gravity.

"What do you deserve, pretty girl?" He whispered, shaky with restraint. All the wrong answers tried to claw their way out of you; Yuuta's eyes beseeched you to choose better for yourself, his lips achingly close to yours. You bit, to Yuuta's satisfied smile, choosing better.

"Y-you," you stuttered, meltingly desperate, "I deserve you."

Yuuta responded with a kiss; his self-restraint snapped, and he overlaid your body with his against the wall, melding to you as his hands tangled into your hair and his mouth to yours. You could taste the soju on his tongue, and you moaned softly, opening your mouth to him. Yuuta responded in kind, tilting your head to the side, his palms cupping your face, lips wet and trembling.

You could feel the breaths caught in his chest as his tongue stroked against yours, fingernails scratching at your scalp, hot and needy. Yuuta shunted his knee forward between your thighs, pinning you against the wall, one hand dropping to your hip, brushing under the hem of your dress to yank you down, pussy flush against his wiry thigh.

Pulling back, panting, Yuuta squeezed your cheeks in one hand, forcing your lips into a pout. Gritting his teeth, growling softly through them, he gave your face a gentle affectionate shake; "You taste like peaches, cutie, I always knew you would."

You squirmed, rutting yourself on his thigh, eager for relief in your aching core. Still squeezing your cheeks, giving them one soft slap, Yuuta tipped your face so you looked down at his thigh, his cock straining against the material of his trousers.

"I'll be honest...we've been waiting for you to break up with him. Even better that he ditched you...should we send him some pictures? Huh?" Reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, Yuuta turned your squished pouting face to the camera, and, pressing his lips hard to your puffy cheek, took a photo.

Yuuta groaned to feel you still humping him, desperate for friction. His hands dropped to your hips, rutting you against his thigh. He bit his lip, breathless, shaky as he tucked up your dress, watching your wet underwear barely covering your pussy, sliding against him. He laughed, soft, barely holding himself back from lifting you up and taking you against the wall.

"Oh baby," he teased, "not like this-- you deserve better--...and Maki's feeling left out, right?"

You jumped to hear Maki's voice to your right, head tipping as Yuuta lapped lazily at the fabric covering your nipples, spit seeping through, warm and wet; "I dunno...you two are putting on quite a show. Come to the bedroom. Date's not over yet." Yuuta moaned against your breasts, feeling their plush heave against his lips, his cock jumping against his thigh.

"Come on, peaches," he whispered, breath cooling your spit-wet breasts, "You've got a pretty outfit...it's Maki's turn with you...and I wanna watch."

Yuuta drew back from you, panting, gripping his cock through the light fabric of his trousers. If Maki hadn't stepped in, lifting you, wrapping your legs round her waist, your trembling knees would surely have given out. Nuzzling her nose against your mouth, stealing light kisses along the way, Maki chuckled, smirking; "You taste like Yuuta." You bit your lip, suddenly shy, nuzzling your face into Maki's neck as she laid you down softly onto your bed.

The room flickered with dulcet candlelight, smelling something fruity and familiar. Maki stood over you, taking a sip from a bottle as Yuuta crept in behind you, settling in an armchair beside the bed, still pawing at his aching cock.

"Wait-- Maki-- don't swallow...you should let her have a taste," Yuuta pressed, watching with hungry, hooded eyes as Maki hummed, smiling down at you. She leaned over you, one knee pressed between your thighs, one arm over your head, and pressed her pursed lips to yours. Kissing deeply and forming a seal, Maki slowly eked her tongue between your lips, drops of warm peach soju moving from her mouth to yours.

The body-warmed fumes rose up your nose, filling you with sweet botanical delight, bringing you back to the hazy drunk warmth you had felt during dinner, as Yuuta had stroked your arm so sweetly. Maki deepened the kiss, thrumming with excitement as she heard Yuuta unbuckle and unzip himself, letting his cock fall, hard and twitching, onto his belly.

Maki pulled your dress down your shoulders, trapping your arms for a moment, until they released, the red fabric sliding all the way down and pooling over your lap. Maki grasped your underwear with it, shooting Yuuta a wicked look; "Don't look-- she isn't dressed yet."

Yuuta laughed, one hand lazily pumping his cock, and he brought the other up over his eyes, still grinning. You couldn't take your eyes off him, stroking himself to Maki kissing peaches into you, masturbating to her rolling your clothes down off your body. Yuuta listened instead, his hearing piqued to the soft fabric rustle of your dress hitting the floor, and Maki lifting the dusty-rose chemise out of the bag.

"Taste like a peach...look like a peach," she pressed, brushing the chemise over your bare breasts, mouth watering at how your nipples pebbled and peaked under the sheer chiffon. Maki leaned into you again, ghosting her lips over yours; she caught your eyes, dragging your gaze over to Yuuta, biting her lip-- "If you think Yuuta's cock looks pretty now...wait until you're all dressed up."

"Maki!" Yuuta whined, his cock pre-cum-wet and twitching in his fist, his eyes still covered, "Stop. You'll make me blush." He paused, his hand and breath hesitant, "Is she...is she watching me?"

Maki grinned, wicked; "mmmmmhm." Yuuta groaned, long and anguished, squeezing the base of his cock again to stop himself from spilling over his lap, squeezing the hand over his eyes. Maki only laughed, standing back, pacing like an animal as you slipped into the pink chemise, split at the front, lighter than blossoms.

"Oh, Yuuta...you should see her," Maki praised, and you blushed, feeling so much more desirable under the gaze of a beautiful woman over a man, "she really is lovely." Yuuta had slowly dropped his hand from his eyes, hand cupping his cockhead with a shiver as he drank you in, supple and glassy-eyed beneath Maki, who rolled two pink rubber buds between her fingers.

Taking another sip of her soju, leaning in to kiss you again, you felt Maki graze something over the barely-there fabric covering your nipples. Suddenly so thirsty, lifting your hands to tangle in her short hair, Maki moaned into you as you kissed harder, drinking from her, desperate for more. Finally, you spoke.

"Maki, I-- don't leave me like this, give me something," you whimpered, your clit throbbing and needy, knowing you needed the barest of touches to bring you to completion.

"Don't be a brat," Maki chastised, making you blush and bite your lip up at her, "Or can you not wait? Do you want me to stop? Yuuta, shall I stop?"

"No!" You cried, you and Yuuta simultaneous in your desperation, him edging his weeping cock so fervently, you thrumming with the need for release, the day's little touches and promises and drink, all rolling into the slowest orgasm you had ever had built.

Maki smirked, and abruptly clamped two rubbery clips over your nipples, pinched hard beneath rosy fabric. You squealed, and cried out, bucking as she switched them on, sharp vibrations shooting through your nipples, tugging like a fishing line, making your clit throb with need.

Maki watched you writhe, slowly stripping her own clothes, hesitating for a moment as her burns became bare in the candlelight. Yuuta felt her, shaking with closely controlled restraint as he looked at her and you, eyes sticky-sweet.

"--my two beautiful girls, huh?" He grinned, circling his cockhead with a wet thumb, "...how did I...ever get so lucky?" Maki blushed, biting her lip as she finished stripping, looking down at you, mewling and squirming, in awe. She knelt down over you, smiling, a long, vibrating dildo at her fingertips.

"Yeah...you're right. We struck gold." Maki watched you, captivated as you babbled, whimpering, begging, tears streaming down into your hair. Yuuta felt a drip of sweat run down his chest, unbuttoning himself, letting his top sit open, releasing his cock with clenched knuckles, eager not to spend himself until he could be inside you.

Maki squeezed lube onto your glistening pussy, making you jolt and shiver with the sudden cold, until Maki shushed you again, kissing you firmly; "Be patient...I'll warm it up." You and Yuuta moaned, both twisting in divine bliss as Maki slipped her slim fingers between your folds, finding your clit with the expert precision of another woman, circling it with two delicate fingers, alternating pressure, toying with you.

"Inside," Yuuta barked, authoritative in his desperation, huffing, his cock twitching against his belly, "--tell me-- tell me how she feels, Maki." Maki obliged, her fingers dipping lower, grazing over your entrance, covering you with cum-slick lube.

"...silky..." Maki described, to Yuuta's chipped groans, "...and..." Maki hit your knees with her own, spreading your thighs wide, baring you to her, and she plunged two fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt, gasping with delight, "...tight...like wet velvet."

Yuuta cursed under his breath, his head tipped back, hand clasped over his mouth as he began to pump his cock again, jerking himself back to the edge. Maki pumped her fingers into your sloppy pussy, bringing one thumb up to work on your clit.

You came embarrassingly fast, the accumulated touches throughout the course of the day too much, and you felt your arousal trickle out over Maki's fingers. Her eyes furious with focus, Maki continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you, her thumb moving to stimulate your clit from another angle, expert in her gentle overstimulation.

Maki bit her lip, thrilled by her own unmet need, throbbing under Yuuta's obsessive stare. The self-denial while watching you fall apart beneath her was delicious. You cried out, clutching her arms, trying to wiggle your hips away from her as she yanked you back to her, hushing you.

"Come on, baby," she pushed, "just one more...then you can have Yuuta's cock, 'cos he can't last any longer." One sideways glance to Yuuta, arched backwards and serene with the edge of his orgasm, sent you over the edge again, and he gripped the base of his cock once more as you arched, crying out, lights popping in your vision and fizzing down your body.

"Maki--" Yuuta urged, voice brittle with need, "--my turn-- need her now--" Maki huffed at Yuuta's lack of self-restraint, smirking at him, whining, hand wet with pre-cum. Maki lifted you up off the bed, soft and floppy, knees still hanging over the edge, and Yuuta slipped underneath you, mirroring your position, eagerly lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance. As he moved to push into you, his arms gripping you from behind, an arresting clasp across your chest and belly, Maki gripped him by the cock, stopping him as he cried out, voice hoarse.

"Hey, did I say she was ready?" Maki sniped, rolling her eyes as you and Yuuta moaned and argued with her. Her hands still covered in lube, she took the vibrating dildo she'd been fingering for so long, rolling it in lube and your generous, sticky cum. You trembled, reading Maki's intent immediately.

"Maki, I-- they won't-- won't both fit," you squeaked, Maki humming at your meagre protests as she rubbed the dildo at your entrance, switching on the vibration and edging it slowly past your swollen, puffy entrance.

"I dunno," she mused, "I wanna see how fast Yuuta cums like this." Yuuta shuddered, his cock still gripped in Maki's hand, Yuuta squeezing you harder above him as you trembled and shook, the dildo hitting your cervix, sending vibrations deep into your belly.

Maki stroked Yuuta's cock, throbbing in her hand as he bucked, teeth gritted, sweating with restraint; "Maki," he snapped, "let me fuck her-- I swear to god I'll kick your--"

"--careful special grade. Don't threaten me with a good time." Yuuta coughed, tormented, blinkered by his own impending orgasm as you writhed, blinded by your own pleasure in his arms. Maki was almost overcome by the sight of you both in blissful agony beneath her, almost cumming untouched, the tension of the build-up so much better than the payoff.

Maki finally released him, dropping to her knees between yours and Yuuta's. She lifted your legs, draping them over Yuuta's thighs, and pushed Yuuta's knees, forcing your legs to spread. She kept the dildo vibrating inside you, juddering with incoordinate twitches now, floating above yourself.

Finally released, Yuuta bit into your shoulder, groaning in your ear as his cock started to press into you alongside the vibrating dildo, stretching your pussy more than it had ever been stretched, so full, from cunt to belly; "Just hold onto me, peaches, yeah?"

In one swift thrust, Yuuta bottomed out, shouting and cursing, his cock gripped by the slick, impossibly tight heat of your pussy, the dildo vibrating relentlessly against the underside of his length.

"--oh my--shit, Maki, 's too muc, fuck! Ohhh fuck-- fuck-- fuck--"

Maki leaned in, two fingers rolling over her clit as she lapped yours into her mouth, flicking her tongue across you, sucking, nipping, tasting the peach lube she had covered you with. Lost in this semi-drunk haze, she continued to edge herself to the sight of you, spasming in forced orgasm after orgasm, under her mouth.

Yuuta rutted up into you helplessly, arms shaking around you. His seed spattered your cervix and the dildo white, cumming so violently that he curled in on himself beneath you, forcing you to curl with him. Maki watched it all, pupils blown, stroking her clit just enough to keep herself from orgasm.

You continued to pant and whimper, still so full, your pussy clenching urgently, wildly overstimulated. Maki took pity on you both, switching the dildo off, slipping it out of you and letting it drop with a wet cum-splatter. It pulled Yuuta's dripping cock out with it, and you whined, suddenly so empty, Yuuta nuzzling and kissing your cheeks, trying to bring you both down from your high. He chuckled, breathless in your ear

"What a date, huh? You should get dumped again, sometime."

[ashherahh]

gentle reminders for a lonely heart

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

tarot masterlist • rules + tags • paid services

If you have been feeling some kind of way, here's a message to let you know that everything will be okay (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ

pile 1

Cards: Temperance, Two of Cups Rx, Two of Swords Rx, Ace of Swords Rx

Just take a breather. Everything will fall into place eventually.

You will find your way in this world and everything will make sense. You just need to let go of the mess for a bit, okay? You can't do it all, babe. You shouldn't have to either.

There's more to life than always having to make the right decision. Sometimes life pulls us on a path and we kind of need to just go with the flow. This is difficult, of course. Things are so crazy, how could you not plan for everything?

Babe, you'll make yourself crazy thinking about the what ifs.

It's like you're in a forest and there's a river you find yourself walking next to but it's flowing in the opposite direction of where you're going. You find yourself stumbling and falling into this river and the sheer shock of the situation leads you to believe that this the worst possible thing that could've happened to you.

But, maybe that needed to happen and maybe you needed to be swept away by the current.

Whenever chaos comes into our lives, it always points out something that has been at the back of our minds but now we simply can't ignore. There has been no balance, but now is not the time for balance.

Balance will come but only after letting go. So let the mess go, let it slip through your hands like sands through an hour glass. Let go of what you should've done and who you should've been and what you should've accomplished.

Another thing about chaos is, it drags our attention to the present. Although it's not a nice circumstance, you're in the moment and you're present. You're thinking of what to do now. The lesson in chaos is to always focus on what you can do now, in this moment. In this space and with what you have, think about now.

No more future and no more past. Just right now. If all you can do is breath, that's all you can do. That's okay.

If you're in this state of limbo where nothing makes sense and everything seems to be falling apart and you're second guessing every decision you make — take a moment.

Actually, take many moments. You need it and you deserve it. You're going to be absolutely fine.

pile 2

Cards: Three of Swords Rx, The Star, The Fool, The Knight of Swords

Oooh, we in our healing era! We're in our glow up era! We are feeling ourselves and we're going to be feeling good for a very long time. I love this for you!

How amazing to know that the heartache is coming to an end? How amazing are you to walk away from what was bringing you down for so long? Welcome back, babe!

The universe has many a good thing in store for you.

You really got out of it and it was not easy but it's going to be so worth it. You're on a new path now, one that will bring in a love that will completely cast a shadow onto the one of the past. They will be a distant memory.

You're being blessed with this new relationship because of how you handled the past heartache, and I can see how bad it was. I can see how much it hurt you and you sat with it for so long but now you're a Star. Shining so bright, living life, back into your groove.

I can see that it was difficult for you to move on, but I'm so proud of you.

Sometimes we think we'll be with someone forever but the Universe has other plans. It shifts and changes and redirects us. Sometimes it uses people we love and that doesn't mean the love was for nothing. It wasn't.

No love is worthless. You just ended up giving more than they did, but that's always been you, right?

All that love you're capable of giving to others and been giving to others, it's time you give it to yourself. You'll see how amazing your life becomes once you start doing that, not only that, things will just start happening for you.

It took a while to get here but the change will happen before you know it and the pain will be a memory of the past. You're being guided and protected through this healing and through this new beginning.

You have a really beautiful soul and such a kind heart. Once you let that shine through, and I mean really shine, you'll see how happy you'll be.

pile 3

Cards: Eight of Pentacles Rx, Five of Pentacles Rx, Temperance Rx, Six of Wands

All your efforts are not in vain and the reward will come in the most unlikeliest of ways, but it'll come.

You've earned it. All the times you denied yourself, you held back, you decided to focus. It's all going to be rewarded. You're going to be blessed with so much, you won't know what to do with it.

Having to rub pennies together is not fun. You had to say no to a lot and miss out on a lot. I really do feel for you, babe. It's tough having to be responsible when you see everyone around you having fun. Especially when you have goals people don't really understand.

If you find yourself comparing yourself to others, smack those thoughts out of your mind.

I'm not going to romanticise your situation, I am not Lana Del Rey. I'm just a messager and the message is that you're a tough cookie and you will not be broken by this. The guide watching over you is really in awe of you and they got your back all the way. Not many people can handle things the way you have.

This is not a beaten path. Your cart won't get stuck in the mud going this way. You're going to do awesome things with your life. You're going to live your dream life, in all honesty.

When you wake up in your big ass bed in your own house, able to drive your dream car to get that ice coffee you always used to tell yourself was too expensive — you'll understand that you're a fucking boss and you can get through anything.

The days where you feel like you just want to quit and leave everything behind, those will be days you look back on and you'll be glad you really gave it your all. You're an underdog.

Just remember: you are strong, you are brave, you will do amazing things.

Ps. If you feel drawn to pile 1 as well, go ahead and read it.

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.7

07 : APOLOGIES & COMFORT

CHPT. SUM. : sirius and remus are both very stubborn and need you to help them make amends, thankfully james is there

REQUEST. : could i request a hurt/comfort blurb with poly!marauders in the heroes in tattoos series where r is having really bad cramps and they comfort her- maybe when they're busy with clients and she doesn't want to disturb them but they notice? - requested by an anon (i had to make some tweaks, i hope you don't mind, my darling)

TAGS. : modern au, muggle au, tattoo artist!sirius black ; tattoo artist!james potter ; piercer!remus lupin ; hurt/comfort ; fluff ; mvp james ; james becomes a menace though so is he really the mvp? ; wolfstar fluff ; making up ; reader is also an mvp ; accidents happen ; period things~ ; remus is on the brink ; somebody save this man! ; no! somebody save reader from this man! ; assumes that reader does not take medication to regulate her periods ; assumes that reader wears sanitary pads for her periods

LENGTH : 4.3k

← PREV. : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES | SERIES M.LIST

“Sirius…” Remus sighs as he sits across from you and the man in question. 

“If you have a problem, I hope you know that I don’t care,” you feel the tattooist smirk against your temple as he presses another searing kiss into your skin. The tension from the room hasn’t fully dissipated yet, however, most of the fiction was swept aside leaving the air clear enough for a more civil conversation. 

With Sirius’ insistence, you were left no choice but to sit in his lap as Remus sits across from you. This left James to sit all on his lonesome, occupying the grandfather chair to your left as a warm smile reveals his asymmetrical dimple, directed solely at you. 

Remus groans in frustration and stands to his full height in order to pull his sleeveless sweater off. Sirius peppers light kisses along the column of your neck but it isn’t quite enough to distract you from the image of Remus undoing the top buttons of his button-up shirt nor the way he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows - a weak attempt at trying to cool down from the heat of the previous encounter. 

You’re tempted to look down once again but are too embarrassed to do so; the images that pervade your mind are too inappropriate and they taint the gentle and kind image you have of Remus… Although, maybe that isn’t too bad. A gentle giant masking an indelicate second face was quite attractive in your eyes. Maybe he’ll finally suit the rouge-ish image that comes to mind when you take in his many tattoos, which were often suppressed by his soft, dark academia-inspired fashion. 

Massaging away some of the tension in his taut wrists, his large and veiny hands on full display, Remus sits back down with a frown, “This is a fucking mess—”

“—you’re a fucking mess,” Sirius shoots back, a mischievous hint in his tone as the heat in your cheeks continue to increase until you’re positive you have steam steadily rising out of your ears. 

“This is serious, Sirius,” Remus calls his name almost mockingly and the icy stare Sirius sends him in return is so icy you feel the chill run down your spine without having to look. 

“Oh, I am serious, don’t you know who I am?” before the tension could rise to dangerous levels again, you launch yourself off of Sirius’ lap, willing the butterflies from your stomach away and suppressing all imagery of the affection Sirius was just drowning you. It was his attempt at distracting you from the tense situation but you’re fed up of it now. It also breaks your heart seeing them like this when you know their true affections for one another.  

“That’s enough!” you stand as strong as the finality ringing in your statement, “you two need to make up!” Remus and Sirius face the point of your accusing finger with disgruntled expressions, “I thought you two loved each other,” your disappointed tone makes their shoulders sag in shame and their eyes avoid one another’s. 

“Dove, please—”

“—Listen…” the careful intonation in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and wills them to hear you out with care, lips sealed shut, “you were both right — you both had good reason to act the way you did and I can’t blame either of you for wanting to steer things into a certain direction but I’m also to blame for this, okay? I was horrible at communicating my true emotions and that led to a lot of unnecessary heartache on both sides,” with a deep breath, you establish your resolve, “can’t we all just make up and move forward together?” everyone in the room knows that when you said ‘we’, what you really meant was just Remus and Sirius. 

James has been an absolute angel throughout all of this, collateral damage to their bickering and unloving behaviour towards each other; stuck between a rock and a hard place. You only have sympathy for him being caught up in the middle of it all.  

“Dove, it’s not—”

You swiftly interrupt, “I love all of you,” your confession makes them all stutter and flush pink in the cheeks. It’s an image that makes you smile warmly just before insecurity creeps over and your smile turns shy, “don’t… don’t you love me too?…” it was now clear in their actions that they reciprocated your romantic affections and so you weren’t wrong to assume that they wanted you to take part in their relationship…right?

The drawn out silence that followed was too much for you to bear. Even after taking some of the blame off their shoulders and confessing your love, they were still too stubborn to admit their wrongs and make up. Huffing, you make your disappointment and frustrations known with a deep frown, thoroughly concealing your heartache from their silence .

“We just need—” Sirius finally begins, stubborn as ever, only to be glared at harshly by both, Remus and James. This was not the right time for excuses. You had just worded your true feelings for them and they needed to reciprocate in kind. But those words were hard to come by, the timing for a confession also wasn’t ideal for the moment. Then again, when would it ever be. They’ve all just proven how incompetent they were at emotions despite being in such a loving relationship, and yet, you were still willing to accept and be with them romantically. The words they have for you reached beyond that of just love; they were also grateful, astonished and embarrassed for their incompetence. 

“I love you too, angel, so so much,” James finally speaks up, eyes bright and his smile warm with his adoration of you. He ignores the high tension in the room, eyes fixed solely on you as he glowed like the summer sun but he doesn’t reach out for you in any way, he simply sits and admires. Admires how beautiful you look, admires how strong you are, admires how loving and sweet you remain despite all the trouble and anguish they’ve put you through.  

You feel the world disappear around you and narrow your focus onto the only person you were grateful for in the room at that moment. Year heart pounds with warmth and devotion and all you want to do is be close to him. Helping yourself into James’ lap, you smile up at the bewildered look on this handsome face, “Oh James, you’re my only saving grace,”

James smiles at your words as his arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place, “yeah?” his voice is a faint whisper and airy with his adoration for you. 

“Yeah,” reaching up, your arms wrap around his neck and pull him close so you can press your face under his chin. Behind you, you feel the baffled attention of Sirius and Remus, “how about I feed you some lunch again? Like we always used to do?”

Without waiting for an answer, you lean over to swipe up one of your lunch containers and proceed to feed him, completely ignoring the grumbling and whining emitting from Sirius and Remus. 

“I like your thinking, angel,” James giggles adorably and happily accepts your affections as the two of you silently agree to ignore the other two until they make up. In the mean time, you’ll enjoy each other’s company in your own little bubble of love. 

“How does it taste?” you ask sweetly, blatantly ignoring Remus and Sirius, sitting side-ways on James’ lap but keeping your full attention on him. 

“Delicious! More than delicious!” James exaggerates and basks in the bell-like giggles he draws from you, he doesn’t want the sound to ever stop, “You’re always such a great cook, angel!”

“I made it all with love, just for you, Jamie~”

He hums low and appreciative, “I’m so fucking lucky, aren’t I?” 

As you continue to feed him, James takes the opportunity to look over your shoulder and smirk at the miserable faces of his two lovers. They know they deserved this unfair treatment. They also know that, to remedy it, all they have to do is abandon their pride and apologise, which is always worth it when your love is on the line — it should be easy for them. All things considered, this was just light punishment.

Faced with only one solution, Remus and Sirius turn to each other. Sirius still grumbles under his breath as Remus sighs. The brunette accepts that it was entirely his fault for pushing Sirius to suppress his natural way of loving just for his own personal fear that things would turn out horribly, otherwise. And judging from the way Sirius avoids his eyes and continues to whine, Remus knows it’s up to him to make amends. 

‘But it’s not so bad’, Remus smiles to himself; seeing one of his beloved partners grumpy and stubborn was oddly charming. And now that most of the conflict has dissolved, Remus had no other reason to hold back an apology other than for his own personal pride. 

Making his way over, Remus kneels down beside his grumbling lover and whispers his name affectionately, “Sirius,” Remus waits, patient and unhurried, until his beloved in question finally looks at him. As soon as they meet eyes, Remus is left thinking the same devoted thought he’s always had when drowning in his boyfriend’s diamond-grey eyes, ‘how did I get so lucky?’ which is then quickly followed by a guilty, ‘why did I ever let it get this far?’

“Remus,” 

“I’m sorry,” the piercer doesn’t wait for a response and, almost desperately, leans up to capture Sirius’ lips. The kiss is filled with emotions, a mix of sincerity, love and forgiveness. The sentiments were so keen they almost smother the murmured, unspoken words on Sirius’ tongue, “what was that, love?” Remus asks against his lover’s lips, unable to pull away fully. He missed this…

“I’m sorry too…”

It was a unanimous decision to have you spend the night at the boys’ shared flat. They’ve been kept away from you for too long and tonight they wanted to make up for lost time. High on emotions and desperately missing their presence in your life too, you agree as long as you dropped by your place first for a change of clothes. But not before having Remus and Sirius apologise to James for their neglect of him. 

“You know, we really are so happy to have you in our lives, dollface,” Sirius utters, leaving feathery kisses on your lips as he pushes the door to their flat open whilst carrying your duffle bag for you. He was kind enough to take you to and from your flat on his motorcycle just for the quick collection of your night time essentials. 

“I’m happy you’re in my life too, Siri,” the situation has finally dawned on you but you still can’t believe the events that have lead you to this very moment. 

“Stop hogging her, Padfoot!” James whines, sweeping you off your feet and hurrying to the living room with you in his arms. Once there, he sits you on his lap triumphantly, “Aha! You’re finally mine!” he cheers and attacks your neck with a flourish of kisses, tickling you and infecting the air with your melodic giggles. 

“Now you’re hogging her Prongs, stop being a hypocrite!” Sirius pants lightly after rushing to the scene from the hallway, a grin plastered on his lips despite his accusing words. 

From the kitchen, Remus smiles to himself at the sounds of merriment in the air and continues to cook dinner. 

This is how it should be…

Remus wanted to sort the conflict with Sirius out more, so he insisted that you spend the night in James’ bed which you happily agree shyly, James grinning widely at your side. All three of you agree as Sirius whines and makes adorable grabbing motions at you but it’s no use as Remus keeps the tattooist pressed tightly against his side, dragging him off and trapping him in his room for the night. The sight made you giggle but it was a brief reprieve from the anxious nerves that soon had you avoiding James’ eyes. 

“You’re so cute,” James whispers affectionately at your shy behaviour, resisting the urge to kiss you as he leads you to his room and gestures to his en suite, “you can change in there, beautiful, I can change out here and brush my teeth at the kitchen sink instead,” 

With a small smile, you move past him with your duffle, eager to get ready for bed but squeal in surprise when you feel a teasing pinch at your ass. An explosion of heat blooms across your cheeks when you glance over your shoulder and observe James’ sly wink and devious smirk directed at you. 

“James—!”

“Angel with a cutest ass, aren’t I a lucky bastard?” he chuckles and presses a devoted, almost possessive, kiss onto your lips, “I never did say thank you for making those two apologise to me,” he purrs and nips at your bottom lip, “you make me feel seen…god, I love you so much,” you squeak into the fierce kiss that follows, almost losing yourself in the embrace but pry yourself away with a squeal when his hands travel too low and squeeze greedily at your ass. 

You rush into the bathroom with butterflies in your stomach as James licks his lips and laughs merrily. He’s come to love teasing you and you didn’t know whether to argue or welcome it with open arms. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you move on to change into your pyjamas - an oversized shirt and shorts - before proceeding with your night time skincare routine. For a moment, you contemplated taking a shower but rule against it, not wanting to prolong your night time routine. No more than fifteen minutes later, you were out of the en suite bathroom feeling refreshed and ready for bed but giggle at the sight of James already tucked under the covers. He looks so cosy and innocent, it almost makes you forget about his devious behaviour earlier on. 

“All ready?” James asks with his usual boyish grin and sits up, allowing the covers to drop from his chest, at which point you quickly realise that James is a liar. He didn’t need to change into anything! All he did was take off his shirt and he was all set for bed! “I changed into comfier pyjama pants, though,” he argues lightly as you slip into the right side of the bed. 

“That’s just half changing!” your retort has him laughing aloud, your flustered state beyond amusing and incredibly adorable in his eyes.

“Am I making you shy, princess?~”

“…No,”  

“Oh yes I am~”

“Go to sleep, James,”

“Not without a goodnight kiss from my angel,” he leans over you with his naked chest on full display and you stutter in embarrassment, “don’t be shy, come and give me a fat smooch~” he puckers his lips above you and awaits your compliance with closed eyes. 

“James—”

“I’m a very patient man, darling, I can do this all night long,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am,”

“You’re not,”

“I am,”

“Not!”

He finally peaks an eye open. Then slowly opens both eyes as he un-puckers his lips to smirk down at you, caged in between his muscular arms as he props himself up with his elbows, “You just like staring at my beautifully muscular chest don’t you?” you watch as his ego inflates to dangerous levels right in front of you, “My tattoos turn you on too, angel?~”

“Oh for goodness sake!” you finally relent and lean upwards, your smile matching his own when you finally capture his lips in his much desired, goodnight kiss. With one arm holding himself up, James uses his spare hand to hold your face in place, prolonging the kiss. You have no choice but to accept his needy demands as your hand searches his bedside table for his lamp switch. 

Morning comes with you groaning in discomfort as a syrupy wetness coats your inner thighs and painful pangs make you want to curl up into a ball. Your bleary morning fog makes the situation difficult to decipher but the realisation soon comes crashing down like a landslide and you lift the covers with a scream, the scent of iron becoming more potent. Beside you, James jumps awake, fully alert as his worried, hazel eyes scan you, trying to discern what may be the problem. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” he asks, voice deep and groggy with sleep but dripping in concern.

“James, I’m so sorry,” you sob into your hands  and curl up into yourself, hiding your face away from him. 

“What do you mean?” he reaches forward, inching closer to you in the process and quickly realising what’s wrong when he feels an unusual wetness seep through his thin pyjama pants, “oh angel, don’t be upset, it’s okay,” he coos, gently prying your hands away from your face so he can kiss your forehead tenderly, “it’s normal. Are you okay?” he asks softly, looking over you without an ounce of judgement or anger on his face, only concern and soft, kind, heart-fluttering love in his eyes. 

“Th-the blood—”

“I don’t care about the blood,” he insists gently, “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” you remain silent from the embarrassment but he’s understanding, “do you want me to get you some painkillers?”

As soon as you give an affirming nod, he’s out of bed and hurrying down the hall. It doesn’t take very long for him to come back to you, a glass of water in one hand and a pack of painkillers in the other. 

“Thank you,” you finally utter with a small smile, still upset at having ruined the sheets but so incredibly grateful for his tolerance. Patiently, he waits for you to take your dosage before he’s sweeping you up in his arms and carrying you into his en suite. 

“Get cleaned up, angel,” he voices into you hair before placing you back on your feet, “I’ll change the sheets in the mean time,” he leaves you with a kiss before you could utter another word of apology. He wasn’t going to take it, he made that very clear, because it wasn’t your fault. And it was nothing a little oxi stain remover couldn’t fix. 

The start to the day wasn’t ideal but James, Remus and Sirius made one of the most agonising and frustrating times of the month for you much more enjoyable. James woke his two lovers up while you were showering in his bathroom, thanking your lucky stars that you bought a spare change of clothes just in case you wanted to shower, and they all made the effort of getting you comfortable. 

James changed his bedsheets and laid a dark coloured towel down for you to lay on top of just to catch any more potential leakage. He made sure you didn’t see his bloodied sheets again too so that you wouldn’t continue feeling guilty and happily took care of the stains away from your line of sight. Sirius worked on breakfast as Remus made you some tea and a hot water bottle and, before James steps out of the flat to buy you period pads, you hear Remus call out helpfully, “look for the long, heavy flow pads and make sure to get the ones with wings,” their thoughtfulness makes you smile. 

“How did you know to get these ones?” you ask when James comes back, panting as he hands you the pack of pads through the door of his en suite. 

“Remus told me, and I heard girls experience heavier flows on the first few days,” his answer draws out a proud smile. You have no doubt you’d be well taken care of in this relationship, though it does make you bashful. 

“Thank you, James,” 

For breakfast Sirius cooked you french toast with strawberries and honey, apparently it was the only good thing he could cook. Remus balanced the sweetness of the meal out with some eggs and toast, while James brought over the tea and hot water bottle Remus had also prepared. Breakfast was pleasant but they boys were insistent that you stay in James’ bed and call if you needed anything. As much as they wanted to spend the full day right by your side, they were preparing to make the announcement of returning their business into full operations and were still taking calls and responding to client emails at home. You didn’t argue, you knew the shop was important to them so you didn’t want to be a burden. 

The day drags by and you know they’ve made it clear that you could freely call out to them whenever but the hours drag by and they haven’t heard a single peep. They didn’t mean to lose their full attention in their work; it’s been so long since they were last filled with the motivation to keep up with their business that emails and paperwork on equipment orders had piled up significantly so they were swamped. Thankfully they were finally inspired enough that the work didn’t feel laborious. Unfortunately, that meant seeing them in their element though James’ open doorway and shying away from redirecting their attention back to you. 

It wasn’t until you willed yourself to walk to their kitchen that you finally caught their attention. All phone calls, email responses and paperwork filing was stopped as soon as you stepped into their line of sight when your craving for a snack became too much. They had gone for a quick shop to buy you an array of snacks from sweet to savoury that morning and had left the bag on their kitchen counter. You were just reaching for the bag when Remus caught your wrist and swept you up into his arms in order to carry you back into James’ bed. 

All three of them felt incredibly guilty for having neglected you, unintentional or not, they even neglected themselves in the process by prioritising their work and forgetting about lunch. In Remus’ head, everything circled back to the night before as a chain of linked events. As you laid in bed, curled up and nibbling on a chocolate bar, you watch and listen as Remus scolds the two about how, if the outburst didn’t happen, they wouldn’t have asked you to stay the night, you wouldn’t have agreed and you wouldn’t have had to suffer from their incompetent care. Remus was being too hard on himself, which reflected directly onto Sirius and James.

“This is why I said we needed to be careful and. To. Be. Patient,” Remus snarls under his breath, almost growling at Sirius and James who stand at the foot of the bed. James nods with a disappointed sigh as Sirius crosses his arms and huffs in defiance. They’re developing a bad habit of speaking about you when you’re still in the same room but, at least, it means their thoughts are open to you.

“I didn’t see you complain when you watched James and I practically devouring her sweet little mouth yesterday,” Sirius’ challenging comment makes the tips of James’s ears turn visibly pink as an embarrassing heat climbs up your neck to bloom across the apples of your cheeks. Interestingly, James can barks and bites to his heart’s content with you but if anybody else brings it up, it seems that bashfulness isn’t far behind. 

Remus shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t start now, Sirius—”  

“—I-I don’t mind, we’re all learning to love together and I know how important the tattoo parlour is to all of you so I really don’t mind…” you interrupt their bickering with flushed cheeks and shy eyes, unprepared for the reaction you would receive. 

Remus snaps his full attention towards you in that moment. Your words were innocent and you look the picture of virtue, shy and sweet as you peer up at them with glittering doe eyes and a small smile. Remus doesn’t think anybody else could be more beautiful than you right now. You appreciate his passions, you support it even, you’re understanding, you’re kind, you’re loving, you’re sweet and you’re so incredibly lovable, he wants to keep you away from the rest of the world forever, selfishly keeping you for himself. He wonders if you know how much of a tease you’ve been to him this whole, working him up over and over and over again until he finally snaps.  

Morals and patience be damned — he can’t resist you anymore. 

Remus’ face carries an unreadable expression as he gives a slow exhale and strides over to you. Sirius and James watch from where they stood, unmoving but with sly smiles on their lips — they know you’re the perfect image of Remus’ weaknesses bundled into one being and they both knew this was coming. It was about time… they applaud him though, he has more patience than them — but he had more desires too. 

It all happens too fast for you to register but Remus was quickly looming over you, propped up by a hand on the bed as his other gripped at your chin. His eyes were piercing and held such promise within them, un-breaking and passionate, that you couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful girl,” his voice lowers several octaves and is underpinned by a hypnotising vibration that corrupts your limbs with minor tremors and a ferocious heat. Shamelessly, he captures your lips in a soft and tender kiss, an antithesis to the dark gleam in his feral eyes, “I’m not above making a mess in the bedroom,” you gasp at the implication and, for a moment, your cramps become pleasantly arousing. Again, Remus can’t help but hold your lips hostage in an increasingly impassioned embrace. He greedily eats up your pretty moans, the muffled sounds going straight to his groin and making his smart trousers uncomfortably tight — a prickling warning to his precarious conduct, “so be a good girl and sit pretty until after you get over this, okay?” he utters roughly against your lips. 

He’ll wait just a little bit longer…it’ll be worth it.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : TONIGHT →

A/N : goodness me, this was so much harder to write than previous chapters, i kept changing so many things but i think i'm satisfied with the final product, i hope you darlings do too~ the next chapter will be a pretty big one i think, so i won't be posting it for a while, however, i may post short additional imagines/scenarios for this series that don't necessarily follow the chronological order just to satiate some of you XD anywho~ i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g

@mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi!! I had a dream last night and i was wondering if someone can make a readerxhotch fic about it. Reader are Hotch girlfriend for some time now, and she's having a really bad day. Everything she does, it goes wrong. Hotch comes by to take her to some date (because he was away for too long), she is SO frustrate with her bad day and Hotch is always gentle and patient with everything (even he's frustrate too) and reader start to crying because she is sorry for him, and he is just Hotch! Thank You!

Through the chaos | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘌𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰��𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘺. 𝘌𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩? 𝘞𝘊: 1𝘬

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ;)

           The apartment was a mess, and you felt like a mess along with it. The day had been a relentless string of mishaps - spilled coffee, missed calls, and the final blow: dropping your phone and watching the screen crack. Every small failure piled up like bricks on your chest, and you couldn't catch your breath beneath their weight.

           You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection. The dress you'd picked for the date with Aaron felt wrong. It clung too tightly to your skin, the color too harsh under the fluorescent light. You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration, pulling at the strands, trying to tame it into something presentable. But nothing worked today. Nothing.

           The knock on the door startled you, and your heart skipped a beat. Aaron was here. He’d been away for weeks, chasing case after case, and you’d been so excited for this night, for the chance to finally be with him again. But now? Now, everything felt wrong.

           Taking a deep breath, you walked to the door, hesitating before pulling it open.

           “Hey,” Aaron greeted you with a soft smile, his eyes warm and full of affection as they swept over you. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from being present, he cared too much about you not to come to see you instantly after getting home. “You look beautiful.”

           You tried to return the smile, but it felt forced, like the last bit of energy you had left was spent just trying to stand upright. "Thanks," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in.

           He frowned slightly as he stepped inside, sensing something was off. His eyes, always sharp, took in the cluttered apartment, the way your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Everything okay?” he asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

           You wanted to tell him it was fine, that it was just one of those days, but the frustration had built up too high, and you could feel it bubbling under your skin. "It's just been… a really bad day," you muttered, rubbing at your temples. "Everything is going wrong. I can't do anything right today."

           Aaron stepped closer, his hands reaching for you, but you backed away instinctively, shaking your head. "I don't even know why we're doing this tonight," you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. "I can't… I can't even get ready properly. I look awful, and—"

           "Hey, hey," Aaron cut you off, his brow furrowing. "You don’t look awful. What’s going on?"

           But the glass had already shattered. "I’ve had the worst day. My phone’s broken, my hair won’t cooperate, I can’t get anything right, and now I’m ruining our night. I just wanted it to be perfect, and it's… it's not."

           His face softened, and he stepped closer again, but this time, his frustration showed too. He’d been away for so long, and all he wanted was to spend this evening with you, to take a break from the stress of his job. “I know it’s been a hard day, but I’ve been gone for weeks. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

           You knew he was right, but the pressure of everything going wrong had you unraveling. "I know, but everything’s just…" You choked on your words, the tears rising, unbidden. “I’m sorry, Aaron, I didn’t mean to make this harder. I just… I can’t take it anymore.”

           The tears slipped down your cheeks, and you turned away, feeling overwhelmed, and guilty for snapping at him. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel bad after he’d just gotten back.

           But he didn’t let you pull away. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you into his chest, his hand gently smoothing over your hair. “Shh,” he whispered against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

           You couldn’t hold back the sob that tore from your throat, your body trembling as the weight of the day came crashing down all at once. But Aaron held you tighter, his embrace steady and unwavering, grounding you.

           “I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, burying your face into his chest. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just so… so overwhelmed.”

           Aaron pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft and full of tenderness. “You don’t have to apologize,” he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I get it. Sometimes it’s all just too much, and that’s okay.”

           You leaned into him, your tears slowing as you let yourself melt into his comforting presence. It wasn’t just the physical closeness - it was the safety he brought with him, the support that reminded you that you didn’t have to be perfect all the time, not with him.

           “I just wanted tonight to be nice,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

           “You haven’t ruined anything,” Aaron assured you, his tone gentle but firm. “We don’t need perfect. I just want to be with you. That’s all I need.”

           His words made you feel lighter like the weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You looked up at him, his eyes gentle and full of understanding, and a small, tearful smile broke through your exhaustion.

           “You sure?” you asked, your voice trembling.

           He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart feel full even on the hardest days. “I’m sure,” he said, wiping the last of your tears away with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll make tonight whatever we want it to be. As long as we’re together, that’s enough for me.” Aaron had a way of making everything feel okay.

           You pressed your forehead to his, letting out a long, shaky breath. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his love surround you.

           "What do you say, I cancel the reservation, we order take out and maybe go for a walk later, yeah?" Aaron murmured as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

           "I'd like that."

[satowooo]

DID YOU LIKE HER IN THE MORNING? g. satoru

contents. angst, almost a second chance romance.

Fumbling with Gojo Satoru was the biggest mistake one can ever make. Unfortunately, the biggest mistake you ever made.

High school love… will probably be the last time you'll ever fall in love again. It swept you off your feet, got your heart jumping off your chest as it beat loudly towards the man you pine over, the love that turned your darkest days to a full ray of sunshine, to the point that it felt so unreal. So surreal. So perfect.

How did you let that happen?

So crossing paths with the man you deeply and greatly love, even until today, brought so many memories back to your mind. As a gust of wind blows past your face, a flashback of what once was got your heart reeling and clenching, as Gojo Satoru walked right past you.

Walk right towards a stranger. Towards a woman.

With a smile on his face that tells you, “I've moved on.”

And then there's the bittersweet taste in your tongue, as you stared so hopelessly still in love, hopeless still in pain over the smile that used to be yours.

“Did you like her in the morning? Right before the sleep left your eyes?”

“Toru, wake up,” You said as you left featherlight kisses on his cheek.

There was a small smile that crept on Satoru's face, pulling you closer to his embrace as he leaned in to your kisses. Then, he slowly rubs his nose against yours, his eyes still closed as he murmurs, “Just a bit more.”

A satisfied hum left your lips as you stared at his sleepy state, with his eyes still closed as the two of you drowned into each other's embrace. It was the quiet and calm atmosphere that you loved most during this hour, and the light smell of breakfast spreading through the air from the kitchen, and most of all, the look on Satoru's face as he slowly opens his eyes.

He blinked once to rub the sleep away from his eyes, and then there's the sincere smile across his face. The way his eyes softly stared at you, full of love and the genuine emotions that always show his affections, and you swear you could stay like this forever. His eyes were always too vocal, that always seemed to tell you that there was nothing else he knows other than to love you.

“Good morning, love.”

Did he do this with her too?

“Did you laugh over cold cups of coffee? That you hate but still drank anyway.”

Satoru was never a coffee drinker, but he'd force himself to drink one just because he sees how you loved it. Despite how coffees always keeps him up at night, and how his sleeping schedule was already messed up as it was, he'd still do anything just to make you smile.

“One Americano, and a Hazelnut Brew.” The waiter said as he placed the two cups of coffee at your table. You gave him a small smile and a ‘thank you’, then stared unknowingly at Satoru’s choice of drink.

“Are you sure you're drinking that?”

“Of course. It's good to have a little caffeine in my system every now and then.” Satoru would say smugly, sipping on the straw nonchalantly.

You watched the way he slowly tasted the drink, anticipating his reaction at the black coffee that is now running on Satoru's throat. You watched the way he slowly moves the cup away from his lips, and back on the table with an uneasy look that he tried to mask with a tight smile.

Don't get him wrong. It's not that the drink didn't taste good—it was perfect—so perfect that this might be the last time he'll ever let his tongue taste something so foreign to his buds. Satoru shivers, before he looks at you helplessly.

“Is it bad?” You chuckled.

“Good. Good…” He pouted, taking another sip as he looked away to avoid your gaze. It was so easy to read Satoru, and it warmed your heart even more that he was willing to do this just for the sake of nothing, just Satoru being your Satoru.

“We can switch drinks–”

“Absolutely not. I told you, it taste sooooo good!” The exaggeration was so evident in his voice as he took a long sip, ending with a cough and a frown on his face that made you laugh even more.

And now, you could only laugh painfully at the memory.

It was always a wonder to you ever since you two broke up. Did Satoru ever change? Did Satoru ever try coffee at least once in his life again while you were away just to taste the bittersweet memory of your love that didn't last? Did Satoru ever force himself to drink a good cup of coffee on a blind date just to impress the lady sitting opposite from him, and ended up having thoughts of you instead?

Did he ever force himself to sit down, alone, in a coffee shop downtown and stared out the window, in hopes that someone could ring the cafés door, just to see it was you?

Because you did. Every single time you did. Your time stood frozen, slowed down inside a small shop, your coffee gone cold as you feel that familiar looming aura in your chest. It aches, and it aches, and it aches so bad. And you're staring at the space in front of you, where Satoru used to be.

“Did you like her touch at night time? Did all the pretending help you forget? Was she weightless in just your sweater? And does it feel heavy now to look at me instead?”

It's torturing, seeing him happy with someone else, which should've been you, could've been you. That smile would have stretch on his lips for you, because it had always been for you.

But now is different. Now is just you, eyes focused on the road ahead, where there was no Satoru walking on the same path, and him, walking in the direction right past your shoulder. And he didn't glance at you. Didn't seem to notice that it was you who was only a touch far away as he took a step. Didn't seem to know that it was his greatest love that brushed past him.

“Did your hands find her waist when she got sloppy? After just a few Manhattans in Berlin, would you kiss her goodnight, would you walk her inside? Did you hope the nights would never ever end? And again.”

“What's wrong, Satoru?”

His head shot up at the voice. Luna, his date, looked at him worriedly. He had been going on dates for quite a while now, after finally and barely getting over the break up that had occured years ago. And Luna was the first girl he had a second date with after the many failed attempts of other blind dates, that turned into another date. Until a month passed with her.

To Satoru, she was perfect. He didn't want to admit it. To him, everything will always be about you. But now, he's trying to make it seem like it's not, as he focused on everything about Luna instead.

“Nothing's wrong.” He smiled forcefully to assure her. He grabs her waist, leading her around the bustling crowd of the city to go on about their date. And she gives him a smile, a smile that always made him feel guilty.

“But answer the question, did you like her in the morning?”

At some point, maybe he did. He liked that feeling of the morning kisses and the smell of coffees and pancakes. He loved that quiet night time of nothing but the sound of their breaths, and the beat of their hearts. He liked the soft touches and taking her home, and kissing her forehead.

He liked the feeling.

But he was cursed. In every corner, every unknown face, every single girl he met, he will always try to find them in you. He liked the feeling, but it was never with you.

And he knows, whatever he had with this new girl, it will never last. Like it always did after you happened.

Because he's looking back. He's tilting his head to glance at your direction, clenching his fist as he stops himself from calling, from asking how you were, from pulling you back to him.

Just like you, he didn't know if you saw him cross paths with you. He hopes you noticed. He hopes you knew it was him. He hopes you'd look back too. Yet, he also hopes you wouldn't look back either, and see him with another, because it will pain him to see the look on your face, whether it be pain or acceptance.

This will always be the cruelest reality that the two of you will never accept. Satoru will always hope that it was you right next to him. And you will always hope that you have never let him go.

oh well...

[wolfofcelestia]

Am I insane for thinking Sylus's hair is just Zayne's hair swept back a bit tho

Sylus even has those collar chains like the ones Zayne always wears

It looks like the rumour about his evol being blood is true too. I know he's supposed to be a villain but it feels to me that he'd be the main adversary for Zayne first and foremost

One, because he undermines MC's health, Zayne's main priority in life. And two, because Sylus's evol would directly interfere with Zayne's work, both as a doctor and as someone who specializes in the heart

If Zayne was trying to save someone (most likely MC), Sylus could either be of incredible help or he could completely mess everything up

I honestly don't have many feelings towards Sylus right now other than suspicion. Because if he turns out to be someone who's specifically antagonizing Zayne, he's a no for me adflkjgf

[exhuastedpigeon]

You know what I really want from season 7? I want another Buddie blow up like the grocery store.

I want Eddie, whose done a whole lot of healing to yell at Buck that Buck needs to be back in therapy because he died and of course that's going to change him but he doesn't even recognize Buck sometimes anymore because Buck won't let Eddie in.

I want Buck yelling right back that Eddie's moved on with his life since the shooting, why won't he let Buck do the same after the lightning.

I want angry tears and confessions through gritted teeth. I want everything they've swept under the rug and not talked about to come spilling out in Buck's kitchen.

I want Eddie telling Buck with pain dripping from his voice that "I see you, I've always seen you, but now I don't think I know you anymore. You won't let me know you anymore."

I want Eddie leaving Buck's loft after he says it and tells him that he can still see Christopher, but maybe for now the two of them should just be coworkers because Eddie needs time and space before he can be Buck's best friend because he isn't sure he knows him anymore.

I want Eddie crying in his truck after the conversation and Buck crying on his new couch, clear that he doesn't find it comfortable. I want the episode to end on a shot of both of them crying in their own spaces, so clearly alone.

Then I want the next episode to be so clearly uncomfortable between them. They still work together seamlessly, but that's it. They're awkward and tense around each other, they can't even look at each other between calls. I want it to be 10x more awkward than their first couple shifts together. I want looks exchanged between the members of the 118 when Buck and Eddie aren't looking.

And then I want the episode to end with Eddie pacing around his living room, clearly torn and then grabbing his keys only to open the front door to Buck standing on his doorstep looking at Eddie's house key like he isn't sure he's still allowed to use it.

I want Eddie to hold Buck's face like it's something so fucking special and Buck to do the same. I want a kiss that's biting and angry that melts into something soft and tender.

Cut to them in Eddie's bed, the sheets a mess, the comforter on the ground and Buck says something like "You've always seen me, even the ugly bits that I don't want people to see. That's why I'm so scared"

And then Eddie kisses Buck soft and sweet and says something like, "There's nothing about you that's ugly Buck."

The episode ends with them starting round two.

[r0se1111]

can i get uhhhhhh domestic life in retirement with Ford where we grow old(er) together please and thank youuuuuu 🙏

Yessss >o<

Guys he's sooo domestic-husband-coded you don't understand....

OKok so. Keeping with canon, I do think Stan and Ford still go on their brother boat adventure™️ even with you in the picture, and you kinda hang out at the Mystery Shack for a bit. You help keep things afloat while they're gone etc etc. BUT of course this man calls home whenever he's on land and had access to a phone. He also writes you letters with drawings, photos, and little souvenirs of his travels.

When he returns you are soso happy to see him and he gives you a very cliched swept off your feet kiss. He tells you he's a bit out-adventured for a bit and just wants to stay at home with you for a bit and make up for those lost 30 years.

Get ready for the most wonderful cozy warm domestic bliss you've ever experienced. Waking up in the morning to his fluffy hair all askew as he blinks at you, smiling and calling you beautiful despite not being able to see a thing without his glasses. Stealing all his sweaters (including the turtleneck) to combat the cold pacific northwest mornings and nights. You take turns making coffee for each other in the morning, and on days where you have plans and really need some food in you, he makes his pancakes (a recipe he's been perfecting since he's been back. He loves you, but no he won't tell you what's in them).

Omg you guys sometimes have a little breakfast in bed moment and geez you're so old (affectionate). Him in his glasses, you with your hair all messy, both of you bundled in robes as you read together to get the sleepy groggy cobwebs out of your eyes and heads. Sitting side by side in bed with your breakfast trays and digging in while chatting about whatever.

He insists on still getting a physical morning paper, so most of these mornings are spent sitting at the dining table with coffee and waffles, your feet propped up on his lap as he fills out a crossword puzzle in record time with one hand and rubs your feet and calves with the other.

Gosh you guys are attached at the hip at this point in your lives. Grocery shopping? He's there pushing the cart as you meticulously scan shelves for all you need, occasionally piping up with his own personal preferences on pasta sauce brand or validity of certain buy 2 get 1 half off coupons. Quick stop at the mall? He waits dutifully outside the changing room, ready to give you glowing reviews of whatever you're trying on and holding up his own suggestions with a smile and a quick "this color would look wonderful with your undertones dear!" Yes he's color analyzed you

He's so helpful and genuine in his excitement to do these mundane tasks with you. One night he admits when times got hard during his interdimensional travels, he would daydream about just going to do laundry with you at a dingy coin-operated joint, sitting on the counter next to you and watching your clothes swirl round and round, intertwining with each other until you couldn't tell where his started and yours ended.

Your evenings are either spent on a date or making dinner at your place. If it's a date, he will have asked you out in advance and you better believe he's bringing you flowers or wine or chocolate or something cheesy like that. If you guys decide to stay in, you scan old cookbooks for something tasty sounding and dance around each other in matching "kiss the cook" aprons while one of you prepares a side and the other sets the table. Neither of you resist the temptation of kissing the other cook (ba-dum-tss) or of darting a tongue out mid-kiss to taste your partner's progress on their glaze or sauce.

Ford still is getting used to the idea of sharing a bed with you, but in a very sweetly nervous way. He knows his sleep schedule is a bit messed up still and he really doesn't want to worry or bother you. Some nights you fall asleep and wake up to him passed out on his desk with about 4 mugs of coffee surrounding him. On lucky (and increasingly more common) nights, he sleeps in bed with you. How he's so warm you have no idea, but you're not about to complain when he pulls you against him and rubs his hands down your arms and hips, all the while rambling about some documentary he'd watched that day which "you would really have found so fascinating, love." His clear and calm voice normally lulls you to sleep, but if he's unintentionally keeping you up with his roundabout descriptions, this is easily remedied with a kiss.

A kiss anywhere really, from as innocent to his forehead (you gently push back the stormcloud of his hair to press your lips as close to his wonderful mind as they can get) to something more suggestive like his neck or chest (left deliciously exposed in those relaxed V-necks you'd bought him one Christmas, a completely unselfish gift, might you add) is enough to get Ford to pause and glance over at you with a sort of are we gonna...???;) look. Whether you do or don't, any sort of physical affection is enough to have him sleepy soon. The two of you curl together, sharing breath for how close you are. And every night he gets to hold you like this and think about your wonderfully mundane and predictable lives, Ford thanks whatever higher power that put you into his life that he's back, and that you're his.

[minimomoe]

The Little Things

AN: I was listening to Sexy to Someone by Clairo and thought of Nanami. short, fluffy drabble

You stood in front of the elevator and waited for the metal box to ascend to your floor. It was 8pm, well past office hours, but time waits for no man and you had work to finish. All that mattered now is that you were done. You could slip out of your drab work clothing and crawl into bed as soon as you got home.

You had hoped that you could ride down alone, but you found yourself holding the door open for Kento Nanami, your unrequited work crush. He swept in, his cologne filling up the air and you didn't find it nauseating in the slightest. It was clean, green, and oh so sexy.

"Thank you for waiting for me. Most people would let it close in my face."

"You're too not bad of company," you teased.

He smiled back down at you and you felt heat rush up to your face. It wasn't fair at all. He couldn't be this gorgeous with pretty brown eyes and be one of the nicest people you have ever met. You might not even make it down the elevator with how fast your heart thumped in your chest.

"So why did--"

"You look--"

You had both started talking at the same time. He laughed, apologized, and asked for you to go first.

"I was just gonna ask why are you staying so late?"

"They're pulling a lot of people from my department. Someone had to pick up the slack," he sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and it fell over in perfect tresses. How annoying. How gorgeous.

"Tell me about it. They're doing the same to us in the marketing department. The quarter's almost over so hopefully the workload will lessen."

You could do this with him. Small talk. Safe talk. There was nothing that could go wrong here. Nanami couldn't hear your heart racing in your chest. You just had to keep your cool.

"What were you going to say?" You remembered.

"Oh-- it... I don't think it matters anymore."

The handsome, suave Nanami was stuttering. You had the man stuttering. You snapped your head forward as if you were afraid you messed with the balance of the universe. He cleared his throat and looked at you once again.

"I hope that this doesn't come off... inappropriate. I think that blue looks wonderful with your complexion. And you got new glasses last week. I never got to compliment them."

Your ears were ringing. Did you hear him correctly? Nanami watched you, has kept you in his sights to know that your glasses have changed and complimented your favorite work dress. You peered up at him and his ears were flaming red. Your unrequited work crush could possibly be requited after all.

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami," you said softly with a shy smile. "It almost looks like were matching, right?"

He looked down at his own blue suit and chuckled. "It does, doesn't it."

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly slid opened. Nanami held his hand out for you to leave first and followed behind. You were keenly aware of how close he was to your body as you both said goodnight to the security guard on your way out of the building.

"Well... Good night to you too, Nanami. Try not to work yourself too hard this weekend," you waved. You started on the opposite direction before he called out your name.

"Would you... like to have a meal with me? I know a place," he asked.

You bit back a smile. Never would you have imagined that Kento of all people could get so shy. He patiently awaited your answer but you noticed his jaw tightening.

"I don't know. It's getting pretty late," you teased.

"This place is only open from 8pm to 12am. And a meal is always better with someone to eat with."

He was practically begging you to come with. You gingerly took your step towards him and his smile widened.

"I can take your bag," he offered. He slipped it off your shoulder and you softly hissed at his fingers grazing your shoulder. His eyes darkened at the sound but kept on strutting down the street. Once again, his ears were blushing and you internally squealed. To think that you were rushing to go home only to end up on a date with Nanami. Was this a date?

Only your brain to mouth filter was broken, and you actually asked the question out loud. He gave you a fond look. "I would like for it to be."

You hooked your hand around his raised arm. All this time you thought that your feelings would never be reciprocated, but it looks like you were sexy to someone after all.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[reflectionsofacreator]

“You know, it’s generally not the best idea to sneak up on a vigilante. Let alone someone like me,” Red Hood drawled as he rest his hand on his gun holster. 

The floating teenager chuckled at him, and it sounded tired. “Yeah, I’m not known for ‘em, sorry.” 

He was about the same age as the girl with the undercut, maybe around seventeen to nineteen, and the dark bags on his pale cheeks were highlighted by the glowing toxic green eyes that stared straight at him. A fringe of white hair floated around his head like it was moving through water, just barely hiding how his ears swept up into a point and when he grinned at Jason, all his teeth were pointed. He was wearing a black body suit that Nightwing would be jealous of, with white accents that highlighted his lean, masculine frame. 

“You with them?” Hood asked, and jerked his chin in the direction of the van. 

“My sisters, yeah,” the guy said with a shrug. The motion seemed a bit wrong somehow, but Jason couldn’t figure out why. “Sorry, I know I should have better manners than this, but things’ve been… uh. Bad. I meant to bring you a gift and ask if they -- if we could stay here, but uhm…” 

“A gift.” Red Hood stated, and didn’t move save to cock his head curiously to the side. 

Green Eyes rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and lifted up his other hand in a half shrug. “Sorry, I don’t really have much to offer, and I’m so sorry about messing up the vibes of your haunt. You probably felt us for hours, huh.” 

He didn’t react to that, save to let his considering noise drag through his vocoder and render it a staticky, low pitched hum. It unnerved a lot of people, but surprisingly the teen only winced and didn’t look scared. 

“Yeahhhh I was kind of afraid of that,” he huffed. “Okay. My name’s Phantom. I promise I’m not trying to mess with your haunt, I’m just… trying to keep an eye on my sisters after everything that happened. Keep em safe, you know? I swear they won’t get into trouble, we just need a place to live.” 

“What about you? You going to get into trouble?” Hood asked and shifted his stance to be about ten percent less threatening. It worked, because Phantom brightened, literally his eyes flared, and he looked a bit more at ease. 

“Me? Naw, I’m just going to haunt my sisters and that’s it. Won’t get into trouble, I promise.” 

“The fuck you mean, haunt your sisters? You some type of ghost or something?” Hood huffed. 

Phantom winced. 

“The fuck.” 

-dry wine rebirth, ch 1

Summary

Learning that the new family of maybe-metas had their dead brother for a ghostly protector was not on Red Hood's bingo sheet, and Jason getting roped into a date with one of the sisters was even less on that damn thing. But something's off with the Nightingales, they're running from something, hiding, and it was the same thing that killed their brother, Jason's sure of it - and Phantom's ominous warning that he might be next is getting under his skin.

Hm. Hm. Yeah no, I don't have a defense for this. I got sucked into this niche little crossover. I dunno how much brainspace this is gonna eat, but have what I've gotten so far.

[captain-joongz]

Penny for your ghosts; chapter 1

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Hoping for a new beginning, you make a decision and end up at Bangtan Inc. looking for a chance. And somehow unbeknownst to you make a life-defining choice.

Chapter word count: 10k

Next part | Series masterlist

Warnings: not much really - a lot of exposition and some spooky stuff happening, sad ghost backstory, jimin is a little shit, yoongi being effortlessly waaaay too hot while also being adorable and sweet

A/N: here we go folks, the first chapter of our sweet autumnal spooky story! i had such a blast writing this, it's been so amazing to work with the Lockwood&Co universe (it made me reread the first book, again), and this story satisfies something in me that yearns for comfort and coziness, so enjoy! as always, i'd love any kind of feedback or response, so don't be shy and comment, reblog, send me an ask!

divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics

Standing face to face with the old-timey mansion, I didn’t really know how to feel.

It looked fairly inconspicuous in the daylight – just another old expensive house built on this street. It was half hidden behind a stone wall, the wrought iron gate giving me a little peek into the bleary autumnal garden slowly getting covered up with fallen leaves.

There was an iron sign nailed to the wall that read “BANGTAN INC., paranormal investigations” and I gave it a long look.

A new beginning, hopefully, was waiting for me beyond this gate, and I gulped, steeling myself into finally ringing the bell instead of just endlessly shuffling around on the street like a weirdo. I felt the pressure of the paper on which I’d written down the address burning through my pocket. It was just a job interview, and yet it felt like a pivotal moment in my life. It was this or back home, to the cold god-forgotten mountains and that prick Lee. He’d have a field day with me if I crawled back, and that’s why I had to ace this.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” a deep voice from somewhere behind me uttered, a touch of amusement to his words. I jerked around, too consumed by my own thoughts to take notice of my surroundings, even with my heightened senses.

A hybrid stood there, a mischievous expression painting his face. He was pretty tall and built, hair cut fairly short and swept off of his face with two black rounded ears standing in attention amidst those spiky waves. His face was rounded and soft. When my eyes slid down towards his hips, there was no tail. He was most probably a bear.

“I’m sorry?” I asked him, subtly trying to search the air for any noticeable scents, but the air was a little too crisp to carry anything. The man only giggled and stepped a little closer.

“I said,” he replied, “I wouldn’t go in there. Heard the house is haunted.” He brought up his hand to wiggle his fingers in a spooky gesture, trying his hardest to sell the scare, but losing to his own amused snickers.

“Hauntings only manifest after sun-down,” I cited monotonal, subconsciously turning my head to check the greyish blue sky. It was still early afternoon and even though autumn was coming, it wouldn’t start getting dark for another few hours.

The hybrid pouted, sad that he couldn’t scare me, and I wondered what exactly was he trying to do here.

“Taehyung, stop messing with everyone walking by,” a firm voice from my left suddenly appeared, softly chiding the still pouting hybrid, “I told you a thousand times.”

Another hybrid appeared suddenly from my periphery and I couldn’t believe I completely missed his presence on the empty street. He must have been walking over and I just didn’t hear him. Or maybe he came from the neighbouring house?

He was of similar height, broad-shouldered but slim. His attractive face was pulled into an amicable polite smile and the brown rounded ears flicked towards me in interest as he took me in. Another bear.

“Hello, dear,” he said towards me, tone much kinder in that ‘I’m talking to a stranger’ sort of way, “Are you a client? Do you need help with a haunting?” There was something undeniably eager in his voice and it gave me a little pause. They were Bangtan Inc.

Caught red-handed loitering in front of their house, I panicked and did something very stupid.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered out maybe a little too fast, lying through my teeth – but the men didn’t notice, no. Their faces immediately brightened, postures straightening. 

“Amazing!” the newcomer exclaimed, hands clapping together. He almost threw himself towards the gate, fumbling with the lock for a few seconds before it creaked open and he invited me to step in with a wide gesture, a tinge of nervousness to him like he was afraid I’d turn around and run.

I didn’t. Instead I offered my own hopefully easy smile and nervously fiddled with my wool hat, hoping it still effectively covered my ears, as I accepted and slowly started on the walk over to the main entrance of the house. The giggley from before quickly slipped in as well, shuffling cutely by the broad-shouldered man’s side.

I had just stepped on the first stone stair of the veranda when the door flew open and I startled, foot slipping on the damp surface. Before I even had the time to yelp, there was a hand on my lower back supporting me.

“Oh my! Be careful!”

“Hyung!”

A few shouts rang out at the same time, but I barely even listened. My hand shot out, almost slapping myself in my own face, trying to keep the headwear in place. I felt my ears twitching underneath it, but it stayed firmly on.

“Thank you,” I muttered, righting myself again and looking towards the third hybrid, “sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No no no, none at all,” the handsome hybrid said, “it was Hoseokie’s fault, he should have been more careful with the door.”

The new hybrid standing in the door was looking at me sheepishly, an embarrassed blush painting his face pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said plainly, red fox ears twitching in his curly hair, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hoseokie, please bring our new client inside and into the sitting room,” there was an understanding that ran through them at the word client, and immediately the fox, Hoseok, turned all professional and beckoned me inside with a practiced friendly smile.

Giggley said nothing since the other bear’s arrival, only hung around in the back of the group, watching me with a strange kind of excitement.

“Please, please, through here,” I found myself pulled through the door and the main hall, under a pretty arch with wooden beams carved into branches with leaves and into what I presumed must have been the aforementioned sitting room.

I wasn’t even sure what that was, must have been a rich people house thing.

The happy fox was flitting around me, fussing with my light coat and assuring me I can step inside with my shoes on. After a barrage of questions about refreshments he danced out of the room, presumably into the kitchen to fetch the promised tea and biscuits.

There was no trace of the other two hybrids, but I heard movement through the house – someone calling a name I couldn’t fully decipher, heavy steady footsteps through a hall, a distant buzz of conversation. Signs of living.

The house smelt happy, lived in. I wanted to go find giggley and argue with him – this house wasn’t haunted; it was a home.

Shuffling a little on the armchair, I felt nervousness sink in. Now that I was here in this situation, I had no idea how to get out of it. The scent suppressant I sprayed on in the morning was going to protect me for a little while more, but if someone really tried I would no doubt be sniffed out without a problem. My ears started to hurt from how I pressed them down in order to not have a suspiciously twitchy hat and no matter how I tried to manoeuvre myself onto the chair, I couldn’t avoid sitting on my tail that was tucked and hidden into the long skirt I wore and protectively curled around my thigh.

I wasn’t even trying to fool them – I wanted the job they offered on the dingy website and for that I had to be a hybrid, but it was easier travelling through the city while pretending to be human – people stared less, whispered less about ghosts and death. It kind of just snowballed from when they assumed I was a client. No other reason for a human to be hanging about a paranormal investigations agency.

I shouldn’t have agreed, but then a strange fear choked me – I wasn’t ready to go in and ask for a chance. It seemed like a great idea to just scope them out, but now it was painfully obvious to me from their joy that not many clients walked through that gate and now I didn’t know how to tell them I wasn’t one.

Before I could spiral further, two hybrids walked into the room – Hoseok and one I haven’t met yet. He was tall, even taller than the two bears, and muscled. Strength radiated off of him, an aura of power that shocked me into silence as I eyed him with something suspiciously close to awe. Something about him was pressing onto my instincts, blanketing my brain with a layer of rightness, safeness. I fought myself not to submit then and there and embarrassment flooded through me.

But at least I wasn’t the only one – from where my eyes caught onto his greyish wolf ears I saw them twitch nervously and then I realised he was actually blushing under my stare, to which I burst into flames even further and politely shifted my eyes to the little table in front of me.

I heard Hosoek’s snickers, but from his relaxed stance I deduced I probably wasn’t the first to get caught into the lure of this hybrid’s aura. It would surprise me if I was.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and still a little pink, before he regained a little bit of his professionality back.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” he recited smoothly, deep voice like honey, and I blushed a little more, pointedly avoiding Hoseok’s amused eyes, “thank you for choosing our agency to help with your little problem. O-or not little, I mean, it could be a big problem. We can definitely handle anything though, you don’t have to worry.” He stuttered through his little speech miserably, shooting a shy glance towards his companion who was watching with fond eyes.

“Oh Joon,” the little sigh came from behind me and I twirled around to once again come face to face with the brown bear, the man still smiling kindly, “Don’t worry dear, he always gets stuttered up like that.”

He stepped into the room and stuck out his hand in an offered handshake. I quickly fumbled to get on my feet, alleviating the pressure on my poor tail and stumbling in the process, but this time I righted myself before any of the men could. I grabbed his hand with cheeks still red, but with a shy smile back.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he introduced himself and then gestured towards the wolf, “and that is Kim Namjoon. He is the owner and the director of Bangtan Inc.” I moved along, offering my hand to the blushing man as well and he took it eagerly yet gently.

I was so distracted by the soft calming grip of his hand that I didn’t even notice the way the wolf sniffed the air and froze, smile melting off into a frown. Namjoon took a step back and his hand got torn out of my hold, and I looked up in alarm worried something happened.

And something did. The man was watching me with apprehension, no trace of the smiling shy man – in his place stood a powerful hybrid sensing a threat. And I immediately understood what happened.

“W-wait!” I exclaimed, “I can explain, I promise!”

The other two hybrids in the room also took a cautious step back, following the director’s lead and I realised – they must have been a pack and he must have been their alpha. That would explain the reaction of my body I was faced with upon seeing him for the first time.

“Why are you trying to sneak into my house?” the question came out a lot unfriendlier than I was used from these hybrids, but I couldn’t blame him – I had unknowingly tried to cheat the alpha of the house and that was a big offense between hybrids, especially since I was a stranger to his pack.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, also slowly backing away from the man now that he was so high-strung about my proximity. His packmates watched us with confusion, but I saw the realisation slowly sink into their faces, so I decided to stop the farce and reached for the hat, yanking it off. It was impolite to keep headwear on inside anyway, and I know that wasn’t lost on Hoseok since he tried to take it off for me even though I insisted on keeping it.

Their gasps were less shocked by now, both of them anticipating something like that to be the revelation, but I was sure it was more a reaction to opening a whole new level of information about me. The ears were undeniably feline, even though I wouldn’t blame them for not recognising them, and now that I finally unfurled my tail, it started peeking out from the bottom of my long skirt – that was the one cons about it – it was very long, impractically so.

I saw their eyes trained on the fluffy tip of the appendage, their faces written with their attempts to guess what kind of feline I was.

Not Namjoon though, the wolf was staring me down, eyes shining bronze and posture tense, tail ram-rod straight in a show of dominance. I crumpled into myself a little, showing him I wasn’t a threat even though I entered his territory under false pretences.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, alpha,” the name slipped out of my mouth quite naturally, even though I’ve never lived with wolves before – this man just made it easy to submit. He did relax slightly then, but his senses were still alert, no doubt driving him insane because he couldn’t fully smell me.

“I saw the job offer and I came to ask about it, but when I got surprised at the gate by the bears, I panicked and agreed to come in as a client,” I quickly explained, hoping this wouldn’t end up with me kicked out and no prospects of a future employment, “It was stupid of me, I should have thought more carefully about entering a stranger’s territory while pretending to be human.”

That seemed to have diffused the situation completely and I finally sighed out in relief when Namjoon moved, shoulders relaxed a smidge more and only a trace of mistrust on his face. I was proper ashamed though, and watching the floor with burning face, ears pressed into my head so hard it hurt.

Then I sensed Seokjin moving closer before he gently laid a hand on my shoulder, leading me back into the armchair just as Hoseok shook out of his stupor and started serving the tea and biscuits he brought over. Namjoon still stood still on the opposite side, by the dark brown sofa, but he didn’t seem as hostile anymore.

“You little dummy,” Seokjin teased, and had it been said by anyone else with a different intonation, I would have been mad, but his words only made me blush more, shy and embarrassed. Then he looked over at his packmate and tsked gently.

“Come on Joon, cut her some slack,” he chided, “she was caught off guard because Taehyung started teasing her with the whole ‘the house is haunted’ thing he does.” That had the man relaxing completely and he finally sunk down into the sofa, Hoseok joining him shortly and making himself comfortable in the huge pillows.

There was a light disapproving tint to his expression, but mostly he just looked fondly exasperated, shaking his head slightly and chuckling under his breath.

“I told him a thousand times to stop doing that, it makes people nervous and then they don’t ring the doorbell,” he muttered much the same words as Seokjin had before on the street, and the fight drained out of my body when I realised I really wasn’t going to get kicked out.

“I’m still sorry,” I piped up carefully, gathering the hot mug into my hands and cuddling up to it on instinct before I stopped myself. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one afternoon.

“So you’re interested in the job, then?” Namjoon changed the subject smoothly, fully settling into his director persona. I nodded eagerly and watched Seokjin walk over to the sofa and sit down elegantly, direct opposite of the lounging fox that now sat with a pillow squished into his arms.

“I got interested because it mentioned you are a hybrid run agency without human supervision,” I told him and the effect of my words was clear.

Human supervision was a concept as old as PI (paranormal investigations) agencies themselves, hybrids weren’t even allowed to own and run them up until like fifty years ago, and even after human supervision was a standard occurrence.

Even though humans had no affinity for the paranormal (some were a little more sensitive to it then others, especially when it came to children) it still ingrained itself as some sort of a staple of quality of agencies – those that didn’t have human supervisors were often ostracised and disadvantaged, there were quite strong smear campaigns against them and people still held mistrust towards them.

If investigators made mistakes that cost lives or destroyed property at an agency with human supervision, nobody thought anything of it, but if the same happened in agencies without, they were often dragged through the mud and sometimes even shut down after “thorough investigations”. It was more than unfair – it was discrimination. Most humans still saw us as animals and therefore incapable of having the same judgements and freedoms as humans did. They didn’t trust the hybrids that risked their lives to make their homes safe again, they rather turned to the humans that accompanied them in and did nothing.

Most human supervisors were older, still very much in the mindset that hybrids weren’t supposed to have their own opinions, and they were absolutely useless in the face of the paranormal – they were a bunch of pricks drunk on their own power, barking orders they didn’t fully understand, putting investigators into difficult spots and overriding their decisions according to a manual that was outdated and unflexible.

But even though you truly couldn’t find a single hybrid that was happy about this still being a thing, due to the industry pressure they still rather chose to work with them – because working against them was virtually impossible and most of those little stubborn groups usually ended up bankrupt pretty fast. The biggest names were still big corporations that built their traditions on the humans in charge of the operations, and if you wanted to have a successful career or even to be able to make a living, you still had to grovel at their feet and beg for an opportunity.

The dark shadows that overtook the three hybrids’ faces at the mention of human supervision perfectly reflected the grim reality of PI industry.

“No, no humans here,” the wolf stated firmly, “we are fully operated by hybrids. We don’t allow any kind of outside intervention, during the investigations everything is fully in the hands of the operatives.” I nodded, satisfied.

“That’s good to hear,” I said, but didn’t elaborate any further. Most hybrids had bad experiences with their supervisors, so I imagine they must have understood pretty clearly where I was coming from.

“Do you have a resume?” Seokjin asked, bringing the attention back onto the topic at hand. I fumbled with my bag, fighting to pull out the slightly crumpled piece of paper that was pitifully empty, and I flushed under his inquisitive eyes when he caught sight of the free spaces.

I had pretty standard qualifications – I did have all of them, I finished all of my education, but it was nothing special. Everyone that successfully graduated from high school and finished their courses had the same ones (and there was a lot of us). There was some experience from practical education, a part-time job as a graveyard guard and a brief stint at the local office of Black Guard Corp., one of the three giants in the PI industry.

It really didn’t take a long time for the three men to skim through it, it actually felt embarrassingly fast before their gazes shifted back to me, appraising me and searching for at least a sliver of talent.

“Oh, you’re from all the way up north,” Hoseok exclaimed, “Got tired of the mountains?” I chuckled somewhat humourlessly.

“Yeah, something like that,” I muttered. A lot of reclusive communities up in the north – a lot of stigma and not much to do, so it wasn’t that strange that young people moved towards bigger cities searching for modernity and understanding.

“One of our packmates is also from the area,” Hoseok said emphatically, smiling my way, “he moved down as soon as he hit eighteen.” A noise of understanding clawed out of my throat completely unbidden and I awkwardly coughed.

“Yeah, it’s fairly normal,” I replied, “I was one of the few young people left in our village.” Silence barely settled over us when Namjoon broke it again.

“You wrote Hearing and Touch as your strongest senses,” the wolf asked, tapping at the paper where presumably those words were written, “can you elaborate on that a little?”

Those hybrids that had talent (meaning a sense for the paranormal) all mostly had a little bit of everything when it came to the three main senses – sight, smell and hearing. Even if sight wasn’t your strongest sense, you still saw just not as clearly as others. If sight was your strongest sense, you still were able to smell or hear to a certain extent. But usually every investigator had a sense that was stronger than others.

Of course there were levels – someone’s strongest sense could still be weak compared to another person, but it was what he relied upon the most when it came to gathering information about the haunting. Those who had exceptionally strong senses could manifest rare gifts tied to their talents – like those with extremely strong sight could be able to see energy traces, or those with a superior sense of hearing could actually communicate with some of the ghosts.

Touch was a bit of a wild card. It was a considerably rare gift – not that it was super hard to find someone with the capability, but that usually it was very weak. A lot of people who manifested this already rare gift couldn’t actually do much with it and mostly just caught echoes. It was also a gift that only tacked onto a heightened sense of hearing or smell, as that made it stronger.

Touch allowed for the investigator to strike up a connection between themselves and an object closely related to the ghost, it showed them visions – of the ghost’s memories, of their life. Sometimes it shed light onto their motivations to stay behind, sometimes the visions more showed what kind of person they were. Most of the times it made you go through the worst moments of their life – and their death.

It was a dangerous ability that consumed you from within, left you vulnerable. Those with particularly strong Touch often went mad through the years of endless investigations and ended up shells of their former selves.

And mine was – it was on its way there too. It was my greatest pride and my biggest weakness, all at once.

“Do you have anyone else with Touch?” I asked instead of answering at first. The trio on the couch showed their interest was definitely piqued but they let me get away with the small distraction.

Hoseok nodded at the same time as Seokjin said “yes”, and they looked at each other before the fox gestured for the bear to continue.

“We do, we have two,” he replied with a gentle smile, “Jiminie has the same set as you, but his touch isn’t particularly strong. Taehyungie, you met him outside, has smell and touch. His are a little stronger, but he mostly just complains that all he gets are terrible scents.” I chuckled at that.

“I can imagine. I used to know this ferret with the same combination and she always whined that it just makes the smells worse,” the anecdote made me relax even more as I thought back to the few good people I met through my old agency and remembered the reasons for why I stayed there for such a long time. Well, if a few months could be considered a long time. Then I took a deep breath.

“Well, both of my senses are quite… pronounced,” I admitted. People with Touch had to be careful about their talents – either it made you vulnerable to exploitation or you were seen as an emotional wreck and a liability. It was hard to say what people’s reaction would be – that’s why I always asked about their own operatives first.

“Are you getting full visions?” Namjoon asked, and his voice was carefully neutral to make me more at ease. I nodded.

“Yeah. My hearing is pretty strong too, usually I was one of the most alert ones in my team,” I told him, wringing my hands in my lap as I recalled my earlier job, “my touch was what I excelled in though. Full visions, manifestations of emotions, the whole shebang.” The men seemed a little troubled but mostly I recognised worry for my health in those gazes, and while it was one of the pitfalls, I was at least glad they didn’t seem to be strangely excited about my talents. Sometimes we could be seen as an easy way to fame and money, and I’d rather starve than work for a company like that.

“Have you ever successfully carried out a conversation with an apparition?” this time it was Seokjin who asked, and I nodded quickly.

“Once, but she was really confused,” I replied eagerly, “I wasn’t able to get much out of her, it was like she drifted in and out of awareness.” Sometimes the hearing ability worked both ways – when ghosts were weak or low levels according to the manuals, they weren’t really capable of communicating. Maybe they said something here or there, but they weren’t fully conscious and aware. The stronger the apparition, the higher the level, the bigger the chance that they would hear you and answer – but just as there was a barrier that allowed only some to hear them, the barrier carried over certain voice better than others. Therefore if you were skilled at hearing, you also had a higher chance of being heard by the ghost.

The strongest apparitions could freely hold a conversation and hear everyone, even if others couldn’t hear them. From what I read, they were usually quite the pieces of work and annoying to talk to.

“That does happen quite often,” Seokjin sighed, folding himself back into the settee, “Most of the conversations with the dead are quite frustrating. Either because they don’t hear you or because they do and you wish they didn’t.” It sounded like he truly spoke from experience, and I did have to agree with him, even though I haven’t bumped into a fully aware ghost yet. I thought it quite safe to assume Seokjin’s affinity was also hearing, then.

“Well, let me quickly introduce you to the offered position,” Namjoon hijacked the conversation again, leaning forward to look a little more professional, “There’s seven of us in total and we usually work in teams of three or four, depending on the danger level. We try to take turns, but often we found ourselves in situations where we didn’t have time both for business and for basic upkeep of the house and such.” I nodded in understanding.

“People in the summer usually feel emboldened by the long days,” the wolf continued, “so we had a slow period, but with the start of autumn and winter the fear will set in again and they’ll be desperate enough to go even to a small hybrid run agency, so we usually get busier, especially here in the local area. We need a helper. I think the offer said an assistant and a junior operative. Basically someone who will fill in the blank spaces – keep the house tidy when everyone is either busy with investigations, resting or researching. Tag along when we could use a helping hand out in the field. Make sure we’re fully stocked up, double check we have all the supplies in our bags and belts. Help out Hoseok with taking calls, caring for customers when they come here. A little bit of everything to make it easier for us, so we can fully focus on our other tasks.” I hummed again and gestured for him to continue.

“In return we offer lodging here in the house, help with training and gaining more experience with both field and off-field work, like researching, orienting yourself in libraries, archives, what you have the authorisation to do and to ask for, such things. We offer full gear – a new rapier, salt bombs, magnesium bombs, shoes, coats, protective glasses – anything you might need or ask for. We’d take you with us to investigations, show you the ropes, train you to be a full operative.” There Namjoon stopped and wavered a little, hesitation creeping into his face.

I assumed that this was where it usually all fell apart for him, so I straightened in the armchair and waited with bated breath what would follow.

“I know it seems a lot, but it could be a good opportunity,” the wolf smiled at me, the shyness and kindness he displayed earlier before I was found out shining through once more, “Of course… it won’t pay as much as if you worked for Black Guard or the Iron Sword, but it’s still a good pay, more than enough to live comfortably. And as I said, you can live here so that will lower living costs as well…” I released a big huff in relief. I see, so he was worried about money.

The trio of hybrids didn’t seem to know how to interpret my reaction, so I gave them a huge toothy grin, a real one, that channelled just how interested I was in the position. It was perfect for me and I could use the community, the variety and the opportunity to learn.

“No, that sounds perfect,” I told him, and I meant every word of it. That put blinding smiles on their faces as well, and suddenly Hoseok was jumping to his feet and clapping his hands, once again scaring the living shit out of me.

This time he looked a lot less sheepish and a lot more amused as he said sorry, and then he was beckoning me to follow him out of the sitting room. The other two men chuckled fondly, but followed after him, nodding at me to come with them.

“We’re going to test you a little,” Namjoon explained, eyes searching the sky outside through a window in the hall, “I hope it’s not too early for a little ghostly activity.”

The sitting room was the first room you’d see when you stepped inside the house, but there was actually a similar room to the other side of the entrance hall, only stylised into a darker green instead of the browns and beiges of the one we were sitting at.

The entrance hall then opened into a huge room dominated by an old staircase leading to a little corridor that disappeared on both ends deeper into the house. The backdrop of the corridor though was an absolutely massive window made of stained glass that painted together a flowering meadow with a forest on the horizon. It was a little faded, the colours a little dull, but obviously well-loved and cared for, and it stole my breath away.

On the ground floor the room opened to corridors on the sides that similarly disappeared deeper, but on the left side there had to be a kitchen, because the corridor carried to me absolutely delicious smells, and sounds of a knife hitting a cutting board in a steady rhythm. I almost salivated upon smelling that, and wished I could weasel myself into staying for dinner, but instead I followed the men to the right, away from the tantalising scents.

We passed two sets of double doors made from dark polished wood. One was cracked open and I clearly heard giggles and a hushed conversation coming from there, recognising one of those voices as the deep baritone of the black bear that was trying to scare me outside. He was the one of the two with touch, and if I managed to get this job, I couldn’t wait to talk to them about their gift. Up in the north there was only one other girl with touch – the ferret hybrid that had smell as her other sense, but since her touch wasn’t as strong, our experiences with it were completely different.

But that’s not where we were going – the three hybrids continued to the end of the hall where another set of dark-wood doors sat firmly closed. Namjoon fished out a bundle of keys from his pants, and I couldn’t believe the chunky ball of iron fit into his trousers without bulging out uncomfortably.

There were two locks on the door and I promptly realised where he was taking me.

Every agency had a storage room – a place where all the dangerous things sat properly handled and out of reach to anyone that didn’t know how to work with them and could get hurt. That meant everything from spare rapiers and magnesium bombs to active artefacts – ghost sources with their apparitions still attached to them.

A source could be anything that bound a ghost to the place of haunting and allowed them to come back – objects that were loved during their life, objects that were tied to their death or quite straightforwardly, their remains. Sometimes the ghosts were tied to a certain space, and those cases were the most annoying, because there wasn’t much you could do about it – especially if it was a random spot in the middle of a forest or an actively lived-in house.

Operative’s job was to investigate the haunting, find the source and handle it – with salt, iron or silver, depending on the strength of the ghost. Those materials acted as a buffer and eliminated all chances of the ghost slipping through into our world again – it locked the door, one could say. Some ghosts could be chased away with a little bit of salt or a sprinkle of iron filings, but some had to have their sources wrapped in silver and destroyed in fire – those were the most dangerous ones.

Certain artefacts were allowed to be kept as trophies, even though no one really kept an eye on that. The black market was very profitable and unfortunately a lot of people that were supposed to be regulators themselves dabbled in it and collected strong active sources. So the rule of thumb was that regular sources were disposed of in the furnaces while the ones tied to famous cases were kept – people didn’t really care for grandpa Smith’s old walking stick, but they sure were interested in the remains of blood-thirsty ghosts that terrorised and killed until they were swiftly handled by an agency – getting rid of an artefact like that could be a huge PR hit for companies, and they were usually safely showed off in their headquarters to forever burn into people’s memories that they were the ones closing that case.

I assumed Namjoon was taking me to a similar trophy case to gauge the strength and depth of my senses.

Unlike the showy glass buildings of big corporations, Bangtan’s headquarters were situated in the basement under their house – it was mostly one big spacious room with walls made of red bricks and a floor of stone tiles. There were three tables there, covered in paperwork, and one wall was lined with filing cabinets, which must have been filled with old, closed cases.

A little light shined in through small oblong windows near the ceiling, so I was grateful when someone flicked a switch and artificial lights came on with a low hum.

And then I saw it – deeper into the space where two smaller rooms, cutting the space unevenly in half – and the wall facing us currently still standing by the door was covered with luminescent shelves.

It wasn’t the shelves themselves that shined – it was their contents.

There weren’t many artefacts, in fact most of the shelves were completely empty, but they made up for it with their brightness. Usually the brighter the source was, the stronger the ghost tied to it – and these were some potent sources.

I made a little panicked noise at the back of my throat, ears flattening to my head and tail flicking with agitation. I pointed towards the wall and then looked to the men with wide scared eyes.

“You can’t open those, look how bright they are even in the middle of the day!” I exclaimed and the men laughed lightly.

Namjoon leisurely made his way over towards the wall, and in my panic I followed him, heart beating out of my throat. But once there, he didn’t reach towards any of the sources encased in glass tubes infused with silver and iron for safe-keeping, he actually turned toward one of the shelves I previously thought was empty.

Only, when I came closer I realised it was lined with passive sources – ones that used to be tied to a ghost who was either destroyed and left their source behind or chose to move on, or just simply were charged with energy of a haunting and not the apparition itself. They were no longer dangerous and mostly deserted of any activity.

The wolf whispered around with the fox for a little while, hands lingering on certain objects as they deliberated on which they wanted to give me as a test. Seokjin stood to the other side of me, eyes glued to the active sources as if he looked for something specific.

I waited with bated breath to see when his eyes lit up with recognition, eager to know what it was, but I was interrupted by Namjoon’s deep voice as he beckoned me closer.

I looked to them and saw that both he and Hoseok had an object in their hands, having chosen their favourite. Namjoon carefully cradled an intricately carved wooden comb – it was absolutely beautiful and it looked very old and frail, with some of its teeth broken or missing.

He nudged his hands to me, motioning for me to pick it up.

“Tell me this comb’s story, Y/N,” he said, and the sudden appearance of my name shocked me enough to flinch in surprise. I realised I never actually introduced myself to them, the whole clusterfuck of a situation derailing the usual pleasantries – he had to have read it on my resume.

With blushing cheeks I rushed to grab it, careful to give it the same gentle consideration as the wolf did. The last thing I wanted was to break it.

At first I felt nothing. I heard the men’s breathing, the wild beating of all our hearts as the anticipation gripped us. I heard the faint clanks coming from the kitchen on the floor above. I felt my ears twitch as they tried to focus on the echoes of things long gone instead of the very present and very alive hybrids.

Anxiety spilled through me and I squirmed. Slowly I felt myself sink into panic, brain running its mouth telling me that I was useless and couldn’t even feel the object, that they’d laugh at me, they’d hate me. They’d kick me out and I’d have to go back home, embarrassed and defeated. I wouldn’t be able to impress them, I was a sham, a phony. I had nothing to offer anyone. I was worthless. Maybe I should just-

The thought startled me into a more present grounded mindset, and I ashamedly realised that due to me being nervous about the test I hadn’t noticed when I slipped into my ability. Those weren’t my thoughts, but whoever once owned this comb had a really bad time.

Shakily I dropped the comb back into Namjoon’s waiting hands, noting the concern on his face at my queasy expression. Hoseok was standing next to him still holding his own item, but his eyes were wide and a little scared.

“Are you okay dear?” Seokjin suddenly asked me, hands settling on my shoulders as he spun me around, “You suddenly got really pale.” I nodded hurriedly, using the sleeve of my sweater to dry off some of the accumulated sweat on my face.

“No, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” I stuttered out, turning back to Namjoon and looking straight into his worried eyes, “The woman who wore this comb killed herself, didn’t she? She felt worthless – someone had left her. Maybe the very person who gave her the comb.” The devastation hit the wolf’s face as soon as I was finished speaking.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I’ve never met anyone with touch as strong as yours, I didn’t realise you’d feel it so intensely,” he said, comb long forgotten discarded haphazardly on the shelf.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement – the genuine remorse at putting me through an experience like that, even unknowingly – it was enough to make me blush under his brown gentle eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s my ability and I’ve learnt to deal with it,” I told him softly, “I just got a little surprised, I wasn’t paying enough attention and let it suck me in a little.” He looked like he saved my words into memory for later use, like he wanted to make sure to help me along the way to not slip into the memories as easily again, and I flushed again, warmth spreading through my chest.

I’d never met anyone so invested in the well-being of their operatives. Which was quite sad, thinking about it.

“Was I right, though?” I enquired, and he shook out of his stupor, looking at me, then at the comb, then back at me and then as if everything caught up with him he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, her actual source were her remains – they got stuck deep in the mud in the river she drowned herself in, but the comb was in her hands and carried over the aura of her haunting,” the wolf explained eagerly, “she was mostly just sitting around on the bank, scaring off some of the local children who felt unsafe there due to her aura. She wasn’t dangerous at all, just really sad.” I felt a pained pang in my heart, some of the unsettled feelings and thoughts from her last moments still lingering in the corners of my soul.

“That’s incredibly heart-breaking,” I whispered, eyes glued to the beautiful accessory.

Before I could spiral any deeper into those thoughts, Hoseok awkwardly cleared his throat, hands hanging in the air between us unsure of whether he should offer the artefact or not. Everybody’s attention was drawn to him and Namjoon was just about to open his mouth to protest, when I beat him to it by grabbing the little thingy.

It was a really fancy pen, felt and looked new, like it would still write if I tried it on a piece of paper, and its ghostly traces were incredibly weak. This time I was more cautious as I examined it, rolling it around in my hands, eyes closed and fingers trying to feel every ridge, every scratch.

There wasn’t much. Almost nothing actually. I caught some waves, but they fizzled out as quickly as they appeared, leaving me with little fragments here and there. I tried again to make sure, but came to the conclusion that this item couldn’t have been tied to a haunting. It felt more like they just took it from the deceased’s house than anything else.

“Umm, are you sure this is what you wanted me to touch?” I asked hesitantly, “It’s just that there’s not much here. I feel mostly just stress from it, but it’s very fragmented.” At my words everyone in the room chuckled, Hoseok’s face heating up until he was as red as a tomato.

“Good job,” Namjoon said, snickering in amusement and looking towards the embarrassed fox, “this isn’t an actual haunted item or an artefact. It’s one of those fancy pens they advertise to ghost hunters because it has an outer layer of silver on it. Well, Hoseokie-hyung here bought it as a joke and it ended up saving his life. But turns out that the energy of coming into contact with ghost plasm holds onto it well and it’s kind of cursed now.” That definitely caught my attention and I looked at the hybrid who was shooting daggers into the wolf.

“He was being a big old dummy and while handling the sources marked for destruction he dropped one and the case broke,” Seokjin jumped in to continue the story, “he had nothing but the pen in hand and he had to fend off a very angry and a very confused apparition. We heard him screaming and all ran here as fast as we could to see him running around the basement waving around a silver pen and hysterically yelling at a ghost.” At this point I was giggling along with the men, the fox laughing along too as if he saw the visual his mate was painting as well.

“It was the best day of my life,” Namjoon sighed through snickers, “I almost didn’t want to help him because it was too funny.”

“I love to hear that you’d let me die for your entertainment, Joonie,” the man in question grumbled, but it was all in good nature, that much was obvious through their fond looks they threw each other.

As the laughter died down, a more serious expression settled onto Seokjin’s face and he gazed back onto the shelves with active sources, this time eyes immediately locking onto a specific case that glowed strongly with cold, steely blue light.

The other two men quietened the second they recognised what the bear was looking at, ears flinching and flattening to their heads.

“I was curious about what you’d tell us about an item we have here,” Seokjin started explaining, a far-away look in his eyes, “but seeing how strong of a reaction you had to the comb, I think we better not.” I looked towards the case, head tilted in consideration.

It was obvious there was something different, something strange, about that specific artefact – and judging by their nervous stances it wasn’t anything good.

“I can try,” I said easily, moving towards the shelf. Seokjin made an aborted panicked sounds, hands shooting up to stop me, but ultimately he let me walk past him and do what I wanted. I turned back, looking at the men watching me with scared but curious expressions, I steeled myself and looked at it properly.

It was fairly small – a single skeleton finger with a bejewelled ring stuck onto it. I wasn’t sure what they exactly expected from that. I clearly couldn’t take it out as the apparition would no doubt immediately manifest, and you really couldn’t feel through the glass.

But oh how quickly I realised I was wrong about that. I raised my hand, hearing the gasps of the three hybrids, reached for it and promptly stopped. I felt almost paralysed with the wave of dark resentful energy rolling off of it in thick waves, so thick that I was almost choking on them.

Whoever that ghost was, he was strong, angry and dangerous enough for his energy to manifest even through protective silver casing. Panic gripped me, just blind fear that this shouldn’t be here – this shouldn’t be anywhere. Suddenly I was stumbling back, tripping over my own feet to put distance between me and whatever that thing was.

My wild terrified eyes found Namjoon’s own worried ones and I couldn’t hold back a whimper clawing its way out of my throat.

“What the fuck,” I gritted through my teeth, “is that? Why the fuck is that here?” The alpha seemed to be fighting off his instincts, my palpable fear and the whimper must have put him in for a spin to try and calm me down, but we didn’t know each other at all for any attempts to be appropriate.

I realised I was shaking, the hand with which I almost grabbed the artefact cold and frozen to the bone.

“It was one of our biggest cases,” Seokjin whispered, voice gentle and monotone as he slowly started moving towards me trying not to scare me more, “a nasty piece of shit, a killer in life and a killer in death. Jimin refuses to get any closer to it, says it gives him the creeps even through the glass. He’s been telling us it has an aura even through the protection case and here or there tries to persuade us to get rid of it. None of us can feel much, just that it has bad energy, so I got curious… I’m glad you didn’t touch it. Those are some memories you don’t want to see.”

The bear hybrid managed to get all the way to me, his soft grip to my shoulder grounding me into the present and finally breathing some warmth back into my frozen scared body. I relaxed enough to let him start dragging me back towards the stairs, the two other hybrids guiltily tagging along.

“Jimin has a fucking point,” I replied, “That thing should be destroyed.” There was still a slight tremble to my hands, and I realised for the first time that day I was feeling extremely cold. I mechanically forced my feet to carry me a stair after a stair, yearning for the cosy vibe of the sitting room and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

“Told you,” a new voice joined us from up the stairs and I jerked to look up, coming face to face with a pretty boy with big eyes and plump lips. White ears stuck out excitedly from a mop of black silky hair, but I couldn’t gauge what kind of hybrid he was.

“Jimin,” Seokjin sighed, pulling me closer to his side, “please go start up a fire in the green room.” The boy said nothing more, only winked at me good-naturedly and then disappeared back into the house.

When we made it into the green room – which was the sitting room across the one we were in before – there indeed was a fireplace and an excited hybrid loading it with wood. I looked at his snow-white fluffy tail, the shape of it flaring out a little towards the end, and realised he was another fox, an arctic one. He must have been the hybrid Hoseok was talking about before, the one that moved down here from up north.

“After that I’m afraid I must insist you stay for dinner,” Seokjin spoke again, voice firm and leaving no space for objections. And it was the polite thing to do, to object and pretend like I wasn’t dying to sit down by the fire and eat, but just that afternoon I wouldn’t – I was too tired and too shaken. I wanted that damn food and I’d take it.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered only, letting the man fuss over me with a blanket. Shortly after he ushered Namjoon and Hoseok away with him, muttering something about guests and Yoongi, which I didn’t fully comprehend.

Jimin still sat down by the fireplace, kindling the little fire and feeding it paper, but then he turned to me and watched me with interested curious eyes for a moment.

“You got the touch?” he asked finally, and I simply nodded. Another moment of silence.

“Did you touch the finger?” this question came a little quieter. I saw the warring emotions in his eyes – excitement over meeting someone with the same gift, apprehension of the cursed object and a worry over my well-being. I was grateful to him, to his easy friendliness that put me at ease.

“No… I couldn’t,” I whispered the reply, but he understood, he did all too well. He gave me an empathetic smile, which quickly melted into a smirk.

“Maybe now Joonie-hyung will finally listen to me and do something about that awful thing,” he teased, giggling and pulling me along with him.

I was just about to open my mouth with my own smart remark when a new face stormed into the room, immediately stopping in his tracks upon seeing me bundled up in the blankets in an armchair by the fire.

He was small, noticeably so once Seokjin arrived as well and stood next to him, but his form was obviously strong and lean, a quite typical build for a classically trained operative. He must have been a terror with rapiers, it was written all over him.

“Aish, I leave you three alone for an hour and this is what you do?” he scolded the guiltily looking trio, “Look at that poor kid, you totally traumatised her!” Jimin on the ground was giggling, watching their pulled back ears with delight, but I just sheepishly sunk further into the chair, cheeks pink over how strongly the unknown hybrid defended me.

Movement by his legs caught my eye and I finally noticed the kind of hybrid he was – that was definitely a white tiger tail swishing wildly behind him! I physically felt my ears perk up as my back straightened and my own tail raised in interest, which brought even more colour to my cheeks and stuttered up the black-haired man in the middle of his spiel.

Soon he was blushing too, and I realised he was reading my body language and I’ve just given myself away, quite spectacularly.

I felt the intense need to explain myself but there wasn’t really much to say – I was excited to meet another feline hybrid, one that wasn’t of my own community – because I’ve never met another cat outside the ones I grew up with, and those weren’t exactly great. But I just looked like I totally had the hots for him (which I totally didn’t).

“N-no- I mean- I just- I’ve never met a tiger hybrid,” I finally pushed out, ignoring Jimin’s teasing shit-eating grin where he sat by my feet next to the fireplace. Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin were watching me with open fascination, which was definitely better than the anger I was imagining they would feel over me obviously being into their mate (which I wasn’t!!! It was a misunderstanding, nothing more!!!).

The tiger in question shifted on his feet, hand going to scratch behind the striped ear, his own characteristics now betraying a curiosity and interest on his part. His gaze swept over my features, passive but warm.

“You’re a snow leopard, aren't you?” he asked and where Namjoon’s voice was deep and smooth, Taehyung’s voice was deep and sweet, this hybrid’s voice was deep and raspy, sending me into a whole new spiral at hearing it.

I barely even managed to nod, embarrassedly pulling my tail and pushing it into my lap before it divulged even more of my secrets. Jimin was smirking at me as if he knew exactly what I was going through, and I kind of wanted to kick him a little.

“I suppose you came down here fairly recently then? Your folk only mostly only lives up in the mountains and they’re pretty reclusive…” he asked some more, angling more towards me and I felt my treacherous tail twitch in my hands.

“Yeah, it was a pretty tight community,” I told him easily, “They’re not exactly… forward and… open-minded.” It felt weird to be sharing such a private information with people I’d just met a few hours ago, but apart from the fact that this was something mostly all hybrids kind of knew, in those hours they managed to make me trust their judgement and believe that even if I wouldn’t end up getting employed by them, they still cared for my comfort.

But subverting all my expectations, the hybrid who up until now stayed fairly neutral even with a soft blush to his cheeks suddenly smirked at me, taking in my wide-eyes and flushed face before saying: “Well, it’s an honour for me to be your first tiger.” and walking out nonchalantly.

The trio that he originally came in here while scolding them stood there wordlessly, eyes flitting between my embarrassed form, a little too amused Jimin and the empty space where the tiger used to stand. Then Hoseok made a non-descript delighted noise in the back of the throat, launching into a sprint while screaming at the top of his lungs: “Jungkookie, you have competition!”

I was very much confused, but judging from Namjoon’s embarrassed blush and Jimin’s outright evil snickers, I probably didn’t want to know.

Seokjin smiled blindingly and then walked away again, while Namjoon slowly slinked into the room and made himself comfortable at the other armchair, still watching me glare at the laughing Jimin with wide eyes.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect this outcome when you sneaked in today,” the wolf muttered, but there was a grin gently pulling at his lips. I was too embarrassed to banter and the attempt at a smile came out more as a grimace, so I just sunk deeper into the armchair and stubbornly looked on into the fire, ignoring the two giggling men.

“I’m sorry though,” Namjoon said quietly suddenly. I looked at him confused and I was surprised by the guilty expression on his face. “I’m sure this wasn’t the most pleasant of first meetings,” the hybrid muttered sheepishly, a bit of shame settled into his features.

“Namjoon-ssi, I made the decision to touch the source,” I told him firmly, hoping to alleviate some of his worry, “Seokjin-ssi was clear that I probably shouldn’t, but I wanted to try. You did nothing wrong.” The wolf didn’t seem much appeased, but he at least eased up a little, a little bit of determination creeping into his eyes.

“I’m going to get a bigger case and put it as a second barrier,” he proudly stated, more to himself than to us, and me and Jimin shared a glance before promptly bursting out into a fit of giggles. A sort of warmth settled into me, especially as distinctly recognisable voice of the brown bear shouted from somewhere that dinner will be ready shortly.

“Would be foolish to hope you’d like to accept the offer?” the question came out of nowhere, even Namjoon himself looking a little shy though he was the one who said it. I froze. Jimin stopped laughing. The happy chatter flowing in from the kitchen died down and everything settled into a buzz of anticipation.

The house was suddenly plunged into silence that I hadn’t heard since I stepped in, and the longer I was shocked at his words, the more I could see the alpha spiral that I’d inevitably reject him.

“I wasn’t aware you were waiting for my answer,” I uttered, teasing cheekiness creeping into my voice, and Jimin’s face once more morphed into a beautiful smile, “But I’d love to accept.” Namjoon smiled in relief, but both of our attentions were snatched by giggles coming from the artic fox.

“Of course she accepts hyung,” Jimin reiterated, “she wants to keep her first tiger.”

I’d never wished for the ground to swallow me so hard as I did in that moment.

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @borahaetelevision @socksfirst1 @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @iwishiwasrichasfuck @authorpj

@bangatanily @sassy-snassy @booksintheheart00-blog @bangbangcon @kiki-zb

@luvian-art @ldysmfrst @jinsleftairpod

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHER'S PET PT.2 | CL16

an: i don't even have anything to say i'm just giggling atp, also this one is really long i apologise, i got carried away

wc: 9.1k

warnings: heavy infidelity

part one

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes of golden light across the bed. The room was quiet, save for the gentle rhythm of Logan’s breathing beside her, his arm draped comfortably around her waist, holding her close. She blinked, the last vestiges of sleep still clouding her mind, her body warm and drowsy beneath the blanket.

But as her consciousness sharpened, the remnants of a dream clung stubbornly to her—vivid, unsettling, far too real.

Professor Leclerc.

Her heart gave a startled lurch as the images resurfaced, unbidden. His hands, firm on her waist. The soft, gravelly sound of his voice whispering her name, lips brushing her ear. Her skin felt heated under his touch, the press of his body against hers too close, too intimate. She had seen his face clearly—his dark, intense eyes focused solely on her, the way his mouth curved into a knowing, devastating smile.

The dream had felt so real, too real, and her pulse raced as she lay there, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of Logan’s arm around her suddenly felt suffocating. She shifted slightly, trying to shake the dream away, to rid herself of the guilt that came rushing in like a wave, but it was no use. The images clung to her, sticky and wrong, making her feel hot with shame.

How could she have dreamed about him? Her professor? Her much older professor.

And worse—she’d liked it. In the haze of sleep, she'd been swept up in it, wanting more, her body responding in ways that horrified her now.

This is wrong, she told herself fiercely. I have Logan. I love Logan. This isn’t supposed to happen.

Her body tensed under Logan’s arm, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm the flurry of emotions threatening to consume her. She didn’t move, didn’t want to wake him, but her mind was racing, her heart pounding far too fast for such an early morning.

How could she face Logan after this? He was lying there, holding her so gently, so lovingly, completely unaware of the tangled mess of thoughts in her head. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to herself. The guilt gnawed at her, twisting her insides.

Just as she thought she could push the dream aside, bury it deep enough to forget it, Logan stirred beside her. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, and his sleepy voice drifted toward her, soft and familiar.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. His lips brushed the back of her neck as he nuzzled closer, pulling her tighter against his chest. "You okay?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a split second, her stomach dropped. Could he sense something was wrong? Could he feel the way her body had gone rigid beneath his touch, how her breathing had changed?

I’m not okay, she thought, the words screaming in her mind, but her lips remained sealed.

"Yeah," she whispered, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. "I’m fine. Just... just waking up."

Her voice sounded thin, unconvincing even to herself, but Logan didn’t seem to notice. He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, a tender, affectionate gesture that sent a new wave of guilt crashing over her. He was always so good to her—kind, loving, steady. Everything she needed.

So why was her heart still pounding with the memory of her professor? Why did the dream still linger, like an ache she couldn’t quite shake?

Logan’s arm loosened, and he shifted beside her, rolling onto his back. She could feel him stretching, the mattress shifting beneath them, and she used the moment to slip out from under the covers, desperate for some space.

She stood, her legs shaky as she padded quietly across the room toward the dresser. The early morning chill hit her skin, waking her up fully, but it did nothing to shake the feeling clinging to her chest. Her reflection in the mirror caught her off guard, her face flushed, her hair messy from sleep. She looked... guilty. Like the dream had left a mark on her that couldn’t be erased so easily.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of sheets as Logan sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "You sure you’re okay?" he asked, his voice a little clearer now, more awake.

She froze for a split second, then busied herself with picking out clothes for the day. "Yeah, just thinking about everything I have to do. I’ve got a lecture this morning." She kept her back to him, not trusting herself to face him just yet.

There was a pause, then the creak of the bed as Logan stood, moving toward her. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her close again, his chin resting on her shoulder. His warmth was familiar, comforting, but it only made the knot in her chest tighten.

"Don’t stress," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck. "You’ll get through it. And if you need to talk to your professor again about your essay, just go for it. I’m sure he’ll be understanding."

Her body tensed at the mention of Professor Leclerc, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. The dream came flooding back in vivid detail, and she bit down hard on her lip, trying to shake the thought of it. She couldn’t let Logan see how shaken she was.

"Yeah," she muttered, reaching for a sweater, eager to put some distance between them. "I’ll figure it out."

Logan gave her waist a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, oblivious to the turmoil bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "I’m gonna shower. Let me know if you want to grab coffee before you head to class."

"Sure," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze as she started pulling on her clothes. "I’ll let you know."

She heard the bathroom door close behind him, the soft rush of water starting up moments later, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

She stood there, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser as she stared down at the hardwood floor, her mind racing. What was wrong with her? How could she have let herself dream about him? It was just a dream, she tried to remind herself—dreams didn’t mean anything. But the way her body had responded, the way her heart still thudded in her chest, told her otherwise.

This is wrong, she thought again, trying to steady herself. I have Logan. I love Logan.

But as she pulled on her jeans, slipping her feet into her shoes, her thoughts drifted to Professor Leclerc again, the memory of his voice, the way he’d looked at her during their meeting, the soft intimacy of his office. She hadn’t imagined that tension. There was something there, wasn’t there?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She needed to focus on reality, on her relationship with Logan, and on her lecture this morning. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander like this.

But as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, her heart still racing, she knew that shaking off the professor wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.

-

The lecture hall was already buzzing with low chatter as she slipped inside, taking a seat near the middle, far enough back to blend in but close enough that she could still see him clearly. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, her stomach too twisted with nerves to manage food, and the coffee she’d grabbed on the way with Logan sat untouched beside her, growing cold.

Her eyes drifted toward the front of the room, where Professor Leclerc was setting up for the lecture. He moved with the same deliberate grace as always, flipping through his notes, adjusting the laptop screen, completely at ease. He was wearing a crisp white shirt today, the sleeves once again rolled up to his forearms, his blazer draped neatly over the back of his chair and for a second she wondered if it was on purpose.  He looked as composed as ever—professional, distant.

And yet, she felt it again, that strange pull tightening in her chest as she watched him. Her mind flashed briefly to the dream from the night before, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. This was just a lecture. Nothing more. She was overthinking things, letting her mind play tricks on her.

But as the hall began to settle, students quieting down as the lecture was about to begin, she could feel his attention shift. He glanced up, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on her. The moment their gazes met, her breath caught in her throat.

He didn’t look away immediately. There was a pause—just a beat too long—and it sent a shiver down her spine. The same unreadable expression lingered on his face, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her heart race. He looked at her like he knew something she didn’t, like there was a shared secret hanging between them, unspoken but undeniable.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing. Focus on the lecture, she told herself, but it was harder than it should have been. Her body was tense, every nerve aware of him standing at the front of the room, knowing he was aware of her too.

Professor Leclerc’s voice cut through the silence as he began the lecture, his tone smooth and authoritative, commanding attention as he spoke. He moved effortlessly from topic to topic, discussing the intricacies of Derrida and the complexities of post-structuralism, but she could barely focus on the content. Every now and then, she would feel his gaze flick toward her, brief glances that lingered just long enough to make her heart race again.

It wasn’t just in her head, was it?

As the lecture progressed, the feeling of being singled out grew. He would pose questions to the class, his eyes scanning the room, but they always seemed to return to her, as though he were waiting for her reaction, her response. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at her, she could feel the weight of his attention, like a low hum beneath the surface of everything he said. It made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the pen in her lap.

At one point, he asked a question, something about Gustav Courbet’s intentions behind a painting of which the title she missed, and though several hands went up around her, his eyes locked on hers. Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t raise her hand. She didn’t trust herself to speak right now, not with the way her thoughts were tangled up, not when she felt like her face was on fire under his gaze.

He didn’t call on anyone else. Instead, he lingered in that moment, his gaze heavy on her, as though waiting—expecting something. The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity before he finally moved on, but the tension in her chest only tightened further.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. She couldn’t focus, her thoughts too muddled by the quiet intensity between them, the way he seemed to be paying her special attention without saying a word. When the class finally ended, students began packing up, the rustle of papers and bags filling the room. She exhaled slowly, her body tense, her mind still reeling from the subtle but undeniable connection that had pulsed between them the entire hour.

Just as she stood to leave, she heard his voice, calm but unmistakably directed at her.

"Miss."

She froze, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of her name. Slowly, she turned to face him. He was standing near his desk, his hands resting on the stack of notes, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

"Could you come to my office for a moment? I’d like to discuss the next assignment with you."

Her pulse raced. The words were simple enough—nothing inappropriate, nothing out of the ordinary for a professor to ask of a student. But the way he said it, the way his eyes held hers, made her stomach flip. It wasn’t a request. It was an expectation.

She nodded, her voice catching slightly as she replied. "Of course."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned away, gathering his papers and slipping them into his satchel. She watched him for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision she’d just made. This was just a discussion about an assignment. That was all. It was professional. Normal. But deep down, she knew it didn’t feel that way.

As she slung her bag over her shoulder and began making her way toward the door, her mind was already racing ahead, imagining what the next conversation would hold. The pull between them had only grown stronger, more insistent, and as much as she tried to push it away, the anticipation gnawed at her, pulling her deeper into a situation she wasn’t sure she could control.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

She found herself walking toward his office without hesitation, as though her feet were moving on their own. The hallway was quieter now, most students having filtered out after the lecture. Her mind raced, buzzing with too many thoughts at once—none of them clear enough to grasp.

When she reached the door, she paused, her heart thudding in her chest. His name, Professor Charles Leclerc, was printed neatly on the plaque beside the door, the same as always. Yet, somehow, it felt different now, like the air around his office held more weight. Her hand hovered above the door for a moment before she gave a soft knock.

"Come in," his voice called from inside.

She pushed the door open, slipping inside and closing it quietly behind her. The room was warm, lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, the blinds half-drawn to block out the harsh daylight. It smelled faintly of coffee and old books, a subtle comfort in the otherwise unfamiliar space.

Professor Leclerc was seated behind his desk, but as soon as she entered, he looked up, his eyes settling on her with that same intensity she’d felt during the lecture. His blazer was hung over the back of his chair, and his sleeves were still rolled up, revealing the strong lines of his forearms. He adjusted his glasses slightly, a gesture that shouldn’t have made her stomach flip the way it did.

"Miss," he greeted, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit."

She obeyed without hesitation, lowering herself into the chair and setting her bag on the floor beside her. The office was small, intimate, lined with bookshelves and papers that seemed to overflow with the work of a man deeply immersed in his subject. But it wasn’t the room that made her nervous—it was the man sitting behind the desk.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ve been thinking about your last essay submission," he began, his voice low and thoughtful. "You’re very talented, you know."

The compliment landed softly, and for a moment, she didn’t quite know how to respond. She hadn’t expected praise. She had expected to be critiqued, corrected, told where she had gone wrong. But instead, his words hung in the air between them, warm and heavy, and she felt herself relaxing into the chair without meaning to.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean it," he continued, his eyes searching hers. "You have a sharp mind. Your analysis of Toulouse-Letrec’s Rosa La Rouge—especially the way you approached strokes—was far more nuanced than most of your peers. You see things others miss."

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his words. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her—it was like he wasn’t just praising her work, but her, the person behind the words. And it did something to her, something she wasn’t prepared for.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the quickening of her pulse. His praise was intoxicating, soothing something deep inside her she hadn’t even realised needed soothing. Something she realised she was starting to crave. Her anxiety about the essay, her insecurities about her abilities—all of it seemed to melt away under the warmth of his approval.

"I... I wasn’t sure I got it right," she admitted, feeling a little breathless.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, closing the space between them. "You did," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You have real potential. If you keep pushing yourself, I think you could write something truly remarkable. Something I’d imagine may end up in this very university’s library, on my shelves"

Her stomach flipped again, and she found herself holding her breath. The room felt smaller, more intimate, with the two of them sitting there in the quiet, his voice weaving around her like a spell. There was no one else here. Just him and her.

"I want you to take that approach further in the next assignment," he continued, his gaze still locked on hers. "Dig deeper into the painting. Trust your instincts. You have a unique perspective, and that’s something you should lean into. Don’t be afraid to take risks with your analysis."

She nodded, but the words barely registered. All she could think about was the way his voice sounded, the way his eyes seemed to see through her. Her body felt warm, too warm, and her mind was spinning in directions she didn’t want it to go.

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel the guilt gnawing at her. She didn’t think about Logan or about how inappropriate this was. All she felt was the rush of satisfaction, the undeniable pull of his attention. It was like nothing else mattered in this moment.

"You have a real gift," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I hope you know that."

Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, she murmured, "I... I don’t know."

His lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his chair. "You will."

For a brief moment, she let herself get lost in it—the praise, the closeness, the way he looked at her like she was something special. It was heady, overwhelming, but she wanted to stay in it just a little longer. She felt seen, in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

And then her phone buzzed in her bag, shattering the moment.

She blinked, her body jolting as if she had been pulled from a dream. With shaking fingers, she reached into her bag, pulling out her phone. The screen lit up with a message from 

Logan:

Dinner on me tonight?

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and all at once, the guilt came crashing back, hard and unforgiving. Her stomach twisted violently, the warmth that had settled over her evaporating in an instant. She stared at the message, her heart sinking.

Logan. Her boyfriend. The man who loved her, who had kissed her goodbye that morning without suspecting a thing.

What am I doing?

Her chest tightened, and she quickly shoved the phone back into her bag, her hands trembling. The weight of what had just happened—the way she had let herself be swept up in the moment, how easily she had forgotten everything else—hit her all at once, and it felt suffocating.

"This is wrong," she thought, the words repeating in her mind like a mantra. This is wrong.

Her cheeks burned with shame, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet Professor Leclerc’s eyes anymore. She could still feel his attention on her, but it felt different now. Too heavy. Too close.

"Is everything alright?" His voice was calm, but there was a hint of concern laced into the question.

She forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "Yeah," she lied, her voice strained. "Just a text from... my boyfriend."

There was a pause, and though he didn’t say anything, she could feel the shift in the air. The subtle tension between them thickened, and she stood abruptly, her movements jerky.

"I should go," she said quickly, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "I... I have another class."

Professor Leclerc didn’t stop her. He merely nodded, his eyes still on her, watching as she fumbled with the door handle.

"Take your time with the assignment," he said softly, as she opened the door. "And if you need anything... you know where to find me."

His words lingered in the air as she hurried out of the office, her pulse racing, her mind a chaotic mess of emotions. She could feel the guilt clawing at her, sharp and unforgiving, but there was something else there too—something she didn’t want to admit.

As she walked down the hallway, her phone still buzzing faintly in her bag, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And that terrified her.

-

The restaurant Logan had chosen was cosy, the kind of place they’d been to a dozen times before—intimate without being pretentious, with soft lighting and the smell of fresh bread lingering in the air. Normally, it would have been the perfect setting for a relaxed evening, a break from the stress of her assignments and the constant hum of campus life. But tonight, something felt off. She couldn’t shake the tension that had followed her since the meeting with Professor Leclerc.

Logan was already at the table when she arrived, sitting near the back corner of the restaurant, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. He smiled, that warm, familiar smile that usually put her at ease.

"Hey, you," he said as she slid into the chair across from him. "Thought you were gonna ditch me for a second."

She forced a smile, but her mind was still racing, the earlier conversation with Charles. Professor Leclerc replaying itself on a loop. "Sorry," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Got a little caught up with something."

"No worries," Logan said, waving it off. "I already ordered drinks. Figured you’d want a glass of white?"

"Perfect," she murmured, her eyes flicking briefly to the wine list before drifting over the restaurant. She needed to calm down, to focus on the moment. She was here with Logan. This was where she was supposed to be.

The server arrived with their drinks, and Logan launched into an easy conversation about his day—something about a project on his course, a deadline that was stressing him out. She nodded along, trying to keep up, but her mind kept slipping, wandering back to the way Professor Leclerc had looked at her during their meeting, the way his voice had sounded when he praised her. The praise had felt personal, intimate in a way that wasn’t just academic.

She took a sip of her wine, trying to drown the thought.

Logan was mid-sentence, something about his coursemate, when she heard it. A voice she recognised, low and distinct. Her body tensed before she even turned her head, as if it knew before her brain had fully registered it.

Professor Leclerc.

He was sitting a few tables away, near the window, his back partially turned toward them but still unmistakable. His hair was slightly tousled, his sleeves rolled up as usual, though this time he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He was with someone—a woman, blonde and striking, with a sharp jawline and an air of confidence that made her feel immediately inadequate. She was leaning in toward him, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The air felt too thick suddenly, the warmth of the restaurant stifling. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked different, more relaxed, like the weight of his role as professor had been shed for the evening. His posture was looser, his smile—something she rarely saw in the classroom—came easily as he listened to the woman beside him.

Logan was still talking, but his voice felt like background noise now. The clatter of silverware, the low hum of conversation around them—it all faded into a dull hum as her focus narrowed in on Professor Leclerc. Her gaze flicked to his date, jealousy spiking unexpectedly in her chest. She had no right to feel this way—he wasn’t hers, and she had no reason to think of him as anything other than her professor. But the way he’d spoken to her earlier, the way his praise had made her feel seen, made it impossible to push the thought away.

What if she were the one sitting across from him tonight?

She imagined it—sitting in that dimly lit corner with him, his attention focused solely on her, his voice low and intimate as he praised her work again, only this time not just her work. What if he looked at her the way he was looking at the woman beside him, with that easy smile and soft eyes? What if he reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers in a way that felt deliberate, intentional?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She could picture it so vividly—the quiet closeness of the restaurant, the way they’d linger over their meals, talking about anything and everything, his gaze never straying far from hers. They’d share a bottle of wine, his hand eventually resting on hers, the warmth of his touch sparking something undeniable between them. The thought of it, of being on a date with him, filled her with a strange, exhilarating mix of desire and guilt.

"Hey, you okay?" Logan’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she blinked, startled, her gaze snapping back to him.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry." She forced a smile, taking another sip of wine to steady herself. "Just... zoned out for a second."

Logan grinned, leaning forward slightly. "That’s because I’m boring you to death with sports science talk huh?" He chuckled, reaching for her hand across the table. "Let’s change the subject. How was your day?"

Her stomach twisted as his hand covered hers, the warmth of his touch grounding her in reality—reminding her of who she was supposed to be with. This was Logan. Her boyfriend. The man who cared for her, who had planned this dinner just to make her feel better after a long week. And yet, all she could think about was how his hand felt so different from the one she imagined touching hers across the room.

"It was fine," she lied, her voice feeling tight in her throat. "Just, you know, busy with classes."

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, and before she could stop herself, her gaze drifted back toward Professor Leclerc. He hadn’t noticed her—he was too engrossed in his date, too caught up in the moment with the woman beside him. They were laughing now, the kind of soft, private laughter that felt like a secret shared between two people. Her chest tightened.

She shouldn’t be here. Or rather, she shouldn’t want to be there—at that table with him, feeling his attention wrap around her like it had in his office earlier. But she couldn’t stop imagining it, couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to sit across from him, to be the one making him smile like that.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she looked down to see a message from her professor in the university’s online system. The timing was cruelly coincidental. It was just a simple reminder about office hours and the upcoming assignment, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken again. He was here, just a few tables away, and yet his presence loomed larger than Logan’s, filling her mind completely.

Logan was saying something about plans for the weekend, but she barely heard him. The noise of the restaurant seemed to swell around her, disorienting her, making it hard to focus. She could feel herself slipping, her thoughts spiralling in directions she didn’t want them to go. She wanted to be present with Logan, to enjoy the dinner he had planned for them. But every time she looked at him, all she could think about was Professor Leclerc, sitting so close yet impossibly far away, on a date with someone else.

It should have been her.

Her stomach clenched at the thought, the guilt returning in a wave so strong it made her feel lightheaded. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this, not about her professor, not while she was on a date with her boyfriend. But the pull was too strong, the fantasy too intoxicating to resist.

She smiled at Logan, though it felt hollow, the guilt gnawing at her insides.

"I’m really glad we’re doing this," Logan said, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "We’ve both been so busy. It’s nice to just... you know, take a breath."

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It is."

But as she glanced over at Professor Leclerc one last time, watching the way he leaned in toward his date, his eyes shining with interest, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be able to take that breath.

Because as long as she kept thinking about him, about what it would be like to be in his orbit like that, she wasn’t sure she could.

She couldn’t remember how the rest of the evening had gone. She barely remembered what she had eaten, let alone what Logan had talked about through the main course. Her mind had been elsewhere, circling back to the professor’s presence across the restaurant, the tension between them thick and suffocating. She was painfully aware of his every movement, his every glance in the corner of her vision, but she tried to push it all aside and focus on Logan.

But now, standing outside the restaurant, a cold breeze cutting through her coat, her thoughts were more chaotic than ever.

Logan had just received a call from one of his mates—Alex, someone from his football team—who was apparently too drunk to get home on his own.

"I’m so sorry, babe," Logan had said, guilt in his eyes as he slipped his jacket on. "Alex is a mess. He’s stuck on the other side of town, and there’s no way he’ll make it home without help."

"It’s fine," she’d assured him. "Really."

Logan had pulled out his wallet, fumbling through some cash. "Here, this should be enough to get you a cab home." He pressed the notes into her hand, squeezing it gently. "I’ll see you later, okay babe?"

She had nodded, watching as he quickly waved down a cab for himself and disappeared into the night to go get his friend, leaving her alone outside the restaurant. The dim street lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the pavement. She hugged her arms around herself, the wind biting at her skin as she waited for her own ride.

The city streets felt empty at this hour, the noise of the restaurant fading behind her as couples walked by, arm in arm, laughing and chatting. She glanced at her phone, not knowing exactly what she was waiting for, there were three cabs on the same street. But as she stood there, shifting on her feet, she felt a familiar presence before she saw him.

"Miss," a voice said, low and smooth, and she froze.

She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes met Professor Leclerc’s. He stood just a few feet away, his hands casually in his pockets, the streetlight casting a faint glow over his face. He wasn’t wearing his blazer, and his hair was slightly ruffled from the wind. His date was nowhere in sight, and she felt the air around them shift, the same electric tension that had been in his office earlier tightening between them.

"You’re out here alone?" he asked, his gaze flicking to the empty space beside her where Logan had been moments before.

"Yeah," she murmured, her throat suddenly dry. "Logan had to go pick up a friend. Drunk."

He took a step closer, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light. "And he just left you standing out here?"

"I’m was about to get a cab," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

His eyes lingered on her, taking in the way she hugged her arms to her body against the chill. His proximity was unsettling, too close for comfort, and yet she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt like a moth drawn to a flame, knowing it was dangerous but unable to pull herself away.

"You look cold," he said, his voice soft but with an edge of something else—something unspoken.

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "I’m fine," she lied, her body betraying her with a slight shiver.

He stepped even closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. She could feel the warmth of his body now, the way his presence seemed to wrap around her like a blanket. Her heart raced, every nerve in her body suddenly alive, aware of how close he was—too close. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, the sharpness of it filling her lungs with each breath.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city felt distant, the noise of passing cars and pedestrians muffled in the background, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Her skin tingled, and she felt a dangerous pull toward him, an urge to close the gap between them completely, to cross the line she’d been so carefully trying to avoid.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," he said, his voice low and intimate. His eyes held hers, something heavy and unspoken passing between them.

"Shouldn’t you be with your date?" she asked, her words slipping out before she could stop herself. Her voice came out shaky, laced with nerves.

His lips twitched slightly, a shadow of a smile, but there was no humour in it. "And shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?" he reminded her softly, his eyes locking onto hers, as if daring her to acknowledge what was happening between them.

Her stomach clenched, guilt flashing through her like a jolt of electricity. This was wrong—so wrong—but the pull between them felt inescapable, like gravity drawing her closer no matter how much she fought it. She was standing in front of her professor, her body reacting to him in ways she couldn’t control, and her boyfriend was miles away, oblivious.

The thought hit her hard, guilt swirling inside her. But it didn’t stop the way her heart raced, the way her skin burned under his gaze.

"You shouldn’t be out here," he said again, his voice a little softer now, almost tender. "Let me give you a ride home."

She blinked, her thoughts scrambling. She should say no. She knew she should say no. But the words wouldn’t come. Her breath hitched in her throat as his eyes searched hers, waiting.

"I—I can get a cab," she stammered, though even she didn’t sound convincing.

"You could," he agreed, his voice steady and calm, but his eyes never left hers. "Or I could take you home. It’s late."

There was a moment of silence, the weight of his words hanging between them. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her to walk away, to leave before this went any further. But her body wasn’t listening. Her body was leaning into the moment, craving the intimacy she knew was wrong.

Before she could stop herself, she nodded.

"Okay," she whispered.

The word was barely out of her mouth before he turned, gesturing for her to follow him. She trailed after him, her legs feeling shaky as they walked to his car, which was parked further down the street. The city lights flickered overhead, the wind biting at her skin, but she barely felt it now. All she could feel was the heat between them, the unspoken tension that had simmered for weeks now threatening to spill over.

He unlocked the car, and she slid into the passenger seat, her hands trembling slightly as she buckled her seatbelt. The car was warm, the leather seats soft beneath her, and the moment he sat down next to her, she felt the air shift again, thickening with unspoken things. She could barely breathe.

He started the car in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between them as they pulled away from the curb. For a few minutes, they didn’t speak, the city lights flashing by in a blur. She stared out the window, her mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and feelings she didn’t know how to untangle.

"You’re quiet," he said, his voice breaking through the silence.

She glanced at him, her heart thudding in her chest. "Just… thinking."

He gave a soft hum in response, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. "About what?"

About you.

But she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t admit that her thoughts had been consumed by him ever since the restaurant, ever since he’d gotten too close. Instead, she shook her head slightly, looking away again.

"Nothing," she lied. She was getting really good at that lately 

He didn’t push her, but the silence that followed felt heavy, thick with things unsaid. She could feel his gaze flick toward her occasionally, and each time, her pulse quickened. She knew she shouldn’t be here, in this car, with him. She had a boyfriend. He was her professor. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not with the way her body responded to his presence.

The car slowed as they approached the University Accomodations, and she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as they neared the end of the ride. Relief because she knew she was playing with fire, disappointment because she didn’t want the moment to end.

He pulled up to the curb, the car idling as he glanced over at her. She hesitated, her fingers gripping the door handle. For a moment, neither of them moved.

"Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, his gaze intense, searching. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

"You should go," he said softly, but there was something in his voice—something that made her feel like neither of them really wanted her to leave.

She nodded, fumbling with the door handle. "Yeah."

But even as she stepped out of the car, her heart still racing, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted irreversibly.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door with a soft thud, the cold night air biting at her skin. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her—her emotions, her guilt, her confusion. Every step toward the door of her building felt heavier than the last, like she was walking away from something that was about to slip through her fingers.

She paused for a moment at the entrance, her hand trembling as it hovered over her keys. It was stupid, but part of her wanted to look back. To see if he was still sitting in his car, watching her walk away. But she knew that would be a mistake. She needed to go inside. She needed to end this.

Just as she was about to force herself forward, she heard the car door open behind her.

"Miss."

Her breath hitched at the sound of his voice, low and firm in the quiet night. She turned slowly, her heart thudding in her chest as she saw him standing by the car, his figure bathed in the glow of the streetlights. He was holding something in his hand—her phone.

"You forgot this," he said, his eyes locking onto hers as he started walking toward her, the phone held out like a lifeline.

She hadn’t even realised she’d left it behind. Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just in front of her, too close—again, too close—and the world seemed to narrow, leaving only the space between them.

"Thanks," she whispered, her voice shaky as she reached out for her phone, her fingers brushing against his hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, and suddenly, the air between them felt thick and charged, every nerve in her body on edge.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The night was still, the city around them quiet, but all she could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his eyes were fixed on hers with an intensity that made her forget to breathe. She could feel her resolve slipping, the line she’d drawn in her mind fading into something hazy and indistinct.

"You should go inside," he said softly, but his voice was rough, like even he didn’t believe his own words.

She nodded, but her feet stayed rooted to the ground, her phone now clenched in her hand. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she immediately cursed herself for it, for even letting her mind go there. But the tension between them was suffocating, pulling her in like gravity, and the rational part of her brain was screaming to leave, to walk away before she made another mistake.

And yet she didn’t move.

He took a step closer, and her breath caught in her throat. His hand hovered near her, like he was resisting the urge to touch her, the space between them so small it felt like any second it would dissolve completely.

"This is wrong," she whispered, her voice barely audible, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"I know," he said, his voice equally low, but there was a tightness in his tone, like he was battling something inside himself. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and for a split second, she saw the crack in his restraint, the moment where control started to slip.

Her pulse raced as the tension reached a breaking point, the air between them crackling with a dangerous energy. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she knew—knew—that she should step back, walk away, stop this before it went any further. But her body was frozen, her mind clouded by the weight of his presence, the heat of his gaze.

Then, before she could think, before she could remind herself of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen, he reached for her.

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t tentative. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the moment their bodies touched, a spark ignited, sending a rush of heat coursing through her. His other hand came up to her face, his fingers brushing lightly along her jaw, and the touch made her head spin. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath her crumbling.

"Professor—" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but the word died on her lips as his mouth crashed against hers.

The kiss was hard, intense, and it knocked the breath from her lungs. She melted into him before she could think, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. Every inch of her was on fire, her skin burning where he touched her, her mind lost in the sensation of his lips on hers, his body pressed so tightly against hers she could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her own hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to hold onto something to keep from falling. The world around them faded into nothing—no city, no streetlights, no boundaries. Just him. Just this moment.

The kiss was overwhelming, a heady mix of desire and urgency, and it felt like everything inside her was unravelling. She kissed him back with an intensity that matched his own, all the weeks of tension and unspoken longing exploding between them in this one stolen moment. Her body responded to his like it had been waiting for this, aching for this, even though her mind knew it was wrong.

It was wrong.

The thought crashed into her, and for a split second, reality snapped back into focus. She was kissing her professor. She had a boyfriend.

Her heart twisted, guilt slamming into her chest like a tidal wave, but even as the realisation hit, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. His hands were still on her, still pulling her closer, his mouth claiming hers like he’d been holding back for too long, and her body was betraying her, responding to him in ways she couldn’t control.

But it couldn’t last.

With a sudden gasp, she pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the intensity of it. His hands stayed on her waist for a moment longer, like he couldn’t quite let go, and his breath was ragged as he stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of what had just happened hung between them, the air thick with tension, but also something else—something more dangerous. She could still feel the heat of his lips on hers, the way his body had felt pressed so tightly against her. Her head spun, her thoughts a mess of confusion and guilt.

"This..." she whispered, her voice shaky, "this was a mistake."

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze still locked on her, his breath still uneven. Finally, he exhaled, his hands slipping from her waist. His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened just slightly as he nodded.

"I know," he said quietly, though there was a reluctance in his voice, like part of him didn’t want to admit it. "I know."

She stepped back, putting a little more distance between them, though her body still ached from the loss of his touch. Her mind was reeling, trying to process everything—what had just happened, what it meant. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. The guilt was already creeping in, wrapping around her like a vice, suffocating her.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked down to see a message from Logan: "He’s home now. Be home soon."

Her stomach twisted, the guilt flooding her all over again. She swallowed hard, the weight of what she’d just done crashing down on her.

"You should go inside," Professor Leclerc said, his voice softer now, quieter. His gaze flicked down to her phone, then back to her eyes, and she could see the flicker of understanding there. He knew. He knew what this meant, what they’d both just crossed.

Without another word, she nodded, turning away from him. Her legs felt weak, shaky, as she walked back toward the door of her building, her heart still racing in her chest.

She didn’t look back as she stepped inside.

But the kiss lingered. The heat of it, the way his lips had felt on hers, the way she had wanted more even though she shouldn’t have. And she knew, even as the door closed behind her, that she wasn’t sure how to stop herself from wanting it again.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, but the echo of the kiss still buzzed through her body. She felt unsteady, her heart still racing as she leaned against the cold wall of her apartment building’s lobby. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to slow her breathing, to erase the memory of his lips on hers, the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Her phone buzzed again, still in her hand, Logan’s new message lighting up the screen.

"Love you x"

She blinked at the text, the words twisting in her chest like a dagger. She felt sick—her stomach knotting painfully as the reality of what she’d just done sank in fully. She had crossed a line, a line that should never have been crossed. She had kissed her professor. And not just kissed him—wanted it, craved it, even as her mind screamed at her to stop.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles turning white. She could still feel the weight of Professor Leclerc’s touch, his hand on her waist, the way he’d pulled her so close. It had been magnetic, a pull she couldn’t resist. But the guilt...the guilt was crushing now.

This was wrong.

She had a boyfriend—a good one. Logan was sweet, reliable, someone she could trust. He had never given her a reason to doubt him, never hurt her. And yet here she was, standing in the lobby of her apartment building, flushed and trembling from a kiss with another man. Her professor. A man she shouldn’t have been thinking about in that way at all.

She pushed herself off the wall and started walking down the hallway, her steps shaky. The apartment she shared with Logan was just a few floors up, and she needed to pull herself together before he got home. Her mind raced as she thought of him walking through the door, greeting her with that warm smile he always had after a long day. The thought made her chest tighten with guilt, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Leclerc. How his eyes had darkened when he looked at her, how the heat of his body had set her alight in a way she hadn’t felt in so long.

She stopped at her door, her keys fumbling in her hand. She didn’t want to face Logan tonight, but she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she forced the guilt to the back of her mind and unlocked the door.

The apartment was quiet, and as she stepped inside, it felt almost suffocating. She kicked off her shoes and set her bag down, her mind still buzzing with everything that had happened. She went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her head.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips still tingling from the kiss, and there was something in her eyes—a glint of something dangerous, something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

What is happening to me?

She pressed her hands to the cool porcelain of the sink, her breathing shallow as she tried to push away the images that kept flashing in her mind—Professor Leclerc’s hands, his lips, the heat of his body.

Before she could spiral any further, she heard the sound of the front door opening. Her heart jumped into her throat as she straightened up, quickly drying her face with a towel.

"Hey, babe," Logan’s voice called from the other room. He sounded tired but happy, as if nothing in the world was wrong. "Sorry I was long. Alex was a mess."

"Yeah, no problem," she replied, her voice strained as she forced herself to smile and walk out of the bathroom.

Logan was in the kitchen, setting down a new bottle of wine and two donuts. His smile lit up his face as he looked at her, completely unaware of the storm inside her. He crossed the room, wrapping her in a warm hug.

"I got your favourite," he said, kissing her forehead. "Figured we could have a cosy night in since our nice dinner out was ruined."

The warmth of his embrace made her stomach turn, the guilt nearly suffocating now. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into him, trying to convince herself that this was enough. That this was what she wanted.

But then, her mind betrayed her again. She thought of Professor Leclerc, the way he’d looked at her when he handed her the phone, the feel of his lips crashing against hers. It was wrong—so, so wrong—but it had awakened something inside her she hadn’t expected.

Logan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "You okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. "You seem a little...off. Are you sick?"

"I’m fine," she lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day."

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, let’s eat these donuts. It’ll help."

They sat down on their shared bed, Logan talking animatedly about how fucked Alex was and his plans for the weekend. She tried to focus, to engage with him like she normally would, but her mind kept drifting. Every time she looked at him, the guilt gnawed at her, but every time she looked away, her thoughts returned to the kiss. She kept replaying it in her mind, the heat of it, the way it had made her feel so alive.

Halfway through dinner, her phone buzzed again. She glanced down, half-expecting it to be another message from one of her apps. But it wasn’t. It was from Professor Leclerc. A private message from her fucking University service.

"Did you get home okay?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at the screen. She shouldn’t respond. She knew she shouldn’t respond. But her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

"Yes. Thanks again for the ride."

She pressed send before she could stop herself, her pulse quickening as the message sent. She looked up, realising Logan was watching her, and her stomach twisted.

"Who’s that?" he asked casually, taking a sip of his wine.

"Just a classmate, she’s also struggling on Leclerc’s essay," she lied again, feeling the weight of the lie settle over her like a heavy blanket. She hated how easy it was becoming to deceive him.

Logan smiled, oblivious to the war raging inside her, and continued eating. But she could barely take another bite of her donut, her stomach in knots as she waited for a reply.

And then, a few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

"Anytime."

Her heart pounded as she read the message, her mind spinning. She knew she was in too deep, that she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something she couldn’t come back from. But even now, with Logan sitting right across from her, she couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Leclerc.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong it was.

And how much she wanted it to happen again.

part three