#also I just really wanted to see if I could pull of a split image I'd never tried that before

[topios]

A quiet moment in the Asphodel fields.

[marypaol]

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Slowly throughout your years of Hogwarts, and if the other person looks at the same time, you see your soulmate’s image in the mirror.

Warnings: Mention of Dementors? And kissing- that’s all??

Note: Wrote a soulmate one for Draco, now it’s Harry’s turn!

Masterlist

Request Requirements

[Story ends at Fifth Year]

First Year (Age: 11)

-

“This is stupid, Ron.” Harry found himself muttering, staring at his untidy hair in the mirror. His reflection seemed to be mocking the boy, each second making him want to look away.

“No it’s not.” Ron insisted, staring at his bright red hair, freckles and all. He looked just like the rest of his family: flame-like hair and freckles scattering his cheeks.

“It kinda is, especially since we’ve been looking at ourselves for 10 minutes. I think I look okay, but I swear I saw my nose change form and I don’t know what it actually looks like anymore.”

Ron finally tore his eyes off the mirror, turning towards Harry. He titled his head, scanning his friend for a split second. He shrugged. “Looks like your nose to me. Not that I stare at your nose when I talk to you.”

“You’re doing it right now.” Harry replied instantly, unable to stop the grin pulling at his lips.

“Shove off, will ya? You asked.” Ron answered. Harry laughed.

Ron ended the daily mirror session with crossed arms, a grumble forming on his mouth as he sat on his bed in a dramatic way. “Never gonna see her.” He muttered.

Harry shrugged, and, with one last hopeful look in the mirror, joined Ron on his bed, legs dangling off it.

“Sure it’s fine- we just have to look at the same time.”

Ron scoffed at Harry’s attempt at assurance. “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen. You’d really think girls stare at themselves in the mirror all day.”

Harry once again shrugged, not really educated on the behavior of girls. When he saw a pretty one he’d stare for a while and go pink in the ears, but look away before she could notice.

“I couldn’t know, Ron.”

“Whatever. Come on, we have to go see what Hermonie’s up to. Reading a a ten million paged book I ‘spect.”

Second Year (Age: 12)

-

“I think I look about normal now, how about you?”

Harry was looking at himself in the mirror, watching the last of the transformation from one of Draco’s disgusting friends back to his normal self. Ron’s ear was still a little big but they both watched it slowly shrink.

“‘Bout back to normal. That was weird.”

Harry couldn’t help but agree, but he also couldn’t help but look at his normal face for a bit longer than usual, trying to catch a glance at her.

“Lookin’ for her again?” Ron figured, raising a brow as he looked at Harry from the corner of his eye, now looking at the mirror too.

“Yeah… but it’s no use.” Harry decided, looking away. Ron went up to the stall Hermione was in, and let’s just say what was happening definitely distracted Harry from the mirror.

Third Year (Age: 13)

-

“We’ll bring you lots of sweets, Harry.” Hermione promised, looking pitiful at the boy while her and Ron got ready to head to Hogsmeade. Ron nodded, eager to leave but still look like he felt bad.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Loads.”

Harry bid them goodbye and started to wander around the castle, the Marurders map in his hands as he looked at where everyone was. The dots moved frantically as people made their way about, each labeled with a name so Harry could see everyone on the grounds.

He went to his dormitory first, setting the map down temporarily before glancing at the mirror recklessly. He knew she was probably at Hogsmeade right now, giggling with friends as they shopped for candy after candy so looking at a mirror was the last thing on her mind. He wondered what she looked like, and the more he stared at himself instead of her the more he wanted to know.

“Come on,” he muttered, watching his lips move in the reflection. “Just look in the mirror.”

Oh but she was. Just never at the same time as he.

Forth Year (Age: 14)

-

“Harry Potter.”

Harry wanted the ground to swallow him. Every pair of eyes were on him, his cheeks turning a soft red. Hermione shoving him brought him out of his trance, encouraging him to go up to Dumbledore.

He stood up in wobbly legs, making his way to the Headmaster. The man handed him the piece of paper that had “Harry Potter” written on it, and gestured Harry to go to the back room with the rest of the champions.

The boy did so, meeting Cedric, Fleur, and Krum’s confused gazes, their eyebrows furrowed.

He stood there hopelessly, watching as people around him decided what they should do.

The dread news of having to compete was high, so high that he didn’t notice the mirror on the other side of the room. If he looked into it, for just a glance of time, he would’ve noticed sparkling eyes and bit lips, longing for a glimpse of him.

-

“Good luck, Harry.”

Harry turned around, the sweat on his hand almost causing his wand to slip out onto the ground. The girl stood in front of him, twiddling with her fingers but she still had a kind hopeful smile on her lips.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back even though he didn’t know her.

“I hope you do well.” She added. Harry’s smile stayed the same, constant and genuine. “Thanks,” he replied. “I’m gonna need all the luck I can get.”

She smiled a little wider, making straight eye contact for the first time in their conversation, since she was too nervous before so she avoided his gaze. His bright green eyes connected with her soft ones, and Harry didn’t fail to notice the gentle flush that spread on her cheeks. What he did fail to notice was that her eyes would be vaguely familiar if he just looked in the mirror .

Fifth Year (Age: 15)

-

“Okay, everybody. Today we’re gonna learn about the Patronus Charm, which fights off a Dementor. In order to cast it, you have to think of a happy memory. Very powerful and strong. Think of the happiest moment in your life, and keep it clear in your mind.” Harry instructed, watching everyone wave their wands, happy moments in time flooding their thoughts.

The girl, far in the back, thought back to when she met Harry’s eyes, longing for the reflection of herself in them, hoping they’d be meant to be. It was too bright outside that day to tell, but the moment burned in her mind every day since then, the beauty green in his eyes taking the time to look at her, the moment she felt special.

The picture of him alone and his bright eyes was pictured in her mind, just like every day, but clearer for this moment.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A mighty clever fox whispered out of her wand tip, legs taking a stretch as it ran around her, causing a soft giggle to escape her lips.

“Fantastic!”

His voice rang in her ears, and she looked at him, the blurry whip of the silver fox being ignored as she scanned the room for the acknowledgement. Her shoulders sank a little when she found out he was talking to Neville instead, eyes leaving him and landing back on her fox who was still running in circles around her.

-

“Thanks for helping me clean.” Hermione told Harry, some things around them knocked over after the practice of the Accio Charm, a charm casted to bring a desired object to the wand owners hand.

“Of course.” Harry responded, watching Hermione leave as she soon said she had to use the restroom.

“Have you seen her yet?”

Harry flinched at the second voice, turning to see the girl who wished him luck before the First Task, staring hopelessly in the mirror.

He walked over to her, watching her eyes scan the mirror, noticing how she was biting her lip. Her eyes were sparkling despite the emotion that seemed to be crowding them.

“Nope; been trying since First Year, in fact.”

Harry looked into the mirror at the exact moment she turned away and looked at him in disbelief. “Really? First Year? I thought I was the only one.”

Harry chuckled, glancing at her face.“Well I didn’t know about it until my friend Ron told me.”

It was then it was silent, Harry not seeming to be able to look away from her eyes. She then smiled tightly, looking back at the mirror. He followed suit, looking at the same reflective surface as her, behind her shoulder.

He then saw no one but himself despite her looking too, then her face clear next to him, every detail but she seemed clear as a ghost, present but not. The boy blinked, making sure he wasn’t just seeing things, and he wasn’t. She was there, and he was there too in her vision because they both gasped at the same time, soft and surprising.

She looked at him, and he at her.

“All this time…”

“We’ve already knew each other…” he finished.

“That’s crazy.” She muttered, this time looking at him instead of the mirror.

He cleared his throat but didn’t make an effort to look away nonetheless. “So, did you accomplish the Accio Charm?”

“Yeah…” she muttered, more like whispered, her eyes moving down to his lips but looked back up to his eyes, her own swirling with something but Harry couldn’t tell what it was.

“Good…” Harry whispered back, taking a step closer.

“Did the Patronus Charm as well.” She added for conversation, since in this moment she couldn’t stand the silence. Harry nodded in acknowledgment, a sign to let her know he heard her, but they both knew he was half listening, his gaze on her mouth as well.

“Why’d you ask?” She found herself asking, not having the courage to lean in first, though if she could make any wish in the world at the moment it would be for the courage to do so.

“Just wondering…..” Harry muttered, breaking the space between them, soft lips touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his lips and face against hers surrounding her being and thoughts. His lips were smooth and soft, like pillows that she was laying on.

He broke apart first though, but only to turn his head to get a better angle, leaning in again as they found a soft gentle rhythm.

She dropped her wand, the clatter startling neither of them as her hands went up to his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, fingers diving into his hair, a soft sigh escaping him at the sensation.

They came apart for air, their lips still brushing against each other as they longed for the long lasting contact. She licked her lips, her tongue accidentally touching his briefly, another soft sigh coming out of his mouth.

This moment didn’t feel real to her, someone so special didn’t deserve her, but he was there and that was his choice; she could hardly believe it.

“We should go to the Common Room…”

Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Yeah… we should…” she replied, but neither of them made an effort to move away from each other, in fact their lips connected again, moving in softer movements than before, but the strong feeling in her chest was all the same.

[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

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[ghostdiva]

ok so the new trailer for episode 3 just dropped. big hype. here are some theory's, notes, and observations.

also I took a lot of screenshots...

anyway here we go.

so the adventure is set to be "The Mystery of Mildenhall Manor". Now, I do think that Caine is gonna be the quest giver this time, sending the gang to find something inside the spooky, probably haunted manor.

small guess is that they gotta find Matilda, one of the ghosts haunting the manor, and trap her in a vacuum. idk why, it's literally just a hunch.

Jax also takes a moment to harass Pomni with a vacuum, which just makes me think of Luigi's Mansion.

anyway, the gang (minus Zooble) are gonna go in the manor and try to find whatever they're looking for, and either by agreement or random set of events, the gang is gonna split up, Pomni and Kinger being paired up. I don't really know if Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax stick together or not, as they're not really shown much in the trailer.

I am inclined to believe it is a set of events that separates the gang tho.

it's the one of the reasons I can think of that'd make Pomni climb on the door like that.

I mean... outside of the very spooky decorum.....

which Pomni has a pretty reasonable reaction to

btw, I fucking love Pomni's cartoon physics with the squash and stretch rubber-hose animation. it's so expressive and fun to watch.

anyway, it seems Caine is determined to have Zooble go on adventures. so he literally sits them down and tries to therapize them.

though with Caine being an AI with very little knowledge of how the human mind works, this goes predictably horribly.

I imagine Zooble tries on some level to convey to Caine the ludicrousness of their situation. stuck in a digital world getting repeatedly traumatized by meaningless adventures that seem to do more harm than good. though I get the feeling Caine would miss the point, leading Zooble to correct him, and/or get upset at him for not understanding. watching this verbal fight happen between these 2 will probably lead to us, the viewer, understanding more about Zooble.

anyway, back to the manor with this cute little guy.

look at him, he's so cute and squishable. unfortunately this guy is the only cute and squishable NPC here because Pomni and Kinger seems to really be going through it.

they're mostly poking around, opening drawers and stuff. maybe they're looking for a key to get back with the others or something? who knows.

they both probably stumble around in the dark for a bit, both figuratively and literally.

they might end up stumbling into an antagonist NPC, which is the only way I can explain some of these screenshots.

it looks to me like Kinger is facing something. I mean, He's missing an eye in the first one, smacking something with a gun in the second, and looking really worried in the third. Plus the fist 2 have similar lighting so I'm inclined to believe those 2 pics come from clips in close time frames to each other.

there's also another image that has similar lighting...

now... this may sound weird, but I think that either Pomni got Possessed somehow, or something tried to take her shape. Possession seems more feasible since we know at least 2 of the NPC's in this adventure are ghosts, and at least in media ghosts are known to possess people. seeing as digital circus seems to love pulling from video game mechanics, this wouldn't surprise me at all.

this would also kind of explain why in the "POMNI WAKE UP!! IT'S TIME TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE" video, in the "Kinger with a shotgun" clip, he seems to be hitting Pomni with the gun. it makes a lot more sense if Pomni ends up getting possessed somehow, forcing Kinger to hit her in order to defend himself from the ghost.

this also could tie back to the worried look on Kingers face in the screenshot before Possessed Pomni. Cause he'd know what he has to do, even though he doesn't want to hurt Pomni.

Hell, I'm pretty sure Kinger even openly protects Pomni in this episode.

because of the shot in the trailer taken from this hole's perspective

not only is Pomni hiding behind Kinger, but he has one of his hands out in front of her, as if to protect her from whatever is in that hole.

also in regards to guns, Kinger isn't the only one who gets to have a gun.

Pomni gets to wield a shotgun too, and it's likely to help both herself and Kinger fight off whatever was after them in the hole.

Ghost possession and gun-slinging aside, I do think that Pomni and Kinger have a little heart to heart in this episode.

boy doesn't that screenshot look familiar. reminds me of episode 2 with the blue lighting and concerned expression on Pomni's face. That scene in the test room where Pomni comforts Gumigoo. this time tho, she's comforting Kinger. it almost makes me wonder if this will be a reoccurring theme, with all the other characters eventually having a heart to heart with Pomni, and Pomni comforting them.

it'd really make her live up to her quote in episode 2 "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anyone to feel like that".

the only thing I do still have questions about, is wtf is Kinger looking at here?

I mean, it looks like the eyes of a ghost, if they could make their eyes glow like that.

ya know what, maybe he's looking at a mound of pillows or something.

yeah, like that.

[strwbmei]

omg…never knew i needed corruption kink with ROBIN. just wanna make her insatiable and ruin her for anybody else- make her ALWAYS wanting u inside of her and more >>>

im all on board with this pathetic!sub robin agenda. pls 🙏

Prior to your relationship, Robin hasn't even touched herself. Maybe she's tried once or twice, but she always found it to be a waste of time, mostly because she couldn't get herself off. Robin would be the splitting image of those genuinely sweet, innocent girls you see on TV. The type of girl to prefer passionate, romantic sex. The type of girl to believe in waiting after marriage to do anything of the sort.

Of course, she still upholds this image to other people. You could bring her to dinner with your friends or even your parents, and she'd still be all smiles with everyone (other than the slight tint of pink on her cheeks) despite you making her give you a handjob under the table. Well, technically you aren't really "making" her do anything. Sure, you're the one to ask first, but Robin always says yes.

You could pull her into your lap and make her cockwarm you, and her sweet and innocent facade wouldn't falter a single bit. Sometimes you can't help but see it as a challenge to fuck her in front of everyone right then and there to show them what a slut she really is, but alas, you save that thought for another day. After all, aside from singing, Robin is also a natural at acting. Perhaps those few seconds of hesitation before she agreed to your demands were also a part of her mask.

Her poor cunt just feels so empty, clenching and fluttering around nothing when you're not inside of her. Robin can try to relieve the arousal that always seems to be pitted inside of her stomach, but it's just not the same. She can ride the biggest dildos, but she's only reminded of how you were the one who trained her to be able to take them in the first place. No toy can fuck her the way she wants; the way you've conditioned her to want. You've completely and utterly ruined her for anyone else.

[foxy-eva]

Lavender & Lace

Summary: Spencer didn't know how much fun going shopping with his girlfriend would be

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) lingerie, semi-public sex (in a dressing room), almost getting caught, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

When you initially asked Spencer to come shopping with you, he expected to see you in different options for new work attire, maybe some casual clothes as well. What he hadn't expected was you grabbing one piece of very alluring lingerie after the other with the prospect of letting him see you wearing each of them. 

Spencer, currently standing right behind you, was holding four different types of bras for you while you inspected some more underwear that would leave very little to the imagination. 

With a smirk spread over your face, you wondered, "What do you think about this one?"

"Uhm…," was all Spencer had to say to that. 

It was getting harder by the second for Spencer to not imagine you wearing all those tempting clothing options. He knew that if he'd allow his mind to wander that things could get very inappropriate very quickly. There was no denying the disadvantages of the male anatomy when it came to impure thoughts in a public place. 

"I think I'll just have to try on everything!" You chirped as you grabbed your boyfriend's hand to lead him to the fitting rooms. 

When you wanted to pull him into the confined space, Spencer hesitated, asking, "You want me to go in there with you?"

"I need to know what you think." Pointing at the clothes Spencer was still holding for you, you added, "Unless you want me to walk out of the dressing room for everyone to see me wearing this."

After contemplating his options for a split second, Spencer stepped into the changing room with you and closed the curtain behind him. Sitting down on the little chair in the corner, he handed you the first bra to try on. You were quick to undress and noticed how Spencer's cheeks began glowing once your chest was exposed. 

It was obvious how hard he tried to be respectful but he couldn't help but shyly take a glimpse of your curves. You found his reaction endearing, especially knowing how different he usually was when he saw you naked in another context. 

"Spencer, you have seen them a million times," you giggled.

He found your eyes and corrected you, "It's only been 158 times. And I still can't believe how beautiful you are."

For a moment you tried to recount if this number could be accurate but you knew Spencer never made a mistake when it came to math. You almost wanted to tell him that you couldn't believe he knew the exact number but the truth was, you weren't surprised at all. 

Spencer's eyes followed every one of your moves a lot more blatantly than before as you tried on the first piece of clothing. You started with the most modest one, a bra with a color similar to your skin tone you could wear in your everyday life. Your boyfriend almost seemed relieved when you picked that one to try on first. 

"It works but it's not really what I'm looking for," you said as you reached back to unclasp it. 

Once again Spencer's eyes fell to your chest and you couldn't help but laugh, "My eyes are up here."

"Sorry," he mumbled, his entire face colored in a lovely rosy shade. 

You reached for a more alluring piece of lingerie, something you thought Spencer would really like on you. 

As you brushed over the lavender-colored lace, you announced, "I think I'll try that one next."

Spencer audibly gulped before clearing his throat but he didn't say anything. Once the bra was in place, you noticed how thin the fabric was. It was barely covering the curve of your breast and your nipples were visible. Nothing you owned came even close to how daring this bra was. 

Spencer noticed that, too. 

He also noticed how his pants suddenly got a lot tighter, his attempt to keep his thoughts decent failed at last. His mind raced to a image of you wearing that piece of lingerie together with a matching pair of panties that he would just push aside to fuck you. 

The soft tone of your voice brought him back to reality. "Could you help me adjust the straps?" 

He got up from the chair, aware that he was unable to hide the bulge in his pants from you. At this point he had already abandoned his hope to be able to keep up a decent demeanor. 

"Looks like you really like this one," you purred once you noticed. 

Spencer stood behind you, finding your eyes in the mirror. 

"I do," he confirmed. "I love that color on you." 

When his fingertips made contact with the skin of your back, a shiver ran down your spine. He was quickly done with adjusting the straps of the bra but let his hands linger anyway. His eyes were dark and filled with lust, a look you usually only got to see when you were alone with him. 

"What are you thinking?" You breathed as if it wasn't obvious. 

Still acting too reserved for your liking, he answered,"I'd rather not say."

You didn't let go just yet, encouraging him to speak his mind by saying, "No need to be shy."

Spencer leaned down to find your ear, his breath feeling hot against your neck when he groaned, "I'm thinking about what I want to do later."

One of your hands reached back to feel his hardness through his pants, whispering, "Why wait?" 

"We're in public," he reminded you as he removed your hand despite his desperation to find some relief. 

Your hands flew to your pants, undoing them as you cooed, "Guess I'll have to be quiet then." 

Spencer looked at you in disbelief, clearly hesitating to bring to action what both of you longed for. Once your pants dropped to the floor, there was no more holding back. He pressed himself against your back and let his hands wander over your body. One of them made contact with the curve of your breasts, brushing over the thin lace of the bra until your peaks hardened. 

The other hand descended down your stomach until his fingertips carefully parted your folds to access your most sensitive spot. He teased you for a few moments until he was certain you were ready for him. With a firm push against your shoulder he slightly bent your body until your palms met the mirror. 

His mouth found your ear once more, breathing, "One sound and I'll stop."

When you heard the sound of him undoing his belt, you felt like you might lose your mind. Gone was any trace of the shy man who barely dared to take a look at the lingerie you picked out. The way he let his eyes roam over your figure now excited you more than you could put into words.

Through the mirror you watched him spit in his palm to give himself a few strokes. You stood on your tiptoes and tilted your hips a little more to give him access to your body. He didn't hold back in the slightest, pushing into you with one swift motion while his mouth kissed along your neck. Biting down on your own lips, you tried your best to hold back the moans that usually escaped your mouth in moments like this. 

The sensation of creating such an intimate moment in an almost public setting like this was too much for you to handle. Usually Spencer took his time with you, teasing you with slow thrusts until you begged for more. Today was different. He pushed into you with purposeful motions, making it clear that he wanted you to fall over the edge within just a few moments. 

You locked eyes with him through the mirror and admiring the rosy shade spread all over his cheeks and neck. It was obvious how much he was enjoying this moment, almost forgotten was the possibility that someone could disturb the two of you. 

Until you heard a stranger's voice from the other side of the curtain. 

Spencer instantly stopped moving while placing his hand over your mouth. You were sure that this would be the end of your encounter, making you abandon your mission before either of you had found relief. But your boyfriend just listened and waited with a lot more patience than you'd expected. 

It appeared that the stranger was talking to someone else and soon walked away from their place right in front of your dressing room. When he was sure that nobody knew about the lewdness happening behind the curtain, Spencer began moving again, harsher and quicker than before. 

"You better hurry or we'll get caught," he whispered before kissing the side of your face.

He kept his hand on your mouth, not fully trusting you to stay quiet. It proved to be the right choice once you entered a state of pure bliss, the sounds of your pleasure muffled by Spencer’s hand pressed against your lips. The second he felt you pulsing around his hardness, he let go as well. He shared your warmth with you until neither of you had anything left to give. 

When your bodies parted, the remains of your shared desire began dripping down your thighs. Spencer was quick to hand you a tissue from your purse and helped you clean up any evidence of impropriety.

Once both of your pants were back in place, Spencer found your eyes and softly asked, "Are you okay?"

Smiling at him, you nodded, "Yes, are you?" 

"Yeah but…," he paused and placed his hands on your waist, gently moving them up until they brushed over the purple lace of the bra. "I think I'll need to see you wearing that again at home." 

"That can be arranged," you snickered. "I'm pretty sure there's also a matching pair of panties." 

After placing a kiss on your lips, Spencer chuckled, "I can’t wait to see that."

If you enjoyed reading this story you should check out the other fics in my NSFW Masterlist!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties @lover-of-books-and-tea @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey

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[selfishdoll]

WHAT A WASTE ! ft. feitan portor ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ

▌   you wanted it so bad, you don’t get to stop.  𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ it’s a shame, truly a shame; you being unable to contain yourself whilst your classmate examined your body for an assignment. but it’s fine, really— feitan doesn’t mind completing a detailed exam.

CONTENT WARNING(S) 𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ ooc feitan, please understand it’s been a minute since i’ve watch hxh & i’m going off my own interpretation plus a bestie’s. so if you expect him to be the perfect characterization you have the wrong fic | heavy degradation w/ minimal amounts of praise | strangers to ? (will there be a part 2.. maybe 🤭) | spanking | manhandling | usage of the words “slut, minx, & whore.” | all is consensual & feitan asks ofc | multiple orgasms | dacryiphilia | unprotected sex | creampie | cowgirl | reader is taller then feitan but he’s stronger then her | pussy slapping | overstimulation | hair pulling | softer feitan at the end? | impact! play | hints of sadist(?) feitan | accidental recording | feitan “threatens” to send the video to their professor (he wouldn’t actually do it, far too possessive..) | bitch is used once | etc. if i forgot something please let me know.

AUTHOR’S NOTE 𐚁֙࿐ㅤㅤ i’m sure assignments like these are not actually done but i got the idea randomly when seeing fanart of him. also expect more works of feitan, chrollo, & maybe the other adult characters except hisoka. also he wasn’t as mean as he should have been because i’m a very sensitive person & it shows in my writing 😭. and always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes. 4K+ WORDS

Snap! The sound of the thin gloves had you jumping for a split second, eyes carrying away from the phone taking in your position on your bed to the man standing just a few feet away from you. Feitan Portor, a classmate you’ve never got the pleasure of talking to. Which wasn’t surprising at all, given he ignored just about everyone in class.

Eyes focused on his notes, the textbook, or glued to the images of the human anatomy your professor would plaster upon her smartboard. Those were the only instances you could remember of the unimpressionable man.

Yet now, here he was; in your room adjusting the gloves on his hand whilst you waited ever so patiently.

Becoming a surgical resident was a grueling process on its own, but having to work with the most quiet man alive just made it even worse. You felt so uncomfortable, wondering if you should speak or not— if it was alright to breathe.

As, no matter where you looked, said, or did; he seemed to be agitated.

Or maybe that was just his face, who knows?

A step in your direction caused the thoughts to dissipate, eyes flicking over to the man that stood off to the side of you. His eyes looked at you expectantly, impatience enveloping his gaze. Such intensity caused a sheepish sorry to escape your glossed lips, pushing off the slippers you wore with a hum. You then turned your body to lay across your plush blankets, arms stuck to your sides whilst your head rested on your pillow. A soft breath flew from your nose, tensing the moment he stepped closer.

The idea of the group project was being able to label the muscles of a human off paper. You were sure this type of assignment was for closer students but you drew the short end of the stick. Then again, it wasn’t too bad; Feitan didn’t seem like the perverted type— you highly doubted he would take advantage of such a situation.

His form moved closer, knees pressed against your bed as his hands hovered above you. Feitan’s eyes fell to your legs, mentally deciding to start there first.

Which.. wasn’t the best for you.

As his hands dragged up from his ankles and further; lips moving to utter the muscles beneath your skin— you felt a warmth brew inside you. Was it the feathery touches? Maybe you were touched starved even..

Either way, as he got closer and closer to your middle; you felt the heat threatening to spill over. Fuck.. you were done.

His hands were.. warm, the feeling seeping through the thin blue gloves he wore— large, a complete contrast to his smaller form, which barely reached your bust. They ghosted you perfectly, teetering between respectful and disinterested as they brushed your covered hip. Maybe you really were touch starved, or maybe an inkling of attraction towards the man rested deep within you. Either didn’t matter given the little gasp and flinch that escaped you was clear as day.

Feitan’s hands stopped just on your lower stomach, eyes snapping to your face. Oh, was he annoyed. Aggravated you had interrupted him whilst attempting to complete the assignment. Your manicured fingers bundled the plush blankets beneath you, lips parting slowly to speak;

“‘M sorry..”

“Your constant twitching is bothersome.” The man hissed softly, eyebrows brushing close as his face turned to glance back down your body. “A single touch and you’re trembling..” Feitan spoke, actions solidifying his words the moment a hand grasped your hip, thumb pressing into your plump, covered skin. The warmth you felt from his hand was stimulating, trickling between your legs— causing the plush limbs to push together. An action the man caught easily.

An annoyed sigh escaped him, hand withdrawing from your body whilst his eyes bore into your form. “What a waste.. getting aroused during an exam, specifically when we were so close to being done.”

“I am not.. I am not aroused.”

The man sucked his teeth at your words, eyebrows pushing even closer together as irritation formed his features. Feitan remained unmoving for a moment, simply staring you down before he leaned over, taking your cheeks in a tight grip and lifting you a bit off the bed. “So you’re not only a slut, you’re a lying one at that.”

A hiss tugged his words, fingerprints pushing into your heated skin whilst his eyes stared you down— daring you to deny. A stranger he was, nothing more than a classmate yet; here you were, so open and pliable for him. Staring up at him as if the venom spewing from his lips were the sweetest things ever.

Your head tilted down just a tad, gripping the sheets as you struggled to hold his gaze. “‘M not a slut either.”

“A pervert then—“ Feitan countered easily, fingers tapping against your skin while tilting his head. The moment your lips pulled into the tiniest pout a grin was pulling his own, thumb reaching over to press against your glossed mouth, “— is that more fitting? You laying here; waiting so desperately to be touched..” Feitan removed his hand from your face slowly, watching in amusement at the way you tried to follow his grasp.

“What a display really.. the only thing that is missing, is you begging.”

The anticipation welling inside you was threatening to explode, thighs pushed close as the heat rose within the room. Feitan enjoyed such a sight, piercing eyes taking you in— interest for once swirling in his irises. Finally, his eyebrows rose, even going as far as tilting his head.

Breath escaped you as you took him in, Feitan Portor your classmate and very much a stranger. And despite such formalities here you were, gripping the sheets, lips parted as pretty pleas escaped you.

Feitan sighed softly reaching down once again, taking your cheeks in his hand; a grasp you’ve already come to adore. “Speak up.” He hissed, fingers pressing into your hot chubby cheeks whilst his gaze never left you.

“Ple..please Feitan, please— I need you..” You cried out, eyes dipping down as the embarrassment settled in. Feitan didn’t allow this to settle for long, hand dropping to collect your chin more and pushing you to force the gaze.

“Need me?..” His tone was airy, a snicker even passing through his lips; such sound causing further shyness to trickle down your spine. “We’ve only just met.. just interacted,” Feitan drawled and not so gently pushed you to lay across your bed, crawling over your form. Your legs parted to rest on other side of him, gripping the sheets in excitement.

“And yet, you need me. Such a desperate thing, aren’t you?” Feitan dipped down close, hands pressed on either sides of your head, hovering just above your face. He watched as your eyes fluttered close, surely expecting a kiss. Instead his face was dropping to your neck, teeth sinking into your skin abruptly.

The hiss, mixed gasp that escaped you was loud, hands flying to his black shirt whilst he sucked and bit into your skin; dark marks forming from the attention. His hands moved across your body, falling down to your thighs— sliding under them to push them even wider. Once satisfied he was moving in closer, pushing your dress up to your stomach whilst using his free hand glide across your covered slit. Your hips rose to find friction, yelping the moment he pinched you lightly.

“Quit moving..” Feitan huffed, fingers pressing just a bit harder against your covered wetness, finding your clit and slowly stroking it. The little sparks of pleasure were sweet but barely enough, the burning impatience brewing inside you caused a whine to escape your throat. The dark-haired male clicked his tongue, eyes flicking from your thighs to your face. “Impatient slut..” He hissed, hand pulling from your covered, wet cunt.

You wanted to whine again, but instead— Feitan forced a sharp yelp out of you the moment his palm struck your pussy. Your thighs closed around his hand, tears springing into your eyes as the pleasure and pain combined into a single, sickeninly sweet feeling. The grin on his face was telling, clearly delighted by the high pitched cry that escaped you so freely.

A sound he chased; pushing at your thighs again and slapping the exact same spot. A wet sound entered the room, followed by an even sharper cry from your mouth. Your body rose up off the bed, cunt throbbing from the attention as your heart pounded against your chest.

A snicker, one far too sinister escaped the man above you, pushing your thighs back down to the bed. “Hurts doesn’t it?..” The humor was clear in his tone, pushing you even wider as his eyes trained on the prize between them. “As if I could tell, making such a mess all over your sheets.” Feitan claimed, reaching over and finally; peeling your ruined panties from your body.

The undergarment was tossed to the side, his thumbs pulling your folds as his eyes focused completely on your wet sex. Clit throbbing, hole clenching around nothing, you truly were such a mess.

“Feitan..” You spoke softly, nearly shifting under his gaze if it wasn’t for the quick glare he sent you. You decided to simply bunch your dress up in your hands, eyes fluttering closed the moment his fingers gliding across your abused slit.

Slowly, the man collected your arousal onto his still gloved fingers, the thin latex pressing against your wet cunt. And without warning, two digits were pressing into your awaiting hole; sinking all the way down to his knuckles. Feitan didn’t wait for you either, scissoring and thrusting them in and out of you— the soft squelches soon filling the room.

Your moans escaped you freely, acrylics gripping your dress as your legs threatened to close. His fingers hit all the right places as precise and calculated as he was with suturing. So perfect.. fuck, so so perfect; you felt your brain getting hazy, cries of pleasure escaping as his fingers pushed against your hot gummy walls— essence spilling with each push.

As if the pleasure couldn’t get any better his thumb lowered to your begging bud, teasing it for a moment just to hear you whine— right before rubbing harsh circles into the sensitive button. Feitan’s eyes captured it all, free hand gripping your other thigh to assure you didn’t move an inch.

If you wanted.. needed him so bad, you would be sure to take everything he gave you.

Once the third finger pushed in, you were thrown off the edge; groaning at the sudden stretch yet moaning as it worked in tandem with the other fingers. He played with you so easily, pushing spots with just his fingers— much deeper then your own has ever reached.

“F—fuck.. Feitan.. feels soo good—!”

Feitan grinned down at your display, listening to the breathy praises that continued to escape you. How you begged so much for a release, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers; withering beneath him. “What a fucking mess..” He drawled, eyes flicking to his hand to watch your sticky arousal coating the blue latex. This only caused his expression to deepen, quickening the pace of his hand whilst hanging his head; mouth brushing against your ear.

“This was the only thing you were thinking about, weren’t you? The moment I walked into your bedroom, you were just itching to feel me.. such a perverted slut— [Name].”

His words, tone, the way his fingers bullied your insides; Feitan was just so fucking mean. Yet here you were, eyes rolling to the back of your skull while the loudest moan escaped you, making a mess of his hand. Your arousal trickled down his fingers to his palm, ruining his glove even further.

However, even as your orgasm raked through your body his fingers never stopped moving; pushing you further and further, sensitivity rising as breathy whines escaped you. Forgoing his threat from earlier, your hand lowered to his wrist. With each movement the muscle was tensing, your thumb pressed against his pulse to feel his rapid heartbeat— in sync with your own.

“Ca—can’t fuck it’s too much!”

Such noises fell on deaf ears, his pace continuing but not moving your hand. The man wouldn’t dare say he enjoyed your grasp around his wrist.

“Too much?..” Feitan mocked, gripping your thigh when you attempted to shut your legs. The pretty whines escaping your throat was answer enough, his eyes gleaming with excitement as his thumb continued working circles into your clit; fingers never faltering inside your wet walls.

From just his fingers, just his fingers you were so lost. A fucking babbling mess whose long forgotten the entire purpose of him being in your room.

Your stomach tightened, the feeling bordering on painful, as your next orgasm got closer and closer. Pushing through the pain, your hips rocked against his fingers, desperate for the euphoric feeling again— only for it to be snatched away the moment he removed his fingers.

Your clit throbbed, hole fluttering around nothing as your hazy gaze soon focused on the man between your legs. The annoyed moan that escaped you was shameless, lips slick with your saliva pushed into a pout. “Why’d you.. I was so close!” You spoke, watching his eyelids lower.

Feitan moved to hover over your body, hands sinking into the spaces beside your head whilst pressing his hips to your own. “Said it was too much, right? Or are you already too fucked out to remember?” His hips moved slow, grinding the hardon within his pants into your wet, uncovered slit, your essence darkening his bottoms.

You weren’t given a second to dwell on his words or even muster a reply. Because the moment his hips moved yours were as well, head knocking back against your blankets as the light pleasure danced up your spine; stirring you inside. Your hands rose to bunch his shirt in your fingers, shaking underneath him as the desperation oozed from your heated body.

Feitan’s hand rose, taking your braids in a secure hold, pulling your head up from the bed to bring you a breath’s away. “Humping me like some bitch in heat.. So fucking needy.” A hiss hugged his words, as if aggravated from your actions. However, he was far from irritated, far from angry— enjoying you far too much.

You just looked so pretty like this; wet trails running down your chubby cheeks, dress and blankets wrinkled, with your legs wide— a clear invitation to ruin you even further. The sight was.. unbelievable, one he was delighted to keep all to himself.

“Feitan, please..” You dragged, hips pushing against him more, craving the friction and something else. He should have slapped your thigh or even pinch you for your impatience but fortunately for you, Feitan was just as needy. A huff escaped you as he released your hair, hands dropping to your hips. You silently questioned this, only for him to pull you up, you in his lap with his legs hanging off the bed.

You hovered above his lap, watching intently as he shoved off his bottoms; revealing his hard, long length. The tip was bubulous and red, a contrast to his paler skin. What’s more, pretty white pearls of precum oozed from the slit, twitching from the cool air in the room. Your hands found his shoulders, eyes flicking to his face as nerves settled in the pit of your stomach.

Feitan didn’t do much to ease your anxiety, even finding it a bit comical. His hand rose, shifting under your dress to stroke the dimples etched into your lower back. “What’s wrong?.. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, [Name].” He watched as your eyebrows pushed together, lips pulled into an annoyed pout.

“I’m not..” You huffed softly, nails digging into his skin as your hips lowered just a smidge, jumping the moment his tip bumped against your throbbing bud. “Just.. g—give me a second.” You spoke, hips moving, lining his cock up with your entrance. A whimper escaped you the moment his tip breached the warm space, sinking down slowly whilst more breaths escaped you.

His hands were steady on your body, holding you up and watching in excitement as you trembled. Your walls clenched around him, slick coating his length as you reached just the middle. The stretch teetered between painful and pleasurable, eyes closed shut as you allowed yourself a moment of rest. A moment that dissipated rather quickly, given Feitan lifted his hips; shoving his length the rest of the way inside.

You tipped over, leaning into him as a sharp whine escaped you. You fisted his shirt, seated completely in his lap as huffs escaped you. “Feitan—!” You cried out, feeling his hand lift to the back of your head, taking your braids in his hand as he lifted you from his form.

“Such a crybaby..” Despite his words, his eyes searched you for any discontent or actual pain, lip tucked behind his teeth. When he found neither — ignoring the light feeling in his chest — the man’s hand fell to your hips, gripping the plump flesh. His fingers dug into your sides, lifting you up off his length until only the tip resided inside— before pulling you back down.

The moan that escaped you was far too sweet, nails pushed into his skin as your hips began to move without restraint. You were so uncoordinated, so fucking messy as you bounced up and down his cock; whimpers thrumming from your throat. The sounds carried around the room; the wet slaps each time you slammed down, your desperate moans, and the subtle grunts Feitan would release every so often.

With each moment of your hips his tip was striking the sweet spot inside you, your walls clenching around his slick length— fresh tears beading and threatening to spill over. A hand rose from your hip, driving up the plane of your stomach to grip one of your breasts; pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers just to hear your voice pitch.

Feitan, Feitan, Feitan! His name was falling from your lips like some type of prayer, knees digging into the mattress as the pleasure consumed your body. You were so fucking lost, lost in the throes of it all with only him to guide you. A faulty anchor he was, pulling you deeper and deeper; leaving your mind so hazy and bleak.

The show you were unveiling was such a delight, the man far too happy to have the front row seats. He pushed closed, hips rising to meet your drops as he grew just a breath’s away. “Keep clenchin’ me so much.. you’re close aren’t you?” Feitan’s voice was ragged, feeling your breath fan across his face. The whimpers that escaped you was enough of an answer, his hand rising to your throat to simply hold— placing his lips onto your own for the first time this afternoon.

The kiss was as heated as the rest of the room, as intense as the moment his hands settled onto your skin. Feitan’s tongue intruded your mouth, licking into the wet cavern to claim as his own. And the moment you attempted to pull away to breathe, his teeth were sinking into your bottom lip; swallowing you back up.

It didn’t matter if you were on top or not, you and him both knew who was in control.

Your hands rose, curling into his black tresses as you felt your peak approaching quickly. You moaned and whined into his mouth, legs shaking as the band tightened deep in your stomach. The tears were flowing freely now, Feitan releasing you this time to hear the haste babbles that escaped you.

“Fu..fuck Feitan! I—I’m gonna come—!” You cried out, the bounces becoming even messier. You felt his hot hands fall to your ass, slapping a cheek as if encouraging you to ruin yourself even further.

“Fucking minx..” Feitan hissed out, eyebrows pinched close, cock twitching within you. “Make a mess than.. don’t hold it.” The confirmed huff was enough for you, creaming all over his dick as you arched into him. The feeling caused a shiver to run down the man’s spine, hissing as you clamped around him.

As you rode out your high, your movements slowed— lurching forward the moment his palm slapped your ass again. The high-pitched whine that threatened to escape was quickly overshadowed by his words;

“I never said stop, did I?” His hand traveled to your hair again, tugging just to hear you whine again. “You wanted it so bad, you don’t get to stop.” Feitan spoke, gripping you to keep you grounded before lifting you up and off his length. The added fact he was matching each thrust was enough for you, head tossed back as the moans slipped from your bruised lips freely and shamelessly— eyes meeting the back of your skull.

The breathes that escaped you was strained, the pleasure far too much but you being unable to run from it. It seems his height went to his strength, holding you so fucking tightly you couldn’t move an inch. Leaving you defenseless, making you take every inch without mercy. The sensitivity dissipated quickly, leaving behind unadulterated ecstasy that caused stars to invade your vision.

Proper words no longer escaped you, babbles of his name and praises replacing such intelligible speech. But Feitan knew enough what you were trying to say, grin still plastered on his features, like some type of madman.

You were sore all over, struggling to keep going but so desperately chasing the release that was bubbling inside of you. You fell forward, forehead brushing his own as his tip brushed your cervix. The pain mingled with the pleasure easily, cunt pulsating around him as you felt yourself grow closer and closer.

In the past hour Feitan had grown to know your body. Each twitch, spasm— everything. He didn’t need to be warned of your climax, especially since he felt the way your walls clenched with urgency. Such a feeling pushed him closer to his own end, blunt nails etching crescents into your sun-kissed skin as he rose up off the bed; fucking you even harder.

The two of you leaned forward for a sloppy, messy kiss; moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth. The hurried slaps of skin on skin contact intensified for a split moment before stuttering as the man spilled inside you.

This was enough for you, coming on his dick again; your releases mixing together and trickling down his cock. Slowly, the two of you pulled back from the kiss; a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your chests brushed against each other, breath heavy and fanning against the other. The flat of his palms pushed against your waist, pulling back to look at you. “Get off me.”

“Give me a moment to breathe, Fei.” You spoke, used to his harsh tone by now. Despite the small annoyed sigh that escaped him, the man didn’t push you off; even leaning back onto his hands and allowing you to remain in his lap— length still inside your wet sex.

A pleased sigh escaped you, arms tightening around his neck as you leaned into him fully. His eyes darted to the side of your face for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

A comfortable silence covered the room for a moment before Feitan spoke again, amusement etched into his words;

“I wonder if the professor will like our.. exam.”

Your eyes flew open at this, glancing down at the grin plastered onto his features. Sure enough, the moment you turned, you spotted your phone on your tripod— still recording.

The next ten minutes was spent fighting the shorter man for your phone, him managing to grab it, and you pleading for the video to not be sent.

FEEDBACK & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[blainesebastian]

safe

words: 7,823 ship: austin butler x female reader rating: R (for violence) summary: obviously inspo is coming from seeing bikeriders and this image and my extensive knowledge of sons of anarchy. you don't have to watch that show to read this, but it takes place in that sort of universe, with inspo from the show *u* just wanted biker austin x you notes: feel free to visit my austin masterlist warnings: none, but check the rating.

Every time Austin thinks he knows exactly who you are, you throw him through a wash cycle on steroids. You came back to Charming, a place you said you’d never step foot in again, for what? It’s certainly not for fucking him, that’s for damn sure. As much as he loves you, still after all this time, Austin knows you have to be running away from something…because running towards what you want with full abandon has never been your strong suit.

And you’re certainly not returning to St. Thomas for the great fucking medical plan.

“I just needed a change of scenery.” You tell him in those mint green scrubs that always highlight the perfect swell of your ass.

Austin rolls his eyes but doesn’t tell you that he thinks you’re full of shit.

Chicago’s too fast paced, maybe you’ll try New York—there’s a beautiful, hopeful smile on your face—like you don’t know that the minute you stepped foot back in Charming that you’d never leave. You’ll get sucked back into the black hole of this place and you’ll never be able to find your way out. Will probably die here.

Whatever—it’s really not Austin’s problem anymore, is it? You are not his girlfriend, he’s not responsible for your happiness or your decisions. That ship sailed a long time ago when you left straight out of high school—went to a fancy college, got your medical degree, and began a new life.

Without him.

And yet Austin also understands the utter pull of you, consistently keeping him directly in your orbit, your wants and needs incredibly important because they always have been. Which is why Austin doesn’t believe you when you say that you didn’t come back for any sort of reason.

He doesn’t believe this ‘change of scenery’ nonsense.

You patch up a split knuckle, dig out glass—Austin doesn’t even flinch, just watches you the whole time like he doesn’t have blood on his face. You have no idea what he’s gotten into lately—and you don’t want to know.

“Think I’m gonna make it doc?” He asks, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

You hum lightly, “Barely.” And pour the antiseptic without warning him.

You hate that you came back here, back home—but Austin’s always been your safe place.

--

“I think you’re scared.” Austin says one evening while dropping you off at your dad’s house, empty now, a living and breathing reminder of all the shit you went through in high school.

You never wanted to live here, in your drunken father’s home, always more satisfied with the concept of burning the thing down. Yet here you are, taking off Austin’s motorcycle helmet and handing it back to him, looking for your keys to get inside. You’re living here, attempting to reorganize and rebuild the place to make it your own.

“I think you don’t know me as well as you used to.” You throw back and there’s a hint of teasing there, like you don’t want to turn this conversation into something serious.

Austin rubs one of his eyebrows, itching for a cigarette but now’s not the time, he’s not staying long. “I think…I’m the only person who does know you.” He’s not afraid to admit that. You’ve done this dance so many times that you practically own the rights to the choreography.

You’ve proven time and time again that you’ve got nails and teeth sunk into one another, so wrapped up that you can’t unravel it as hard as you try. No matter how much time or distance passes between you two. It’s so beyond anything that Austin can put into words—he doesn’t really believe in soulmates or fate but, if he did, he thinks him and you could put a definition to that.

That’s why Austin knows that you’re never going to leave Charming, not really anyways.

You’ll be in love until it kills both of you, figuratively or quite literally.

“That’s the real reason you came back, isn’t it?”

You sigh softly—after a long day, your hair is a little unruly on the top of your head. You’re ready for a long hot shower and to get out of these scrubs. Austin only wishes he could assist with that. He lets his eyes travel over your form, purposely checking you out when you look at him. But you both know it’s more than just a sexual attraction here, that Austin defaults to that because it’s easier for him to work out in his head. While it’s very clear that there’s only one face he sees when he’s inside of someone, no one will ever know or understand him as you do.

That line of deeply knowing goes both ways.

“I told you why I came back here.”

Austin smiles a little and starts his bike. Fine, if you wants to play this game, he’s got nothing but time.

“Right,” He puts his helmet on, making sure it’s fastened. “I just don’t believe you.”

And he backs the bike out of the driveway and goes home.

--

Austin doesn’t figure out what’s going on until you ask for a ride home in the middle of the day. It’s a little weird, to say the least, he’s in the midst of things with the club, his club leader riding his ass about certain decisions he needs to uphold as Vice President. But literally, he couldn’t be bothered less, not having one iota of a regret driving his bike to the hospital to pick up you instead.

You seem a bit frazzled when you climb on the back of Austin’s bike, your arms squeezing around his waist just a little too tightly. Austin frowns, looking over his shoulder as he hands you the helmet to put on,

“You alright?” He asks.

You nod quickly, forcing a soft smile, “Yeah, just a long shift. M’tired.”

“You didn’t drive today?” Austin starts his bike—not that he’s complaining.

“Oh I did but the…it’s making a weird noise when I use the break.”

Austin raises his eyebrows, putting a pair of sunglasses on. “You know I work at a garage, right?”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound fluttering Austin’s stomach even after all this time. “Just take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He does a fake salute before pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

--

Austin’s got this wicked sense of observation mixed with paranoia—and he’s convinced this is why it makes him a decent V.P., being able to notice when things are off, when things appear altered than how they should. Sometimes catching tiny mistakes and misnomers are the difference between a good deal going sour, life and death.

So he instantly picks up on the fact that there’s a car following you both, all the way from the hospital to your house. Even though the vehicle doesn’t stop, it passes and parks a little further down, but it’s there, nonetheless.

You get off the bike, handing the helmet back to him, a soft coy smile on your face that makes Austin want to kiss you. Your hair is wild, cheeks a bit pink from the wind blowing, beautiful and stunning all at once.

“Thanks.” You say, adjusting your satchel from sitting on your back to your hip, “Think I’m finally getting used to this thing again.”

Austin hums a bit, parking it before he slips off the bike. He runs his hands through his hair, removing his riding gloves and pocketing them, before adjusting the leather cut that sits easily on his shoulders.

Easy and yet heavy sometimes, all at once.

“Yeah I never understood why you hated ridin’ it, I’m an excellent driver.” Which, alright, he’s a decent driver—he goes through turns too fast but he tries not to if you’re on with him.

You’re distracted though, not picking up the bait, glancing around your driveway as if you’re…looking for something, or someone. Austin licks his lips, putting the helmet on the back of the seat.

“Hey, this uneasiness that I’m sensin’ right now—have anythin’ to do with that car that followed us from the hospital?” He motions with his chin to the car he’s referring to idling down a few houses.

Your entire body suddenly goes rigid, eyes widening over Austin’s words. You follow Austin’s direction down the street and you look sick when your eyes land on the car. There’s this instinctual step back, like you’re afraid, and Austin moves closer to touch your arm.

He steadies you, squeezing gently, thumb running along the inside of your wrist, “Hey, what’s going on? Who is that?”

You sigh, running a shaking hand over your face. You swallow and finally bring your eyes to meet Austin’s, “His name is Rick—when I was in Chicago, I—I met him at a conference and we went out a few times. When I tried to end it, it got violent and he started stalking me,” You shake your head, embarrassment clear on your choked voice even though you have nothing to be ashamed for. “I tried getting a restraining order but you can see how well that worked out.”

Austin feels himself go cold, which is never a good sign. That’s how his rage works, like a slow ticking clock, never heated, never like an explosion of emotion. It sits on him calmly, like a wave lapping the shore of a beach. He straightens his shoulders, shaking his head as he goes to turn and address this fucking asshole who can’t take no for an answer.

“Austin, no,” You reach for him, managing to tug his arm to stop him from walking, “Rick’s—he’s an ATF agent and dangerous.”

Austin almost scoffs because so am I, but he knows what you mean. You know exactly what kind of business his club does and getting involved with an ATF agent will only bring trouble down upon everyone.

But Austin’s so fucking angry that he doesn’t care, he’s always felt like he’s had the uncanny ability to think in steps ahead, consider his future, but if you’re here? You’re a part of that future now. And he’s not going to let this Rick guy think he can just follow you here all the way from Chicago and threaten you.

“Go inside, Y/N.” Austin motions to the house, not looking back as he walks towards the car in question.

Rick, who has fucking binoculars, drops them quickly when he realizes Austin is approaching the car and not stopping. He also seems to get the point when Austin pulls his weapon of choice, a hunting knife, from the holster on his jeans and sticks right through the grill of Rick’s car.

Rick quickly gets out, his face red with pinched anger as the car begins to smoke. “Vandalism, deadly weapon.” He snaps and slams the car door closed. He’s shorter than Austin and a lot angrier, which is amusing to him, “That's six months in County, asshole.”

Austin can see what you maybe thought about this guy. He’s handsome with his strong jaw and cropped hair, eyes intense. Any member of law enforcement gives off a false aura of calm because they’re supposed to be people anyone can trust. It’s almost ironic that you feel safer with a criminal. Almost.

He throws shit right back at Rick as he takes his knife out of the grill, putting it back in the holster, “Violating a restraining order? You'll be in the cell next to mine.” He grins then, licking his lips as his eyes skitter over Rick’s body, “They reach how to suck dick in ATF school?”

Rick laughs, not even looking remotely interested but Austin doesn’t care. He’s trying to make him uncomfortable because clearly he doesn’t give a shit about doing the same to you. Besides, Austin knows that he’s not really angry about the car, or even about Austin approaching him per say, he’s pissed off that someone is getting in the way of him fucking around with you.

“Badass biker.” Rick tuts, shaking his head as he looks over Austin, like it would be a pleasure of his to ruin his life.

Austin is not fucking scared of this piece of shit, “You harassing Y/N? That ends here.” He tells him, “Or the next time it won't be this car that I'm drainin’ fluid from.” He goes to take a step back because regardless of the stance Rick is pulling, he can tell that he’s rattled him just a little bit.

All of this is probably a terrible idea given the situation that the club is in right now but he refuses to let you take the brunt of dealing with this asshole alone.

“You threatening a federal agent?” Rick snaps out, pissed off that he’s been made to look like an idiot. Which, Austin doesn’t think that’s too far of a stretch, really.

He turns, giving Rick a good once over before taking a few steps into his space. He purposely uses his height difference to look down at him when he speaks, “I'm threaten’ you. Go away—it's my last warning.”

As Austin walks away, he just hopes it’s enough.

--

Things slightly escalate from there. Rick does not fuck off like Austin hoped or intended but he supposes he shouldn’t exactly be surprised, either. He suspects that he might hang around, maybe show up at your work, but what he doesn’t expect is when Rick surprises him when Austin is attempting to run errands. And not just any type of errand, though most don’t know that, but he’s not really just visiting this deli because he enjoys the chipped ham.

Rick wanders in as Austin talks to the butcher, their conversation shifting to something safer because of the company.

One thing happens after another, Rick gets in his face and Austin can’t control his temper even though he knows he should—that this is one giant trap to catch him off guard. And yet he falls right into it because the minute Rick opens his mouth about you, Austin’s fist is flying through the air.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rick smirks, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stands by one of the display cases with meat inside, pretending to look interested. “Y/N and I have unfinished business…and I intend on talking that out with her, in bed, with her spread out beneath me.” It’s very much a whether you like it or not attitude and Austin hits Rick so fucking hard that he sails through the glass window of the deli.

Not his finest moment.

And yet he has zero regrets as he sits in a police interview room, icing his right fist as another ATF agent graces him with his presence. Greg Thornson with his bony-ass frame, closing the door with his foot because he’s knee-deep in a file that no doubt has every wrongdoing he’s ever committed since high school.

The usual dog and pony show that any of these police agents try to shake them up with.

Austin’s so used to this, he knows his expression screams ‘boredom’ and that for some reason makes Greg smile, putting the file down on the table. He sits across from him, regarding Austin for a moment and he bites his tongue on saying anything he might regret.

The point in all this is to get back to you, not to end up in a holding cell for the night. So he straightens his shoulders and looks right back at Greg, a challenging look to his eye.

The shorter smiles, “So, we’re not going to hold you—even though you assaulted a federal agent.”

Austin purses his lips and lightly shrugs his shoulders, not saying a goddamn word. He knows exactly what story Ronnie Peterson, the deli owner, gave to the police.

“Mr. Peterson corroborates your story that Rick Clarington came at you first.” Greg sounds not moved at the slightest by that but Austin doesn’t care.

He smiles, “Can I go now?”

Greg hums but before Austin can stand and leave, “Why does Clarington have a hard-on for you?”

“Who doesn't?” The corners of Austin’s mouth twitch up but then sighs—Thornson might enjoy a little game of distractions but Austin’s goal is to keep himself as much under the radar as possible. So he shifts gears, giving him a long look, “You know why.”

Greg smiles, closing the file in front of him. Austin obviously doesn’t know Greg very well, other than the briefest of introductions when he first walked in (just what he needs, another ATF agent up his ass), but he can tell that he’s in this job title for the ‘cat and mouse’ game of it all. Austin’s not a typical criminal, he doesn’t squirm, especially when he knows that that’s the goal Greg has with this conversation.

He’s digging, pulling at straws, anything to give him the upper hand.

“You're right, I do.” Greg taps the table with his fingertips, “Y/N L/N, the charming ingenue. High school sweethearts, right?”

Austin’s face gives nothing away but he does nod softly in confirmation, “Yeah.”

He can literally see the wheels turning in Greg’s head, the shorter making an impressed noise as he glances down at Austin’s bloody knuckles, “She fears for her life so she comes back home to the only man she knows loves her enough to protect her.”

His expression matches stone, unsure of what Greg wants out of this other than to just catch him off guard, but he’s literally got nothing to say as far as he and you are concerned. There’s also not that much to tell—he and you were dating in high school; it was one of the strongest connections he’s ever had to anyone. And that hasn’t changed—Austin doesn’t think it ever will.

“A guy…” Greg trails off for a moment, “who would have no problem punching a federal agent through a glass window.”

“The glass window part was an accident.”

Greg lets out a soft laugh, nodding, “So Ronnie the butcher says. Rick apparently pulled a weapon on you—made threats, you had no choice.” There’s practically disbelief hanging on every syllable.

Austin shrugs again, flexing his sore fingers against the ice pack, “Well, if that’s what Ronnie said.”

Greg licks his lips, glancing over his shoulder as the door opens up, another officer with paperwork to detail the statement Austin gave. He nods his head, knowing he’ll have to let him go soon, despite the sparring conversation.

“Beautiful, really, it is. I wish I had that kind of pull over for someone. You're a lucky man.”

Austin feels something ugly dig under his skin at the sentiment because he knows it’s not a compliment by any means. He refuses to give Greg the satisfaction that he obviously craves but a few thoughts do worm their way in the back of Austin’s mind: did you come back to Charming because of him? Because you knew what he’d do the moment Austin learned about Rick threatening you? Because you felt safe? Wanted? Loved here? Does any of that really matter since you’re back? Austin may feel slightly manipulated given the situation but…even if you only came back for this very reason, you’re still here, aren’t you?

Somehow, that’s all Austin cares about.

“You done?” Austin asks, a little steel to his voice.

Greg smiles and nods lightly, Austin getting up from the table and leaving the ice pack behind.

--

Austin leans against the back of your couch, watching the you pace for a few moments. He’s not trying to pressure you into talking or anything, he’s practically got the CliffsNotes of what’s happening anyways. In general, he’d just like to touch base with you because it’s been a week since Austin’s made threats at Rick and nothing has really happened (other than that lovely conversation with Thornson, time he’ll never get back, but he supposes that’s his fault for throwing a punch at a federal agent).

Austin suspects anything else is only a matter of time. Rick doesn’t seem like the type to respond to warnings well or go away quietly.

“I’m confused, what else did you want me to do?”

You stop pacing, looking up at Austin with an almost startled expression as you’re drawn out of your thoughts. You’re in a pair of blue jeans and a nice button-down sheer blouse—so different than the scrubs you usually wear but just as beautiful.

“I didn’t want you to do anything.”

Austin narrows his eyes, “Right, really?”

You give him a look as you slowly cross your arms over your chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He lets out a slow breath, leaning up from the couch. He doesn’t want to argue with you at any rate and maybe he is letting the conversation with Thornson get to him, but the longer Austin thinks about it, the more it starts to make sense.

Austin rubs the back of his neck, “I think you know exactly what it means.” He raises his eyebrows, taking a long look at you, someone he’s always known like the back of his hand and yet feels so distant to him within this conversation.

“Did you come here because you knew what I’d do to Rick?”

Your mouth opens and closes, “Know…what’d you do?” You scoff, “You—you haven’t done anything.” And there’s the slightest hesitancy in saying that, like there might be something you don’t know.

Austin shakes his head, confirming with a single, “No,” Then, “I haven’t. But push comes to shove, you know I would.”

It doesn’t take much for Austin to figure out how you feel, you practically wear all of your emotions directly on your face. And okay, given this reaction, maybe that’s not why you came home but are you really going to act like that’s not some sort of benefit?

“I didn’t come back for you.” You state and it’s not supposed to sound cruel—that’s not who you are. Meanwhile, Austin on the other hand makes it his mission to dig underneath people’s skin, to read them and know them to understand how to hurt them.

“I didn’t even know if you’d still be here.” You sigh, taking a step towards where Austin is standing, “But if you’re asking if I came back to the last place I felt…put together? Safe? Then yes. That’s why I came back.”

Austin smiles ever so softly, picking his hand up to cup the side of your head. There seems to be a distinct moment where you close your eyes, a rush of relief, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding being released from your chest. “And none of that has to do with me?”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head but you don’t pull away, even when Austin slips one of your loose strands of hair around your ear. You turn your head to press a kiss to Austin’s palm, his other hand moving to bracket the other side of your face. His fingers eventually slip down to hold the sides of your neck, rubbing along the skin soothingly.

“Maybe just a little bit to do with you.” You smile.

Austin licks his lips, smirking, pressing your foreheads together and leaving them to rest for a few long moments. There’s a familiarity there that pulls him in, keeps him treading water, keeping them connected in such a way where it’s hard to tell where you end and Austin begins. He’s never been so much a part of someone and vice versa.

“Regardless of what happens,” Austin says after a moment, “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to you, okay?”

You swallow and nod, your noses grazing as he tips your chin.

And that kiss you share feels like home.

--

It’s a pretty regular night at the clubhouse, another party in half swing where everyone is either piss drunk or on their way to being it. Some other members are playing pool or taking shots directly off of women’s chests, some practically fucking croweaters on the commune couches. Austin is so used to seeing this shit that, at this point, it’s just another Thursday night.

Sam, one of his club leader’s right-hand men, leans against the bar with a boyish grin that deflects from all the terrible things he’s done. The blood Austin has seen in that long blonde hair, the way his hands close around another man’s throat, the bullets he’s fired, the knives he’s cut with. It’s so ironic because you’d never think any of that just by looking at him,

“You don’t want to get in on this?” He asks, motioning to the intoxicating chaos.

Austin takes a brief look around, lifting his beer and taking a sip. “Even if there were half naked women practically throwing themselves at me? Nah,” He pauses, “Just not in the mood tonight.”

Austin’s known Sam nearly his whole life—they grew up together, been through all possible scenarios of the term ‘thick and thin’. Sam sticks around because he knows Austin will take this crown someday, will lead this club, take the reins, or whatever the fuck all this means. He didn’t know his father, not really, only through all the observations and stories and photographs from others.

How is he supposed to figure that shit out?

He doesn’t want it, inherited club royalty or not. Austin would be more satisfied with running away, with taking you out of this fucking place, far away from Charming where no one knows either of you. Starting over like a brand-new book, writing their own chapters.

Even though he knows how unrealistic that is. Doesn’t mean he wants it any less.

“Is this about Y/N?” Sam asks, breaking his concentration.

Austin blinks, considering the question as he takes a long sip of beer. Isn’t it always? Sam can read him far too well and of course knows all about you, what you mean to him—what you’ll always mean to him. He was there when you both first met, when this whole thing started, when you both clutched onto one another tight and refused to let go.

You coming back has just thrown him through an impossible loop.

“No,” He straightens his shoulders, putting a wall up between him and Sam with a grin that masks his face, “Just can’t find anyone who sucks dick as well as you do.”

Sam snorts out a laugh and grabs a bottle from behind the bar to pour shots, “It’s the lips.” He teases.

Austin takes a shot with his friend when he pours it and then decides he’s gotta get out of there before he ends up spending the night with a faceless nobody and a wave of regrets. It’s funny how he hasn’t really thought like that in a while and that definitely has to do with your influence in being back.

He takes a step outside and breathes in the cool Californian air, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Austin lights a cigarette, taking a long drag that puffs like fog into the atmosphere—he and you have not decided anything about one another. But he knows you, you and him can pick up right where you left off.

It’s hard not to.

His burner cell starts buzzing in his pocket and there’s a half smile on his lips as he sees your number—case in point.

Austin barely gets through a greeting when you are choking out I need you. He has no idea what’s going on and part of him doesn’t want to ask but the sound of your voice causes a sheet of ice to cover the entire inside of his chest as he throws down the cigarette and walks quickly to his bike.

“What happened?”

You sniffle over the line and sigh out syllables that make Austin’s blood run cold, “Rick. Please, can you just—”

“I’m on my way.” Austin hangs up the call, starting his motorcycle and pulling out of the garage parking lot with barely a second thought.

--

Austin has no idea what’s going on, no clue what he’s walking into but he doesn’t care either (which he may or may not regret later). He didn’t have you elaborate over the phone, wanting to concentrate on getting here faster instead. He parks his bike and rushes off the thing, nearly knocking it over as he goes to the front door of your father’s home and knocks.

You throw open the door, half dressed—bra, underwear, a long sweater barely over top, face with tear tracks on them and—and a gun hanging loosely in your fingertips.

“Jesus Christ,” Austin mumbles, eyes wide and confused as he takes a look at you and slowly closes the front door, “What the fuck happened?”

Though…based off the way you are dressed and the time of night—Austin swallows down a bout of anger as heavy as a cinder block to take care of what’s right in front of him.

“I couldn't stop him.” You shake your head, your entire face pinching. Austin sighs and wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, drawing you into your chest. He squeezes you, his hand working firm circles along your spine, “He came in-in through my back door and just—”

Austin shakes his head, holding you even tighter against him, his jaw working as he puts two and two together. You must have been getting ready for bed or something close to it and Rick put the drop on you.

“Did he—”

A whimpered noise leaves your lips and you press your face further into Austin’s neck. His one hand comes up and laces his fingers through your hair, shushing you gently. He pulls back after a moment—you both need to get ahead of this disaster, whatever is awaiting him, Austin will take care of it.

“Where is he?” He asks, cupping your cheek. He removes a tear track with his thumb.

You sniffle, “The bedroom—”

A short breath leaves Austin’s lips, glancing down at the gun that’s still in your hand. It must be your father’s because you never have been interested in weapons before, not even for means of protection. Whatever happened, it must have been bad enough that you needed to defend yourself.

“Give me that.” Austin takes the gun from you, walking down the long hallway that leads to the bedroom.

Nothing really prepares him for what he sees—the bedroom is a mess, sheets disheveled and Austin really fucking tries to not picture you struggling on top of them to push Rick off. A chair is overturned, broken glass from picture frames falling off the nightstand, and Rick on the ground in the corner—his pants are undone and he’s got his shirt off.

He’s currently holding onto his gut to keep his insides from pouring out, panting, face a sheet white and sweaty. And then he makes eye contact with Austin, a struggled laugh leaving his lips like, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Oh you stupid bitch.” Rick spits, referring to you, “You called him?”

Austin does his best to assess the situation, figuring out what’s best for you with all of this. He’s used to putting himself in the line of fire at this point, at burying himself so deep that there’s not a way out. He could give a shit about Rick surviving or not—there’s only one person that needs to end up on the other side.

You are kind and good and leading a decent life beyond all of this and if Austin has one goal? It’s to make sure none of this pain, blood, or filth, sticks to you.

You tug on Austin’s sleeve, yanking him back into the hallway and away from the scene, “I didn’t know what to do, I shot him, Austin.” You try to explain, your hands shaking so bad as you run them through your hair. Austin shakes his head, wanting to tell you that he doesn’t have to clarify anything, “I had to. What do I—what do I do? What do we do?”

Austin runs his hand along your shoulder, squeezing, glancing back in to Rick because…there’s really only one of two things you could do. And he’ll give you the other option just in case you want to entertain it.

“Okay, okay,” Austin soothes, getting you to breathe for a moment before he continues, “We call this in—you're not going to get charged, he is.” There’s a choked laugh from Rick—the only saving grace is that you have that restraining order in place. Austin takes a long look at you, cupping your one cheek. He waits until your eyes meet his, wanting to make sure you understand what he’s saying.

“They're gonna patch him up, he'll do a few years for assault. But then he's gonna be out—free to do this again.”

He barely gets the last word out before there’s a visceral reaction from you, a choking sob where you grab Austin’s leather jacket and dig your fingers into it, “No,” You snap out, nearly pushing him away despite the fact that Austin only pulls you closer, “No, he can't do this again, Austin. Please.”

Austin rests his lips along your forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he takes a steadying breath into his lungs. There’s only one thing to do then—because clearly, Rick is beyond reason or idle threats.

Not to mention that bullet wound in his side really complicates things. 

“Butler’s your solution?” Rick spits from the other room, making you hold onto Austin tighter.

“I can't do this.” You whisper against Austin’s neck, breath hot along his skin, “Please.”

If Austin was going to approach this with a cool head, all of that goes out the window when Rick opens his mouth again. The combination of you shaking against him, the heat of your body pressed along his own, the way your hands are pulling at his clothes in an attempt to ground yourself—and then Rick’s fucking mouth, spouting disgusting language towards you that he can’t accept in a levelheaded manner.

“You pathetic whore—”

Austin takes two long strides, aiming the gun right at Rick’s head and fires.

The blowback spatters blood all over the wallpaper in the bedroom and there’s a soft curl of smoke leaving the gun, metal hot to the touch. He can hear you yelling over the slight ringing in his ears. Austin lets out a sharp breath—this is not the first time he’s murdered someone in cold blood and it certainly won’t be the last.

At least this time it actually feels like it’s been paired with a purpose.

Austin stares at the blood for a long moment, watching it roll down the ugly wallpaper before backing up slowly. He puts the gun on the dresser and turns to where you are standing in the hallway, wide eyed like a deer in headlights, hands over your mouth.

Austin gently tugs you away, forces your sight off it and takes you back into the living room.

--

Austin takes a shallow breath and hands you a short glass of scotch, which you take with trembling fingers. You tip it back into your mouth quickly and almost choke on the swallow, coughing, but Austin figures you might need to take it like that. He motions to hold the glass out and when you do, he fills it up again.

You sniffle, shaking your head as you run a hand over your face. Austin knows how you’re feeling without you even needing to say anything. While this might have been the only choice, the right choice, you didn’t want Rick to meet an end like this. You continue to be a better person than him—Austin thinks he got exactly what he deserved.

And he regrets none of his actions here tonight, especially if this means you are safe.

Austin runs a hand along his jawline—it’s still dark out, if he’s going to clean this up, he needs to get started.

You glance up at him, wide eyes somehow a shade darker than he’s ever seen them. Austin tries to offer you the smallest of smiles, something comforting, even though it feels a bit strange on his face.

“I’ll take care of this.” He assures you.

You scoff out a choked noise— “What does that mean?”

Austin shakes his head, not giving you a verbal answer. Honestly, it’s better if you don’t know, just in case, so you can claim some kind of ignorance with all this. You seem to catch on within that moment, making a soft noise of discontent as you cover your face with both of your hands. There are so many things that Austin wants to say, to be able to tell you, but he doesn’t know where to start.

This nightmare is over though—it may not seem like it, but it is.

Austin turns to walk out of the kitchen and check your garage for supplies when he feels fingers wrap around his wrist. He stops, looking down at your hand, following it up your arm until he looks at you again. Austin watches you stand, taking a soft breath in, grounding yourself in the touch of his skin and your proximity.

This can’t be easy for you; Austin knows this is why you ran away from Charming in the first place—so you wouldn’t have to wonder what kind of terrible shit he was getting himself into with the club and Austin finding a way to apologize for it. Though, this ironically has nothing to do with the motorcycle club.

He moves his thumb to brush over the inside of your wrist, his high school sweetheart, the girl he’s loved since he was sixteen, his soulmate regardless of tragedy that most likely follows.

“Thank you,” You whisper and step into Austin’s space, “I love you.”

Austin hums softly and nods, leaning his head down to press your foreheads together. “I know.” He teases lightly and despite everything that’s happened, he can feel the hint of a smile on your lips as you kiss.

--

A week passes, and then two, and eventually Austin feels like he can draw oxygen into his lungs without looking over his shoulder. At this point, he knows how dispose of a body—an unfortunate byproduct of the work he does. The goal is to make it look like Rick’s just left, disappeared, with the threat of violating his restraining order, he decided it was best to fuck off out of Charming and you for good.

That should be a story that’s easily passible, since no one from Charming P.D. or that aggravating ATF agent have kicked down any doors demanding questioning of any sort.

Austin’s limited exposure about the whole thing, just him and you know, that way there can be no blowback on the club. Even then, Austin’s the only one who has details about the murder weapon (and where it is) and what truly happened to Rick (as in, where his body is buried). And it’s going to stay like that.

The man is exactly where he belongs.

Austin pauses in front of a freezer in the grocery store looking down at a set of steaks. He knows that it’s not exactly your favorite thing to eat but…he’s feeling weirdly celebratory and he can cook it in a way that you will enjoy it. Lots of pepper, garlic, onions—grilling it outside (maybe at his house instead of your father’s place), beer, mashed potatoes. You both can turn that into a good night, maybe even get back on a track that makes sense.

As long as you both avoid any more capital murder, should be just fine.

“Huh, never pictured you as a fillet kind of guy.”

Austin’s eyes roll back into his head as he turns to see Greg Thornson hovering nearby. Spoke too soon.

He doesn’t see any other agents milling around to make a grand arrest, or sirens and SWAT cars pulling up outside the grocery store windows. So he supposes that’s a bonus. And yet—

“Shouldn’t have to pound meat out for it to be tender.” He says wryly, dropping two steaks into his basket. Austin moves out and around Greg, who doesn’t even appear to be shopping—what, did he just track him down for a not-so-friendly chat?

Austin’s assuming that this isn’t an interrogation but Greg very much seems like the kind of agent that tries to catch you off guard and unaware. He’s probing just by being in his space, nonchalantly following him around the store, pretending to look at things he has no intention in buying.

“Putting a nice dinner together for Y/N?” Greg asks curiously, picking up a can of lima beans.

Austin sighs evenly, slowly making his way towards the front of the store. The quicker he cashes out, the faster he can leave this disaster behind. He glances over his shoulder at the indifferent question,

“Yeah—I know this might be a foreign concept to you, goin’ on dates.” Austin says with a smile to his face but it’s anything but kind. Greg’s eyes dart to Austin’s, fire burning along his irises, and then Austin adds a cushion to the blow – “Cause you know, you’re married to your work and all.”

Greg hums but his smile is all pinched, “I’m surprised Y/N’s even staying put.”

Austin moves to set his basket down near the conveyor belt, unpacking his groceries so that the cashier can ring him out. He offers a small smile at the girl, despite his annoyance with the ATF agent behind him. He slips his wallet out of his back pocket, glancing at Greg as he comes up into his line of vision,

“She’s a runner. Isn’t that why Y/N found herself in Chicago in the first place? Wanted to get out—find things this little pissant town couldn’t offer? Bigger dreams than what you’ve got here, Butler. Smart, beautiful women like Y/N? They get bored. They want more.”

Austin swallows, his hand that’s out of Greg’s line of sight is clenching his fingers into a fist. He refuses to give away that Greg’s words are hitting a particularly raw nerve. You did run away—because that’s what you do. When something gets too hard or real or intense, you make a run for it, that last time landing you in Chicago. And yeah, you ended up with a medical degree to show for it, but you also trailed back to Charming with a psycho ex.

He watches the cashier scan in his items, the muscle in Austin’s working. Despite the fact that Y/N’s seemingly tied to this place for the foreseeable future, Greg unfortunately has a point. And that digs under his skin more than anything else.

Austin pays the cashier and picks up his grocery bag, “Why don’t you let me worry about Y/N, yeah?” He throws back at Greg, moving to leave the store. He then pauses, a sudden thought occurring to him as he turns to look back at the ATF agent.

Greg’s decided to buy a pack of chips near the checkout aisle, pulling out a few ones from his wallet. 

“Hey,” Austin says, gaining Greg’s attention. The smile he gives him is slow and patient, somehow innocent on the edges like he’s about to talk about the weather. “You ever hear from Rick?”

It takes a moment for the question to settle on Greg’s face, the light somehow disappearing from his eyes, the silent conversation passing between the two men as Greg realizes Austin is asking this question for a very specific, deadly reason.

Austin licks his lips, shrugging his one shoulder, his gaze hardening, “Dangerous being a Fed.”

He slowly backs up, getting ready to turn out of the grocery store. He’s delivered more direct threats before but he is in public, and the look on Greg’s face still registers the same. Realization masking fear—makes it completely worth it. Austin clutches the grocery bag in his hand and puts his sunglasses on as he leaves the store to walk back to his truck.

They understand one another now.

--

Austin looks at you over his shoulder as he cooks dinner in the backyard of his home, in comfortable clothes that look a lot like jeans and a t-shirt, minus the leather cut. You’re leaning against the patio door, in a yellow sundress, watching Austin with a soft, fond expression, sipping on your beer.

Austin’s struck with the sudden thought that it could always be like this—warm, and safe, and comfortable, cooking dinner with beers and pretending his business doesn’t get him involved with unsavory people or situations.

Sometimes it feels like they can survive in that version of themselves, even though it’s all a lie.

You move into the yard and set your beer down, pressing into Austin’s side as he looks at the grill.

“You’re overcooking the steak.”

Austin crinkles his nose, peeking under the grill hood just a little, “No I’m not.” He opens it up all the way and while he doesn’t cook steak very often, they look perfectly fine. You use that opportunity to reach for the tongs and Austin playfully taps your wrist,

“I got it, they’re fine.”

“Oh you know how to handle meat, do you?” You tease, your hand resting on Austin’s waist instead.

Austin bites down on his lower lip as he grins, cupping your cheek to lean down and kiss you. “Class act, Y/N.” He pulls back after a moment, closing the grill lid after flipping the steaks once.

He moves to grab his own beer, taking a long sip. Despite everything you’ve been through, you seem to be doing okay. You don’t really bring up Rick at all and Austin doesn’t ask—maybe that’s a good thing, finally moving past that chapter in your life.

And even though Greg’s commentary in the grocery store rattled him a little bit, it does feel like you’re on solid ground now. That you’re not going anywhere—that they’re a team, no matter what might come their way.

Austin lets out a soft sigh, taking a step towards you. He rests his hand on your hip, angling you towards his body so he can look down at you. He waits until that gaze falls upon his own,

“No more running.”

You nod softly and press yourself on your toes to kiss the corner of Austin’s mouth, “No more running,” You agree. Austin leans down to press their foreheads together. “I’m here.”

And for better, or for worse, Austin believes you.

[darling2411]

Days like these (Part. 2)

Mick Schumacher x reader

summary: Mick meets your parents for the first time

warnings: none

word count: 5k

“Marry me.”

It’s two weeks after Mick asked you to marry him in his childhood bedroom. Of course you said yes, because c'mon now who in their right mind would say no to a guy like him?

“Are you serious right now ?”

He nods. “ Yes, I want you to marry me. I want to spend the rest of my life falling asleep beside you. When I wake up, the first thing I want to see is your face . I want to build a house and a life with you.I want kids and pets and everything that comes with you. I want it all. So I ask again, do you want to marry me?” He says, his voice filled with emotion.

Tears, caused by his words, roll down your face and you need to close your eyes for a moment and take in a deep breath.

But you’re not sad, god no.

You want to jump up and open the windows and scream at the top of your lungs that Yes! Yes, you want to marry him. And yes you want to build a life with him too.You want to keep him and his love forever.

“Mick,” your voice breaks, “ Yes! I want to marry you.” Your voice is shaking and he smiles. You’re going to be his wife. He can’t believe he’s that lucky.

“Where are you with your thoughts,Liebling?” Actually he knows exactly what you’re thinking about, he knows because you have been fiddling with your engagement ring while staring into nothing. You always do that when you think back to his proposal and like all the times before your mouth curves into a sweet, loving smile.

“I was thinking about how you asked me to marry you and how happy I am that I said yes. “ you said while looking at your ring.

“Best day of my life,Schatz.” You’re still looking at the ring and he watches you with love filled eyes.

You turn to smile at him fondly, and he leans over the center of the car and kisses you on the cheek.

“Come on, off you go, I’ll pick you up in three hours right?”he asks just to be sure.

“Yes, see you later Mickey.” You kiss him goodbye before exiting the car and walking up to your girlfriend's house. You desperately need to be updated on all the gossip.

When you step into the house Mick drives off with a smile playing at his lips. God, you make him so happy.

And while the image of your beautiful smile is still present on his mind he arrives at your shared apartment, where he begins to pack his backpack that he'll be taking with him to your parents house tomorrow.

Obviously Mick is nervous to meet them for the first time, but he's not scared that they won't like him.

His mother raised him well, he’s sure that will help him tomorrow.

“Really?” He needs to ask again, he needs to be sure you will be his forever. “Yes Mick.'' Your hands caress his cheeks gently,’Yes, I will marry you.”Relieve is written all over Mick's face, he never felt as anxious as in those seconds that it took for you to reply. Not when he is going full speed in his race car nor as he had the accident that splitted his car in two was he feeling that amount of dread that he felt right now, but he also was never as happy as in this moment when you promised to be by his side for the rest of both of your life’s.

His eyes are closed and he leans into you to seal your fate with a loving kiss on the lips.

“I will love you forever,” he whispers,” and I will make sure that you will not regret having said yes to me.”

“I could never regret this,Mickey.”

You kiss him again and fall asleep in the arms of your lover and best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Come on now, show me that ring!!!” your best friend squeals.

“Am I allowed to take my shoes off first?’you ask laughing.

Your best friend rolls her eyes but lets you continue.

“And now, I want a hug from you. I haven’t seen you in ages.” You state, clearly exaggerating.

With a big smile on her face she pulls you in for a hug and squeezes you tight.

When you pull back she looks at you expectantly and moves from one leg to the other.

You torturously slowly put up your hand in front of you before flicking it down so she can see your engagement ring.

"Ahhh!! Omg! It’s so pretty.” She squeals her eyes wide and a big smile on her face.

You bite your lip and try to suppress your smile. Yes it is indeed a incredibly beautiful ring.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned to propose to you but I’m glad I did. I’m just sorry that I am not able to put a ring on your finger.”

You shake your head “Mick I don’t need a ring, I have you. That’s enough.”

“But I want everyone to know that you’re my fiancée and soon to be wife and belong at my side.” You blush at his words and break eye contact.Therefore you don’t see how his face lights up. He has an idea. He knows what he’s going to do about that ring problem.

Mick quickly gets out of bed, almost falling on the floor face first, because his legs are tangled in your shared blanket.

“Mick, what are you doing?!”

“Just wait, meine Liebe, I know what I’m doing.”

‘Certainly doesn’t look like it.’ You mutter to yourself under your breath.

“Hey! I heard that.” Your boyfriend fiancé whisper shouts. You watch Mick with furrowed eyebrows, asking yourself what the heck he's doing.

“Where is it? Where is it?” Mick mumbles while rummaging through a drawer,” Aha! Found it.” He runs back to you, his eyes squint slightly, wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes and his lips form a smile that lights up his whole face.

“What’s got you smiling like that ?” You ask as you pull your legs underneath you and sit back ok the sole of your feet.

Mick is filled with the same amount of excitement a kid would feel on Christmas morning right before opening the present, only you are opening the present instead of him.

“Here,” he says, handing you a little black velvet box,” open it and see.”

You look at him questioning but put your hand out for the box anyway.

When you feel Mick's presence beside you, you open the packet.

The previously quiet room is filled with your gasp of shock and excitement. Inside the velvety box, is a beautiful ring, in the middle of the silver band sits a beautiful sapphire with little diamonds surrounding it. It’s not too shiny and the stone is not too big, it’s just perfect.

“Mick, god. It’s beautiful.” You take a closer look at the blue gem,” It is the same colour as your eyes!” You point out.

“It was my great grandmother’s. She told my Dad to give it to the woman he chose to spend the rest of his life with, but my dad had already gotten my mother a ring before my Uroma (German expression for great grandmother) could gift him the ring on his 21 birthday. So she told him , if he’ll have a son he shall have the ring and put it on the finger of the woman he loved more than everything.”

Mick takes the ring out of it’s containment and asks for your hand.” If I’m being completely honest I totally forgot about that ring, but I love you more than anything and it’s the best I can do right now and I really want you to wear my ring and-.”

“Mick,” you interrupt his rambling,” don’t forget to breathe,” you laugh.

A shy smile displays on his lips.” Sorry. Just, I will get you a real ring first thing tomorrow.” He announces.

“I don’t want another ring. I love this one. It’s perfect.” You declared.

“Really?”

“Yes. I really love it and when I think about how I’ll be able to stare at this ring and see the colour of your eyes even when you’re not here, I get all giddy inside. So no, Mick, I don’t need nor want another ring.” you explain.

“I love you.”

You answer him with a kiss and he slips the ring on your finger.

The time flies by and Mick will be here to get you soon.

You love spending time with your friend. It’s always a no judgment zone and spilling the tea is so much more fun with her because there’s always wine.

That reminds you how Mick once told you about a drinking toast in Germany that goes something like this ’Zu vino sag ich nie no’ (A phrase that rhymes and translates to I never say no to wine), definitely perfect for you and your best friend.

And again your thinking about him, lately everything is reminding you of him, is the same amount of beautiful and annoying.

Beautiful because you love thinking about Mick and his gorgeous blue eyes and soft blonde hair. His sweet smile and genuine laugh. His warm, hard body pressed against yours and his strong arms around you.

And it’s annoying because it makes you either horny or sad that he’s not with you.

“I think your boyfriend just pulled up.” Your Best friend points out. “Ouuuu and he’s here with his fancy car.”

“Girl, basically all his vehicles are fancy. “ you answer.

“True.” She shrugs.

You down your glass of wine before your slip on your shoes. Meanwhile Mick is at the door and rings the bell. You open the door whilst still trying to put on your left shoe. Suddenly you lose your balance and fall forward. Your hands shoot up in front of you trying to catch your fall. But in the end Mick’s quick reflexes save you from kissing the floor, his hands wrap around your hips pulling you against him. Your ass is pressed against his front and the collision makes both of you let out a huff of air in sync ,and your eyes widen when you realise what postition you’re in.

“Guys, please. Not in my house.” Your best friend says smirking, referring to the image that you paint.

Mick chuckles,”Sorry,” he pulls your upper body up and hugs your middle,”next time we wait until we’re outside.” He says with a wink directed to your best friend.

“Well thank you Mick. , she answers sarcastically , “How’s it going?”

Whilst the two of them continue chatting your mind wanders off again. Your hands lay across Mick’s on your stomach, the scene oddly familiar.

It reminds you of the time when he and you danced together in the kitchen to your favorite song. Dinner cooking on the stove, totally forgotten while you two slow dance and find bliss in each other's embrace. Now he’s swaying you and him a little bit without him noticing that he even does it. His mind also immediately going to that fond memory that makes you smile to yourself and your heart is full of love for this sweet human being you call your fiancé.

“Where’s your mind at?” Mick asks, lips close to your ear. The warmth of his breath making shivers roll down your spine.

“Just thinking about you.”

He places a kiss under your ear,” I love you.”

You lean back against him” and I love you.”

Gagging sounds disrupt your moment and you send a death glare to the intruder, your best friend.

“Aww i love you too.”she responds ,”You gotta go. You still need to pack, don’t you?”

“Ugh yes i do. I am really looking forward to that.” You groan.

Above you Mick needs to hold back a laugh.

“I told you you should have packed before you left.”he shrugs, a sly smile adorning his features.

You turn around and lock into his eyes full of satisfaction.

“Don’t say it.” You warn him, your pointer finger already pointing at him threateningly [a habit you picked up from Gina when you were visiting his family in Switzerland].

“I don’t want to say I told you so…,” if a glare could kill, he would drop dead right this second ,” but I told you so. “

“Oh shut up Mister-I-plan-everything-perfectly!” His only response is a deep chuckle and damn it’s an attractive chuckle!

“Okay guys. You’re too cute for me, I’m gonna die from sugar shock if you don’t leave.” She rolls her eyes dramatically.” Please, put me out of my misery.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh, “we’re leaving.”

You hug her goodbye and Mick has already opened the door.

“Goodbye y/b/f/n, thank you for taking care of [y/n]. See you soon.” He sends a dashing smile her way and you could swear you can feel her go weak in the knees but who can blame her?

“Bye.” Her voice is weak when she answers and boy can you relate. That smile is a lady killer.

With a final ‘goodbye’ you turn and leave her house, outside Mick awaits you and opens the car door for you.

“Thank you.” You say while sitting down. He smiles in return.

The drive home is filled with silence, not the uncomfortable type where you try and try to find something to talk about. No it’s that silence that envelopes you, welcomes you and that you can savour while your hand is interlocked with the one of your lover.

“I thought that we could take my bike tomorrow, the weather is supposed to be sunny so it wouldn’t be a problem.” He looks at you shortly before focussing back on the road” what do you think?”

“I’m thinking, please don’t kill us but yes we can take your bike.”

He smiles.” Perfect. And love, I would never do anything to harm you, ever, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You squeeze his had ”But you know that I’m scared of driving motorcycles.”

“Because of that accident that killed your cousin I know, I’m gonna take good care of you, don’t worry meine Liebe.” He kisses your hand.

You know he would never do anything to harm you, but still, you think motorcycles are the death on two wheels.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Hurry up!”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming!” You call from upstairs where you’re finishing packing some last time things into your backpack. It’s 7:25 am and you want to leave in five minutes. You will be driving a good two hours to your parents house where you’ll arrive perfectly in time for breakfast. Mick is getting anxious.

You snort and mutter something about how over punctual Germans are. Then you quickly rush down the stairs, grab your phone, and head outside with your keys.

Mick groans and looks at his watch, "Finally." It's 7:28 a.m. and you made it.

You smile at him innocently and usher for him to get on the bike so you can get going.

“You’re really sure that we can take the motorcycle?” Mick asks for the thousandths time now. “Yes,Mick. I'll survive.”

He hands you your helmet while nodding. You put it on before following him onto the bike.

When you give him the go-ahead while your arms are already wrapped around his middle, Mick pulls out of the driveway.

The drive is short so neither of you should get uncomfortable, hopefully at least.

After some time, you finally leave the city and are met with the breathtaking view of nature all around you.

Mick's back is a comfortable place for you to rest your head as you enjoy the view of the woods on the one side and crashing waves rushing through your vision on the other side.

Since there isn't much traffic in front of you and Mick is confident nothing will happen he believes he can drive faster. He takes his hand off the handle and taps your upper thigh, in doing so he inaudibly tells you to ‘ Hold on tight’.

You raise an intrigued brow, but you don’t question him as you tighten your hold on Mick. Your boyfriend revs up his motorcycle. Instantly you feel adrenaline rushing through your body. When the engine purrs beneath you, you snuggle impossibly closer to him and the motorcycle takes on speed. Your surroundings blur into a mixture of different colours and a smile that you can’t see brightens up Mick's face.

He loves that you feel safe with him.

“Mick I need to pee '' you tell your boyfriend as soon as you stop at a red light.

“We’ll stop at the next gas station alright?” , you nod.

Like he promised he stops at the next gas station, cutting off the engine and flipping the kickstand down before he hops off. He takes off his helmet before helping you down the motorcycle. Mick unbuckles your helmet brushing his fingers through your hair and leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead.

When you walk out of the toilet back to were Mick parked you stop midway cause you can’t quite get over how hot he looks straddling his motorcycle. Imagines of you straddling him on his motorcycle flash through your mind and you feel wetness beginning to pool in your panties. Sadly you do not have time to have a little bit of fun because your parents are awaiting you and you know Mick. He would never in a lifetime be late to meet your parents and obviously not when he’s meeting them for the first time.

Shaking your head to get rid of your thoughts involving you bend over the motorcycle with Mick behind you, you continue walking back to your boyfriend.

“Hi there Liebling, ready to go again?” You were definelty ready for something different but that had to wait. “Yup, lets go. I can’t wait to see my mum and dads reaction to the engagement ” you smile up at him and take your helmet that he holds in front of you.

When you’re behind him again, he adjust you and pulls you closer to him by your knees. Your breast are pressed up against him and you can feel your nipples hardening. That isn’t really helping the butterflies in your stomach nor your arosual. Mick doesn’t seem to notice the shift in your behaviour though as he starts driving.

The hour rushes past you in a blurr, your mind somewhere different and you only notice your surroundings again when you realize Mick is pulling up to your parents house.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Did the temperature change or why are his hands sweating?

It’s probably just the sun beaming down at him, but when he looks up the sun is hidden behind clouds. “ Ach du grüne neune. Das wird was.”, Mick says to himself in German and when he’s switching to German around you you know that something’s up.

You ask him if he’s nervous, but obviously he denies. Yet his legs are trembling. When you point that out though, he states that they are, because of the long drive not because he’s anxious to meet your parents. He’s Mick Schumacher he’s not afraid to meet your parents. He drives race cars for a living for heaven's sake. This should not make his heart beat as fast as it does and he shouldn’t feel as if he’s about to throw up.

“Mick, it's okay. I was just as nervous as you are right now when I met your parents. It’s normal. Just be yourself and I promise you they're going to love you.”

He nods and gives you a side hug while you're walking towards the front door of your childhood home. It's just like you remembered. Nothing out of place. You instantly feel at ease.

Before you can ring the doorbell your mother opens the door and greets you two with the biggest smile on her face. “[Y/n]!!! You're finally here,” she hugs you as you step out of Micks arms into hers,” I hope you had a good drive up here?”

“Oh yeah, everything was fine, it didn't even take two hours because there was no traffic at all.”

She nods,”You arrived just in time.I just finished setting the table for breakfast. I hope you two are hungry.” Before she steps out of the embrace she gives you a squeeze and the turns to Mick, who has been standing behind you watching you greet your mother. ‘You must be Mick, the one my daughter has been talking about non stop for the past three years.” Mick walks up to shake her hand and ask “Three years? We’ve only been dating for a year.” He looks at you smirking and you roll your eyes,” thanks for that mum, you just inflated his already huge ego.”

“ Oh come on [y/n], just admit that you always loved me.” Mick teases.

You huff and walk past them to your Dad, hopefully he won’t tell Mick about all the times when he found you crying in your room because you again didn’t have the guts to tell your best friend that you were in love with him.

”Hi Dad.” You say while leaning down to give him a hug before he could stand up from the chair he’s sitting in. “Hello pumpkin, how are you doing?” “I’m fine,” you say as your sitting down at the place that you decided on ages ago, you never sat anywhere else at the table. Everyone in your family had their designated place at the dinner table and no one ever changed that. “so where is that boyfriend of yours ?” He ask you and you answer that he’s still talking to you mum at the door. Right as you said that Mick and your mum join you in the dining room.

Your father stands up to shake Micks hand looking him up and down, like he’s seizing him up. Mick gulps and you need to stifle a laugh.Your dad would never do anyhing to your boyfriend but he definitely acts as if he could. He always did that, all your former boyfriends and even your male friends had to go trough the same treatment from your father. He just wanted to make sure their intentions were right and you actually think its cute. He just wants to protect you from something that happened to your mother before she met your father.

Mick and your father introduce themselves before your mother tells them to sit down so you could start eating. “You can interrogate him while we are having breakfast, my love.” Your father smiles at your mum and you can see how much they love eat other even after all these years. You think to yourself how happy you are that you found a love like the one of your parents. It’s something you’re incredibly grateful for, because little you always dreamt of finding true love one day. And when you met Mick you knew that day had finally arrived.

Whilst you and your mother are chatting and exchanging what happened in your life’s since you last talked on the phone, your father is asking Mick all kinds of question. “Do you want kids someday?” “ What are your plans for the next season?” “How will you manage being away from my daughter all the time?”

Mick had all the answers and you could see that your father was pleased with him.

”Alright,” your dad says,” I think I asked you enough questions.” He smiles at you and Mick” you are quite the match I must say.”

“ Wow Dad, that’s like the best thing you ever said about a boy I brought home.” You and your mum look at each other in shock and your mother says what you are both surely thinking,”this is unbelievable.”

Mick grins proudly and your father laughs loudly,” C’mon I’m not that bad.”

”Dad you ones chased my male friend out of our house because he dared to say the green skirt I was wearing wasn’t the right look for me!”, you look at Mick,” He was right by the way,” your gaze finds you fathers again,”and gay.”

Micks laughing too now and shortly after all of you are laughing without really knowing why.

You spend a good hour and a half having breakfast. When you are all finished you and you mother, obviously denying Micks help, clean up the table and later join them outside.

Your all chatting and having a good time.

Micks particular interesting story about one of his childhood memories is interrupted by the doorbell, and you’re all confused, because your parents aren’t expecting anyone.

When the doorbell rings again your father stand up to open the door.

You cant make out who’s at the door due to being outside but your question is answered when your niece is running up to you and jumps into your arms. “Tia [y/n]!!! I missed you so much!”

”Awww, Cariño. I missed you too.”

Turns out your sister had the same idea as you and also came to visit your parents.

You introduced her to Mick and then start to talk to her about everything that’s goin on in your life, still you hadn’t had the chance to tell your family that you are engaged.

But now with your sister here, it would probably be the perfect moment.

You search for Mick’s gaze to ask him if you should break the news now, but are met with a picture you could never forget. He and your niece are playing together and gosh was it cute. She was sitting on his lap showing him her favourite toys while telling their story. And Mick was smiling at her and encouraging her to “ Go one, I want to hear everything about your magic stuffed animals, especially that icebear.” Your niece smiled at him brightly and rambled on. The image that they painted was so wholesome and you realized that you wanted that wiht Mick. You wanted a house, kids, a family. Good thing you are already on step closer to the dream you both have.

“Omg you look like you want to jump his bones.” Your sister says from beside you.

Your attention shift back to her, “ well excuse me can’t I admire my fiancé?” You respond smirking.

Suddenly everyone is still and your sure Mick would say Es ist so still man könnte eine Haarnadel fallen hören. It’s so still you coul hear hair pin drop.

From on moment to the next Chaos was breaking loose. Everyone was talking at the same time.

‘Fiancé ?!” Your mother exclaimed, “How coul you not tell us the moment you step foot in this house that you are getting married ?!”

“Ava didn’t tell you guys that she was pregnant until the fourth month of her pragnency! I’m basically a saint.”

”What do you mean she didn’t tell us?You knew?!” Your father asks.

”O shit.” You and your sister say at the same time while looking at each other,” I think we’re getting grounded.”

Mick frowns” Don’t you both moved out?”

Everyone’s eyes are trained don him “ Doesn’t matter, they’ll find a way.” your sister simply answers.

Mick looked at the scene before him, you and your sister already trying to form a plan on how to evade your parents ‘wrath’ and your parents smirking at each other as they figured out how they were going to punish’ their girls. He decided to continue playing with your niece while thinking ‘What am I marrying into?’

In the middle of lecturing you, your parents stopped amd sighed. “You know what that is unnecessary. Weh don’t need to lecture you we have to congratulate you two. You are getting married!” Your mother had tears in her eyes when she hugged you.

“I knew you would marry him one day.” Your mum said,” Just like you always said.”

“Mum!”you cry embarrassed.

Mick chuckles, hugs you from behind and gives you a kiss on the cheek,” Don’t worry. I also always knew that you were going to be my endgame,Schatz.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ⓘ Alright, this took a while. I’m also not 100% pleased with how it turned out :/

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

[Also don’t kill me if there are any mistakes, it’s 2 a.m and I’m literally writing this half asleep]

@ellabellabus07

@motylekrozi

@meaganjm

[reigningqueenofwords]

Home

Pairing: McCoy x Reader Word count: 3,778 Warning: Tiny bit of angst

Read on AO3

You sagged as you looked at the clock. Another night without so much as seeing your husband. It had been 24 hours since he’d been home, and you missed him. The amount of times you had to pack up leftovers for him was nearing a full week at this point. Other friends were packing up snacks for playdates. You were packing up food your husband would eventually just take to work, and hopefully get time to eat. At this rate, you didn’t think you’d ever have the same type of life as your friends. You really did want a family one day, or at least a dog. But co parenting anything living right now would be a disaster. You’d be doing it solo, and you worked, too! 

As you went to get ready for bed, you checked your phone for the hundredth time and sighed. You had been with Leonard for a few years now, but you supposed you didn’t know what you were truly signing up for. Seeing nothing, you put your phone on silent and put it down. You had already showered so you got into bed for the night and found yourself wiping your cheeks. While you loved that he wanted to help people, you would have also liked to not feel single again. 

You had gotten together his last year of residency and he was constantly showering you with attention. While you didn’t need it constantly, you now felt you were not worth a text or call. Hell, he could shoot you a damn emoji at this point and it would mean the world. The last time you had a full conversation was at least a few weeks ago. Everything else had been interrupted by a page or call. Could you do this much longer? You’d only been married just over a year and you felt like you already lost him. You hugged his pillow tightly and tried to get some rest. 

Come morning, you needed a lot of coffee. You were tired, having not slept well. You were off that day, and didn’t know how to spend your time. You checked the fridge to get your creamer and your heart hurt as you saw some missing leftovers. Was Leonard here? “Leo?” You called out. When you were met with silence, you closed the door harder. He had come home and not even bothered waking you or leaving a note? You felt sick. Putting the creamer on the counter, you pulled out your phone to send him a text. 

Thanks for at least taking the food I cooked you, I guess. 

Part of you, a very tiny part, wondered if there was someone at work he liked so much he just had to get back. You had worried about that in the beginning since you weren’t in the same field. Your heart skipped when your phone lit up but it was only Uhura. Sniffing, you opened her text, contemplating asking to stay with her for a couple days. You tapped the table a little and decided to do that. 

Hi, are you busy tonight? And tomorrow? And tomorrow night? Can I visit? You hoped you didn’t sound completely desperate but you figured she’d understand. You continued on making your coffee as you waited for her to reply. 

Of course. Everything okay? 

Not great. Haven’t seen my husband in a day and a half. You typed out quickly. Thank you. You sent another, looking forward to not being alone. Want me to grab some lunch on my way over? 

Sure and I’ll pull out some drinks <3 Spock might pop in on his lunch break but he won’t bother us. She promised. I’ll see you in a bit. 

Running a hand through your hair, you transferred your coffee from a mug to a travel mug. Once you did that you went to get ready and pack. It didn’t take you long, and just twenty minutes later, you were pulling out of your driveway. Glancing in your rearview mirror, you teared up as you watched the house you bought with Leonard get smaller. It had been such an amazing day when you got it. You had pictured a couple of little feet running around at that time, but that image was fading. Your eyes shot to your wedding ring for a split second, then back at the road. 

Leonard finally came home at midnight that night, barely making it to the couch before he flopped on it and fell asleep. He had the next couple of days off and planned to rest, which is how he slept a straight ten hours. Finally getting up, he ran his hand down his face and scrunched his nose. “I need to shave.” He muttered. He shuffled to the bathroom to wake himself up, figuring you were still asleep as he didn’t smell coffee. He’d crawl into bed to hold you for a bit after.

Once he was clean and felt brand new he smiled and went to the bedroom. His smile fell when he found a perfectly made bed. He checked the time and had no idea if you told him you had plans. Walking out of your shared room, he went to the office to check the calendar. Nothing. He was starting to worry. He rushed to find his phone, hoping everything was alright. He called you as soon as he had it.

He bit his lip as he waited for you to answer, pacing a bit. His heart was hammering in his chest before he heard you pick up. “Baby?” He breathed. “You okay?” 

“Leonard.” You said simply. “I’m fine. I’m with Uhura.” 

“Oh.” He sighed in relief. “Glad you’re safe.” He sat down on the couch. “What time will you be home? I’ll order take ou—“ His phone beeped at him, making him pinch the bridge of his nose.  “Dammit.” He mumbled. 

You sighed. “Goodbye, Leonard.” Your voice cracked. 

“Wait. When will you be home? I’ll see what I can do.” He said quickly. 

“A couple days, probably.” You sniffed. “You probably won’t be home either way.” 

“Babe...I’m sorry.” He said gently. “It’s been a killer week. I know. Maybe for my next day off we go out?” 

“It’s been like this for weeks! You don’t ever have a damn day off! I haven’t seen you in three damn days !” You told him. “And you only come home for food. Which is fine but I would’ve been thrilled to be woken up by you.” You sniffled. “I don’t know anymore…” You said honestly as his phone beeped again. “I feel like the other woman. Go. Just… go.” You sighed. 

Leonard opened his mouth but you hung up. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. He’d make it up to you. He had to. You were his wife, and he loved you so much. He’d have flowers sent over once you were home. It was a start, at least. Getting up, he groaned as he went to get dressed. 

You stared at the wall a day later, not believing you were actually thinking of separating from your husband. Nothing felt right. You stayed, and you broke your own heart. You leave, and you break both your hearts. But you couldn’t see yourself doing this everyday. Licking your lips, you got up off the guest bed that you were using at Uhura’s and grabbed your bag. You packed up your stuff slowly, mind racing. You’d be going home to pack up as much of your life as you could, and wait until he got home to tell him you were leaving him. 

You hugged Uhura tightly and thanked her for everything before leaving. She felt for you, and told her that you were always welcome there. The drive back to your house was short and you knew your mind was elsewhere. Your heart hurt, and it felt like someone was sitting on your chest. 

You were almost done packing your 4th box the following day when you heard the front door open. The living room had two suitcases and a couple boxes you’d managed the day before. Today you were more numb, moving on autopilot. You sighed as you stood and put your hands on your hips as you waited. This was not going to be fun. 

Finally, he walked through your bedroom door. “Babe, what’s with the boxes and suitcases?”  He looked at you, brow furrowed. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m leaving.” You said simply. “I’m going to stay with my sister while I look for a place.” You wiped a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked, not believing he heard you right. “What? Leaving? For how long?” He asked, as if he thought you’d be back. “A break? I didn’t know you needed one.” He was rambling. 

Licking your lips, you felt the tears really start. “For good.” It hurts like hell to say. “I’m not the love of your life, the hospital is. I’m basically a live in maid and cook at this point. And I’m not about to be a single mom.” You told him, sniffling. 

He stared at you. “No. I’ll fix this.” He quickly went up to you and cupped your face but you stepped back. “Please don’t leave me.” He pleaded. 

“You’re the one who left first.” You held your chin high, how? You weren’t sure. “I’m sorry, Leonard. The moving truck will be here tomorrow.” Your voice was shaky. 

He looked down. “You’re sure?” He asked, voice broken. “There’s no hope for us?” He looked back at you. 

You shook your head. “No. I thought things would get better, but we can’t even talk on the phone anymore without interruptions. I love that you help people, I do. I just never realized there wouldn’t be any room for me.” You hiccuped slightly from trying to hold back tears. “Which means there’s no way this can work.” There would be no little pink plus signs, no adopting a pet, no celebrating more anniversaries. Your future hopes were gone.

He deflated further. “I’m so sorry.” He said quietly. “I didn’t realize how bad it got.”

“You weren’t here enough to realize.” You told him. “We’ll worry about the paper work next week or something.” You knew that would be hell. “I do love you, Leonard.” You said softly. 

“I love you so much. Please rethink this. Take as long as you need but...come back.” He begged. It killed you to hear him like this, but you knew that if you stayed...nothing would change. You’d go days without seeing him, weeks without a proper conversation, you’d sleep every night alone, you’d wake up alone, and you just couldn’t mentally handle that. And neither could your heart. 

You simply nodded and looked back at your box. “I’m almost finished.” You said, hoping to end the conversation. 

He bit his lip. “I’ll always be here.” He said sadly before you heard him walk out of the room. 

You focused on your box, willing yourself not to cry again. When you heard the front door open and close, you took a break to hug your knees to your chest. 

Kirk opened the door and his eyebrows shot up. “You look like shit.” He muttered. “What the hell happened?” He asked as he stepped aside to let Leonard in.

He sighed heavily. “We’re separating. Well, she’s divorcing me…” He sat on his couch, rubbing over his face. “She’s packing now and I couldn’t just stand there and watch.” He gripped his hair in his hands. “It’s over, Jim.”

Kirk sagged slightly as he sat near his friend. “Shit, like over over?” When he nodded, he patted his back. “What brought it on?” He saw you guys as so in love. He used to tease him over how ‘grossly in love’ you two were. 

“My work schedule.” Leonard looked down. “These past couple weeks have been rough and I guess that was the final straw.” He shook his head. “She pointed out that the last real conversation we had that wasn’t interrupted was weeks ago. The last time she saw me before today was over three days ago. Hell, I called her yesterday and just as I was asking about getting takeout...my phone beeped. I was worried. I got up from sleeping on the couch and went to clean up. Went into my room to a perfectly made bed, but I couldn’t remember her having plans. I called her and when I asked when she was coming home, she said a couple days. I didn’t understand. Now I do.”

Kirk hadn’t seen his friend cry often, and watching him pretty much fall apart in front of him was hard. “I’m sorry, Bones.” He said gently. He wouldn’t voice it, but he could see where you were coming from. “Any chance she just wants a break?” He was hoping for that. 

He swallowed. “No.” He sighed, flopping back on the couch. “She said there’s no room for her, that the hospital is the love of my life, and that there’s no way it can work. I’m sure she mentioned something about papers next week. I’m guessing she’s serving me with divorce papers. For a divorce I don’t goddamn want.” 

“Well, you can stay as long as you need. I’ll get you some water.” He stood. “I know you love your job, but can you step down or something?” He shrugged. “I don’t know how that works.” He said before getting him a glass. “Do you have a contract or something?” He handed it to him. “Because I mean, I think in your shoes I’d rather be with her and jobless than at a job miserable because my wife left me.” He wanted you guys both happy, and it’s clear that neither of you were. “I always saw you two having kids and a couple dogs or something.” Was that another reason you were leaving? You wanted a family?

Leonard drank from it and nodded. “Yeah, I thought we would. She mentioned she was basically a live in maid and cook and she wasn’t going to add single mom to that list.” He stared at the glass. “I have a contract but maybe I could talk to someone.” He sipped the water. “When I called her and she hung up I thought starting to make it up to her would be by sending flowers. That’s not gonna do anything.” He muttered.

“No.” Kirk agreed. “She needs to really see a change.” He knew you meant business if you were already halfway out the house. “And it needs to be a big one, and fast. I don’t know how fast divorces go, but if papers are going to be worked on next week…” 

Leonard nodded. “The one day I have off.” He mumbled and pulled out his phone. “I’ll schedule a meeting with the boss people.” He sighed. “Not even sure what I’ll say but…” You were worth it. He let out a breath. “She loves that I help people, and that’s what I do. How can I be with the woman I love while doing what I love? It seems there’s no middle ground.”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah.” He rubbed his jaw as he thought. “I mean you can’t just cut your hours right?” 

“No. I get called in.” He told him. 

“Hmm. I don’t know. I don’t know which you’re willing to give up.” He said honestly. Kirk had known him for years. He was one of the most driven people he had ever met. 

There was a long silence. “I’m gonna quit my job. I’ll sell the damn house, and tell her we can move wherever she wants and I’ll find a job at a place I won’t be on call.” Even if it took him time to prove it, you were worth it. 

Kirk looked surprised. “Okay. As long as you’re happy. Not worth it if you hate your job and take it out on her.” He said simply. “Take the afternoon to think about the entire situation?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, alright.” He agreed, leaning back. “Thanks, Jim.” 

Sitting in your sister’s guest room, boxes surrounded you. This wasn’t your home, but even your home really wasn’t your home anymore, either. You were grateful she had room, but you knew you’d have to find your own place soon. You felt like you could just sleep forever at the moment. You hadn’t taken your ring off yet and you found yourself playing with it as you laid back. You knew it was unhealthy but you pulled out your phone to look at old pictures of you and Leonard. Back when he spent time with you. The first one that came up was from six months before. He had been trying to make you a nice dinner, but you kept distracting him because of how hot he looked in the apron. The picture was him looking at you sideways, cocking an eyebrow at you, trying not to smile.  Your heart hurt at the memory. Snuffing, you swiped to the next one, unaware that he was doing the same on Kirk’s couch.

It had been a few days and you were barely eating cereal, dreading calling your lawyer for the papers. You’d taken some personal time off work, which you knew couldn’t last forever. Your sister and her husband were off at work, leaving you in the completely silent house until right before dinner. You were sitting on the couch, staring at the fireplace when there was a knock on the door. You sighed, figuring it was a delivery or something. You went to open it, faking a smile. 

“Hi.” Leonard swallowed, holding out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

“Leonard.” You said softly, taking them automatically. “Thank you...but what are you doing here?” You asked, letting him in, chewing on your lip. “I’m surprised you aren’t at work.”

He came out with it quickly. “I quit yesterday.” He said softly. 

You stared at him. “You...quit?” You asked, not sure you heard him right. “The job you love more than anything? The one you basically live at?”

“I didn’t love it more than you.” He rubbed his jaw. “So I quit. It wasn’t worth it if I lost you to it.” His voice was soft. He really wanted to pull you close, but didn’t want to risk you pulling away. “And, I want to sell the house.”

You looked more surprised. “Why?” Your brain was still trying to catch up. “You love that house.”

“I do. But only with you in it.” He said simply. “I’m willing to move wherever you want. I have a list of places that I can practice at. As a regular doctor with regular hours.” He explained. “So I can be home, I can spend time with you, and I can work on proving to you that you mean more to me than anything.”

You stared at him, not knowing what to say. This was not close to what you expected to happen today.

He shuffled a bit. “Do...you need time to think about it?” He was really hoping things would go well. He honestly hoped you’d come home. 

“I’m just trying to process this.” You went to put the flowers in some water, thinking it over. The fact that he quit his job spoke loudly to you. It was just something that was so shocking that it was like your brain was trying to catch up to that fact. Once you stepped back in front of him, you eyed him. “Will you hate me down the line for making you quit the job you love?” You asked softly. 

“No. I’d only hate myself if I completely lost you.” He said honestly. “I could never hate you.” He offered his hand to you. “If I had to work some fast food job to prove that to you, I would.”

You bit your lip before taking his hand. “And you won’t have these hours anymore?” You asked. “No more not seeing you for days?”

“No more. I’ll have lunch breaks and evenings.” He tugged you gently, wanting to hug you. “I’ll get to sleep next to you and take you on dates.” 

“I really hope these aren’t empty promises.” You looked up at him. “Please don’t say all this for things to go back to how they were.” 

“I’ll prove to you everyday that I’m sorry and that I’ll do better.” He rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. “Come home. Please.” He pleaded. “We’ll find a new place for us, together.” This entire this was a huge stab to the heart for him, and a wake up call. “Even if that’s some backwoods town with 100 people. If that’s what you want, I’m there.”

You teared up again and found yourself burying your face in his chest. You gripped the back of his shirt, scared he’d disappear. He hugged you tightly, kissing your head as he kept mumbling ‘I’m sorry’s’.” He’d spend the rest of his life making this up to you. “I’ll come home.” You finally choked out. “I, uh, have a lot of boxes upstairs.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He rubbed your back.  “Have you had lunch?” He asked. “Or can I take you out so we can talk about where we’d like to go?” 

You nodded. “Pasta place?” It was your go to when you had hard days. It’d been that way since college. “And maybe tomorrow, when we’re home, we can cook dinner together?” 

He nodded. “Sounds perfect to me, darlin’.” He said gently. “I love you so much.” He’d told Kirk the day he met you that he’d marry you one day. It was love at first sight. 

“I love you.” You said softly. 

Leonard carried another box into your new farmhouse, smiling as he saw you unpacking. He set it down before going to wrap his arms around you from behind. “Hi.” He said cutely. “You look so peaceful right now.”

“I am.” You set down what you were holding and turned in his arms. “This place is so beautiful.” You’d found it on accident while browsing online for a birthday present for your sister. 

“More beautiful with you here.” He grinned and pecked your lips. “Like this place was made for you.”

“For us.” You smiled brightly at him, happy you had your husband back. You ran your hand through his hair, enjoying how he closed his eyes for a moment. “How about we finish getting the boxes in and cuddle for a bit?” 

“Sounds perfect.” He squeezed yo

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

What It Is to "See" in Trigun

"You can really lose yourself in that blue sky... Ah... There I go again. Rem... It's silly, isn't it... that I'm still thinking about... how I want to show it to you."

The theme of sight, showing, and eyes comes up quite a lot in Trigun. This isn't exactly an in-depth analysis, more just an examination of what "seeing" really is, at least in the context of this manga.

A notable recurring thing that happens in many of Knives' scenes is the obscuring of eyes and faces, either others (Vash, usually) or his own.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum Volume 7. One is of young Knives, his hand obscuring most of his face. His thumb is bleeding from where he's bitten it, and it streaks blood next to his open left eye. The other is also of young Knives, his face shadowed dramatically. His right eye is closed and crying. His left is wide open, ringed in darkness and blood from where his thumb has trailed down his face. End ID.]

The obscuring of one eye in the scene where Knives decides to crash the ships makes it so he only looks through one of his eyes - or, like he is only seeing one perspective, or one side to things. Knives, in his fear and anger, blinds himself to seeing anything other than what he already expects. In the second image, he is torn between a closed crying eye and a wide open one, dragging blood down the side of his face. He chooses the path of blood over tears, and refuses to change this from this point on.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. A younger Legato leans over with a stricken expression. His right eye is obscured by his hair as tears spill from his right. End ID.]

As a bonus note, Legato's hair often conceals that same eye that Knives has obscured on himself, perhaps a visual representation of not only him also seeing only one path forward, but also that his path is one of devotion to Knives. Elendira's hair does much the same.

We also have the cult known as the Eye of Michael - "Eye", which counter to its name, actually blinds its disciples into again, only seeing one perspective - looking through only one eye. Half of Chapel's face is frequently shadowed. In the "shoot" scene, only Wolfwood's left eye is fully visible - as, even though he makes a definite point, he himself is genuinely rather hopeless at this point, only seeing one path and one perspective.

[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 2. From a slightly overhead perspective, Wolfwood pulls the gun Vash is holding and aims it at his own head. Only his left eye is visible. End ID.]

It's why it's pretty significant that we start to see both his eyes in Volumes 9 and 10, and why I think it matters that he died with his eyes open.

Livio and Razlo are interesting in this regard too. Split between the two eyes, Livio with his obscured right eye and Razlo with his exposed left. When Livio cuts his hair, his eye becomes more visible, like something of a balancing - but it doesn't end there. Throughout the fight against Elendira, when the two are working together, both their eyes can be seen. They even do a switch, with Razlo being shown on the right, and Livio on the left, as if to show, through their conversation, that they have learned to see each other's perspectives better, and work as a team - they have learned to "see through each other's eyes".

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum Volume 13. The first is Razlo shown from the right, eye wide and grinning as he rushes forwards. The second is Livio shown from the left, sweating in exertion. End ID.]

Speaking of seeing through other's eyes, we have Hoppered and Meryl's unwilling vision of Vash's memories, which, while incredibly traumatic, also gave them a new perspective they otherwise couldn't have had. This moment is actually key for Meryl to understand Vash as a person on a deeper level, to communicate what she knows about him to others, and to understand why he felt like he had to do everything alone... so that she could make it clear that he no longer had to.

Meryl and Vash, in particular, share in that painful past, and have come to the same conclusion about it - things take time to heal, but it's always worth it to try, and to work with others to bring a brighter world about.

This "seeing the world through another's eyes" is a running theme all throughout the story, and it's the reason for the first quote at the beginning of this write-up.

[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 7. Young Vash stares, eyes wide, as Rem cries and says to him, "Let's see the world together, let's walk through it together. Because the world... I swear, it's not just full of worthless people." End ID.]

Vash doesn't just want Rem to see the beautiful blue sky, he wants to see it with her, because that was what he needed when he was a young kid, fresh from the trauma of discovering Tesla, and unable to see the good in the world all alone. He needed another perspective, someone who could show him something other than hopelessness and fear. Instead, he had to force himself to search for it alone.

When he wants to show Rem that blue sky, it's because he wants to show her he's found something worthwhile and good. Just like she promised. It's not all awful.

[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 10. Amidst two panels of Vash's outstretched hand and Wolfwood falling towards him, on a white background, he thinks "That's why, after everything's been said and done, I wanted to see tomorrow with him. Isn't that right... Wolfwood?" End ID.]

When he wants to "see" tomorrow with Wolfwood, it's a promise of sticking together and of continuing to offset each other's perspectives - they trust each other to be their other set of eyes that makes seeing the hope in the world, and other pathways and options and interpretations different from their own just that much easier. Vash sees a future and a hope outside of fighting Knives through Wolfwood, something he previously could not do.

[ID: A screenshot from Trigun Maximum Volume 14. Ethereal looking feathers fall over a crowd of civilians, who look upwards at them with varying expressions of shock and curiosity. End ID.]

And when the Plants share their memories with humans, and the humans respond with tears, it's the ultimate culmination of what it is to "see" in Trigun - to see is to understand another's story and their personal plight.

To see is to understand is to hope for the better for yourself and for others, and that puts you on the path to slowly but surely healing. To making a change for the better, to finding that light in the dark. That blank ticket.

[drysaladandketchup]

Mattdrai and 14 please for the Game. Thank you 💜

Thank you, anon! Once again I have failed to understand the word 'mini'. Seriously never ask me to write something short I don't know how to anymore. I hope it's to your liking :)

14. things you said after you kissed me

He expects a lot of things when he walks into the airport toting his life behind him in a suitcase: the drone of hundreds of voices, the inevitable bustle of bodies, brightly lit screens flashing so much information it makes your head spin, lines, because there's always lines everywhere for everything, the smell of fifteen different coffee shops vying for traveller's attention. Fuck knows he's going to need one of those soon.

What he doesn't expect is to be grabbed mid-yawn as he's on his way to check his luggage. If he was already jittery about the move before, he nearly has a heart attack now when a hand latches onto his bicep and drags him into a shadowy alcove, half-concealed by a thick pillar.

Matthew's brain very unhelpfully provides him with the image of being mugged before he's even out of Calgary. Pissed off fans angry he's leaving for bright, sunny, warm-all-year-round Florida, perhaps? Some even more pissed off Edmontonian who saw he was leaving and came down here thinking now's my chance? He wouldn't put it past some of them.

He's not too far off the mark with that last one. When he rips his arm free and spins to face his assailant, he laughs right in their face.

"Jesus, dude, you look like a stalker."

In fairness, Leon usually dresses pretty decent. But right now he's in plain jeans and a thick, unassuming pull-over sweater--it's fucking summer in Calgary, who does that?--with the hood pulled up over a snap-back, head ducked low so the brim hides part of his face.

"Didn't want to be recognized," Leon says, somewhat defensively, like he's only now realising how very conspicuous he looks in a place like this.

"I got that." Matthew checks his phone. He's got a bit of time for... for whatever this is, so he sets his stuff down and leans against the wall across from Leon. It only puts a couple feet of space between them.

"What are you doing here?"

Leon tugs the hood and hat off his head, runs fingers through his hair. It's still pretty long--Leon's let it grow since the spring, and Matthew has very distinct memories of running fingers through it--but it's also uncharacteristically messy. He doesn't look entirely focused, either; there's shadows under his eyes.

"I came to see you," Leon says.

Suddenly, Matthew really wishes he wasn't here. Either of them. It's been two weeks since they've seen each other, since Matthew broke the news. Not that it was Leon's business. They weren't... weren't anything. Not partners, anyways. Not really. And this was Matthew's choice, his career, his future he was considering. That had to come first.

But now Leon's here, and Matthew has never wanted to run so badly in his life. This didn't feel like running before. The earth could split open and swallow him whole, and it would be kinder than that look on Leon's face, all anger and desperation and confusion and... God, he looks so fucking tired.

It's a 9am flight to Florida. It's just past six now. The sun's barely up.

"Have you slept at all?" Matthew asks, instead of a million other questions.

Leon shoves his hands in the pocket of his sweater and shakes his head. "I couldn't."

"So you drove all the way down here."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Hard not to be when you haven't talked to me in weeks."

Leon's mouth twists. Slumped back against the wall, curled in on himself, it may be one of the few times Matthew could ever say he looks small. Fragile.

Sighing, Leon finally, finally looks Matthew in the eye. He's not scowling like the last time they met, the night he stood in Matthew's doorway and told him he didn't understand anything before storming out of Matthew's life.

"I thought we should talk. Before you go," Leon says.

Matthew does understand, now. He put it together staring at Leon's back as he disappeared into the night. He knows why Leon's really here. What he really means.

I wanted to see you.

It's amazing how many people say Leon is hard to read. He's always been an open book to Matthew, even when he was snapping and bearing his teeth. All his emotions spilling from the pages.

"Okay." Matthew swallows. "We can talk."

Neither of them does, for a minute. They stare at each other, through each other. Remembering. Committing all the little details to memory. Matthew's palms tingle with the urge to touch.

"You kissed me," Leon finally says, "then said you were leaving."

Yeah, not Matthew's finest moment, if he's being honest. But he didn't know what else to do. There was already so much turmoil around the trade and the shit going on with the Flames.

And then there was Leon. There was no way it wouldn't be gruesome.

"How long did you know?" Leon's voice is rigid, but still calm. "Would you actually have told me, if I hadn't come to see you?"

A year ago, yeah, he would have said it was none of Leon's damn business. Why would he care? But they've come a long way since then. Farther than Matthew could have anticipated. Farther than he realised, until he was staring at Leon's retreating back and silently begging him to turn around, to come back, to stay.

Of course Matthew was going to tell him. He's not an asshole. But that's not what this is about.

"Does it really matter?"

"It matters to me."

"You're not here because you're pissed I didn't tell you sooner."

He knows why Leon's here, and he knows why part of him is stupidly happy Leon is here. Even if nothing will change.

"Did you even think about how I'd--" Leon groans, scratches at the back of his head.

"I did," Matthew says, because it's the truth. Of course he thought about Leon. How could he not?

Leon's gaze drops to the floor, and he grits out, "Fuck. I wanted to do this better."

Matthew can practically hear time ticking by. His heartbeat makes a good clock, thudding away in his chest.

"What is this, Leon? What do you want?"

Dangerous question. Leon could say a million things that would make Matthew's entire resolve waver. If they're not done, if there's even a sliver of hope...

But Leon doesn't say anything. Instead he steps forward, cups Matthew's face between his hands, and kisses him. Not rough or desperate. There's no urgency. It's slow and deep and bruising, and Matthew melts into it because he could never do anything else, and Leon holds tight like he thinks Matthew will disappear if he doesn't.

It's an apology and a confession. It's not the first time they've kissed, but it may be the first time it's been an honest one.

It doesn't last long. Matthew barely has time to taste it, savour it, get a fistful of Leon's hoodie like he's the one threatening to leave. There's a moment as Leon pulls back where Matthew thinks he's imagined it all. Where it feels like something precious is slipping between his fingers.

But no, Leon's still there when he opens his eyes, pressed from hip to chest, noses brushing, beard catching Matthew's freshly shaved cheek. Hot breathes mingle between their mouths.

"Would you stay," Leon whispers, hand sliding back to tangle through Matthew's curls, "if I asked?"

He didn't ask the night Matthew told him. He was too angry, too upset. It took Matthew too long to realise why, to recognise what he was seeing on Leon's face was heartbreak.

But they both know the answer. Still, Matthew closes his eyes and takes the luxury of thinking about it. Considers the possibilities.

"Would you actually ask?" he says.

Leon's fingers curl around the back of Matthew's neck. "If I thought you'd actually say yes."

"But you won't."

"No."

"Because you know I won't."

"I know."

"It's not you."

"I know." Leon steps back only as far as Matthew's grip on his hoodie will allow. "Fuck, you don't make things easy."

Matthew chuckles. "When have I ever? You're not winning any awards either."

Leon scoffs.

"Still," Matthew says. "This is better than what you said to me the first time we kissed."

"What did I say?"

"Pretty sure it was, 'Get the fuck out of my arena.' And something about hoping I lose my next game."

Leon smirks. Doesn't look even a little sorry. "And did you lose your next game?"

"Fuck off." Matthew shoves his shoulder, unable to keep a grin from tugging at his mouth.

He looks away only long enough to straighten out his shirt and run a hand through his hair, but when he looks back, Leon isn't smiling anymore, and his brows are pulled low.

"I really fucked up my timing, huh?"

Matthew winces. "Just a little, yeah." Makes two of us. He's about to say more but Leon waves a hand.

"But you were going to leave anyways, I know. I got it."

"Leon--"

"I'm not here to stop you. I just wanted to... you know."

I don't want this to be over. I want to make this work.

Still an open book.

Matthew angles his head, forces Leon's eyes back to him, staring right into that mystifying grey-blue that always reminded him of a thunderstorm. Everything about Leon kind of reminds him of one. What does that make Matthew? A whirlwind? A hurricane? Storms, both of them.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Matthew steps closer, crowding Leon against the wall this time. They may not have known what they were doing before, but Matthew knows what he wants now.

Leon must have found his answer too, because he kisses Matthew again, no less meaningful than the last, pulling Matthew into his body, into his hands, his mouth. Breathing his air and tasting his tongue, giving and taking until they're light-headed and fitting pieces of each other together.

"You better not be fucking with me, Draisaitl," Matthew pants out once he's got his breath back.

He doesn't get far before he's pulling Leon to him, into his arms, getting the bulk of him in a crushing hug. And Leon hugs him back, a deep laugh rumbling right in Matthew's ear and fingers carving into his back. That's answer enough.

Somehow, Matthew is strong enough to let go. And just like that the world is moving again. He's too aware of everything outside their little alcove, so loud and invasive. He's running out of time. His future's waiting for him down south.

When they step back out into bright lights and bustling strangers, Leon's got his hat and hood back on, keeping his head tilted low. He doesn't stray far, bumping Matthew's arm every so often as he walks with him through luggage check and down towards the gates.

They get to security, and for the first time since the trade decision was made, Matthew hesitates. This is what he wanted. What he still wants. What he needs. The only variable left is...

Leon has stopped a few steps behind, leaving Matthew stranded and alone. He turns back around to find Leon watching him silently. They may as well be the only ones in the world, the way his vision tunnels.

"Well," Matthew says, words clogging his throat. "Guess I'll... see you around. We'll talk. I'll call, or..."

"I'm serious, Matthew." His name always sounds beautiful and dangerous on Leon's tongue. "About this. You and me."

And fuck, Matthew's only human. He drops his bag, marches back over to Leon and tugs him into another kiss. He nearly knocks the hat off Leon's head with the force, crushing his lips and clacking their teeth together. It doesn't even matter if people see them.

One more time. Just one more. Until they can see each other again.

"I know." Matthew shudders against Leon's eager mouth, kissing the smile that breaks out under his lips. "I want to try us too."

He swallows the strangled sound that comes up from Leon's throat, tipsy with it, like he's getting drunk just from this. Is that possible? Fuck knows, but he sure as hell wants to find out one day.

Matthew jerks back, breathless, hot-cheeked, and beaming.

"And I'm gonna be fucking great."

If Leon wasn't slack-jawed, if they weren't the them they are now, he would have chirped Matthew to high hell. If they were on the ice he'd probably put Matthew into the boards just for fun.

But the Leon here and now only scoffs, shaking his head like he's been well and truly defeated. Then he smiles.

"Yeah, I know. So get the fuck out of here and go be great."

[fucklove-4-life]

Billie Bossa Nova

warnings -> smut (mdi), potentially bad spelling

It had just come out of apparently nowhere, and just caught you off guard.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked, pulling back slightly to meet Billie's gaze. Her lips were still swollen from kissing, her eyes dilated and you could see something more intense below them. You aren't sure how to respond immediately.

She's just such a horny fuck.

"Wait, what?" you asked voice shaking a little, heart thudding in your chest.

Billie smiled wryly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face; the tips of her fingers lingered on your cheek. "You heard me," she said in that low, husky tone of voice-a tone that was playful but low. "It could be a lot of fun."

A wave of heat coursed over you, and in the split second, you were divided between that high from the moment and the surprise of her audacious proposal. Your mind went into overdrive-is this really happening?

You swallowed hard as your heart quickened, the weight of the situation setting upon you. Billie's fingers danced softly along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. The idea had scared you, but it also stirred something deeply within-a curiosity, an excitement that you hadn't expected. You couldn't deny the heat between you, the electric charge that seemed to always spark whenever you were together. But this. this was different.

Billie…," you whispered her name, as if to say it would somehow make the image she had just described make sense. Your eyes searched hers, trying to gauge how serious she was, or if this was a momentary whim.

She didn't flinch. Her gaze held steady-Playful but sincere. "What, baby?" she asked softly, the warmth of her breath touching your lips as she leans in closer. "We don't have to. But… Her fingers curl into the back of your neck, tugging you in gently. "if we did, it would just be for us. No one else would ever know. You know how I get on away games."

Again, such a horny fuck.

Her voice was a mix of teasing and promise, and the look that she gave you-looked only at you, as if you were the only person in the world that mattered-made it hard to think straight. The space between them was almost non-existent now; their foreheads were almost touching while her lips were hovering so dangerously close again to yours. The temptation was just too much.

Your heart was racing in your chest, mixed up in a concoction of anxiety and anticipation. "You. you are serious?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, not knowing if he wanted her to confirm or dismiss that notion.

Billie's lips had curled into a half-smile, her head cocked just a bit to the side, her eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint that always managed to buckle your knees. "Why wouldn't I be?" she whispered, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss that left you wanting more. "Think about it-something just for us. A secret just between us."

A secret.

That word set a ripple of excitement through you despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The thought of something that was just yours and hers, shared in the privacy of this moment, was undeniably thrilling. You'd never done anything like that before-never even considered it, really-but with Billie, everything was different. She had a way of making you feel like you could step outside your comfort zone and still be utterly safe with her.

Your fingers unconsciously tightened on her waist, pulling her closer; your body was betraying the uncertainty that still clung in your mind. Billie noticed it, her smile growing wider as she took the opportunity to press her lips against yours again, this time deeper. Her kiss was demanding yet patient, giving you the time to melt into it, letting the hesitation slip away second after second.

As she drew back, her eyes searched yours for the slightest doubt, but you were lost in hers, your head reeling with all the things that could and might happen. "Got my phone right here," she purred, low and sultry, her hand slipping down to the pocket of her basketball shorts. She drew it out incrementally, held it between you like some offering ofseduction.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the device in her hand, your mind racing. It would have been so easy to have said yes-to give into the moment, to let one's self be swept up in the rush of it all. Billie's thumb hovered over the screen as an expression perfected a mix of teasing and serious.

But the gravity of it wasn't lost on you; there was such intimacy and a personal level to it that you couldn't just take back once done. It was a moment where you thought about what it actually meant or how this particular moment tied you both together in a way that was beyond anything else you had shared.

"Bills," you started again, softer this time, sure of yourself. "I… I don't know. What if something happens? What if—"

She cut off gently, her hand coming up to cradle your cheek, grounding you with the warmth of her touch. "Nothing will happen," she said. "I would never let anything bad happen. Not to you. Not to us." Her eyes softened; the playful edge fell away into something more serious, more real. "It's just for us, I promise."

You searched her face, feeling the sincerity behind her words. Billie had always been good at making you feel safe, like no matter what you did or how crazy things got with the media, she'd always be there to catch you if you fell. And right now, looking into her eyes, you wanted to believe that more than anything.

Still, part of you held back. You're not quite sure if it was because of the fear of the unknown or just the intensity of this very moment. "I trust you," you whispered, letting your forehead fall against hers while feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath against your chest. "But this is… new.

Billie's lips pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, her voice tender when she spoke again. "It is new. But that's what makes it fun, right?" She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her thumb brushing your bottom lip gently. "We can stop at any time. If you're not comfortable, we won't do it. I can always delete it.

That's what you needed to hear-reassurance that she wasn't pushing you, that this was completely your choice. And in that moment, with Billie so close, so open, so trusting, you felt the last bit of your doubt melt away.

"Okay," you breathed, the word escaping before you could overthink it. Billie's eyes lit up immediately, and you couldn't help but smile at her excitement. "But only if-

"Only if it's just for us, make a movie with you that we'd have to hide" she finished for you, her lips crashing against yours once more before any further words could escape your lips. The kiss was deeper now, more urgent, as though the dams had burst and all tension finally spilling over between you.

Her hands roamed over your body, tugging you closer until there was no space left separating your bodies anymore. The fast beating of her heart pressed to your chest echoed the rhythms in your chest as her phone clattered to the floor beside you, forgotten in this heat of the moment.

She slowly leaned back, searching your expression for any remnants of hesitation. Satisfied when all was well and truly gone, she sat back and pulled out her phone. Now or never.

───

"Just like that, pretty girl," she muttered, releasing a low moan as her hand clamped down into your hair and you looked up at her iPhone lens facing you. You hummed at the sight of it, your tongue escaping to taste more of her.

You were on your knees as Billie lay upon the couch, her legs spread as you ate her slowly out, just how she liked. Her hands were in your head as you controlled each movement of yours. Every time you glanced up at the camera it was a new level of motivation-the idea of being recorded was exhilarating, and the thought of Billie rewatching the tape when she was alone.

God, the thought alone made your pussy wetter.

You moaned as you looked up at the camera again, a small smile on your lips as you leaned away. At that, billie let out a chuckle. "Dirty fucking girl," she shook her head in mock displeasure.

Your chin was covered with her juices, you were glimmering under the flash of the camera. Billie's free hand leaned in, wiping all over your face before pushing your head back in.

You closed your eyes at the taste, humming once again. God, she tasted heavenly. You started moving your tongue quicker across her wetness, the sound echoing throughout the room as Billie let out another groan.

"Oh fuck, yeah. Keep going just like that, just like that." She complimented, her head falling back on to the couch in pleasure. Her grip on your hair tightens, pressing you farther onto her pussy, another moan leaving her lips.

Your tongue had started flicking her clit fast, her moans and your sloppy sounds echoed in the empty house. A couple of seconds later, she stilled, coming, and the film became shaky before her phone fell onto her stomach.

Billie leaned down and hit you with a kiss, moaning slightly at the taste of her on your tongue. "Was so good, baby," she mumbled against your lips before cuddling up to you and falling asleep.

[ironychan]

Today's explorations brought us a couple of new birds. The first one was only today on a technicality, because it was a very wee hour indeed when Valdez let herself into our tent and woke me up to tell me there was a really weird animal outside and she knew I'd want to see it. Kibwana refused to get up, but Reynolds and I followed her to an old log, where we found this:

It looks something like a cross between a crane, a grey owl, and an anteater. It and its fluffier offspring were crouched by the log, tilting their heads back and forth to listen, and then they'd lick out with long tongues to catch insects. They didn't seem to need to open their beaks to do this, and I'm not actually sure they could open - I never saw them do so. If the adult needed to pull more of the log apart, it would use the four-inch blunt talon on the end of each otherwise useless wing.

Reynolds says the way the feathers fan out around each eye is actually an adaptation for hearing - it funnels sound into the ears like a radio dish. The adult bird was clearly aware of us and looked directly at us several times, but since we weren't coming any closer it didn't seem bothered as long as we didn't make any sudden movements. Eventually it got its fill of ants and wandered off.

We asked Valdez what she was doing so far from our campsite in the middle of the night. She said she wanted to get further from the fire (which we leave smoldering so the wildlife won't get too nosy) in order to look at the stars. Apparently she's been mapping them. She's even invented several constellations based on tools and animals. I guess we all have our little keep-sane projects.

She was telling me more about it around lunchtime, while the two of us were scrounging for edible plant material, when we got today's second bird. This one was a bastard.

It was very tiny, mostly black on top with an ochre-coloured underside patterned with black v's, and a white mark on the back of its neck. It was also very round with tiny feet and absolutely adorable. I couldn't believe how lucky I was when it landed on my arm and put its beak right up against my skin. I figured it was licking up sweat for salt or something. I was wrong.

After a second or two I realized a bead of blood was forming where it touched me, and when I took a closer look I saw that it actually had a very long, needle-like upper beak that had gone right into my skin without me even feeling it, and a very short lower beak that it opened to let its little tongue lap up the blood. I'm sure I took this in for just a split second, but it felt like I stared at for an hour, unable to move. The image is burned into my retinas. I keep seeing it when I close my eyes.

I hollered and shook it off me, and it flew away. Boonmee put some alcohol on the puncture and told me to watch it carefully for signs of infection. Other than that there's not a lot I can do but wait and see how many diseases the little bugger gave me.

We took several suggestions for the name of the vampire bird, but seem to have settled on Reynolds', which was White-Naped Syrinx. 'Syrinx' is a character from Greek mythology and also the root word from which we get 'syringe'. It is also apparently the word for a bird's voice box. This would be much more interesting to me if I didn't have a hole in my arm.

Somebody suggested calling the anteater bird an owlvark, but Vandebeek said 'aardvark' means 'earth pig' in Dutch, so a more accurate name would be 'aarduil'. When somebody writes a bestiary for this future, we now know what the first page will be.

[callmesel]

Am I the only one who wants like a survival game with percy as the mc?

Like, I think he would survive and do pretty good, like, I think he would win.

I don't know how to like explain it but I kkep having this mental image of Percy hiding in the forest and shooting arrows at the other contestants.

I just have a general idea of this in my head.

the wizarding world makes this game every 20 years or so, it's for entertament but it comes from a tradition of sacrifices. It's mainly in wizarding Europe and they select 5 contestant from each country as a "team" but they don't really have to play like one, they are a team for their country but can make alliances with other countries. They can team with whoever they want but the public will see it and they can see them as a traitor to their country or something. In my head, there is a floating device that follows each contestant until their death, following everything they're doing. Maybe this is a rip off of hunger games but there isn't any district nor a organization whose doing it, like, the contestants are chosen by a magic book that the bc wizarding society created, or something like that.

They cannot bring their wand but they can make their own wand inside the arena if they want. The area is like a giant forest full of creatures, becuase they also play for some reason but they are more sacrifices that willing contestants. Who are they sacrificing them for? Idk. Merlin? To keep the magic society going becuase they feed of young souls of wizards and witches?

I would like that England's team were the golden trio, but i think they deserved a break. So maybe Percy is in there with the twins and other two randoms. That would be a fun dynamic.

There is a post floating around about a survival game with just the weasley where it said that Percy would sure win and that his siblings would gang up on him so the others have a higher chance of survive. And that probably Percy would hunt one by one, except Ginny because he has a soft spot and that is why Ginny would win. If I remember correctly it also talked about each of the siblings traits but I just focused on Percy, what a suprise.

But anyway, I think that getting the twins involved in this wold be really fun, all three of them are really good at strategizing, the twins because they have to be good at planning ahead to pull those pranks and Percy because he thinks ahead of everyone and seems as someone who is alwasy prepare for anything tbh. The other teammates could be use for plot convenience, maybe they are older than any of them and are scare of death so they make agreements with other teams to not kill them and they would let them known essencial info about the other teammates or something like that of bride them with materials.

It can also use af love interesed if you want, like idk, or like someone, it doesn't matter if the weasleys or the extras and there is a conflict in the team that will make them separeted. It would be fun if the twins and Percy would be splitting and then they all regret and can't sleep knowing that they may just sentence their brother to death.

I feel that Percy would regret it faster, as it's his little brothers who we are talking about. He loves them even if they annoy him. The twins would really mind until they idk, discover that Percy got badly injured.

I also think that the twins are really handy, they have created prototypes products for their joke shop. I think that they have knowledge to make things from scratch. Percy would have a harder time but he would be find. I think he knows how to use different weapons but he hasn't really properly used them until know.

I want them to be about to win but in a last minute thing Fred gets injure and they don't get to win or something. Idk but I want someone dead and so there is a revenge saga and there is a murder spree and they win, but at what cost.

Or make just one of them win.

Either way, someone important to the winner has to die. Death makes it so much more fun.