#and now there's a new one for the collection

[itneverendshere]

I love bartender!reader!!!!!! She seems so sweet and collected...but I was wondering if she's got a little fire in her? Maybe they're at a party together and she gets jealous......which is new because she's usually the calm one out of her and rafe. Hope you're doing great <3

loved writing this bc you're so right!!! it's just so not like her to lose her temper over trivial things but oh🫣 hope you're doing just a great as well💖

i'm usually so unproblematic - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut.

You’re sitting in Rafe’s truck, staring out at the huge house in front of you, stomach in knots. It’s a mansion, more like.

Kook house. Kook party. Rich people everywhere. You can already hear the distant thrum of music, even from inside the car, bass-heavy, vibrating through the seats.

You chew your bottom lip and glance over at Rafe. He’s calm, casually messing with the radio, probably about to put on those trashy songs he loves that you absolutely hate but pretend to like because you love him.

It's insane how easy it is for him to just... be cool about this. But you?

You’re not so sure.

"This was a bad idea," you mumble, half-joking but also half-serious.

Rafe turns to you, one eyebrow raised, lips pulling into a crooked smile. “Nervous?”

You give him a look. “Obviously. I’m not...I don’t do these things. I don’t know these people.”

You’ve been with Rafe for almost a year now, give or take. Said your I love yous, met each other’s families. Hell, you’ve spent more time at Tannyhill than at your own place lately, and you’ve grown used to Rafe’s kook side. His friends, though? These parties? A whole other beast.

“I already met Topper. Isn’t that enough?”

He laughs under his breath, reaching over to take your hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s Kelce, and a few other people. No big deal.”

No big deal, you think. Easy for him to say when he’s been around these people his whole life. For you, being a pogue, working extra shifts at the country club just to pay rent… yeah, this is a little different.

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. It’s just— I’m out of my element.”

He squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re with me. That’s all that matters.” 

You’re with Rafe. The Rafe who loves you, who can’t keep his hands off you even when you’re just watching movies. The Rafe who gets jealous over dumb things, like if you laugh too hard at one of JJ’s jokes, even though he’s just your seventeen-year-old neighbor. The Rafe who texts you goodnight, even when you’re in the same room, because he’s a sap and you secretly love it.

“Alright, let’s go,” you agree, trying to hype yourself up.

Rafe smiles, and then he’s out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, like a perfect gentleman. You roll your eyes but step out, the night air brushing your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure how to dress for this party, so you chose to wear something…safe. A pretty red top you only used on special occasions and your best demim skirt. It wasn’t exactly kook material but at least you weren’t in your worn-out shorts and usual crop top or in your work uniform.

The moment you walk inside, though, it’s like stepping into a different world. The house is packed. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, hanging by the pool. Everything’s pristine and polished, and you feel their eyes on you the second you walk in.

Rafe wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Want a drink?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the music.

You nod, trying not to let the fact that people are definitely staring at you freak you out. You’re not a Kook. You’re his girl, though, and you know how much that pisses some of them off.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a drink in hand, and Kelce’s talking your ear off about something you don’t really understand. Golf. You smile and nod along, doing your best to keep up, but the truth is, you’re not listening. You’re too busy watching the crowd, still feeling like you don’t fit in. Like you never really will.

That’s when you notice her. Tall. Pretty, in that rich, polished way that’s almost too perfect. And she’s glaring. Right. At. You.

Your stomach drops, and you tear your eyes away, sipping your drink to cover the dread that suddenly hits you. You don’t know who she is, but she’s been staring at you since you walked in, and it’s starting to mess with your head. Was there something on your face? Had you met before at the club? Maybe she didn't like your drinks.

“Baby, you okay?” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Yeah, fine,” you lie, forcing a smile. He frowns slightly but doesn’t push it. Kelce’s still talking, oblivious.

You try to ignore it, but as the night goes on, she keeps popping up. Always staring. Always with that look crazied in her eyes. Like she could kill you. You’ve had a couple drinks by now, and your nerves are turning into a kind of irritation.

Finally, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a break from the overwhelming feeling of being watched. You lock the door behind you, exhaling slowly as you stare at your reflection. Were you seeing things? Overreacting? Surely, Rafe or Kelce would’ve noticed as well, right? Or maybe they were used to this. 

I’m just overthinking it, you tell yourself. I’m fine. She’s just..

But when you open the door to leave, she’s there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at you with that same stupid look, like you personally offended her by daring to exist. 

“Can I help you?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts her head, giving you the most disgusted once-over you’ve ever seen in your life. “You’re Rafe’s new thing, huh?”

What? You’ve had just enough to drink that your filter is basically nonexistent now. You blink, confusion killing the buzz in your head. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “But I know you.”

You laugh awkwardly, nothing about this is funny. “Okay? So what’s your problem?”

Her eyes narrow, lips tinted pink curling. Oh, she’s mad now. She steps up closer to you, practically chest-to-chest. “My problem is that I don’t get why someone like you is with Rafe. He used to have a certain standard.”

Oh.

You almost laugh again because...wow. Really? That’s what this is about? “Okay, Regina George,” you mutter under your breath. You’re not in the mood for this. You tilt your head, giving her your best innocent smile.  “And who are you?”

“Sophie. I dated Rafe for two years, before you, obviously,” she says, like that’s supposed to mean something. You didn’t know him back then, you hadn’t even spoken a word to him. "Guess he didn’t mention me."

His ex. Of course. Of course she’s his ex. 

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Nope, pretty sure he forgot to bring you up.”

You feel a little sting of jealousy in your chest, but you try to swallow it down. You’re not about to let this girl get under your skin. You’re better than that. You didn’t know him, it’s fine.

 “I’m not really interested in whatever this is.” You move to step around her, but she blocks your path.

“Just a word of advice,” she grits out, like you’ve personally offended her, “He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around for long. Especially not with girls like you.”

That does it. The alcohol, the nerves, the whole night—you’re seconds away from losing it. “What the hell is your problem?” you snap, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

“Dirty pogues who think—”

"Okay. I’m not gonna play whatever this is with you," you interrupt her, gesturing between the two of you, stepping forward so you’re toe-to-toe with her now. "If he wanted to be with a walking Vineyard Vines ad, he would be. But he’s not. He’s with me."

“You really think you’re different?” she spits, voice laced with venom. "Like you're special?"

Your laugh comes out sharp, more of a bark. “If you were so special, you wouldn’t be here, playing guard dog outside the bathroom. Move."

“Or what?” she challenges, her lips curling in that same superior smirk that makes your blood boil. “What are you gonna do, pogue?”

That’s it. You feel the fire flare up in your chest. Screw this girl. Your hands ball into fists, and you’re half a second from knocking that smug look right off her face when Topper steps in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not turn this into Jerry Springer, alright?" He holds up his hands like he’s breaking up a fight at a middle school dance. You’re staring daggers at Sophie, and she’s glaring right back, but his hands are still up, a peacekeeper grin plastered across his face as he looks between the two of you. “Let’s not do this,” his eyes landing on Sophie. “C’mon, Soph, no need for the drama, yeah?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and stepping back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever, Topper.

He watches her go before turning back to you, eyebrows raised. “You good?”

You nod, still fuming, but grateful he stepped in when he did. "Yeah. Thanks."

You let him take you away because if he doesn’t, you're going to follow her and throw a drink in her face or do something worse. You feel like you could punch her right in her perfect, stuck-up face. 

He leads you back to where Rafe is, and you’re too upset to even look at him. His hands are on you the second you’re close, pulling you to him like he can tell something’s off. "Baby," his lips brush against your temple. "What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to kill someone."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not without completely blowing up.

Rafe’s brow furrows, his eyes darting between you and Topper. “What the hell happened?” he asks again, more forceful this time.

Topper gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, just shrugs. “Nothing, man. Just some girl drama. Don’t worry about it.”

Girl drama your ass.

He turns to you, and suddenly, he’s all over you, his hands on your waist, the other settling on the back of your head, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You pull away, shaking your head, still too mad to speak.

He follows, his hands reaching for yours. “Hey, c’mon.”

Finally, you look at him. Really look at him. And the second you see his face, that stupid, worried puppy-dog expression, the anger starts to melt away.

“I’m mad,” you admit, “I got jealous. Your ex’s a bitch.”

Rafe blinks, and then, to your surprise, he laughs. A real, genuine laugh. You glare at him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not,” he says, quickly sobering, though there’s still a stupid smirk at his lips. “I just, I’ve never seen you jealous before.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “I’m serious, Rafe. She was awful.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I don’t care about her. At all. I care about you.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is softening. “She said you wouldn’t stick around.”

Rafe’s smile fades, and he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

"She’s a psycho.”

Rafe’s expression changes, his frown deepening. "Sophie?"

"Yeah," you snap, because you hate the sound of her name coming out of his lips, "Sophie. Called me a dirty pogue, which—real original.”

“She what?” Rafe’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you see a flash of that old Rafe—the one who’d get into fights at the drop of a hat. "I’ll handle it.”

You’ve seen it before—his protective streak, the one that could turn dangerous if he wasn’t careful. Part of you loves it, the way he’d go to war for you without even blinking. But another part of you hates that you have so much power over him.

But right now, you’re still too mad to care about him handling anything. You push past him, heading for the exit, needing air, needing space. Everything inside you is on fire, and all you can think is that you need to get out. Anything but this house full of people who make you feel like you’re just dirt. People like her. You can’t stop hearing her nasal voice in your head, those snide comments digging into you like little needles, bringing up that same old insecurity.

“Baby, hold on,” His voice is behind you, and his hand is instantly catching yours, tugging you back before you can make it to the door.

You spin around, already ready to snap, but then you see his face—eyes wide, brow furrowed like he’s genuinely freaked out that you’re upset. “Don’t listen to her, she’s full of shit.”

You stare at him, your chest tight and aching, because yeah, you know she’s full of it, but it still got to you. It still hurt. “It just…” You swallow hard, trying to find the right words, even though everything feels like a mess. “It got in my head, Rafe. Like, I hate that she said that. I’m so sick of people looking at me like I don’t belong just because I’m not—”

He cuts you off, stepping closer, and before you can even finish the thought, he's dragging you into him. “You belong with me. That’s all that matters.”

You let out a breath, but you’re still worked up, “But it’s like—I don’t need some stuck-up kook girl who thinks she’s better than me telling me I don’t fit in. I know I’m not like them, but she said it like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I’m just some—”

Rafe’s lips are on yours before you can finish. He only pecks you, but it’s enough to shut you up, to make your brain go silent for a second. “Stop,” his voice is almost pleading. “Stop thinking like that. I love you, okay? I don’t care what anyone else says.”

You blink up at him, you want to stay mad, but also want to let it go because he’s right here, so close, and he’s got that look on his face that makes your heart flip. “You don’t get it.”

He pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips like he can’t stand to have any space between you. “Then tell me,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Tell me why you’re letting her get in your head.”

You huff, but the fight in you is starting to die out. “Because she made me feel like I’m less.”

He tilts your head back just enough to look at you, “That’s bullshit,” his fingers are gentle as they trail up your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You feel a little stupid for letting that girl get to you in the first place. But damn it, you’ve heard it before—from other people, from yourself—that nagging voice that says you’re not enough.

“I know.” you mumble though you’re still a little embarrassed.

Rafe smiles then, that sweet smile he only ever gives you, and he presses his lips to your forehead. “Good,” he says, tugging you even closer, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Because I’m obsessed with you, and I don’t care what her or anyone else says.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting yourself relax in his arms. “You’re obsessed with me?” you tease, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, his hands sliding up your back, one hand slipping down to squeeze your ass, his thumb sliding just under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t keep my hands off you. You know that. It’s becoming a real problem.”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but you don’t stop the giggle from bubbling out. The way he’s looking at you right now, like he can’t even think straight because you’re standing in front of him—it drives you up the walls. Then he leans down and kisses you again, and this time it’s not...casual. His lips move against yours like he’s trying to take every thought in your head, and it’s working. Your hands slide up, wrapping around his neck as his tongue brushes against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. 

He grips you harder, lips moving to brush against your ear, “You’re mine, baby and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

That hits you, hard, like a truth he always reassures you off but still feels brand new when he does say it. Everything that pissed you off, all the crap Sophie said, it doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Stop making me horny,” You whine out, tugging at his shirt and pulling him closer. You can feel his grin against your skin as he leans in, biting your lip playfully before kissing you again, you know he’s enjoying teasing you. His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass again, making you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him smirk.

“I like you horny.”

You’re in the middle of this stupid party, surrounded by people who probably hate you for breathing, but all you can think about is how much you want him right now. His lips move over yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’re more than happy to let him. It’s messy, all tongues and spit, but you don’t care. You love how rough and needy he is, how he groans into your mouth like he’s been dying to kiss you all night. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy, the room spinning, and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or him—or both.

You tug at his shirt, frustrated with how much fabric is in the way, and he chuckles against your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands slide down up to your neck, tightening just enough around your throat, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, making him grin.

“You're just so—” his lips brush over your cheek, then down to your bottom lip, kissing and biting just hard enough to make you squirm, "Beautiful, aren't you?"

You’re normally not one for pda, not at all. The idea of people watching, of eyes on you while you're with someone, always made your skin crawl. But when Rafe kisses you like this? When he’s got his hands on you? God, your brain just goes dumb, and every ounce of self-consciousness fizzes out. It's embarrassing, almost. All you can think about is the way he’s making you feel, the way he’s holding you against him, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’re so not this person, not the girl who makes out with her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded room.

But with Rafe? You can’t even think straight. 

His hands slide under your skirt for the millionth time, blunt fingernails gripping your plushy thighs, and you nearly whine, “Rafe,” you breathe, trying to pull away long enough to think properly, but he just kisses you harder, more insistent. “Baby, stop,” you manage to whisper, though you don’t mean it at all.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes all dark, his breath hot against your lips. “You want me to stop?” he teases, his hands still tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that makes your knees go weak.

You shake your head, biting your lip, and his grin widens. “Didn’t think so,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself, and honestly? Neither can you. You’re so turned on, it’s ridiculous. 

“I—fuck,” you pant, trying to get the words out between kisses, but he’s relentless, pressing you back against a wall, his lips latching on to your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin “Baby, please—”

He groans against your neck, one hand sliding up under your top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your waist, and you swear you’re about to lose it. “Please what, hmm?”

You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but you’re way past that now. All you can think about is how much you need him. Right now. Anywhere but here.

“Take me to the truck,” you nearly beg him, just loud enough for him to hear, but you know he catches it because he pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide.

He smirks, running his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing. “Yeah? You need me that bad?”

You nod, not even caring how desperate you sound. “Please.” Your voice cracks a little on the last word, but you don’t care anymore.

You need him, and you need him now.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀

Forty minute later, the air inside the truck reeks of sex.

You’re breathless, flushed all over, and your legs feel like jelly. Rafe’s next to you, grinning like an idiot already fixing his jeans like he’s not still catching his breath. It’s written all over you—the tousled hair, the smudged lipstick, the way your top is barely hanging on properly as you try to straighten it out, the stickiness you can still feel between your legs, on your panties.

You feel filthy.

You bite back a smile as you adjust your skirt, your body still recovering from the way he had your face pressed against the seat.  

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to get it together, your fingers fumbling to fix your bra strap, “I feel like my makeup’s a mess.”

He just chuckles, leaning back in his seat with that cocky look that made you want to jump him in the first place, “You look perfect,” he says, eyeing you up and down like he’s ready to go another round.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. “Yeah, well, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

He laughs, reaching over to pull you close, his lips pecking your hair, “Worth it.”

You’re just about to leave the truck when the door opens, and as you both step out, you catch sight of Sophie and her friends walking past. Perfect timing. Of course.

She’s glaring—hard—and her friends are snickering, whispering to each other like they’ve just seen something they shouldn't. Sophie’s nose wrinkles as her gaze flicks between you and Rafe, her expression twisting into disgust like you’re both some kind of wild animals who just rolled around in the mud.

But you? You feel smug.

You meet her stare for a second too long, the corner of your mouth lifting in the tiniest, most satisfied smirk. You know she knows exactly what just happened in that truck, and it’s killing her. She’s practically seething, her friends muttering furiously under their breath as they walk by, noses in the air.

Rafe doesn’t even glances their way—his fingers hook into one of the belt loops of your skirt, tugging you back to him with just enough force to make you stumble slightly into his built chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is.

“Thirty more minutes,” he murmurs against your cheek, planting a kiss there, casual but so possessive, his lips lingering just long enough to make your stomach shake with butterflies again, "And I'm taking you home."

And that’s what makes it even sweeter.

[jymwahuwu]

under the water - yandere! Kinich x you

note: without proofreading, i had to go to sleep after writing this. a story about being misunderstood by darling.

cw: yandere, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome (a little bit)

One day, two days… already two weeks? A life that has been distorted.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping yourself in a blanket and sobbing. That Saurian Hunter locked you in this cobin. He gets up on time every morning (he sleeps on the cold wooden floor, leaving the bed for you), prepares breakfast and hunting traps and tools, and bickers with his dragon Ajaw. "Wait for me at home." He ordered dryly. Kinich usually brings you a fresh, dewy flower as a gift just like his alcoholic father. Sometimes, it's flowers imported from Fontaine, a romantic land surrounded by floral fragrance and water.

It was one of the few ways Kinich had learned to express love, even though he loathed him deep down in his soul.

You shouldn't be so nice to him and treat him as a friend in the past. Your eyes were swollen, and you shook the chain on your calf - it was a modified hunting equipment.

"Go away…! I don't want to see you!"

Now look what trap you have fallen into.

He placed some books and food in the hut for you. Not much, just enough for one day. Not only that, toys collected from the market. Furry doll. A deck of TCG cards that can auto-fight (you don’t know how this works, but you can play alone).

Your entertainment today is a new book. After reading a few chapters of the new book, the shadow of dusk diffuses into the house through the window. You sulked, your stomach inevitably growling. Kinich usually goes home by this time. Why hasn't he come back yet…?

Stars flow in the false night sky. Worry and panic raced through your stomach.

What happened to him? Was he… injured? Then…then what should you do? No one knows you're here. No one will serve you food. He locked you here. You will rot in the sun and disappear silently - you -

"I'm sorry I came home late," the familiar demon whispered. Kinich noticed tears streaming down your face, but you still glared at him with gritted teeth. Then you realize that in his arms is a baby Koholasaurus. Their tails were injured and smelled of blood. The hunter is catching them to prevent them from moving.

Your heart is broken, anger shaking in your hands. "What happened to you? They are still cubs! Are you heartless? Do you even bring them back to torture?" Kinich did not explain, but just put the baby dragon on the table aside, turned around and rummaged through the items. He quickly took out a bottle of wound medicine and applied it to the baby dragon.

"I didn't." He began to explain while applying the medicine. "I was not the one who hunted them. Mualani found their parents tortured by a few cruel people in the wild. Only the baby was left. She asked me if she could take the cub home and take care of it for a few months."

"…Huh?" You were stunned. Your insides screamed that it was just an excuse, and that you had the right to be mad at him, but… "I-I'm sorry, I misunderstood you."

"Um, it's okay." Kinich responded simply, bandaging the baby dragon. They rubbed the backs of his hands like clingy puppies.

You change the subject. "Can they… touch the water?"

"Of course. Mualani told me there was no problem and they actually healed faster in the water."

You turn around. With your heart beating fast, you held the plate in your hands and poured the warm water into the bathtub. The Koholasaurus cub was soaking in it, swimming a few more steps, and moaning happily. You couldn't help but smile.

You glanced sideways at Kinich. He doesn't seem to be as bad as you thought…?

That night, Kinich was spreading sheets on the floor in preparation for sleep. In the dark night, you muster up the courage to ask. "Can you come up and sleep with me? The floor is a little cold. I don't mean anything else… I just…"

Kinich was silent for a moment, then got into your bed. Gradually, his cold arms warmed up and wrapped around your waist.

[valeriehalla]

at this point I just categorically have 90,000,000 times more fun on tumblr than the smoldering wreckage of twitter. like, twitter was already becoming kind of a drag for me before the hostile takeover, and now that cohost (hallowed be her name) is shutting down, it's like, well—i guess we doin’ tumbls again!! “it’s obviously the best one”

honestly, while the queer internet may never recover from the sucking wound that was and is tumblr’s NSFW ban—at least not as long as the united states of america continues to fail to take antitrust action against apple, google, and the payment processors collectively serving as the final boss of what’s allowed to be posted where on the internet—i’m starting to feel like tumblr is moving back into position as The Best Site For Artists regardless. my thoughts on this are half-formed, but it’s like this:

every other social media platform is either 1. tiktok, 2. hyper-obscure, or 3. slow-motion self-destructing to a degree way beyond even what tumblr inflicted upon itself in 2018. this is not a new sentiment i don’t think.

i think the fact that tumblr is unable to capture the literal billions of users every other platform is chasing makes it arguably a lot nicer for the users who are here. there is no way for an application to achieve a tiktok-sized install base that isn’t just naked manipulation and skinnerboxing. tumblr’s leadership seems either too incompetent to pull it off or too wise to try, and so we have what is effectively the last microblogging platform on the internet that’s actually still usable for microblogging.

also, a smaller-but-not-too-small audience is more engaged with what they’re seeing. simple as. a thousand notes on tumblr means more than a million views on tiktok and it always will.

of course, i am in fact making a living off of sexually-explicit art right now, and so tumblr cannot be my One Platform. i get away with it because the art is in service of a story hosted off-site, and so i never need to post The Whole Pussy on here; if i was exclusively an illustrator i’d be even less thrilled with the current state of things than i already ain’t. i guess this is just a testament to how truly bad The State Of Things has gotten, though. congratulations, tumblr: you really did win by doing absolutely nothing.

[tojisun]

(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: Sleeping beauty

Word count: 4094

Summary: In this chapter, Y/N wakes up after three and a half days of sleep, prompting concern from the pack, especially Chan and Changbin's mom. While the boys handle rehearsals, she cares for Y/N, ensuring she feels safe and nourished. When Chan decides to stay with Y/N, they discover her scent has returned, signaling her recovery. Y/N feels guilty about her omega duties, but the boys reassure her that her well-being comes first, leaving her eager to connect with her new family.

Y/N slept for an impressive three and a half days, a fact that didn't surprise anyone, especially Chan. Omegas usually 'hybernate' whenever they did something that tired their bodies. It was normal for them to go to sleep for days.

Day One:

On the first morning of her extended nap, the boys rose early at 6 AM, gathering their things for rehearsals. Before they left, they waited and made sure Changbin's mom had arrived safely before they could leave for work.

"Hey, Ma!" Changbin greeted his mother with a respectful bow before pulling her into a warm embrace.

"Hello, baby! How are you? How are the boys?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she stepped into the house.

"We're all doing well, thanks to you for helping us out," Changbin replied, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek as he led her into the living room where the rest of the boys were lounging.

"You don't have to thank me, dear. I'm just so excited to meet her!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm filling the room.

"Mama Bin!" Lee Know jumped up from the couch, his smile brightening at the sight of her. "Thank you so much for doing this!"

"Oh, Lee Know! You all really don't have to thank me!" She beamed, wrapping him in a quick hug. She went around the room greeting each member that was present before she realised one was missing, "How have you all been? Where's Chan?"

Just then, Chan emerged from upstairs, his hair tousled and a sleep-deprived smile on his face.

"Did you give her her medicine?" I.N asked, noticing Chan's entrance with a raised brow.

"Yes, my love—oh! Hey, Mama Bin!" Chan replied, visibly relaxing as he spotted her.

"Christopher!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy.

"How's my favorite son-in-law doing?" she teased, causing the rest of the pack to shout a collective "Hey!" in playful protest.

Chan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Just trying to survive, honestly," he admitted, and they all chuckled.

"How are you? Did you get here safely?" Chan asked, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

"Yes, I did, love! Where's the new addition to the pack? Let me see her," Changbin's mom said, placing her bag on the counter and looking around expectantly.

"She's asleep right now. She might be out for the next couple of days, so she won't be any trouble, honestly," Changbin explained, while Han set out breakfast for her on the table.

"Thank you, my dear," she said, her attention briefly shifting to Han before returning to Changbin. "Why is she going to be asleep for so long?" A frown crossed her face as she picked up a mug.

"She was a ring omega," Changbin admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

"Oh dear!" she gasped, placing the mug down with concern. "Is she okay? Is she in a subdrop? Oh, the poor little thing!" Her frown deepened, making Chan feel more confident about leaving Y/N with Changbin's mom, given how delicate and caring she already was.

"She's not fully in a subdrop; she's just really quiet and doesn't have a scent at the moment. She's also quite small for her size," Changbin huffed, glancing around for support from the group.

"Yeah, but the point is," Lee Know interjected, "we need you to just watch her and feed her lunch and dinner if we're not home early today. She might be fussy at first, but she's a really good girl. She'll listen to you."

"I already told her you're coming, and I gave her her medicine. She took her pills, but for lunch, just give her her pills again, and I'll apply her cream at night. She doesn't really like people touching her," Chan added, looking serious.

"Alright, alright. I've got this! You guys don't worry about me. I've been a mom for years; I can handle this without a hitch. Just get to work before you're late!" Changbin's mom said, playfully shooing them off.

"Please call us if she needs any of us," Felix said softly, guilt weighing heavily on him. He wanted so badly to crawl into bed with Y/N and nestle beside her, but he knew they couldn't do that.

"Don't worry, Felix, I will. I promise," she assured him, her heart warmed by his concern as the boys headed out.

Once they left, she decided to check on Y/N, wanting to make sure she was doing alright. Climbing the stairs, she moved quietly, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps. As she approached Felix's room, she hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering with excitement and maternal instinct. Gently pushing the door open, she peered inside.

There, in the center of Felix's cozy nest, Y/N lay peacefully asleep, her hair splayed like a halo around her. She was completely enveloped in the soft blankets, looking utterly serene. The sight made Changbin's mom smile. "You are so gorgeous," she whispered, admiration lacing her voice.

Stepping closer, she adjusted the pillow beneath Y/N's head, ensuring it was positioned perfectly so that she wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck. Then, she dimmed the lights, casting a warm, inviting glow that enveloped the room. It was a small gesture, but she hoped it would make Y/N's rest even more comfortable.

Satisfied, she quietly closed the door and made her way downstairs, her mind already shifting to the next task at hand: cooking. As an alpha, she had always been more comfortable with physical tasks than culinary ones, often struggling in the kitchen compared to the innate skills many omegas possessed. Nevertheless, she approached the kitchen with determination.

Gathering ingredients, she decided to make a comforting pasta dish, knowing it would be filling and warm. As she chopped vegetables and stirred the sauce, the familiar rhythm of cooking began to calm her. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere.

As the pasta boiled, she took a moment to pause, leaning against the counter. A sense of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered times when she had cooked for Changbin and his lovers, their laughter echoing around the house. She chuckled softly, recalling a particularly chaotic dinner where Felix had accidentally spilled sauce all over himself, earning him playful teasing from the others.

With the pasta nearly ready, she turned her attention to the big-screen TV in the living room. Flipping through channels, she settled on a light-hearted cooking show, letting it play in the background. The host's cheerful banter and culinary tips provided a soothing soundtrack as she worked, and she found herself laughing at their antics. It reminded her of the joy of cooking—not just the food, but the memories made around the table.

Once the meal was ready, she plated the pasta, garnishing it with fresh basil and a sprinkle of parmesan. The vibrant colors and inviting scents brought a smile to her face. Just as she was finishing up, she heard a soft sound from upstairs—Y/N stirring in her sleep.

"Maybe I should prepare something for her too," she thought. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to whip up a small serving of pasta for Y/N, wanting to ensure she felt cared for and welcomed.

With Y/N's plate set aside, she finally allowed herself to sit down at the table, enjoying the warm food and the satisfaction of having created something special. As she ate, her thoughts drifted to Y/N—wondering about her past and what brought her to Felix and their pack. She hoped Y/N would feel safe and loved here, just as Changbin had always made her feel.

After finishing her meal, she decided to tidy up the kitchen. As she washed the dishes, she caught sight of the clock and realized time was slipping away. "I should check on Y/N again," she said to herself, drying her hands and moving back upstairs.

Entering Felix's room once more, she found Y/N had shifted, her face now slightly illuminated by the soft light. She looked so peaceful, and a wave of affection washed over Changbin's mom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took a moment to simply watch her, feeling the warmth of her new role in this little family.

She leaned down to brush a stray hair from Y/N's forehead, feeling a protective instinct swell within her. "You're part of our family now."

With a final glance, she quietly left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

When 3:00 PM arrived, Changbin's mom made her way upstairs, her heart full of care for the young omega resting  She gently opened the door and approached the bed, where Y/N lay completely passed out, her chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm.

"Y/N?" she called softly, shaking her gently but carefully, aware of the girl's sensitivity to touch. "Y/N, you have to wake up so you can eat a bit and take your pills." She kept her tone soothing, not wanting to startle her.

After a moment of silence, she called out again, a little louder this time. "Y/N?" This time, the sound stirred Y/N from her deep slumber, a soft groan escaping her lips.

"Hmm?" Y/N mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. Panic flickered across her face when she saw a stranger hovering nearby. Still heavy with sleep, she didn't have the energy to react.

"Hey, I'm Changbin's mom," she said with a warm smile, hoping to put Y/N at ease. "You need to eat something before you can go back to sleep."

"I don't wanna; I wanna sleep," Y/N groaned, her frustration evident as she rubbed her eyes. Her body ached, and her eyelids felt like lead weights, the side effects of both the medication and her omega powers beginning to settle in.

"I know you don't want to, pup, but you need food. Otherwise, your body won't function properly," Changbin's mom explained gently, trying to convey the importance of nourishment.

"Where's Channie?" Y/N asked, her irritation bubbling under the surface, desperate to return to her dreams.

"They all went to work, but they'll be back soon. Here, eat this for now." With that, she offered Y/N a small bowl of pasta, watching closely as Y/N hesitantly took a bite. She could tell the girl was hungry, despite her complaints. Y/N occasionally drifted off mid-bite, only to wake up moments later, groggy yet determined to finish.

"You must be so exhausted, pup," she cooed, her heart swelling with affection as Y/N swallowed her pills and leaned back against the pillows, a soft hum escaping her lips.

"I'll be back around dinner, okay?" Changbin's mom said, watching as Y/N's eyes fluttered shut once more, the exhaustion pulling her under like a gentle tide. Satisfied that she had taken care of her, Changbin's mom quietly closed the door behind her and made her way downstairs.

In the kitchen, she set about washing the dishes, the rhythmic sound of water splashing against porcelain a calming backdrop. After finishing, she settled down in the living room, turning on the TV to a light-hearted show. The laughter and chatter from the screen filled the space, as she waited for dinner time.

As the hours passed, she found herself occasionally glancing upstairs, wondering how Y/N was doing. The young omega was a delicate flower, and Changbin's mom felt a protective urge swell within her. She wanted to make sure Y/N felt safe and loved.

When dinner time rolled around, she prepared a warm, hearty meal, her thoughts focused on Y/N's needs. After everything was set, she returned to the room, softly knocking before entering. Y/N stirred, her eyes slowly opening as if awakening from a long dream.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. It's time for dinner," Changbin's mom said gently, placing the food on the bedside table.

Y/N groaned softly, but the enticing aroma of the meal seemed to pull her from her drowsiness. "Do I have to?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, you do, Just a little more, and then you can sleep again," Changbin's mom encouraged, knowing how important it was for Y/N to stay nourished.

As Y/N sat up slowly, she took a few bites, the food seemingly recharging her. Each spoonful was met with a small smile from Changbin's mom, who felt a sense of joy at seeing Y/N eat.

After finishing her meal and taking her evening pills, Y/N leaned back against the pillows, looking more comfortable yet still weary. "Are the boys coming?" she said softly, her eyes pleading.

"Of course. They'll be back soon, and they'll be so happy to see you," Changbin's mom promised, tucking the blankets around Y/N snugly. With a final reassuring smile, she left the room, closing the door gently.

As she returned to her own evening watching TV in the leaving room and slowly drifting off to sleep.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

"We're home!" a cheerful voice rang out from the front door, breaking the quiet of the early morning. Changbin's mom groaned as she woke, glancing at the clock that read 3:45 AM.

"Ugh, why do you guys always come home so late?" she muttered to herself, stretching her limbs before sitting up on the couch.

"Mum? Where are you?" Changbin called, his voice echoing through the house as he removed his shoes. The other boys followed suit, dropping their bags on counters and hooks, their energy unmistakably low.

"In here!" she called back, still shaking off the remnants of sleep as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"Hey, how was practice, you guys?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming as they started to separate. Some headed for the fridge to grab leftover pasta, while others flopped onto the couch or hung up their coats, each greeting her with affectionate hugs.

"It was so tiring, like usual, but we managed to get everything done," Hyunjin groaned, yawning widely. "I'll see you in a few hours, Mama Bin." He kissed her forehead and made his way up the stairs, clearly ready to collapse into bed.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Jinnie?" Felix called from the kitchen, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion.

"Yeah, babygirl, just come in whenever you're ready," Hyunjin replied, quickly disappearing down the hallway.

"How was it? Did she behave?" Chan asked, settling onto the couch and taking a long sip from a water bottle.

"She was good. She slept most of the time but only woke up to eat," Changbin's mom explained. "She kept asking for you all. I made her the pasta like the meal plan said. I hope it's good."

"This is some good-ass pasta!" Seungmin exclaimed, his cheeks smeared with sauce as he devoured a bowl. "I'm not complaining!"

"I'm glad you like it. You lot should head to bed; I'm going to crash too," she said, grabbing a cozy blanket from the couch. With a warm wave, she made her way to the guest room.

"I'll go check on Y/N. I'll sleep with her tonight," Chan announced after a moment of contemplation, almost considering the couch due to how tired he was.

"Hyung, no!" Seungmin growled, his irritation flaring up. "You always sleep with me!" He pouted, his frustration evident as he wiped sauce from his face.

"Yeah, babe, but you can sleep with Changbin or Lee Know tonight. I don't want to leave her alone," Chan replied, trying to keep his tone calm despite the rising tension.

Seungmin's growl deepened, and Chan winced as he felt the hot wave of anger radiating from him through their bond. "Stop being petty," he hissed, fatigue creeping into his voice. "It's just one night."

Chan was honestly running on autopilot, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. "It's 3 AM; I'm going to bed," he grumbled, frustration bubbling to the surface. With that, he stormed off, leaving the remaining boys in the living room, still debating their own plans for the night.

As Chan climbed the stairs, he couldn't shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but also felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn't ignore. Pushing the door open to Felix's room, he peeked inside to find Y/N peacefully sleeping in her nest.

She looked serene, and for a moment, all his frustrations melted away. "Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he slipped under the covers beside her, ready to ensure she felt safe and cared for.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day two:

It wasn't just one night. Chan had ended up crashing with Y/N on the second day of her sleeping coma, and of course, Seungmin wasn't happy about it again. But honestly, Chan was tired of his drama.

The day had already been stressful; they were running on just about three hours of sleep, and on top of that, they had twelve grueling hours of dance practice ahead. Every muscle in Chan's body ached, and his head was pounding like a drum. Seungmin had been giving him the cold shoulder all day, still sulking over the previous night's events. Chan was just done with the nonsense.

As he walked down the hallway toward Felix's room, he could feel the weight of Seungmin's frustration hanging in the air like a thick fog. "What's his problem?" Chan muttered under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance.

When he pushed open the door, the sight of Y/N sound asleep in her nest brought a wave of calm over him. She looked so peaceful, her soft breaths matching the gentle rise and fall of the blankets. Chan's heart swelled, reminding him of why he had wanted to sleep beside her in the first place. Here, everything felt right. The stress of the day began to dissolve as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer.

"Just a little longer," he whispered, resting his head against hers. The warmth of her body soothed his frayed nerves, making the chaos of practice and the tension with Seungmin feel like distant memories.

But then, a knock on the door broke his moment of peace. Seungmin entered, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. "What are you doing, Chan?" he snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "This again?"

Chan sighed, frustration creeping back in. "I’m just keeping her company, Seungmin. She needs it."

"You always say that! It’s like you don’t care how it makes me feel!" Seungmin shot back, his voice rising. "I’m starting to think you only want to sleep next to her to rub it in my face."

"That’s not true! I care about her just as much as i care for you!" Chan countered, the exhaustion in his voice palpable. "You need to stop being so dramatic about this."

Seungmin's expression darkened. "Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? Maybe you just don’t want to admit that you’re being selfish."

Chan clenched his jaw, feeling the heat of the argument rise. "Selfish? Really? I’m trying to be there for someone who’s hurting, and you’re making it all about you!"

"Maybe you should think about how I feel for once!" Seungmin shot back, frustration etched on his face. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your attention."

With that, Chan turned away, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not a competition, Seungmin. You can sleep with someone else tonight. I’m not leaving her alone."

Seungmin scoffed, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t expect me to be okay with it."

With that, Seungmin stormed out, leaving Chan feeling drained. He couldn’t shake the lingering annoyance in the air. He understood Seungmin's feelings but felt a protective urge toward Y/N that he couldn’t ignore.

"Just one night," he whispered to himself, closing the door softly as he settled under the covers beside her.

He couldn’t help but hope she would wake up by morning, that they could share the moment of relief together. In this space, wrapped in her presence, Chan felt grounded and sane, as if all his worries could fade away, even if just for a few hours.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Day three:

Chan jolted awake to the sound of his alpha howling in distress, his heart racing. "What the heck?" he murmured, groaning as he rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hands.

The voice echoed in his mind, Omega! Sweet omega. Please...

With a sigh, Chan looked over at Y/N, who was peacefully asleep beside him. "What time is it?" he huffed, reaching for his phone. That's when he caught a whiff of something heavenly—her scent. His breath hitched, and he couldn't help but smile. What the heck?

Curious, he leaned a little closer, inhaling deeply and enjoying the comforting aroma. "Her scent is back?" he wondered aloud, furrowing his brows. He quickly texted Minho and Changbin, asking them to come to the room.

Just as he was savoring the moment, Changbin burst through the door, followed closely by Leeknow, who bumped into him.

"Dude! Ow!" Leeknow groaned, rubbing his nose. But as soon as he caught a whiff of Y/N's scent, he froze. "Oh..."

Changbin's eyes widened. "Her scent is back?"

"Yeah! I woke up because my alpha was going wild, and then I realized it was her!" Chan grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Jesus, she smells amazing! I might just melt!" Changbin exclaimed, earning a hearty laugh from Chan.

"No way she smells that good!" Leeknow said, inching closer to the bed, a playful grin on his face.

Just then, Y/N stirred, blinking awake to see Leeknow leaning in with wide eyes. "What the...?" she groaned, and before he could react, he stumbled back, almost falling off the bed.

“Oh no, Y/N! I’m so sorry! I promise I’m not being weird!” Leeknow exclaimed, his cheeks flushing a bright pink as he regained his balance, wide eyes darting to Chan and then back to her.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state. “You’re adorable, you know that?” she teased, stretching her arms overhead and letting out a loud yawn that echoed in the cozy room.

“Welcome back,” Chan said playfully, pulling her body close to his, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her like a soft blanket.

“Hey, Channie,” she mumbled, burying her face in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. “How long was I out for?” She felt a mix of curiosity and embarrassment.

“About three days,” he replied softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, his touch igniting a spark of affection.

“Three days?” she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh no! I’m so behind on my omega duties, aren’t I?” Her brow furrowed, anxiety creeping in despite the relief that coursed through her. She felt great—no aches, no exhaustion—but guilt nagged at her.

“Cupcake?” Changbin’s voice chimed in as he climbed onto the bed, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have any ‘duties’. Plus, you don’t need to apologize. You look more healthier. You smell so sweet, happy and relaxed”

“i smell so...Sweet?” She furrowed her brows, searching her body before gasping. “My scent is back?” Excitement bubbled up within her as she sat up, touching her glands and releasing a wave of pheromones that filled the room with a delicate, inviting fragrance.

“Okay, okay! I know you’re excited, babe, but don’t choke us with it!” Leeknow coughed dramatically, waving a hand in front of his face as if to fan away the air.

Y/N giggled, lightly tapping his back. “I’m sorry! I just haven’t smelled like me in ages!”

“And you smell absolutely amazing,” Chan added, fingers playing gently with her hair, his touch soothing her frayed nerves.

“Thank you, Oppa,” she smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the piles of bags and clothes. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Practicing and practicing and practicing,” Changbin growled, rubbing his shoulder with a playful wince. “You know, the usual.”

“It’s been so boring without you,” Leeknow chimed in, crossing his arms dramatically. “At least we don’t have to go in until 3 PM today.” He laid back down on the bed and started to type on his phone before Chan started to speak.

“Speaking of which, Y/N,” Chan said softly, a hint of authority in his tone, “I need you to start unpacking your room and all these bags. This mess is driving me crazy.”

“Okay oppa,  Can you show me where my room is?” she asked, her voice brightening. “And do we have anything planned for the day?” She felt Chan begin to massage her shoulders, easing the last remnants of tension.

“Yeah, I’ll let Felix and Han help you out. And you’re coming with us to the studio later; Mama Bin is leaving today,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to Changbin. “I need to meet her and thank her for taking care of me. She was so nice.”

“She’s downstairs, cupcake. Go ahead whenever you’re ready,” Changbin encouraged, his grin infectious.

“Okay, I will,” she said, already feeling the anticipation bubbling within her as she hopped off the bed, eager to start her day.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

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[urdreamydoodles]

Chaotic Monopoly night with the X-Men

Playing Monopoly maybe wasn't such a good idea

A simple Monopoly game night with Logan, Remy, Kurt, Scott, Jean, Laura, and Rogue quickly turns chaotic as competitive spirits flare and petty rivalries take over. Despite your best efforts to keep the peace, the game spirals into full-blown chaos, leaving everyone more focused on winning than on having fun.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Laura Kinney & Rogue

- It had started as an innocent idea. A simple game night to bring everyone together, to relax and unwind after the week. You had suggested Monopoly, hoping the slow-paced, strategic game would help everyone bond. As you set up the board, everyone seemed in good spirits, laughing and teasing one another. Logan, Remy, Kurt, Scott, Jean, Laura, and Rogue had all agreed to join, and you felt a sense of satisfaction as they gathered around. You had no idea what you were in for.

- Logan was the first to grumble as soon as he saw the game pieces. “I’m not being the damn thimble,” he muttered, reaching for the dog instead. You bit back a smile and handed him the piece, already sensing the tension building. Remy smirked and casually picked up the top hat, twirling it in his fingers like it was some sort of prize. “Look at dis, chérie,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I’ll be runnin’ dis board in no time.”

- You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes playfully as everyone else selected their pieces. Kurt chose the car with a cheerful, “Zis vill be fun, ja?” He seemed optimistic, at least for now. Jean chose the cat, her calm demeanor making you hope she’d be the voice of reason later. Scott picked the battleship, predictably taking his strategy seriously right from the start. Laura grabbed the iron without a word, clearly already plotting her moves in her head, while Rogue chose the boot, eyeing Remy’s top hat with suspicion.

- The first few turns were harmless enough. Everyone moved their pieces across the board, making light jokes and trying to get a feel for the game. But as properties started being bought, the competition heated up. Remy bought up half of the properties on one side of the board, smirking every time he landed on something new. “Better watch out, mes amis,” he said with a wink. “Dis is gonna be my city.”

- Logan was already eyeing him with suspicion, grumbling under his breath whenever he landed on a property Remy owned. “You cheatin’ or somethin’, Gumbo?” Logan growled, narrowing his eyes. Remy just laughed and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying how much he was already getting under Logan’s skin. You could feel the tension rising, but you tried to keep things light by cracking jokes and making sure everyone had snacks.

- Kurt, ever the optimist, landed on Boardwalk and his whole face lit up. “Oh-ho! Vhat luck!” he said, glancing around the table with a wide smile. “Looks like I’ll be winning after all!” But before he could even celebrate, Scott landed on Park Place and immediately started calculating how to turn this into a deadly duo with his strategic brain. He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward. “This is where the game changes,” he said seriously, ignoring the collective groan around the table.

- Meanwhile, Jean tried to stay neutral, but you could tell she was getting quietly competitive. Every time she landed on a new property, she gave Scott a knowing look as if to say, “I’m not going easy on you.” She stayed calm on the surface, but you could feel the brewing tension between her and Scott as they started subtly battling for dominance on the board.

- Laura, on the other hand, was completely ruthless. She didn’t say much, but every move she made was calculated, her eyes cold and focused. She quickly amassed a row of properties and quietly upgraded them to hotels without anyone noticing. Logan glanced over at her board at one point and raised an eyebrow. “You’re too damn quiet over there, kid. What’re you up to?”

- Rogue was growing more and more frustrated as Remy kept avoiding landing on her properties. Every time he dodged one of her spots, she shot him a glare. “You better land on somethin’ of mine soon, swamp rat,” she muttered. Remy just laughed and leaned over to kiss her cheek, which only made her roll her eyes. “That ain’t gonna save you.”

- The chaos really kicked off when Logan and Scott started getting into it over a trade. Logan wanted one of Scott’s railroads, but Scott, being Scott, refused to give in without a steep price. “C’mon, Summers,” Logan growled, slamming his piece down on the table. “You can’t hold on to everythin’ forever.”

- Scott, ever the strategist, crossed his arms and gave Logan a cool look. “It’s about making smart moves, Logan. Not just impulsive ones.”

- The argument escalated from there, with Logan accusing Scott of being too controlling and Scott firing back that Logan was just mad because he couldn’t win without brute force. Jean tried to step in and mediate, but even she was starting to look annoyed with both of them. “It’s just a game,” she said, though her tone was strained. “Can we all calm down?”

- Things weren’t much better on the other side of the table. Remy was still smirking like he had the whole game in the bag, which was driving Rogue up the wall. “You think you’re so clever, don’t ya?” she snapped after he landed on one of his own properties again. “You’re just gettin’ lucky.”

- Remy grinned at her, clearly enjoying riling her up. “Luck, charm—same thing, chère.” He winked at you, and you had to suppress a laugh as Rogue’s frustration visibly grew. She was clearly getting more competitive by the second, and you could see this Monopoly game was bringing out sides of everyone you hadn’t expected.

- Kurt, bless him, was still trying to keep things positive, but even he was getting swept up in the chaos. When he landed on one of Laura’s hotel properties and had to pay an outrageous sum, he threw his hands up in mock despair. “Ach! Zis is highway robbery!” he exclaimed, though he still managed to laugh. Laura just shrugged, completely unfazed as she collected her cash.

- As the game dragged on, everyone’s patience grew thinner. Logan and Scott’s petty feud continued, with Logan refusing to trade anything with Scott out of spite, and Scott calculating his every move to make sure Logan stayed far behind. Rogue and Remy’s playful bickering had escalated into a full-on rivalry, with Rogue purposely sabotaging Remy’s deals at every opportunity. Laura, meanwhile, was silently dominating the board, and Kurt’s earlier optimism had completely faded as he realized he had no chance of winning.

- You tried to stay neutral, offering to help people with trades and keeping the snacks coming, but even you couldn’t stop the inevitable chaos. As the tension reached a boiling point, Logan finally threw his hands up in frustration. “This is bull!” he yelled, standing up from the table. “I’m done playin’ this stupid game.”

- Scott, ever the leader, just shook his head. “You’re quitting because you can’t handle losing, Logan.”

- Logan shot him a dark look. “No, I’m quittin’ because this is the dumbest game I’ve ever played.”

- The argument continued, with Remy laughing from the sidelines and Rogue rolling her eyes. Jean had given up trying to mediate, and Kurt was just shaking his head in disbelief. Laura was the only one who looked completely satisfied with the outcome, having quietly won the game without anyone noticing.

- In the end, the game board was left in chaos, pieces scattered across the table as everyone stormed off in different directions. You sighed, knowing you’d have to be the one to clean it up later. But as frustrating as it had been, there was something almost endearing about the way everyone had gotten so invested. It wasn’t the peaceful game night you’d envisioned, but it had certainly been memorable.

- As you started picking up the pieces, Remy walked over and gave you a sympathetic smile. “Tough crowd, huh, chère?”

- You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You have no idea.”

[svt-luna]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ VOGUE: IN THE BAG ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: Luna from SEVENTEEN reveals her handbag essentials to British Vogue, as we take a look inside her packed Miu Miu bag.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews

The set was nothing short of breathtaking— minimalistic yet artfully arranged to evoke both luxury and comfort. Soft, muted lighting fell across a chic cream-colored couch where Luna sat, the sophisticated backdrop blending warm tones of beige and earthy gold with polished metallic accents. The aesthetic was undeniably high-class, with strategically placed designer books and a hint of greenery to soften the otherwise sleek modern atmosphere.

It was a perfect blend of Luna's effortlessly elegant persona and the refined brand image of British Vogue.

Luna herself exuded understated glamour. Her outfit was the epitome of elegant chic: a fitted, ivory-colored blouse with puffed, slightly structured sleeves that cinched perfectly at her wrists, paired with high-waisted tailored black trousers that flattered her lithe frame. Her hair fell in gentle waves, cascading just below her shoulders, and her makeup was soft and radiant, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. Her entire look screamed polished, confident, and effortlessly cool— a perfect reflection of her status as both a musical sensation and a fashion icon.

Resting beside her on the couch was her bag— a stunning tan suede Beau bag by Miu Miu. Luna was, after all, an ambassador for the luxury brand, and the bag was a signature piece from one of their latest collections. The bag's structured shape was both modern and classic, the suede giving it a touch of soft texture against its angular design. But what made it distinctly ‘Luna’ was the collection of colorful keychains and chains adorning the bag’s handles.

There was a cute little bunny keychain, a charm in the shape of a letter J, and a splash of vibrant colors from beaded tassels and chains. It was like a glimpse into her playful personality, blending seamlessly with her refined fashion sense.

Luna shifted slightly in her seat, her soft smile widening as she looked directly into the camera. With an air of confidence and warmth, she began the video with a gentle tone, her British accent immediately noticeable— polished and cool.

“Hello, British Vogue, this is SEVENTEEN’s Luna,” she began, her voice soft yet clear, carrying a natural rhythm that was effortlessly captivating, “and this is what’s in my bag.”

The cadence of her speech, her tone, and her charming accent all worked together to immediately draw the audience in. It was easy to imagine her charisma reaching through the screen, her words a perfect blend of soft-spoken coolness with a hint of playful charm. The introduction felt personal, almost as if Luna was inviting her viewers into a moment of intimacy, giving them a glimpse into her everyday life through the contents of her beloved Miu Miu bag.

Luna smiled softly at the camera, her fingers wrapping around the tan suede strap of her beloved Miu Miu bag, bringing it closer to show it off.

“So, this is my bag,” she said, her tone light and playful as she lifted it up with both hands, presenting it to the camera like a proud parent. The smile on her face widened, a little giggle escaping her lips. “This is my new favorite baby,” she confessed, her British accent rolling effortlessly with each word, adding a hint of charm to her candid admission.

The camera zoomed in slightly on the bag, showcasing its smooth, luxurious texture and the collection of colorful keychains hanging from the handles— bright beaded tassels, a small plush bunny, and a a keychain of the letter J, all adding a playful touch to the otherwise elegant design.

“I say that now because… I have a shopping problem,” Luna laughed, her shoulders shaking a little as she spoke, “and shoes and bags are my absolute favorite to buy. A week from now, I might have a new favorite.” Her laughter bubbled up again, and she glanced down at the bag like it had a personality all its own.

Her hands caressed the suede softly as she continued explaining, a bit of humor lacing her voice. “I prefer smaller purses, actually. Because I’m the type of person who would fill a bigger bag up to the brim with useless stuff— just because I can.” She shrugged with a knowing smile. “An overpacker, if you may. So I avoid big purses, and this one right here is the perfect size. Not too big and not too small. Just enough to stop me from going overboard.”

As she spoke, she absentmindedly adjusted the keychains hanging from the handles, a delicate clinking sound accompanying her movements. Her eyes lit up as she pointed at the colorful charms, her excitement palpable. “Also!” she said, her voice bright with enthusiasm, “I love decorating my bags with keychains and charms. It’s so much fun!” Luna tilted the bag towards the camera, giving the viewers a closer look at the collection of dangling trinkets.

Her eyes glinted with mischief as she added with a little laugh, “People say it’s messy, and frankly, I couldn’t care less what they think.” She shook her head lightly, still smiling, her hand adjusting the bag's strap before casually placing it on her shoulder.

The weight of the keychains caused them to jingle in a melodic clatter, and Luna’s face lit up with amusement. “You’ll always know it’s me because of that sound,” she joked, giving the bag a playful shake, causing the keychains to rattle even louder. She laughed openly at the noise, her energy infectious, before gently setting the bag down on the couch beside her, ready to delve into the contents within.

Her natural charm, her quick wit, and that little bit of self-deprecating humor made the moment feel effortless and real as if she was chatting with friends rather than an audience of thousands.

Luna gently opened her bag with a soft smile and looked up at the camera, her voice as smooth as ever with that signature British accent. “Okay, let’s start, shall we?” she said, almost like inviting her audience into an inside joke.

She reached into the tan suede bag and pulled out not one but two iPhones. The first was plain, sleek, and professional— no case, no frills, just a phone. The second, in stark contrast, was wrapped in a baby pink case adorned with a cute, beaded keychain hanging off the side, catching the light and jingling softly as she held it up.

With a phone in each hand, Luna grinned and tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with a playful mischief. “So first… my phones. Yes, phones… plural,” she said with a light laugh, drawing out the plural for emphasis. “I have two.” She paused for a beat, letting the revelation sink in before delivering the punchline. “Why? Because I can.” She giggled, her carefree energy coming through as she lifted the phones slightly like it was no big deal.

“I have two phones with two different purposes. One is my work phone,” she said, holding up the plain, no-nonsense iPhone, “and the other is my personal phone.” Luna smiled wider as she raised the second phone with the pink case, the beaded keychain dangling between her fingers, creating a delightful contrast.

She pointed between the two phones, her eyebrows raising as if to say, it’s pretty obvious which is which. “It’s pretty obvious which is which,” she echoed her expression with a small giggle.

“My work phone obviously is only for work. It’s where I get contacted for work reasons and work reasons only. This is the number I would normally give people,” she explained, waving the plain phone lightly in the air. “Like, if you’re someone I just met a few times and you ask for my number, I'll give it to you... but you’re getting this one,” she grinned cheekily, the camera picking up on her playful mood.

“And this one…” she lifted the pink-cased phone, the tone in her voice softening slightly, “…is obviously my personal phone. I only give this number to close friends and family— my members obviously who are both my close friends and family,” she added, her smile turning a little more sentimental as she gazed at the beaded charm hanging from the side. "I'm being so serious when I say I only have about twenty contacts on this phone and the majority of them are my members.

After a moment, her eyes sharpened with a teasing glint, and her tone shifted back to something cool and lighthearted. “Why do I do that? It’s because there are a lot of weirdos out there,” she said, her voice dipping just enough to sound a little savage, though she followed it up with a soft giggle to keep it light.

“So if I give you my work number…” she held up the plain phone one last time, “…then you know your place.” She ended with a small wink and a laugh, her cool yet playful attitude shining through as she placed both phones gently on the table in front of her, the pink keychain giving one last, soft jingle as the camera zoomed in on them briefly.

Luna’s fingers disappeared into the depths of her tan Miu Miu bag once more, and when they reappeared, she held up a sleek black wallet, also Miu Miu, to the camera. “Next is my wallet, obviously. This is very important,” she said with a light laugh as she raised it higher, giving the viewers a good look. The wallet was as chic and polished as the rest of her outfit, its simple design matching her elegant vibe perfectly. She placed it on the table next to her phones, the smooth leather barely making a sound.

Without missing a beat, Luna reached into her bag again and pulled out another black accessory, this time a slim YSL cardholder. “This is my cardholder… for my cards, obviously,” she explained with a grin, showing off the minimalist design to the camera. “It’s more convenient to have so I don’t have to dig through my wallet every time.” She set the cardholder next to her wallet, a subtle but clear difference in size and function between the two.

Next, Luna pulled out not one but two sunglasses cases, both stylish and sleek. “Okay, so these are very important,” she said with emphasis, her tone playful but hinting that these were essentials. Opening the first case with care, she revealed a pair of thin-framed reading glasses. She slipped them on briefly, adjusting them on the bridge of her nose, giving the camera a slightly exaggerated serious look.

“These are my reading glasses. I need them… for reading,” she said with a soft chuckle, leaning into the obviousness of her statement. She adjusted the glasses once more before adding, “My eyesight isn’t terrible yet, by the way. I just need these for reading.” Her British accent was more pronounced, adding a delicate charm to her casual explanation. After a brief pause, she removed the glasses, tucked them back into their case, and placed them on the table.

Moving on, Luna opened the second case with an air of excitement and care, as if it contained something truly special. Inside was a pair of sleek black Miu Miu sunglasses, and without hesitation, she slid them on, pushing them up slightly for a perfect fit. “Now, these are my sunnies,” she declared, striking a playful pose to show off the shades.

“I cannot leave the house without these,” Luna admitted. “You could never go wrong with a pair of black sunnies. It always completes the look.” She smiled at the camera, clearly satisfied with her statement, and took a moment to adjust them before pulling them off and carefully placing them back in their case. As she placed the case on the table, the collection of her daily essentials started to take shape in front of her, each item perfectly aligned and displayed for the camera.

Luna dug into her bag again, her fingers searching for the next item. She soon pulled out a sleek black Prada mini pouch, small and elegant, just like the rest of her accessories. She held it up for the camera with a soft smile. “This is my mini touch-up bag, if you may,” she said, showing it off before unzipping it smoothly.

“I almost always get my makeup and hair done professionally by my amazingly talented makeup and hair crew, given my job,” she explained as she opened the pouch further and peeked inside. “So I don’t carry a lot of makeup or hair products with me.” Luna pulled out a compact mirror first, its silver casing catching the light. “I have a mirror and a mini brush,” she started, holding the brush up to demonstrate its compact size. As she continued to sift through her pouch, she began listing off items. “I have hair ties, hair pins, safety pins, a scrunchie, a claw clip, face mask... and a bow,"

"I also have mascara, eyeliner…” Luna’s eyes widened slightly as she pulled out several lip products, her hand full of sleek tubes and compact cases. She giggled at the sight. “And a lot… a concerning amount of lip products,” she laughed softly, placing each item on the table.

One by one, she began pointing them out.

“Lipstick, lipstick, lip stain, lip gloss, lip gloss, chapstick… lipstick, more lip gloss,” she listed, shaking her head in amusement as the small pile grew in front of her. “As you can see, lip products are my favorite,” Luna remarked, her British accent adding a playful charm to her confession. She grinned at the camera, clearly aware of how over-the-top the collection looked.

Moving on, she pulled out the last item from the pouch— a case of colorful pimple patches. “Ooh, I have these cute pimple patches!” she exclaimed, showing off the vibrant assortment of designs. The case was decorated with different shapes and patterns, from stars to hearts. “I love these; they’re adorable and functional,” she said with a proud smile.

Luna zipped up her pouch, placing it next to the other items on the table. “That’s it for my mini touch-up bag,” she concluded with a satisfied nod, glancing over her collection before looking back at the camera.

Luna reached into her bag once again, this time pulling out a soft and fluffy Hello Kitty pouch. A grin spread across her face as she presented it to the camera. “Another mini pouch,” she said with a playful tone, holding it up for a closer look. “This is even more important because this pouch contains the essentials,” she added, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone.

Unzipping the pouch, she began to reveal the contents. First, she took out a small medicine case. “These are my vitamins,” she said, shaking the case lightly, the pills rattling inside. “These are very important since I travel a lot,” Luna explained, setting the case down before pulling out another.

“Now, these are my iron pills,” she giggled, giving the second case a shake as well. “I’m very much anemic and need them to… live,” she joked, her giggle soft but contagious. Placing both medicine cases on the table in front of her, she continued rummaging through the pouch.

“Next… painkillers,” Luna announced, showing the small bottle to the camera. “These are more so for my members,” she admitted with a smile. “I don’t like taking pills. In fact, I absolutely hate drinking medicine. Ever since I was young, it’s been a struggle. A little fun fact about me: I couldn’t swallow pills until I was like… fifteen. That’s how much I hated them,” she said, her eyes glancing at the bottle with a chuckle. "It's sound pathetic 'cause it is."

“I mean, just drinking my vitamins every day makes me physically cringe, so I almost never take painkillers unless I’m on the ground screaming in pain,” Luna confessed, shrugging lightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, which is both a blessing and a curse, honestly. I only have these on me all the time in case any of the members need it,” she said, her accent soft but present, as she placed the painkillers next to the rest of her essentials.

Continuing, Luna pulled out a small pack of motion sickness medicine and a few motion sickness patches. “Next are these,” she showed the camera the packs. “Motion sickness medicine and motion sickness patches— for myself and my members,” she chuckled softly. “At least half of us get motion sick,” she explained. “Sometimes when I’m in the car for too long, or on a plane… or if we somehow find ourselves in any body of water… this is good for that,” Luna said with a small laugh, placing the items on the table in front of her.

Luna reached into her bag again, pulling out a few small sachets and bottles. “These are my supplements,” she explained, showing them to the camera with a quick smile. She lifted the items one by one. “Liquid IV, which I add to my water,” she said, holding up a small packet of powder. “Royal jelly,” she continued, showcasing a tiny jar, “and collagen.” She placed them down gently on the table. “If you ask me what my secret is when it comes to healthy skin… it’s these three,” Luna said confidently, offering the camera a small wink before moving on.

Her hand dipped back into the fluffy pouch and out came a small pack and tin. “Next, I have breath strips and breath mints,” she announced, shaking them lightly before placing them alongside her supplements.

Luna then pulled out a small tin of lozenges and a slim bottle of throat spray. “I have these lozenges for my throat, and… propolis throat spray,” she said, holding the items close to the camera for a better view. Setting them down, Luna explained, “My main instrument is my voice, so I make sure to take extra care of it, especially when traveling because of the changes in weather and such.” Her voice carried a calm seriousness, emphasizing how much care she put into maintaining her health.

Satisfied with her explanation, she zipped the Hello Kitty pouch closed, placing it next to the growing collection of items on the table. “That’s it for my second mini pouch,” she said with a small, satisfied nod, already reaching for the next item in her bag.

Luna reached into her bag again, this time something jingling loudly before she even fully retrieved it. The sound made her chuckle as she briefly put her head down, a grin spreading across her face.

“I have my keys,” she said, finally pulling out a keyring that held two keys— one a standard house key, and the other a car key. But what made her laugh was the sheer amount of keychains dangling from the ring, nearly covering the keys entirely.

“You can barely see the keys,” she chuckled, holding the keyring up to the camera. “I love keychains,” she explained, shaking them slightly to let the noise fill the air again. The assortment of charms and little trinkets jingled as they danced together, showcasing Luna's playful and quirky side.

“Anyway… keys,” she said, resetting herself. “One is my house key and the other one’s my car key,” she continued, showing the camera both. “It’s funny I still have my car key here considering I haven’t driven myself anywhere in like… two years,” Luna added with a smirk, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“It sounds crazy but it’s true,” she admitted, leaning back slightly. “We travel a lot and get driven around a lot. And even if we don’t have work, I still get driven around… It’s one of the perks of having thirteen members who are more than willing to drive me places.” Luna giggled again, the sound light and infectious. “I only got my license for the giggles. I’m a professional passenger princess and I am proud,” she declared with a playful raise of her chin, placing the jingling keyring down on the table.

Before she could dig into her bag again, she picked up a small pack of gum and sweets and showed them to the camera. “I have gum and more sweets,” Luna said, flashing a quick smile. “Just in case I get low on energy or if anyone else gets low on energy,” she added with a casual shrug, placing the small pack next to her keys on the table.

Luna reached back into her bag, her fingers brushing against various items as she asked aloud, “What else do we have here?” After rummaging for a moment, her hand emerged holding a small jewelry box. She smiled, pleased with the find. “Oooh, this is a mini jewelry box for my jewelry,” she said, flipping it open to show the camera. Inside, nestled safely, were a few pieces of jewelry, delicate rings and small earrings, glinting softly under the light.

“These are just a few pieces aside from the ones I’m already wearing,” Luna continued, gently turning the box toward the camera. “There are times during performances or photoshoots when we can’t wear our own jewelry because of the concepts and stuff, so I keep this handy to make sure my things don’t disappear into the depths of my bag,” she explained with a knowing smile before closing the box and placing it carefully on the table.

She reached back into her bag and pulled out a pink journal, clutching a few pens in her other hand. “I have my journal,” she said, displaying the cover. “I like writing down my thoughts every now and then. Sometimes I doodle, sometimes I write poems, and sometimes those poems turn into song lyrics.” Luna's voice softened slightly as she explained, her connection to her journal clearly meaningful. "I usually carry a book with me, I love reading... but I am poorly prepared, I think I left it at home... or in the car actually."

Then, holding up the pens, she added with a smile, “I have a couple of pens, obviously to write with, and a marker— just in case I meet fans and they want me to sign their stuff.” She raised the marker playfully before placing everything neatly in front of her.

Finally, as she reached once more into the seemingly endless bag, Luna pulled out a familiar item, her expression brightening. “My passport. Very important,” she said, holding it up briefly before placing it next to the journal, pens, and jewelry box.

Luna dug around in her bag again, her fingers grazing familiar shapes before pulling out a small white case. “My AirPods,” she said, holding them up to the camera. “Very important. I absolutely cannot leave the house without these.” She placed them neatly on the table before diving back into her bag with a laugh. “Which leads me to this,” she added, pulling out another small pouch. “This is the last of the pouches, I promise.”

She opened the pouch with a smile and took out a pair of wired earphones, holding them up for the camera to see. “I have my wired earphones as backup,” she explained, grinning. “Music is very important to me, so whenever my AirPods die, I have a backup. Always.”

Next, she reached into the same pouch and retrieved a phone charger and power bank, displaying them before placing them on the table. “And of course, these— my charger and my power bank. Always prepared.”

After placing the electronics down, she pulled out two small bottles out of her bag, her face softening as she presented them. “These are my essential oils— lavender and peppermint,” she explained, holding the bottles up close to the camera. “These are also something I can’t travel without. Whenever I’m feeling nauseous, sick, or congested…” Luna paused, unscrewing the cap on one of the bottles as she demonstrated how to use it. She rubbed a few drops of the oil on her fingers, gently massaging it into her temples and the back of her neck before lightly tapping the tip of her nose. “I just put it here, and it really helps to calm me down when I’m anxious or if I can’t sleep,” she said, her voice soft, almost therapeutic, before capping the bottle and placing it on the table.

She nodded thoughtfully, “They’re lifesavers, really,” she added with a smile before glancing back into her bag for what else might be left to reveal.

Luna glanced at the last couple of items in her bag, a knowing smile already tugging at her lips. “And speaking of scents that calm me down…” she began, reaching into her bag with a soft chuckle. She pulled out two small, luxury-looking perfume bottles, their gleaming glass catching the light in the room.

“Perfume,” she said, holding them up for the camera to see. “I love smelling good. It completes the look, always.” She twisted the cap off the first bottle, revealing the delicate nozzle beneath. “These are the mini versions of my perfumes,” Luna continued, grinning as she admired the tiny bottle in her hand. “Whenever I buy perfumes, I always buy the mini ones as well so I can bring those with me. Big perfume bottles are such a hassle to carry around… So, the mini ones are my go-to,” she added with a smirk, “and they’re adorable.”

Luna brought the first bottle closer to the camera, the elegant logo visible. “This is one of my favorite scents ever,” she said, her voice warm with affection. She sprayed a small amount on herself, closing her eyes as the scent enveloped her. A soft giggle escaped her lips, a playful, content sound that made her dimples pop.

As she picked up the second bottle, her expression softened, and a more personal, intimate smile played on her lips. This perfume, unlike the first, was clearly a man’s cologne— its sleek design and musky scent hinted at its origins. She paused for a moment, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

Unbeknownst to the public, this was the very same cologne Jeonghan wore. He had given her the bottle as a gift after Luna had once told him how much she loved the scent.

“This…” Luna started, her voice tinged with a giggle, “This is another perfume I carry with me.” She held the bottle up to the camera, her thumb gently tracing the cap. “I love the smell. It makes me happy and calm,” she added, a knowing smile on her face. “This was gifted to me, and the scent reminds me of that person…” Luna let out a shy giggle, her dimples deepening as she bit her bottom lip, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Before setting it down, Luna sprayed a small amount of the cologne onto the inside of her wrists. She pressed her wrists together, inhaling the familiar scent as her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. She opened them again, smiling softly at the camera. “Next item…” she said, moving on sneakily, her tone light and teasing as if she hadn’t just given a tiny glimpse into a secret part of her life.

She placed both bottles on the table, the air around her now subtly filled with the mingling scents of her favorite perfumes.

Luna reached into her bag one final time, her fingers brushing against the last item inside. “Lastly, I have my digital camera,” she said, pulling it out with a smile. The camera was encased in a soft, protective cover that she gently unzipped, revealing a small, pink digital camera underneath.

“This isn’t the most high-quality digital camera,” she said with a laugh, fiddling with the device in her hands. She ran her thumb over its smooth surface, clearly fond of it. “But I love it like that. It gives me that very early 2000s feel when I take my pictures,” Luna added, her voice full of affection for the retro style.

She switched the camera on, its little screen flickering to life with a soft glow. Without hesitating, she lifted it toward her view, taking a quick picture of the space in front of her. The camera made an old-school click, capturing the moment with a slightly grainy, vintage aesthetic. Luna chuckled softly at the sound, admiring the charm of the imperfect image.

After a moment of appreciation, she placed the pink digital camera carefully on the table, alongside the rest of her belongings. Her eyes scanned the collection in front of her — from her supplements and perfume bottles to her keys adorned with keychains and the journal that held her thoughts. There was something both comforting and nostalgic about seeing all these pieces of her life spread out in front of her.

Luna looked back at the camera with a wide smile, her eyes gleaming with warmth. “Well, that’s about it,” she said with a light giggle, her dimples showing as she leaned back slightly. “Thank you for watching, and that was what’s in my bag.”

She flashed a final smile to the camera, raising her hand in a small wave, her casual yet charming energy lingering in the air.

comments…

@/lunababybae • 2 years ago ╰ Her accent! it’s like I’m in Hogwarts or something 😩

@/rinarieee • 2 years ago ╰ She’s looking extra beautiful this interview 🤍

@/gyusshadow • 2 years ago ╰ Her bag is so… her. Does that makes sense?! Elegant and fucking crazy at the same time.

@/moonbae17 • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeonie saying that she might have a different favorite bag next week screams ✨shopping addiction✨ and I am here for it.

@/saythename • 2 years ago ╰ she is def my bias! a shopaholic and an over packer!!! I wanna be your friend so bad, Bae Jiyeon 😭

@/mad-lineeee • 2 years ago ╰ 1:00 her face when her bag started jingling 😂😂 she cracks me up fr.

@/mrsbaebae • 2 years ago ╰ the fact that Jiyeon will give you her phone number if you ask… then you find out she has two phones 🤭 she’s an icon.

@/alyy1625 • 2 years ago ╰ EXACTLY AT 1:17 HER WALLPAPER?! TELL ME THAT’S NOT HER AND JEONGHAN!!

@/jeongnanana • 2 years ago ╰ She’s such a closed off person it’s literally so hot and inspiring at the same time. Like, what do you mean you have a separate phone for people you like?!

@/gyuuuuudaily • 2 years ago ╰ she’s so right 1:38 there are a lot of weirdos out there. she probs have two phones because of the sasaengs who leak their phone number, I don’t blame her at all 🙄

@/sallluuuteee17 • 2 years ago. ╰ 1:25 only twenty contacts and most of them are members of seventeen 😂 so only seven people in her personal phone aren’t in the band 😂

@/lulu-nana17• 2 years ago ╰ girl– your wallpaper?! miss thing!? Is that who I think it is?!

@/sebongrighthere • 2 years ago ╰ “So if I give you my work number… then you know your place “ HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵

@/missbitchhhh • 2 years ago ╰ She had a mountain of lip products 2:17

@/shadowmyshadow • 2 years ago ╰ no wonder her lips look so soft, she carries a whole store of lip products with her everywhere.

@/angel7266 • 2 years ago ╰ knowing that my bias hates drinking pills and didn’t know how to swallow them till later on in life is so comforting to me… she is me and I am her.

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 2 years ago ╰ Luna being literally iron deficient makes so much sense for some reason (I am too) 😊

@/user763816262 • 2 years ago ╰ it’s adorable to me how half of the things in Luna’s bag, she only really carry around in case the rest of the members need it 🥹

@/ashonashonash_ • 2 years ago ╰ Key to having Bae Jiyeon skin: Liquid IV, Royal Jelly, and Collagen. Noted queen 💖💖💖

@/jijijiyeonienie • 2 years ago ╰ her keys are nowhere to be found 😂

@/kpopfan17 • 2 years ago ╰ that Porsche car key is basically a keychain at this point, miss thing! Wdym you haven’t driven in two years!?

@/belleeeee_ • 2 years ago ╰ “I only got my license for the giggles. I’m a professional passenger princess and I am proud.” Said by Bae Jiyeon who then proceeded to brag about having thirteen men who are filling to be Uber drivers for her *ehem* Yoon Jeonghan *ehem* Kim Mingyu *ehem*

@/diamondlifeu • 1 year ago ╰ she has that Hermoine Granger bag fr

@/gyuminggooo • 1 year ago ╰ 3:57 those candies are Hannie’s fave 🤭

@/dailynanana • 1 year ago ╰ I love how she’s not gatekeeping at all 💖

@/chuuuuchhuu17 • 1 year ago ╰ “sunnies” “sweets” she’s English for sure 🤣💕

@/lalunanova • 1 year ago ╰ 5:45 !!! she looking at that perfume like that for a reason! I’m not crazy istg 😭

@/17-carat • 3 weeks ago ╰ “I love the smell. It makes me happy and calm. This was gifted to me, and the scent reminds me of that person…” THEN PROCEEDS TO FUCKING SHOW US YOON JEONGHAN’S PERFUME!!

@/myg145 • 2 weeks ago ╰ that’s Jeonghan’s perfume! I’m pretty sure he showed it in one of his interviews… HIS what’s in my bag!!! BAE JIYEON!! WTF?!

@/bjy_lover • 1 week ago ╰ she’s the girlfriend for sure… THE Yoon Jeonghan’s girlfriend. the wallpaper, the candies, the perfume, and the matching digital camera?!

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe

[machveil]

Boyfriend!Simon Riley that lets you dress him. his usual civvies are nothing special, just some t-shirts and jeans, a couple pairs of sweats and hoodies for working out. if you want him to try a different style he’ll humor you

Boyfriend!Simon Riley that owns two suits - one for any mandatory appearances at events with the TF141 boys, and a second suit for date nights with you. compared to his suit selection, he has a surprising amount of ties. does he need them all? absolutely not, but he subconsciously started collecting them at some point

Boyfriend!Simon Riley has a wide variety of ties - solid colored, prints, a single clip on. he used to just have one tie, a solid dark red, but then he saw a stupid, skeletal themed tie in a shop. he got a good laugh out of it and bought it, now if he sees a tie he likes he buys it ‘just in case’ - besides, a few of the solid colored ones match your eyes

Boyfriend!Simon Riley that’s waiting for the day he can buy a third suit - one that involves you standing at the alter with him. if you’d let him get away with it, he’d definitely wear that stupid skeletal tie buried at the back of his closet. of course, that’s just a thought to keep him entertained, he’d probably buy a new tie for your wedding - one to match the flowers you pick out, he thinks

[bogleech]

So, Necromon’s page mentioned about Necromizers, but those don’t seem to have their own page. Are they considered a Key Item rather than a monster, or can anything be a Necromizer, or what?

Necromizers are what I originally called the metahuman/trainer class that got renamed to Necrotomists in the RPG! They control nanomons (our new term for the Homunculoids/nanomonsters so it's easier to remember what they are) to animate dead tissues, allowing any of their monsters to keep regenerating or even just moving when they're totally dead. To Mortasheen this is also the same thing as being like a healing mage/cleric, they're all just the same concept of "keeping something functioning when it should be dead." I think their academy in the setting is the most fun I came up with if I'm allowed to say that about my own ideas. It's like an oil rig, but for collecting samples from a giant lagoon of corpse parts, the scraps of Mortasheen's meat industry. Student life is like a free-for-all anarchy of testing weird creations on each other and the rig's biotech harvesting limbs are also sentient beings. The students give them names and have rival fandoms for each one :)

We're so so close to the book being done now, like maybe only a few days worth of work total. Still testing how well it prints from different services though. I unfortunately keep having to come back to Amazon Self Publishing which remains the current cheapest option with the nicest color quality. It used to be a different company that was even better and cost even less, but Amazon bought it :/

[aziraphales-library]

this is going to sound slightly stupid i’m begging you to bear with me

you know those fanfics from like 2013, the rpf’s that (usually) were about musicians like harry styles or brenden urie?

they’d go something along the lines of, ‘not-like-other-girls’ sitting in the crowd of a concert her friend dragged her out to, but she just doesn’t care about the music it’s so not her thing so she reads a book during the concert (cue the groans). then the lead singer sees her and is totally taken by her uniqueness and calls her out from the stage or asks to see her after the show yada yada.

anyway, i saw some fan art of rockstar!crowley and normie!aziraphale, and i thought it’d be fun to see if there’s anything similar to those kinds of rpf’s but instead for crowley and aziraphale!

We have a #famous crowley tag you can check out. Here are some fics in which Crowley is famous and Aziraphale is not...

A rockstar's love by The_boxhead (G)

Crowley had a lot of problems finding someone to have a relationship with as the famous rockstar that he is. But that day when he entered that coffee shop and saw that blond haired man behind the counter, he didn’t want more than to get to know that beautiful angel with that cute smile.

Star Crossed by AppleSeeds (T)

When Crowley, the lead singer of wildly successful rock band The Sixth Circle, agrees to take part in a radio show discussion feature, the last thing he expects is to come away from it completely smitten with a man who must be the world's most adorable magician. Crowley's uncharacteristic behaviour towards Aziraphale during the show doesn't go unnoticed by the listeners, with speculation soon running rife online. Only one thing for it - Crowley just needs to engineer an opportunity to see Aziraphale again. All in the name of generating publicity, of course.

Never Too Late by AppleSeeds (T)

It's been thirty-five years since the height of Aziraphale's enormous crush on rockstar Anthony Crowley, but when he sees that Anthony is still performing, Aziraphale feels he owes it to his younger self not to pass up the opportunity to finally hear him sing live. The last thing he expects is for Anthony to actually approach him once the concert is over, extending an invitation that surpasses every fantasy Aziraphale harboured about him as a young man and resulting in the most memorable night of his life.

The Only One I Still Know How to See by Furuba_Fangirl (E)

Aziraphale has been an admirer of Anthony J. Crowley for years. However, the gap between audience member and stage actor begins to thin when they are given the chance to officially meet.

Soho by Lurlur (E)

Aziraphale lives a quiet kind of life, running a quiet specialist bookshop in one of the liveliest districts of London. He's content with his lot, happy with his friends, tolerant of his probably-human housemate, living vicariously through the gossip pages. One day, a chance encounter with Anthony Crowley, lead singer of wildly successful rock band The Demons, threatens to turn his whole world upside down.

Find the Light by klikandtuna (E)

I saw a collection of gifs on tumblr combining David Tennant as a rock star and Michael Sheen as a school headmaster (see the notes of Chapter 1 for a link to the post!) and someone said that it ought to be a fic, sooooo I've made it a fic. Here's a heapin' helping of rock-star Crowley and headmaster Aziraphale! Now with shiny new cover art, also by me!

Win a Date With Anthony J. Crowley! by Caedmon (E)

Crowley is a world-famous rock star who sells out arenas. His name is synonymous with 'rock-n-roll', and he thrives on the spotlight. When he agrees to raffle off a date with himself for charity, he's expecting to meet an overzealous fan that wants to wear his skin and very well might try to roofie him. What he's not expecting is to be instantly attracted to the quiet man with the unusual name who shows up for the date at the Ritz... and he's certainly not expecting for Aziraphale to have no clue who he is...

- Mod D

[sweetestlamb]

I Wanna do Bad Things to You

Authors note: honestly I was losing interest a bit and the second couple still has me in a chokehold but today's episode ate devoured and licked the plate clean. I have a million things I need to do right now but I wrote this instead🤷🏾‍♀️💃🏾

None of his fantasies could have ever prepared him for the vision Seok-ryu makes breathing hard beneath him, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from their kissing.

Thoughts about her aren't new to him. Dirty thoughts about her are not new either. He's been locking his door since he first realized that his feelings for her were different from his feelings for Mo-eum.

He never dreamed about holding her hand, or kissing her or undressing her.

No. Those bad thoughts were reserved for one person and now she's under him staring up at him like she's having very similar thoughts and his thoughts are multiplying by the minute.

"What are you thinking about?"

'Giving you a hickie.'

But he only says that to himself in the safety of his mind because saying that out loud terrifies him and makes his palms too moist.

"Choiseung." She demands his attention again, as if he's not already too fixated on her.

"I'd.... rather not say." He whispers instead, leaning down to hide his face in the curve of her neck before he even realizes his mistake.

She grumbles underneath him but he melts at her hand settling in his hair, her fingers running through the thick strands. Nobody's ever caressed him like this before. He has the fight the moan that wants to escape.

"You're already breaking your promise."

That gets his attention and he shifts away, pining her with her eyes.

"What? What do you mean? What did I do?" He wants to fix whatever it is immediately, he can't handle another argument with her his heart felt like it would burst.

She seems stunned by his seriousness before she collects herself, "You said you wouldn't hide anything from me again. I want to know what you're thinking, whatever is making you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're starving."

Her and these food analogies. But she's not wrong, he feels like he has been starving for years waiting, longing and wishing. Starved for her attention, her favour and her love.

"I'm hungry."

His eyes widen at the sudden announcement especially considering that they just ate, but maybe he can go outside and see if the store is still open and get her something to--

"Where are you going?" She huffs at him as he tries to detangle their limbs.

"You said that you're hun-

"Are you a virgin?"

He freezes and his brain short circuits before he can remind his lungs how to work and breathe again.

"Are you insane why would you ask me that?!"

"Woah. Look how red you got! Am I right? You're a virgin? Am I going to be your first?"

He stares at her slack mouthed before his competitiveness kicks in, she's always been the one to bring this petty immature side out of him.

Far too easily he grips both of her wrists in his hand and pins her hands to the bed over her head. She flails in his tight grip but he watches with fascination as her cheeks pinken and her eyes dilute.

Interesting.

"My first what? Are you offering Seok-ryu? Do you want it that badly?"

His nerves are still there but the desire to put her in her place overrides it momentarily.

But instead of arguing like she's supposed, like they've both been doing for years she zigs when he expects her to zag.

"What if I do? You're my boyfriend. Aren't I suppose to want you?" She stares back with open defiance, only she could make such a confession sound so aggressive.

"Seok-ryu..."

"I don't want to talk. Do I have to spell it out? I want you to -"

His lips slam into hers with a wet smack and he almost groans at how easily she opens up for him, kissing him back as if she's the one that's been pining for years. As if she wants him half as much as he wants her.

He jolts when her legs wrap around his waist, his hold on her wrists loosening for a moment.

When he can't resist the urge to grind into her heat he forces himself to pull away. They need to slow down this is...too much. Too fast.

"We should stop."

But that seems to be the last thing on her mind.

Instead she frees her hands and shoves them up his shirt, his stomach tightens at her touch and this time he isn't quick enough to swallow his reaction.

"Hey Seung-hyo when did you get abs? Is that why you think you can boss me around because you got some muscles?"

"You can't just touch me like that." She raises an eyebrow at his exclamation, challenge clear in her eyes.

"Oh. Why not? Aren't you my man? Can't I touch you just like this and even worst? If I can't touch you like this then who can?"

His jaw drops at her assertion and at the possessiveness in her tone.

He refuses to leave any room for a misunderstanding this time.

"Nobody. Only you."

She avoids eye contact but he doesn't miss the smirk on her lips and that twinkle in her eyes.

"But if you touch me like that then I'm going to get thoughts....I don't want to take advantage of you."

Her laughter is instant and he's tired of feeling like a fish out of water, she's his woman. He is allowed to act like it. He's done holding himself back.

So he retightens his grip on her hands and leans down to press a firm kiss to her neck. Then he waits and her reaction is immediate, her body bends to meet him giving him free range to explore.

Without hesitation he preseses another kiss opening his mouth to taste her and she moans in response.

"More."

That sends blood rushing through his entire body.

He kisses her again and again until she's twisting beneath him but he's too strong for her to break his hold, he shouldn't like that so much.

"I want to give you a hickie."

There. He's said it and if she says no that's fine this is still more than he ever hoped for, more than he deserves honestly. It's greedy of him to even want for more.

"Then do it."

And this time he hold on her completely loosens and she wraps her hands around his neck and yanks him down again, pressing his face further into her neck with a quiet, "Mark me I want it."

He opens his mouth and sucks gently, teething at the thin skin there with the barest amount of pressure. He does it for a minute, lost in her scent and in her soft skin.

"Harder."

He hums into her neck in response, too enthralled to move away for even a second.

"You need to do it harder to leave a mark."

He ignores the tinge of jealousy that flares up at her obvious expertise, she's here with him now that's all that matters.

And he obeys her, open his mouth wider and sucking harder even biting at the last minute and he almost pulls away at her soft shout but she tightens her arms around him refusing to left him go.

"I'm fine you just surprised me. But I like it. I like everything you do to me. Don't stop."

He feels like he's drowning in his own pent up desires.

But he continues to suck and bite and lick at her skin before he realizes that his hips have been moving of their own accord, each gasp from her lips feels him leaving lightheaded and wound up too tight.

He needs to stop before it's too late.

The hickie is huge and red, he realizes that he might have overdone it especially with them trying to hide their relationship.

She's going to kill him.

"How is it? Are you proud of yourself?" She teases him and he can't deny that he loves seeing his mark on her, loves that she trusted him enough to let him do that.

"Who knew you were so possessive?"

He bristles at her taunting tone, "Like you're any better? What did you call me your ma-"

"Hey! Shut up, don't repeat the things I say in the heat of the moment that's embarrassing!"

And this time she pushes him away, and he lets her flopping onto her bed.

"I'm going to check out my hickie, see how much concealer I need to cover it."

And that has him bolting up in the bed, "Wait a second Seok-ryu!"

But he's too late and he watches her eyes flare with anger as she touches the large red mark on her neck in awed silence.

"It looks worst than it really is, it should fade by tomorrow I'm sure!" So similar to the words that she said to his crying six year old self and they both know how that turned out.

"I'm going to kill you!! What did you do to my beautiful neck? What are you a freaking vampire? I said mark me, not destroy my neck!"

And he jumps over the bed trying to get away from her and he can't help but laugh as she trips over her own feet trying to catch him.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART SIX

NSFW

Well. More bond mating smut. And yes, their will be more parts. And more smut! Anywho, enjoy~

Rena stared down at your bare breasts, eyes full of curiosity and interest. You leaned back into Lyiths chest, his hands moving in front of you, trying to fiddle with the buttons of your jeans. Rena smirked down at him, before reaching over with her second pair of hands and unzipping them. Lyith pulled you up, positioning your hips enough so that Rena could pull your pants off, leaving you in a pair of white panties with little bottles on them. ‘Honey’ was scribbled on the jars and you cringed internally. You had bought a bee themed panty pack a week before you had moved into the cottage. 

Rena examined your undies before throwing back her head and cackling. “What a strange garment. I wonder if it tastes as sweet as its labeled.” She took one of her hands and traced around the edges of the underwear with her fingers, achingly slow, then reaching down to the start of a wet splotch that had seeped through the fabric. Just as slowly, she rubbed back and forth against the splotch, tracing the opening of your lips. She laughed again, then took some of the slick collected on her finger to her lips.

She blinked up at you with big eyes. “They were right. Sweet as our best batch of honey.”

Your core churned with heat, her gaze making you clench around nothing. Lyiths hands moved from your waist up to your breasts, tracing little meandering lines on the skin. The sensation made your nipples perk and Rena watched them with introgue.

It occurred to you that this must be a very new experience for them, considering they were not fully mammalian. Rena used the pad of her fingers to trace around your areolas, and up the tip of your nipple, making you quiver. The skin on her first pair of hands was rougher, and it felt incredibly good. She pinched your nipples experimentally. Her other hands roamed your happy trail, down your stomach to your hips. Lyith continued to message the skin of your breasts.

Lyiths head was leaning over and into your ear. He blew into it experimentally and as you breathed out a moan came with it. All the attention and the fact that three pairs of hands were groping your body was incredibly titillating. You were getting wetter under their eyes and your sensitive nipples only made things worse. Your core pooled molten, and you felt yourself heat up.

You had never felt so open and on display, the fact that their was no door to the room making your tensions tighten. Any minute someone could come in and see you bare and moaning. That is, if they didn’t feel the wave of your lust from the hallway.

“We are all that matters right now.” Lyith breathed in your ear, putting his lips to your neck and biting down. You groaned at the shock and the sweetness of it. You could feel Lyiths growing need against your ass. Rena leaned down and started licking and nipping the skin of your breast, eventually making way to your nipples, causing you to shake. 

She noticed, and started to play with them in tandem. One of her hands had pushed your panties aside and started tracing up and down your slit. You mewled as she traced over your clit and she stopped.

She then, slowly traced over it again and, saw how you went limp. You were not able to do anything but feel sensation.

“Oh, is this a place you like, little Queen?” She purred, starting to rub it with vigor. You cried as she started to play with it, making different shapes and taking breaks to trace down to your entrance and back up again. Fuck did it feel good. You wondered if Bee-men women had clits and you looked down, surprised to see that while she did have a slit, something was starting to peak out, a long, girthy something. It had bumps and ridges, a shape you had never seen before. 

She noticed your attention shift and cooed at you.

“See what you do to me little Queen?” You felt her push her mind to yours, her rich heady arousal filling your head. You joined her and you felt her smugness at your obvious need and lust. Something about sharing your mind with her made you more sensitive, and you started moaning louder as she rubbed you and played with your wetness.

You could feel it, a sudden magic being worked and she brought one of her hands to her mouth, taking two fingers deep into it. She then pulled them out, slick and glistening under the light, then reached them down to slowly pump into you. She worked the liquid into your twitching walls, exploring. Behind you Lyith murmured praises and groaned as he humped himself into the crevice between your asscheeks, sliding around the Bee-men equivalent of precum. You didn’t see him, but his length felt long. You wondered what it looked like, when suddenly, a strong shot of warmth, like lightning started to take place between your walls.

You were a trembling shaking mess, and if you had felt needy before, your were practically desperate now. You felt a sort of fuzzy sensitiveness in your walls, a feeling adjacent to need. It was strong, and demanding, and you could barely see with how much you needed something to be inside you. You started humping into Renas hand, sliding up and down against Lyiths length as you went. All blushing, and embarrassment gone, you needed to be fucked. Right then. Right now.

A part of you knew it was Rena’s magic. She was painting more and more of this magic saliva along your walls, seemingly trying to cover every inch of it. You whine loudly into her ear, and bit her shoulder hard in frustration. She giggled at you.

“I have to do this properly if we want this to take, little one. Now keep your mind and your legs nice and open for me.” She whispered. You were sweating profusely now, the sweat on your back and chest making their fur damp in the process.

Rena’s hands continued to pump into you, angling just the right way to make you grunt and drool. Your inside was so incredibly wet, you bet the squelching sounds could be heard from the hall. Your release was so close. You were so close. You felt another nip on your shoulder as Lyith came, his voice a beautiful song. You could feel his eyes flutter along your skin, and that knowledge sent you over the edge too. You rode out the wave of blinding heat as Rena leaned down to kiss you. 

Her tongue licked at yours experimentally before completely claiming your mouth like she had your cunt. Her saliva was sweet and tasted of her magic and she continued to feed her own need for release, a need to be touched and fuck and to be fucked all inside your head. Her saliva wasn’t just an aphrodisiac, it was pining her magic to you, her mind to you, everything that she was, it was all over your insides.

She finally adjusted you, putting her girth up to your hole before murmuring a chant that sounded like a mix between human and the buzzing texture of her purrs. Her mind was full of want, of instinct and devotion.

“I give my body and mind to you. I claim you as my Queen, to serve until my mind turns quiet and my wings beat their last beat.” 

If Rena had ever been serious in her life, it was at this moment. Your gazes locked and opened yourself to her completely. You would accept all of her. Every flaw and piece.

At that moment, she pushed into you, all of her in one swift motion. You both groaned out, your minds a landscape of white sparks and fire. She started pumping, her ridges dragging deliciously against your walls. It was good thing she had prepped you, because her girth was formidable. The friction left you drooling as she fucked you dizzy. You felt like goo, barely able to keep your head upright from how intense the feelings were.

She had not just entered you physically, but you could feel herself attach to some incredibly intimate part of your mind. The harder she pumped, the more she connected and you knew she would never leave you. 

As your second orgasm started to build, you felt it. The last nail to the wall, to mount her to you forever. If you drilled it in yourself, you would be her queen until your last days. You felt a piece of her tense in worry. A scared vulnerable piece of her. She had given you everything and if you rejected her now, she would never live down the shame, never be able to take another queen.

You took all of her in your mind, cradled her as close to you as possible, and pushed the two of you over the edge. In that moment the two of you cried out, heat and pleasure crashing through your mind and forms. 

She filled you with her warm cum, your dripping cunt taking every inch as she pumped you through your high. Your hearts beat as one in that moment, and you stayed like that for an impossibly long time.

When the two of you came down, you collapsed into each other. You rolled over, her dick soft, inside you. Lyith made a happy trilling sound and sculpted himself to your back, purring and humming in a sing song way. He was actually singing now, in a celebratory tone. 

Rena could only purr and trill happily, her eyes foggy as she put her hand up to push back your damp locks.

You leaned into her touch, sated and happy. You could feel her bond in the back of your mind, next to Lyiths. You had to admit to yourself, now that the need was starting to recede, that this was a scary situation.

Your Lyith and Rena had put their lives in your hands, to heal or hurt, to command, or to reject. The power was all yours. 

“Everything will be alright. Anything scary, we will deal with it together.” Lyith breathed at you. Rena, still coming down from her high nodded, making her same trilling noise. It conveyed an emotion you didn't have human words for. It was ajoy of being seen and accepted. Of being whole. It was a vulnerable, sincere love being conveyed. You leaned over and kissed her. 

You slowly pulled her girth out of you, causing her to groan and wrinkle her nose. You turned to Lyith and kissed him as well, before laying on your back and sighing. 

I totally am going to freak out when I fully process this, you thought to yourself, before relaxing your consciousness into the embrace of sleep.

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 1/32 (yeah I know, right?)

Warnings: angst if you squint, name calling, suggestive wording

I wrote this a while ago, if you think I need to add anything else for this one, lmk!

Word count: 1,265

"What the hell are you doing on my ice, George? The hockey team already released the team list, we can't accept anyone else. Either way, we don't like drama."

"Actually, I'm not on the ice," Regina gives you a dirty look, pointing at the fact that she is right outside the ice, not on it, "and ew, this does not sound appealing. You look like a fridge wearing a knockoff dollar-store sports jersey. This also looks a bit rough." she makes a gesture at your outfit, and size.

Well, she was right. The school had a small budget for the women's team, and you tower over her. Your shoulder pads add to the size, you really are built like a fridge at the moment.

"Then what are you here for? To call me another slur?" You take your helmet off and lean your head down on your stick, smirking, "here for a good time?"

Regina fake gags, "Absolutely no. Gross. Quit speaking," she gives another dirty look, "I saw the poster that you needed a manager for the team. I can't play any sports and everything is so fucking lame. I can at least see fights here." She shrugs

"And why do you of all people want to be involved in anything  that doesn't involve pretty pink glitter and being a massive bitch?" Putting emphasis in the 'B' in bitch, you poke Regina with your stick.

"If I didn't have to I wouldn't," she shoves the stick off of her shoulder, "but my therapist is making me. I can't let last year consume me, and I have to be helpful or whatever."

You look at the clock and put your helmet back on then glide across the ground, your skates leaving gashes in the ice. Regina stands by the opening into the rink, dumbfounded that someone had just walked away from her. The clock makes a loud buzzing noise and pucks fly into the net and scatter the ice around it.

"Well, George, you gotta work up the food chain here," you get a smug look on your face, "Practice is over! We don't have to get the pucks tonight. Our lovely new manager Miss Regina George will get it for us. Won't you?" you skate up to the blonde, whose eyes sit wide.

The team leaves to the locker room before leaving the building as Regina nods. She could not believe that someone had actually spoken to her like that. You ask her shoe size, go to the locker room, and come out with a pair of skates. They are blue and gold, and old. Like, really old looking. The blade is sharp but the leather is worn and creased. You intentionally grabbed the oldest pair that would fit her. Queen Bee George wouldn't own the ice like she did the rest of the school. You drop the skates in front of Regina.

"You expect me to know how the hell to put these on?"

"Are you ACTUALLY kidding me right now George?" You don't get an answer, so you sit down in front of Regina, "wow you aren't. I will do this one time, and one time only." You hold up a one on your hand and Regina nods.

You lace the skates while Regina complains about how tight they are, then you describe why they had to be so tight, she finds some way to complain about your reasoning too. You lead her on to the ice, she isn't an awful skater, although she falls once. You teach her how to collect the pucks by scooting the net around the ice, then take her to the locker room.

"I really need to get out of these clothes, but as the captain it's my job to tell you what your jobs are. So I hope you don't mind," You start taking off your jersey, "so basically you will make sure the locker room and ice stays clean. You'll scrape the ice, make sure it's clean and pretty, get our stuff on the bus for away games, basic shit." you peel the outer layers of your gear off.

"So I don't have to drive the zimbabwe or whatever?" Regina asks, relief washing over her as she looks at you.

"No you will not be driving a whole ass country, honey," You look dumbfounded, "The custodial staff or our coach are the only ones who operate the ZAMBONI. And quit looking. I can't tell if you're jealous or you want me." You smirk over at Regina as she quickly rotates her head away from your direction.

You finish changing, she glances over at you one more time while your back muscles flex, pulling a shirt over your head. You throw on a pair of faded jeans and a red flannel. You pull your phone out and hand it to Regina on the contacts page.

"This by no means is asking you to ever speak to me outside of anything hockey related, or even hockey related, actually. Never text me," you smile and take the phone back from Regina, "this is just so I can add you to the team group chat."

Regina is left speechless, she has never ever been disrespected like that.

"You literally just met me, what the fuck is your problem? I will not let my year be ruined by your rude ass." Regina scoffs.

"My problem, Regina, is that my name was in that little book of yours. Right next to the words 'body count higher than points scored' and 'hockey lez'," you sit and stare at Regina, "I do not want to talk to you outside of this sport, and I will talk to you as little as I can here. I appreciate that you are getting better and working on your behavior after last years events, but this does not change the fact that words are mean. It didn't hurt, but I don't make company with assholes."

You walk out to your car, a 2015 Subaru Forester. You don't notice Regina's highly recognizable Jeep in the parking lot, and see her walk out of the building. She keeps walking past the parking lot, sprinkles of rain splattering the ground around her. You are an asshole, but not that big of one. You speed out of the lot and pull up next to Regina, who is walking down the side walk with her hot pink hood over her head, and roll your window down.

"Why are you walking? It's raining and you have a nice Jeep. This is ridiculous George." You shout.

"I still don't trust myself driving alone after the accident in case my back locks up, I like the rain, I'm fine." Regina keeps her head forward.

"Are you sure? As captain it is my obligation to make sure everyone get's home safe."

"Oh my God, you have already said you hate me, would you MOVE ON you fucking lesbo." Regina yells.

"Great choice of words when you are trying to better yourself Regina." You clench your jaw, roll your window up, and speed off.

This was going to be one great year, you can just feel it.

[siriuslychessi]

For September's @jilychallenge partner @petalsthefish

Wordless

AO3 | FF

Prompt: A new teacher for DADA assigns partners for the year and you are partnered with your worst nightmare (your crush’s best mate or your crush him/herself)

Magnus Elderberry had been Hogwarts’ 6th DADA Professor in as many years since the class of ‘77 started attending it. It seemed that no matter what the school could not keep a Professor for that class no matter how good they were. They were not sure if it was the lack of payment, or if the rumour that the job was cursed was true. 

The older man was strict but he made sure that along their rigorous syllabus they would also have practical lessons. 

“This first term you will be paired with the same classmate, the distribution will be aleatory as we do not play favourites in this classroom. You will all learn nonverbal spells and since this is a taxing endeavour your partner will become both an ally and a competitor. At the end of term there will be a nonverbal duel tournament, the best partners will gain 100 points to their houses.”

A collecting murmur could be heard through the classroom, there was something terrible about being stuck with someone you despised, but the promise of 100 points for duelling had the class excited. 

The names were taken out from a bowl one by one, and Lily watched every piece of paper with such force she actually thought that she would be able to change the name on the paper if needed. 

Last year she had a fall out with her best mate, Severus Snape, and after that she did not want to be stuck with him as a partner for the next foreseeable future. Yet the name that was paired with hers was not a Slytherin, but a fellow housemate. 

Sirius Black, one of the top students of the class, great marks and James Potter’s best mate approached the place where she was standing and smiled at Lily. “Evans, this is going to be interesting.” he smiled, his hands in his pocket as he waited for her to say something. 

They didn’t use to get along, Sirius and her. Mostly because he loved to mess with Severus, as much as Severus liked to mess with him, and Lily as a good friend always sided with her oldest mate, instead of his housemate. That was until the mudblood incident, and ever since then Lily’s life had seemed to change 180º, her and Severus did not speak anymore, and Sirius…

She was not sure about Sirius.

Today they were practising just simple nonverbal protecting and disarming spells, to start the terms, something to warm them up for the things to come. Apparently in preparation for their NEWTs they would get nonverbal and wandless classes, and this was just a small step in that direction. 

“The motion of your wand needs to be more precise when words are not used, at first they would try to conjure the word in their heads, which was good practice, but in time;” Professor Elderberry said, “it will come as easy as walking, you won’t think about the word, but of the use of the spell. Making your magic work seamlessly with your thoughts.” As he finished the explanation he summoned one book from the other end of the classroom, demonstrating what he meant, and then put them to work. 

The class spread around the classroom to start practising. Lily did not dare to look at Sirius, not because she disliked him, but because she was afraid that he would see something in her that she was not sure was anything. It was probably nothing.

Well it was something if it bothered her so much, but it was probably not anything consequential. Or was it?

She had been so confused since last year that just thinking about sharing the class with Black would end her. She had enough on her plate with the broken relationship with Snape, Petunia’s ever growing disdain and now… well… it did not matter.

Sirius stood in front of Lily, wand in hand and looking at the shorter woman a bit amused. Lily was a brilliant witch and hilarious when she was not in a crusade to try and justify Snape’s decision and actions, but he did not remember the last time they were paired together. He was about to ask how they should go about it when a loud “I won’t spend the rest of the term working with him!” could be heard from where the Professor stood. 

“Mr Snape, as explained, there is no favouritism in this class. Groups are not to be changed for the remaining term. What was not clear.” The Professor said calmly.

Snape looked at the Professor and at James Potter, who stood next to them waiting for the scene to play out. 

“Professor, it was clear, but you can not expect me to work with Potter, that is not possible.” Snape said quieter, just so the professor could hear.

“May I know why you think that?” The Professor asked, once again, calmly. He could be persuaded but it seemed that Severus Snape did not have a proper reason to give.

If it were any other Professor they would know why Snape and Potter could not work together, but the new DADA Professor was just clueless. Explaining how Snape and James did not like each other and kept hexing each other whenever they got the chance would make Snape confess to things he did not want faculty knowing, as he played innocent in those occasions, 

“Are you not up to the challenge?” James’ voice was almost teasing, but he was not dumb enough to get detention. He had no issue working with Snape, he disliked him, but he was not going to cause a scene just because he got to learn how to hext and disarm him without even saying a word. 

James was also clear that even with the small tantrum, Snape was not dim and he would probably also master the spells quick enough for there to be any serious trouble. The main issue was, how long would they last before they would be at each other’s throats? How many points would they get deducted that the 100 points from the assignment would seem like child’s play in comparison? 

Neither of them were sure, but at the moment James seemed to have the proverbial upper hand facing the Professor and Snape was not liking it. 

“Shut up, Potter. Let’s finish this.” Snape reluctantly went to another corner of the classroom for them to do the exercises. 

At the other end of the room Lily Evans was watching them, she had been so focused on not getting Severus that when she got Sirius she forgot that someone would get her former best mate. If she would have had to guess who would be paired with Severus, never in a million years she would have imagined James. Both boys were catalysts for each other’s worst qualities. 

“Worried about your mate, Red?” Sirius said behind her, looking in the same direction where Snape and Potter were standing in front of each other, the tension palpable as a bomb about to explode. 

“I’m sure James will be okay.” Lily said dismissively, because Snape certainly was not her friend anymore. 

A smirk formed on Sirius’ lips, now focusing his attention on Lily rather than his mate and the git. “So, it is James now?” a teasing tone could be heard in Sirius’ voice and Lily had to mentally hit herself. She had been so close to not show any kind of change or favouritism towards James until she managed to find exactly how she felt, but her mouth had to slip at that very moment. 

“Well, I don’t call my mates by their last name, Black.” she replied, trying to be nonchalant, yet a small blush crept to her cheeks betraying her.

Sirius put a hand on his heart, fainting hurt, “You don’t consider us friends, Red, that’s hurtful considering I rather like you.” and he was sincere, Lily could be a lot of things, but she was a nice bird with a decent sense of humour and a nice head above her shoulders. He was annoyed at Prongs’ crush on her, but Sirius could not put that blame onto the redhead. 

“Let’s just try to get through this class and maybe my fondness for you will grow.” she joked, making Sirius chuckle and nodding, letting slide just this once that he saw more than a friendship growing between Lily and James. 

Sirius took out his wand but did not raise it against Lily at first, he seemed a bit bored of the class already and Lily found it nice that they were not just doing lectures but actual practice. Yet, the older Black seemed to be done with the class already and that peeved Lily. “Do I bore you so much already? You haven’t even given me a chance to do anything.”

Sirius arched his brows in disbelief, “Red, I have nothing but respect for you, but I’m afraid the lesson is not quite as thrilling.” he admitted, making sure that his face showed more than just boredom. He was so used to being around people that knew that Blacks had just the same resting face that he forgot other people might not be. 

Lily looked at her fellow Gryffindor, not sure what to think. Sirius did seem to be making an effort, and she knew that for all his flaws he was rather honest, sometimes brutally honest. “You think the practice lesson is boring? Nonverbal seems like a challenge.”

It was true that for most young wizards nonverbal spells were a challenge, Sirius was not the exception, even with his brilliant mind it took him a while to master them. But he and his friends were trying to become animagi, and that was something that used nonverbal and wandless spells, plus potions and a lot of preparation.

Lily Evans did not know that.

“They are,” he admitted, “but does not mean we all learn it at the same pace.” he admitted as much, as he could not admit trying to become an animagi.

“You already know how to do nonverbal magic?” Lily said impressed, even when she tried to get ahead on her studies to not be the only clueless muggleborn in the school, yet no matter how far she went it seemed that she was always behind.

Sirius just nodded for a reply, he did not want to reveal much, not every pureblood decided to practise ahead, even if you had the advantage of doing magic at home while others might not. He tried changing tactics, because otherwise it sounded like bragging, “Your mate James can also use it.” he teased a bit, hoping they could move forward from the reason why he knew certain things.

“He does?” Lily asked, turning to look in James’ direction. Like an invisible force would not allow her mind to think in anything else other than James for more than 5 minutes. 

At the other end of the class Severus and James were moving, almost mirroring each other. Severus was trying to disarm James, while James defended himself and also tried to disarm Severus. It was like a  mesmerising dance, where you could not help to get invested, as both wizards were skilled and their movements were fluid. You could not catch one spell when the other was already being casted. 

“Seems like Snape also knows a thing or two.” Sirius admitted. In reality Sirius didn’t think Snape was an idiot because of his ability to learn, it was on what he chose to learn and who he associated with, but that didn’t have anything to do with that particular class. 

Watching the two wizards fight made Lily feel something, and not, it was not whatever was feeling for James, but a kind of envy. Severus seemed always so knowledgeable and taught Lily many things, but she also realised that he was hiding much more than his hate for the people of her kind. She felt him patronising her for what felt like the millionth time, and he was not even talking to her!

“Sirius, we can’t let them win.” Lily was determined, he could not let Snape win, nor James, even if he was a bit better than before, his ego was big enough. “I want those 100 for us, not Gryffindor, us.”

Sirius laughed at Lily’s determination, not mockinly but amused that seeing two people duel ignited in her the need to win and be better, that was exactly the Lily he liked to see. “Let’s do this, Red, we’ll wipe the floor with them.” and with that they set up to work. 

Learning how to master the nonverbal spells took longer than she wanted. Sirius was a great partner, he was supportive but he did not take it easy, he was driven and he did not let her slack in any sense, yet he understood that she was starting in a path he already mastered. 

By the end of the class Lily was almost able to wiggle Sirius’ wand without saying the word, but the spell was not as strong as it should be. Sirius could have let her take his wand easier, but that would not do her any good, she needed to actually master the technique. 

“That was progress, Red, I could feel you almost pulling it that last time. Some people could not even get to do it on their first attempt.” Sirius praised her as they gathered their things.

“Not good enough, I want to be able to do it by next class.” Lily had decided that she did not want to feel left behind, that Severus had some sort of advantage over her, she hated to feel like that, she justified it all her life due to him having a witch for a mother, but not anymore. “Do you mind meeting a couple of times before the next class to practise?” she hoped he wouldn't, but she knew that he might not like to do this, after all he was already bored with the lesson.

What didn’t Lily expect was Sirius liking that passion of her, determined to do better and to take no for an answer. Lily was far from dim, Sirius knew as much, but this new facet of her intrigued him as much as he liked it. 

“You’ve got it.” He smiled at her, “We can figure a schedule later, now if you don’t mind I’m famished and supper is calling my name.” he winked at her and left to join his friends. 

Their first Defence had been a Thursday, that meant that their next one would be a Tuesday, they had 4 days to get this sorted and Lily was going to take advantage of it. On Friday Sirius appeared in the empty classroom as promised, they talked for a bit and then started practising. Sirius kept encouraging her but it seemed that no matter what she did not manage to get the spell right. 

They tried again on Saturday, and it was not for Lily’s lack of enthusiasm and hard work, or Sirius’ will to help her and explain. The results were the same, she did not budge Sirius’ wand from his hand, and she was getting frustrated with the whole situation.

“You are thinking too hard about this, tensing up won’t make your wand respond like you wish to.” Sirius had offered as advice before they went their separate ways; she needed to relax but she could not do so, which frustrated her even more.

Lily tried not to think about it, she tried to go about her day as usual, and just focus on the spell once she met Sirius. She arrived at their usual empty classroom and sat on top of the teacher’s desk as she waited for her partner to arrive, and while she did so she thought about the class and how it seemed that she was the only one that could not master the technique. 

Sirius was usually very punctual, but Lily noticed that it was 10 minutes past their meeting hour and she got worried. Did he grow tired of teaching her? Wouldn’t he tell her that they were done and they would not continue the tutoring? She thought Sirius’ would, but they were not exactly closed. 

Lily was about to give up on waiting and just go back to her dorm, maybe ask one of her dorm mates to help, when the door cracked open.

The person at the other side of the door was not Sirius Black, he was almost as tall as Sirius, and had jet black hair, but it looked like swept by the wind. His eyes were not grey, but hazle, and there was a small blush around his cheeks as he entered the room. “Evans?” he called before opening the door completely, his expression apologetic, “I’m so glad you are still here, Sirius told me he promised to help you out, but he also promised Remus.” James excused his friend, “Remus is abysmal at potions and Sirius is the best we’ve got.” he admitted, “Sirius sent me to help you, said you needed help with Defence?”

Sirius was a dead man walking. Lily had decided there and then, because he somehow knew and still sent James Potter to help her, when she was trying to defeat his big head and Severus. No matter how much wandless magic the Black heir knew, Lily would kill him.

“Evans?” James’ voice was soft, hoping that he did not come out as a git, he already had done so in previous years and after talking to his mum he thought he could do better. 

“Uhm, yeah?” she replied, looking at him, not knowing he needed an answer to anything.

“I’ve asked if you don’t mind me helping you instead.” James' eyes seemed almost pleading, she remembered him asking her out, but last time it felt like a dare, this time his plea seemed different.

Lily shook her head and moved down from the desk, “Not at all, but you are teaching me to beat you.” she warned him as she stepped to the place of the classroom without furniture.

“Is that so?” James asked amused, taking his cloak off, preparing himself for a session of spell practice.

“Yes, I’m taking those 100 points.” Lily smiled, daring him to question her drive and her capacity to do so, positioning herself a few feet from him, wand in hand.

James chuckled and shrugged. “I won’t give up that easily.” he replied, not belittling her but actually taking her seriously. She was not sure when was the last time she had a study partner that took her as seriously as Sirius and James had done so. Maybe Mary and Remus, but she usually studied with Severus, trying to spend time outside of the classrooms. “Come on, Evans, show me what you’ve got.” he dared her, and she complied.

Lily had tried with all her might to disarm James, as she had done with Sirius. She was willing the spell out of her, thinking it loud enough, but the wand in James’ hand did not move from there. 

Once more, she moved her wand in a spiral, as the spell required. It was a clear motion, maybe a small one, but you could see her trying to cast that spell with all her might. And once more James’ wand did not move.

James moved from his defence stance to a normal one, and looked at Lily. They had been going at it for a while and there was no progress, which made Lily almost want to cry of frustration, but she couldn’t, not in front of Potter, maybe when she went back to her bed. 

“You are giving up on me, aren’t you?” she said softly, putting her wand away.

“What?! No!” James shook his head and approached her, trying to comfort her in some way, but James Potter was clueless in comforting girls, much less Lily Evans. “I was not, I promise.” he said sincerely hoping she would see that it was true, that his words were not empty. “I was just wondering what is going through your head when you try to do the spell.” James explained looking at her, waiting for an answer.

Lily looked at him, and furrowed her brow trying to think. Her hands moved again, her wand making a smaller spiral motion as she closed her eyes for a second trying to focus on what she usually did when trying to disarm James, and not in his cologne, or how close to her he seemed to be. After a few moments she opened her green eyes and looked at his. “Just the spell, nothing much, I also think of the word, as the Professor explained.”

James nodded understandingly, and moved backwards again. “I think that’s the problem, you are thinking of a word, but not what the spell does. Remember when Flitwick was teaching us the levitating spell?” he asked, excited that he thought he figured out what was wrong with Lily’s technique.

It took the smaller witch a moment to get it but then it hit her, “Imagine where you want the feather to go,” she replied, getting to what James was saying.

“Exactly!” he beamed at her, “So we need you to remember how the spell feels. I want you to try to disarm me, like normal, forget about this being nonverbal, do it a few times, until the word loses meaning, but pay attention to everything else. How does the spell feel, how your wand pulls, how the magic flows.” he explained, going back to his defensive position, waiting for her to take the lead. 

Lily nodded at his instructions, they seemed mad, but at this point she was willing to try anything as long as she was able to learn this. 

“Expelliarmus!”

Her body moved as usual, she remembered how she used to feel the wand pull, because the word helped her to make it come to her. But when they took the word away all she could think was of the aid of said word and not what it was supposed to do. She repeated the spell a few more times, sweat going down her forehead as the wand in James’ hand moved but it was not enough to move it, but the smile on James’ face grew with each attempt, Lily might have not made it yet, but she was getting close with each cast.

Eventually James’ wand flew from his hand, and a victorious Lily smiled at him. It felt like a simple spell but it had taken so much effort she was not sure what had changed. 

“Now give it back, and remember that feeling.” James instructed and she followed his instructions, as it seemed it was doing something more than whatever her and Sirius were doing previously. 

They were back at their places, Lily preparing to attack, James preparing to defend. And Lily moved her wand again, this time not repeating the spell in her head, but pushing towards what she wanted, James’ wand, which was moving more than the previous attempts. 

It took him a couple more times, Lily was beginning to lose faith once more, but then, when she least expected it, James’ wand was flying towards her, and all she could do was catch it and laugh.

“Yes! I did it!” she celebrated, moving closer to James, giving him his wand, “Thank you!” she said excitedly and bounced in her place before turning and giving James a hug. Getting the spell had felt so amazing, like a barrier had been lifted and now she could do more than she ever imagined, but it took her mind a bit to catch up on what her body was doing. 

She was hugging James Potter. 

James, who had been a git up until now, who was always bragging on how amazing he was and it was to be a Gryffindor, who had also helped Mary when Mulciber had attacked her. Who stopped hexing younger students for the fun of it, and started fighting the injustices he saw. And who made her feel confused, exasperated and elated, all at the same time.

She could feel James’ arms around her, and asked herself when they had become so toned, because he was a lanky 14 year old boy not so long ago. She wondered when he had gotten so tall, and when did his jaw became so pronounced that she could see him clench it a bit before speaking? 

He was trying to be so careful of not breaking whatever was happening that it took Lily a second to understand that he was speaking again. “I knew you could do it, Evans.” he smiled at her once more, and she unwrapped her arms from his neck, feeling awkward to have hugged him so suddenly. 

“Thank you, you were the one that broke the code.” she admitted, smiling back at him, trying not to blush.

“You did all the work, it took you less time than me to get it working.” he conceded, “So technically, you’ve won.” He was joking, she knew that much, but he was not mocking her and her effort, just her competitive vein, a tad bit. 

“I have.” she replied proudly, but not because of managing a spell (even when it felt amazing) but she had finally understood what she was feeling for James Potter, and that was a win on its own.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Late Night Cocoa and other Remedies

Summary: Leo was totally fine, in case anyone was wondering.

Fine with the nightmares that had been getting worse since they got back home.

Fine with the fact that Jason’s place at Camp Jupiter, having been built for one person, only had a single bed.

They were just staying for a week. Leo could completely platonically share a bed with his best friend for a few days.

Sure, their shoulders kept brushing. Maybe Leo wasn’t even sure how he’d make it through the first night with the heart palpitations that was giving him—never mind a whole week. But he’d figure it out.

It was fine.

In retrospect, he really should have accounted for his habit of clinging to things when he had bad dreams

Word Count: ~5.5k

Rating: Teen and Up

Another Valgrace fanfic repost from my Ao3 that takes place in the same universe as this one. This time, we’ve got angst, more pining and lots of hurt/comfort. Also quite possibly some kissing ;)

CW for references to Leo’s canon foster care abuse, nothing super in-depth or graphic but as per usual my rule of thumb with this stuff is better safe than sorry.

———

Leo was totally fine, in case anyone was wondering.

Sure, his nightmares had been getting worse since they’d gotten back to camp, like the brain equivalent of adrenaline draining out of his body after a fight, leaving him aching all over.

Hey, you lived, congrats! Now, remember all that pesky trauma you’ve been ignoring?

Nightmares were a normal thing that every demigod experienced. The last few months had been a lot. The gods liked to give you shitty doomsday visions whenever they got the chance. And sure, those dreams sucked, but excitingly, Leo also had plenty of memories from before that time to have nightmares about. Now that he no longer needed to have prophetic nightmares about Gaia, he got to have dreams about all the other shit that had happened to him, plus a little extra trauma he’d collected on the journey. Wasn’t that exciting?

He was fine, though. It wasn’t anything he’d never dealt with before. It helped when he had ways to keep himself busy.

For this reason, among other things, Leo had been glad that Jason had asked him to go along on a trip to Camp Jupiter. It made for a welcome distraction—those were harder to come by than Leo wished, with everyone insisting they “rest up” and “take a while to recover” after their several week trip on the Argo II. It also made for a great excuse to spend some alone time with Jason.

Technically, their visit to Camp Jupiter was about the Temple Hill renovations Jason had been planning since they’d gotten back to camp, along with the new shrines at Camp Half-Blood. When he wasn’t talking over details with Annabeth, he’d been rambling about it to Leo a lot. It was obvious how passionate he was about it. He had sketches and a model made out of old monopoly houses and everything. It was cute.

Leo wasn’t exactly needed for Jason to present his first draft to the Roman demigods. But Jason had been nervous, and he hadn’t seemed to like the thought of leaving Leo—aftereffects of him blowing himself up to save the world, apparently, despite the fact that it had been two months. And, well, it wasn’t like Leo had anything better to do, so they’d taken Festus on a little cross-country road trip.

The trip itself had been shockingly uneventful by their standards. Sure, there’d been the occasional monster, but compared to their trip to Greece, Leo was pretty sure that almost counted as a vacation.

Their arrival at Camp Jupiter, however, came with a whole host of new and exciting problems.

For one, being the guy who’d fired on their Camp a few months prior, Leo wasn’t exactly popular. He didn’t blame the Roman demigods for being distrustful of him—getting possessed sounded like a stupid excuse even to Leo, and he was the one it had happened to.

Jason got very defensive about it, considering Leo’s whole dramatic sacrifice and everything. After one especially mean comment, there’d been some ominous electrical crackling from his direction, and Leo had had to drag him off before they caused another incident, proving the guy’s point by getting him struck by lightning or something equally unfortunate.

This actually wasn’t the main problem. Leo had mostly been expecting it. Besides, he hadn’t exactly been popular in most places he’d lived, neither at school nor with his foster parents, so it wasn’t like this was a novel experience for him. He was pretty used to it.

The bigger problem was Jason, who, seeing as Leo getting glared at in the barracks wasn’t a feasible living situation, had asked Leo to stay at his place. A place that, as it had specifically been designed for Jason and his new role—high priest, or whatever it was, Leo could never remember the exact title—had been built for exactly one person.

This was Jason’s first proper visit to Camp Jupiter since the war had ended, so he hadn’t been to his new place before. The furniture was bare-bones, just the necessities, picked out by someone who wasn’t Jason. Meaning: no couch, and exactly one bed.

The living room came with two armchairs, which were decently cozy, but even Leo wasn’t short enough to use them for a bed. He’d need both legs detachable instead of just one for that to work, and even then it’d be a tight fit.

So that left them with just the bed.

And sure, they’d slept around each other before, shared a tent or a campfire, but that wasn’t the same as sharing a bed. Bed sharing wasn’t something Leo had ever done with anyone except his mom and Piper, who was basically his sister and therefore didn’t count.

Sharing a bed with Jason… that was different.

Leo had offered to spend the week sleeping on the floor, because he’d slept in less comfortable places than wooden floors in a heated building, but then Jason had said he sometimes found himself a nice bush to sleep in when he got anxious and he could just do that, which… yeah, okay, even Leo had realized at that point that they were both being ridiculous. Sometimes he really did wonder why Piper put up with either of them.

Anyway, they’d decided to stop being idiots and just share the bed, so now Leo was awake at one in the morning, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore Jason dozing quietly next to him and the way their shoulders were brushing.

Jason ran a little colder than he did, which Leo had never noticed before, but now he could barely resist the urge to hold a hand to Jason’s cheek to warm him up, and maybe keep it there. Maybe just lean in, and… yeah, no, absolutely not.

Leo really shouldn’t spend extended periods of time thinking about any of this, because if he did, his brain would kick into overdrive again, and if he let it… well, the top ten things of what not to do when you were hopelessly in love with your best friend probably included accidentally lighting his bedsheets on fire.

He wasn’t even noticing the fact that their hands were almost touching.

Jason didn’t seem to mind lying next to Leo at all. The second they’d flopped down on the mattress, he’d been out cold. And here Leo was, still awake, fighting the heart palpitations that Jason‘s peaceful smile gave him. How Leo was supposed to make it all the way to the end of the week when this would be a nightly thing, he had no idea.

This was no fair. Leo hadn’t cheated fate only for his bisexuality to kill him.

He turned his back to Jason, facing the wall. It was impossible to ignore he was there, even when Leo wasn’t looking, because no matter which way he turned, they were always touching. Leo had tried, but the bed just wasn’t big enough to avoid it completely. His skin prickled. He was used to having disastrous crushes—to falling hard and flat on his face. But he’d never been so close to one of them before—physically and emotionally speaking. He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Not that the falling flat on his face-part couldn’t still happen. Jason had seen him do a lot of stupid shit. That wouldn’t even make the top three.

It felt impossible that Leo fell asleep under these circumstances, but at some point, he did. Maybe it was the exhaustion from traveling here. Maybe, despite feeling like a live wire every time Jason got too close, the backdrop of his steady breaths was actually calming.

Whatever it was, at some point throughout the night, Leo did fall asleep. Inevitably, the nightmares came, as they always fucking did.

~~~~~~~

It was Teresa this time, yelling at him after he’d gotten another bad report card. Grabbing his shoulders too hard. Leo should have run sooner than he did, but it had been the early days, right after his mom died, and he hadn’t figured out running was an option yet. Instead, he just froze and curled up and tapped “I love you” into the carpet until his fingers hurt, waiting for his mom to tap back from wherever she was. She never did. She couldn’t.

Teresa yelled at him to stop fidgeting, stop making noise. Told him that it was no wonder his relatives hadn’t wanted to put up with him, and he should be so grateful that she did, but her patience was wearing thin. One more mistake, one more step out of her perfect lines…

His face hurt. There was more yelling.

The dream dissolved into something completely incoherent after this, just vague images. Then suddenly he was alone, swallowed by darkness or maybe the earth. Breathing hurt. The yelling was still there, further away now, but it wasn’t Teresa’s voice anymore.

“Leo? Leo!”

Someone was shaking his shoulders.

~~~~~~~

Leo startled awake with a gasp and an embarrassing wet sound. Someone really was shaking him. The room around him was dark, which was just a little bit too close to the dream for comfort.

It took a moment for Leo‘s soul to return to his trembling body, and even longer for his brain to process what was going on. His head was buried in something that felt just cool enough to be soothing. His hands were clutching soft fabric way too tightly.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re safe.”

Jason’s voice, so close that it must’ve been right in his ear.

Right. Jason. Camp Jupiter. No fucking Teresa. This was ridiculous. Leo had almost gotten killed by monsters countless times in the last year. He’d died. It seemed incredibly stupid that, after all this, he’d get worked up over some mortal lady he hadn’t seen since he was nine years old.

He blinked a few times, bleary, trying to make sense of his surroundings. That it was dark probably meant it was still the middle of the night. So, normal. No reason to panic.

He wouldn’t freak out any worse than he already had. Not over this. Not in front of Jason, who he’d probably woken up with his tossing and turning and his idiotic tendency to-

Leo froze as his brain finally caught up.

Jason.

Jason, who Leo was currently clinging to like he was a giant pillow or a human-sized marble statue of Nike.

It suddenly made a ton of sense why the place his face was pressed into felt so much like skin. Because, duh, it was. His head was buried in the crook of Jason’s neck.

His hands were clenched so tightly into Jason’s shirt, digging into his back, that Leo was sure it must’ve hurt, but he couldn’t get his stupid cramped fingers to unclench.

Jason didn’t seem bothered, though. He’d stopped shaking Leo once he’d realized he was awake, and now his arms were wrapped around Leo’s midsection in a gentle hug.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Jason said it solemnly, like a promise or a Styx oath he couldn’t possibly keep. “Never again.”

Leo had to choke back a sob. He really didn’t want to cry right now. Not when it felt so nice to be held like this, and he was terribly afraid anything he did might make it stop.

“I’m fine,” he forced himself to say, trying and failing to get his breath to steady. “I’m fine.”

Because clearly, saying it twice in a row would make it way more believable!

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was also somewhere in the incoherent nonsense I mumbled at Piper after I got stabbed,” Jason replied, not moving even a little bit. “It hurt more than any of the times I got knocked out, but I was way more conscious through that incident than most.”

Jason wasn’t great at jokes. For some reason, most of the jokes he did make were like this—aimed at the fact that he kept getting hurt.

Something about him trying to joke now made Leo’s insides feel gooey. Like maybe Jason realized that jokes made things less overwhelming for Leo and was gently egging him on. Telling him they didn’t have to talk about anything if he didn’t want to. That it was okay for them to just stay like this, for as long as Leo needed, and if being ridiculous helped, that was what they’d be.

“Still can’t believe how many times you got concussed in the last year. You must’ve really pissed off the Roman god of head injuries at some point.”

Jason snorted. “I’ve been researching all the minor gods and I’m pretty sure we don’t have one of those.”

“Careful. If they do exist, you just made them mad again,” Leo teased, the pressure on his chest easing. It wasn’t as hard to breathe now. “Though I guess I can’t blame you for getting knocked out so much. It’s not your fault you’re so nearsighted you couldn’t see the stuff flying at your head until it was literally hitting you in the face.”

“I can still see things that are far away. They’re just blurry because they’re far away.”

“Yeah, and then they’re blurry because you have a concussion.” Leo finally managed to get his fingers to unclench, gently patting the spots where they’d been digging into Jason’s back. “Sorry for going all human clamp on you, by the way. I, uh… I have a tendency to cling to stuff when I’m having nightmares. It’s been that way since I was little. Kid Leo never quite learnt his lesson with that one.”

“If you remember what we talked about earlier, I don’t think hugging stuff is nearly as weird as me sleeping outside when I get stressed,” Jason said, his head still resting on top of Leo’s like they were two gears perfectly made to fit together that way. “Besides, I don’t mind. Not like it was your first time.”

Right. The campfire koala incident. For a moment, Leo had been too busy being overwhelmed to be embarrassed.

Nice to know that couldn’t possibly last.

“Piper still gives me shit for that. She’s gonna have a field day if she finds out it happened again.”

Jason laughed. Gods, there was a sound Leo would never grow tired of hearing.

So, there was an obvious downside to the fact that Leo was slowly calming down. The downside being: he could start thinking about the way he was curled into Jason, so close that he could feel his heartbeat. He could start thinking about how they were still sharing a bed, except unlike earlier, there was barely any part of them that wasn’t entangled in some way.

His skin prickled and felt hot.

Well, that had the potential to become a problem.

“Hey Superman, think you could release me for a second? I kinda wanna go splash my face.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Do you need any help with the prosthesis?”

Jason slowly untangled himself from Leo, who missed him immediately, but also instantly felt like less of a fire hazard. He really didn’t want to go all Human Torch right now.

“I know how to put my leg on, you dork.” Leo raised an eyebrow. “Besides, Harley said the time you removed it after I fell asleep on you, you spent fifteen minutes just staring at it, trying to figure out how to do it. Not sure how helpful that would be.”

“I was afraid I’d break something,” Jason said sheepishly.

“If you had, I could have just fixed it. As you may recall, I’ve melted parts of this prosthesis before. I’d researched stuff before making it and everything, but it turns out spontaneous combustion isn’t a common amputee issue, not even for demigods. Can you believe it?”

That had Jason laughing again. “Shockingly, I can. Hang on, let me get the lights.”

There was a routine to putting on the prosthesis now, so Leo only sometimes had to take it back off when he realized he’d forgotten to put the sock under the liner or something equally dumb. (It wasn’t his fault this stuff came with a ridiculous amount of steps and what felt like fourteen different socks.)

Considering the fact that it was four am and he was both shaken up and distracted because his crush was right there, looking softly at him, it was still something of a miracle that Leo got it right the first time.

~~~~~~~

Splashing his face did actually help. Leo considered just going back to the bedroom after, but he still felt too agitated, so he spent a few minutes pacing in the hallway with his crutches, then briefly went outside for some fresh air to clear his head.

When he finally got back to the bedroom, Jason wasn’t there.

This would have been more alarming if he hadn’t appeared in the doorway a moment later, holding a cup of steaming liquid.

“I thought maybe a warm drink would make you feel a bit better. Reyna says it helps her, so.” He shrugged.

“Coffee?” Leo asked, trying his hardest not to grimace because the thought was sweet, even if the drink was something you could technically chase him with.

“Cocoa.” Jason smiled at him. “You don’t like coffee.”

“Oh.” There was a warmth in Leo’s chest, flames licking gently at his heart. It had been so long since he’d stayed somewhere long enough for anyone to remember little things like that about him. It had been so long since anyone had cared enough to bother. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, there’s a decent chance it might taste burnt,” Jason said with a grimace. “Or, uh, very sweet. I think I turned the stove up too much and then I got distracted and then I tried to fix it with extra sugar, but that might’ve been a bad call.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, it could also be both,” Leo joked, taking the warm cup in both hands.

Jason startled, still gripping the handle. “Wait, careful, it’s really-”

“What, hot?” Leo laughed. “Appreciate the concern, but I seem to recall being fireproof. Out of all the things that genuinely could kill me a second time, I doubt hot liquid will do the trick.”

Jason looked embarrassed as he removed his hand from the cup. “Forget I said anything.”

“Nah. It’s no fun if I don’t get to tease you about it.” Leo lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. The temperature didn’t bother him at all, but he struggled not to splutter at the sweetness of the drink. “Gods, Sparky, how much sugar did you put in this?”

“Three spoonfuls?” Jason answered tentatively, and from the way it tasted Leo was pretty sure he meant tablespoons. “Is it bad?”

“Awful,” Leo teased, but the way Jason deflated made him backtrack immediately. “Hey, I’m messing with you. It’s fine. Just very sweet. Fair warning, though, I cannot guarantee that I won’t spend the next three hours jumping on your bed trying to get the excess energy out.”

“I think I can live with that.” Jason wrung his hands like he usually did when he got nervous. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me what your dream was about. But it sounded bad, and I… if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m here, okay?”

That made Leo feel a little sick, though that might also have been the amount of sugar in his cocoa. He nodded slowly, then spent several quiet minutes slowly sipping the warm, sweet liquid until the cup was empty. It helped, if only a little.

Jason didn’t push him.

Maybe that was why, when Leo sat the cup down on the bedside table, trying to calm his racing heart, he did say something.

“The nightmares are worse than usual lately. Sometimes I dream about what happened to my mom. Sometimes it’s just bad memories from quests we’ve been on. Piper getting hurt. The time you got stabbed. The time I died.”

Jason winced. “Yeah, I’ve had a lot of nightmares about you…” He broke off, like maybe saying the word ‘dying’ would remind Thanatos Leo existed and to come back for him. “Sorry. Keep going.”

Leo desperately wished he had some way to keep his hands busy. He didn’t sleep with the toolbelt on. He wasn’t sure about the constraints of magic items, but it would be really inconvenient if he somehow broke it by rolling onto it or if it started spilling random half-finished inventions all over the bed every time he turned during the night, so he didn’t risk it.

For lack of anything better, he drummed his fingers against the side of the bed.

“There’s other stuff, too. It was mostly ‘other stuff’ tonight—at least the coherent bits I can remember. Bad childhood memories from after Gaia killed my mom.” Leo’s fingers clenched around the bed frame. He felt properly sick now. He’d never told anyone about this—not even Piper, who knew just about everything else. “Right, cool, so not to waste that perfectly good dramatic build-up, but I don’t really know how to talk about this.”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now, if it’s too much,” Jason reassured him, squeezing his shoulder. “We don’t have to talk at all. We can just sit here. Or we can go back to shitty head injury jokes. Whatever helps.”

“This is helping,” Leo said immediately, unsure if he was referring to Jason being there in general, how being touched grounded him in the moment, or Jason making it blatantly obvious how well he knew him.

That the third one was even an option felt absurd in itself.

The thing was: Leo was kind of terrified of being known. Terrified of people looking at him differently if they saw all of him—all the cracked and broken bits.

But this was Jason. Jason, who sucked at this stuff just as badly as Leo did, but who was still trying because he cared so much. Who paid attention to little things no one else bothered to notice. Who knew when Leo felt vulnerable about something and didn’t tease him or push him to talk. Who made him terrible sugary cocoa at four in the morning because he thought it might help.

And every part of Leo that wasn’t busy being terrified was so incredibly sick of being alone.

He took a few steadying breaths, which was a colossal waste of time because they did not help, and then everything came spilling out.

“I’ve had some shitty experiences with foster parents. The first one was the worst—like, if you looked up ‘terrible’ in a dictionary, I’m pretty sure you’d just find a picture of her face. She shouldn’t have been around kids at all, but she seriously couldn’t handle a traumatized eight year old with severe ADHD. She yelled at me a lot. Sometimes it was more than yelling. It got worse the longer I was there—the more she realized I wasn’t any of the things she’d wanted me to be.” Leo looked away. “Story of my life, I guess. I’m never what anyone wants me to be.”

This time he couldn’t choke back the sob that was bubbling up in his throat. It was too much, too fast, and he didn’t have an undo button. He was afraid of what he’d see in Jason‘s face when he looked up. Him and his stupid lack of a brain-to-mouth-filter. No one wanted to deal with-

Jason’s arms wrapped around him again, pulling him back into his chest, promptly interrupting Leo’s spiral.

“Forget her. Forget anyone who ever made you feel like that.” Jason’s voice was soft and reassuring, but there was an angry edge to it, the same kind he’d had when he’d started sparking electricity after that one kid’s stupid comment. “There isn’t a single thing I’d change about you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed in my life.”

“What song did you steal that from?” Leo joked, because he couldn’t fathom the thought that Jason might mean that.

He’d never been what anyone needed in their lives—a lot of the time, he was actively the opposite. His mom had loved him to pieces, he knew that, but him being there had been the thing that got her killed, and he hadn’t gotten any less skilled at screwing up people’s lives since.

He pressed his face into Jason‘s shoulder, shuddering, trying to get the tears to stop. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“I never told you what my first impression of you was, did I?” Jason continued, undeterred. He didn’t let go. It was completely unfair how nice that felt.

“Confusion?” Leo guessed, finally getting a handle on his breathing, if nothing else. “That was amnesiac Jason’s main emotion for the first hour or so after I met him.”

“I guess, yeah.” Jason shrugged. “But for reasons other than the general ‘waking up on a bus with several people I don’t know’-situation. You weren’t how I expected my best friend to be at all. You were exactly none of the things I’d been taught were important my whole life.”

“Dude, your pep talk needs work, because ouch,” Leo muttered. He tried to make it sound light-hearted, but he was failing miserably. Even knowing that Jason was probably going somewhere with this—what, with the fact that he still had Leo wrapped in his arms and everything—hearing these words still stung. “Way to kick a guy when he’s down.”

“I wasn’t done.”

Leo forced himself to look up, meeting Jason’s eyes for the first time since he’d started talking. There was something so sincere and vulnerable in his expression that Leo didn’t really want to look away again.

“Oh, are we getting into all my great qualities now? That might take a while.” Joking was easy. So much easier than to address that Jason looking at him like this made his heart sputter like a faulty machine engine.

“You’re a troublemaker, and impulsive, with no respect for authority. You just act instead of thinking. And somehow it always works out. I overthink everything I do, but when you say you’ve got a plan, I know we’ll be okay, even before you’ve actually told me what the plan is.” There was such genuine awe in Jason’s voice that Leo thought something inside him would crack open. “You make me laugh and be stupid in a way I never would have allowed myself to be before I met you. And I like myself so much more when I’m with you. I’ve spent my whole life learning to be a hero and a leader—being exactly the kind of person everyone else wanted me to be. When we’re together, I feel like I’m finally learning what it’s like to be happy.”

The world tilted off its axis and Leo wasn’t sure he ever wanted it to right itself again. The way Jason was looking at him right now stood a very real chance of being the reason for his second death in under three months.

Leo seemed to have decided he had a point to prove in regards to impulsivity and lack of thinking, because before his brain had the chance to catch up, he was leaning forward and kissing Jason.

With all the love he had for Piper and her confidence in him actually confessing his feelings like a reasonable person, a part of Leo had always known it would go exactly like this—a heat of the moment thing he had no chance to overthink and plenty of time to regret later.

Jason’s lips were chapped and tasted faintly of toothpaste, and it was a miracle that Leo was even doing this without setting either of their faces on fire. His heart was thundering in his ears, so loud that he was almost sure they must’ve been able to hear it all the way back at Camp Half-Blood.

He pulled away before Jason had much of a chance to react with anything that wasn’t gaping like a fish. For several seconds, Jason‘s expression was the human equivalent of a loading screen, which would have been hilarious in any other situation, but currently made Leo want to melt himself through the floor and disappear.

The regret part of his brain took no time at all to kick in. What the fuck was wrong with him? ‘Here’s a thought: don’t follow up the recollection of traumatic shit you’ve gone through with trying to kiss your best friend.’

Maybe he could move to another country. Did Frank still have relatives in Canada that he could flee to? Or maybe he could ask Thalia for Artemis’ contact information and beg her to let him move to the moon.

Somehow, the first words out of Jason’s mouth after the kiss were, “yikes, you weren’t kidding about the amount of sugar in your cocoa. Sorry. There was chocolate in there at some point, I swear.”

“Is that the only thing-” Leo started, but was promptly stopped by more chapped toothpaste lips.

Jason was kissing him. Jason was kissing him.

It took every bit of focus Leo was currently lacking to not burst into flames as he wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck, melting into him as best he could. His skin was still tingling, and when Jason‘s hand brushed his bare elbow, he got a minor electric shock.

“Ow! Gods, we’re both safety hazards,” Leo laughed, slowly pulling his hands back before they could reconsider and burst into flames belatedly. “Here I am, spending my very limited reserves of concentration on not lighting you on fire by accident, only for you to almost zap me into cardiac arrest. Unbelievable.”

“I may also have made your hair poof out. Sorry,” Jason said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You okay?”

“I will be if you kiss me again.”

“Are you sure you want to risk that?”

“Hey, I happen to enjoy living dangerously.” Leo grinned. “Besides, you said my lack of thinking was part of what you liked about me. No take-backs.”

And then Jason was back to kissing him.

~~~~~~~

Four extremely clumsy sugar-toothpaste-kisses later, Leo wasn’t sure his hair or his heart would ever go back to normal. He also wasn’t sure he cared.

They curled back up in bed after, like semi-reasonable people who had to get up in an hour and a half because the whole point of this trip had been Jason presenting his plans to the senate, and him sleeping through that would probably not be the best impression he could make on his first day at work.

They were touching intentionally this time. Leo’s head had found a nice spot on Jason’s chest, and one of Jason’s arms was wrapped around his shoulder.

Leo was pretty sure he’d never felt this happy in his life. That was one point for emotional vulnerability, he supposed.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” Jason said into the silence of the room. “I want you to know you can talk to me. About anything.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you regret that offer the next time I get excited about socket wrenches,” Leo replied with a grin. “I appreciate it, though. And right back at you. It’s not like you’re any better at this than I am.” He gestured, trying to convey the existential horror that was opening up. “But I’ll need precise measurements on how much chocolate you take your sugared milk with in advance.”

Jason groaned. “I feel like I need to apologize to your teeth.”

“Stop saying stuff that makes me want to go back to kissing you while we’re trying to sleep,” Leo chided him. He said this like sleep was a thing that might actually happen. Like his skin wasn’t still prickling with electricity and he wouldn’t spend the remaining night staring at the ceiling, thinking about kissing Jason again in the morning. “Besides, one time you missed my lips so bad that it probably counts.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to open your mouth!”

“That’s the thing with us pesky mortals, Superman. Sometimes we need to breathe.”

Jason chuckled, which made a fresh bout of warmth bubble up in Leo’s chest, but he wasn’t quite as afraid of bursting into flames now. The fire under his skin had tapered off along with his nervousness, feeling less supernova and more overactive radiator. Overactive radiator was a level he could usually control. He wasn’t sure it would ever go below that again if he got to keep kissing Jason whenever he wanted.

“We should probably actually try to get some rest,” Jason sighed, obviously none too thrilled about the thought of having to do the senate presentation on four hours of sleep.

“Boo,” Leo complained, but he nestled up to Jason, moving his head a little for a better spot on his chest. “You’re lucky you’re so comfortable.”

“I think I’m lucky for a lot more reasons than that.”

How Leo managed to not spontaneously combust at that point, he wasn’t sure.

———

Some notes:

Genuinely shocked I don’t see people using Leo’s tendency to hug stuff when he has bad dreams more. I read that part and immediately knew I was gonna do something with it, lol

Fun fact: this wasn’t meant to be a kiss fic, just regular pining hurt/comfort. But then Jason started saying all this stuff and Leo was kissing him and hey, sometimes when I write all I can do is accept I’m only along for the ride.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Jason’s initial reaction to Leo being his best friend in the first book vs him genuinely becoming his best friend later on. Leo is all the things Jason isn’t and was never allowed to be and then he learns that that’s a great thing and seems to be so genuinely in awe of him? Something something child soldier gets to be a kid for the first time in his life and never recovers.

Is Leo’s way of dealing with everything he went through by making jokes about it healthy? Not necessarily, no. But it’s been his main survival technique for ages, and even if he were to eventually recognize that, changing it wouldn’t be an instant thing. What definitely doesn’t help in a situation like that is trampling all over his coping mechanisms. There were a couple of writing decisions made in ToA that I didn’t love for a variety of reasons, and that one is definitely up there. But as far as I’m concerned, canon is only a series of vague suggestions, anyway.

Jason and Leo are both completely shit at admitting anything is wrong and learning how to talk about it to anyone, including each other, is hard. But sometimes trying is all we can do.

Also, for the sake of everyone in that entire series, I hope New Rome has therapists, because CHB sure doesn’t. (Mr D, who’s been gone from camp a lot and canonically didn’t bother to give therapy to anyone but Chris and Nico, is an outlier and should not be counted.)

Anyway, thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated!

@poppitron360