#as long as you know where to look they aren't the worst to find

[adieutristana]

hii! could i request the arcane women comforting reader on her period?

of course! thank you for the request <3

b2b by charli xcx on repeat yuuuup

summary; headcanons of the arcane women comforting their girlfriend on her period.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, maddie

tags/warnings; menstruation, fluff, comfort, suggestive (jinx's section), reader has hell periods, mentions of poor mental health, can't think of anything else honestly

minors and men dni.

jinx;

✧.* idk why, but i headcanon that jinx is one of those super lucky girls who has really light 3-4 day long periods. basically nothing at all.

✧.* so when you told her that your periods were long, and heavy, and painful, she was honestly taken aback. jinx was a bit puzzled as to how that's possible.

✧.* "but mine aren't that bad! are you suuure?"

✧.* she doesn't mean anything by it, she's just genuinely perplexed. sometimes it's difficult for jinx to put these kinds of things into perspective. however, the second she sees you doubled over in pain, clutching your stomach and whimpering in pain, her instincts kick in and she's rushing to your side.

✧.* "oh- oh, toots, are you okay?! what happened? why d'ya look so hurt?" she'd ask, crouching down next to you with panic evident in her voice.

✧.* "just... on my period," you'd strain. "nothing out of the ordinary. don't worry about me."

✧.* jinx absolutely will worry about you, though. she's by your side, asking you what you need. since her own periods are so mild, she doesn't know exactly where to start with this sort of thing. but she's doing her best.

✧.* she'll research! she finds out all about the cravings, mood swings, pains, and how to soothe all of those things. she nerds out when she gets to research anyways, but she'll go above and beyond to make sure her girl is comfortable and happy. as much as you can be during shark week, anyways.

✧.* the same day she finds you in pain, she's swiping things from shelves of pharmacies and convenience stores like no tomorrow. pain medicine, water bottles that she plans to heat up, chocolates, tubs of ice cream, blankets, lots of sanitary products. hell, she'll even burn a few dvds so the two of you can have movie nights. jinx doesn't do anything halfway, especially not something like this.

✧.* even more clingy than normal somehow. i imagine jinx runs pretty cold, but also has a lot of natural body heat, if that makes sense? she uses the guise of being your 'built-in heating pad,' though anyone can tell she just wants to be close to you and comfort you. she'll have both her arms and legs wrapped around you, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and peppering kisses along the soft skin.

✧.* "mm.. don't mind me, sugar. just wanna be here for 'ya, help you feel better 'n all that."

✧.* she's got such a sweet tooth, jinx might swipe a few of the snacks she stole for you while you're not looking... sorry. she can't help herself

✧.* will try to distract you to the best of her ability. movie nights as i said, as well as taking you around the streets of zaun (when you can manage to stand upright), gaming with you and purposely letting you win just so she can see your smile and hear your laugh.

✧.* along with the extra clingy thing, jinx will not let you out of your sight until she's absolutely sure that you're off your period. it's not that she doesn't think you can handle yourself, but she just worries so much. part of her knows it's irrational, but seeing you in so much pain eats at her inside, makes her afraid that she's going to lose you. even though it's just a natural part of your cycle

✧.* she's also read that other kinds of relief can be especially helpful for cramps, so you know jinx will be offering that to you if you know what i mean.

vi;

✧.* oh she's right there with you.

✧.* has the worst fucking periods known to man. it's like she's completely MIA as soon as it hits every month, she's just dead to the world. trust me, she understands.

✧.* which means that she can help you that much better! she knows firsthand what it's like and what works for her, but she also knows that it's not a one-size-fits-all situation. it'll take a bit of time, but vi knows what she's doing.

✧.* she's already got a stash of things lined up for you in her bathroom the day after you tell her you've gotten your period. panty liners, pads, tampons of different sizes. she doesn't even bother asking what you prefer to use, she just wants you to have the options depending on what you need at what time. only the best for her girl

✧.* fridge, freezer and cupboards are also full to the brim of your favorite snacks, the best medications. candies, chocolates, baked goods, ice cream, pain relief... all the good stuff.

✧.* don't even bother asking where she got all this stuff and how she could afford it, just let vi take care of you.

✧.* "shh, cupcake. that's for me to worry about. you sit your pretty self down and let me do all the hard work, 'kay?"

✧.* has heated blankets and water bottles ready for you at all times! the second she hears the slightest whimper of pain from you she's got the water bottle in her hand, instructing you to lean back so she can put it against your lower abdomen. she'll stay with you to make sure you're okay. she needs that reassurance both for you and herself.

✧.* vi is the type of lover who can't rest until she knows for sure that you're okay, regardless of how much you tell her that you're alright.

✧.* "i'm fine, baby. really, you don't need to worry about me." you'd say, though the way your face contorted in discomfort betrayed your words. "are you sure? you can't fool me, pretty. i know you're hurting. just let me help you. that's what i'm here for."

✧.* she also knows that insomnia comes with menstruation at times, so she'll make sure you sleep in her bed until you're off your period. holding you close, rubbing soothing circles over your back and stomach to help relieve some of the pain for you. don't worry about clinging to her, don't worry about how long it takes you to fall asleep or even the possibility of bleeding onto her sheets. vi just wants to make you feel comfortable, she'll take care of everything later.

✧.* doesn't let you do a damn thing for yourself. she almost treats you as if you're made of glass. it's not that thinks you're helpless, vi knows damn well just how fierce and independent you are. but she also enjoys taking care of you and knowing she's making your life easier.

✧.* "i'm on my period, not helpless." you'd protest, crossing your arms over your chest with a light pout. vi would chuckle to herself, playfully pinching one of your cheeks. "i know, i know. but i just wanna do this for you, okay? let me take care of you."

mel;

✧.* mel probably knows your cycle by heart after a certain amount of time being with you. not in a creepy way, but she's just that connected and attuned to you.

✧.* she'll come to you a few days before she knows you're due for your period, concern evident in her tone. "are you starting to cramp at all, dear?" she'd ask, or something along the lines of, "i know you're due soon. no discomfort? any cravings? you can tell me these things, darling."

✧.* she has a constant stash of things and she knows your preferences when it comes to hygiene products, snacks, medicine, all of your favorite comforts. she truly knows you like the back of your hand.

✧.* she'll be taking off work for you as well, as much as you protest and assure her that you're okay. realistically, mel knows sure and well that you're okay. but she still wants that time to be with you and make sure that you're comfortable and you're in as little pain as possible. it's more for her own peace of mind.

✧.* her own are honestly pretty moderate, not too bad but not exactly pleasant either. though again, she's attuned to your own senses and knows exactly what you need.

✧.* mel will be basically attached to you by the hip. she doesn't let you out of her sight for a second out of pure worry for you and your well-being. seeing you nauseous, craving the most odd foods, doubled over in pain, it hurts your girlfriend to even think about. she knows she can't outright prevent all of that, but it'll ease her mind to be there by your side.

✧.* mel doesn't insist that you take it easy, she knows that life goes on despite everything. she doesn't want to hover over you too much, but again, she'll be by your side. helping you run errands, walking you to and from work, watching from the sidelines as you do those little things that make you happy. painting, reading, writing... any of it.

✧.* it's a well-known fact that she loves to spoil you, so if you mention wanting anything at all, she won't even go out and buy it for you. she'll take you to the store with her and tell you to just buy whatever you'd like. no limits.

✧.* "anything at all, beautiful. let me treat you." "but mel, this is-" she'd shush you lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "too much? nonsense. i can handle it, you just tell me what you need. it pains me to see you so uncomfortable, regardless of how natural it is."

✧.* holding onto you so tightly, and you just know mel would give the best massages. literally anywhere that's sore, she'll massage for you with such love and care. her fingertips are a bit calloused and rough, but always so soft with you.

✧.* also runs you warm baths and even tosses in salts and flowers! they help her a lot when she's having period-related pains, so she hopes they'll have the same effect on you. she's happy to leave you to yourself, or sit near the edge of the tub and just talk to you. whatever would make you the most comfortable and happy.

sevika;

✧.* she's also got pretty mild periods, but she is very attuned to you and your senses. sevika can't exactly feel your pain and discomfort, though she knows how to ease it.

✧.* trust me when i say that she's got a good supply of things for you. all the sanitary products you could need, extra-strength pain medications, heated blankets, heat pads, snacks, the whole nine yards. uncomfortable and hurting? not on sevika's watch.

✧.* "just tell me what ya need, darlin'. you know i'll get it." she'd say, spooning you tightly while one hand rests over your lower stomach. you'd mumble light protests, but she wouldn't have it. "i know you're okay, babe. you tell me that enough. but i still wanna help, okay?"

✧.* so touchy and so clingy. sevika doesn't want to let go of you for a second, not if she can help it. whether that be holding you from behind while you move about the kitchen cooking, holding you close to her in bed, keeping an arm around your waist as you saunter around the lanes together, or brushing her lips against your forehead, she relishes that contact. especially when you're vulnerable like this.

✧.* she still has things to do. unfortunately, sevika's job isn't really one that she can take time off from, as much as she'd like to. but the second she gets off work, she's back home, by your side. your girlfriend is so loyal, so doting when it comes to you. a side of the usually gruff woman that's reserved exclusively for you.

✧.* she also won't hinder you from doing anything for yourself, the last thing she needs is for you to feel both excruciating pain and helplessness at the same time. however, sevika makes it clear that she's happy to take over whatever task you need if it gets to be too much.

✧.* you could be in the middle of a task when a cramp suddenly hits you, making you nearly fold in half and clutch at your stomach. "hey, what's wrong?" sevika would ask, cold metal against your shoulder. "cramps? come on, i'll take it from here. you go lay down."

✧.* do not worry about needing to ask for help with sevika. ever. she's more than happy to provide it for you, don't worry about asking for 'too much' or being 'too demanding.' you're her girlfriend, and you're on your period. there's no such thing as either of those with her.

✧.* "come on. you know whatever it is, i'll do it for you. so tell me," she'd pause, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in that way she typically does, "what do you need, dove?"

✧.* also super attentive during sleep, would probably stay up just so that she can make sure you're okay and sleeping through the night. sevika is used to running on little to no sleep, thank her line of work. she'll try to keep it quiet, not let you know that she's observing, but she just worries. she wants to make sure you aren't suffering any bouts of insomnia. that, and seeing your peaceful expression during slumber is a plus.

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn gets it, she really does. one of piltover's strongest enforcers and officials, but struck down once a month by menstruation. something had to take her down a notch.

✧.* she knows exactly what'll help her, and she hopes it'll help you too. though she gives you options, since she knows you probably won't have all the same preferences as her when it comes to sanitary products, snacks, care, etc. cait will take her time so that she gets your routine down pat, before she eventually just has everything stocked in her home for when the time inevitably comes every month.

✧.* caitlyn is constantly checking in on you. she’ll ask you about every little thing, making sure that you’re not straining too hard, not in too much pain. you could be sitting on your bed, folding towels, and caitlyn would ask something like, “are you sure that’s not too much right now? if your back or stomach is hurting, i can take over.”

✧.* she’ll want to keep you at home with her on the days that are the hardest on you. the days where you’re groaning in pain, you can barely think straight from just how uncomfortable you are. when you’re an emotional mess from the mood swings and crying over a puppy you saw on the street. she wants to be there to comfort you and help you get back on your feet.

✧.* “shh… love, it’s fine. i know, that puppy was adorable.” you’d sniffle, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “can we get one, cait? please?” she’d chuckle quietly, letting out a heavy sigh. “maybe when i don’t have so much on my plate.”

✧.* she's on top of your every need. in pain? here's a bottle of painkillers. cravings? she's already got whatever you need. in the case that she doesn't, caitlyn is in the kitchen making something for you herself. she'll be damned if she lets her girlfriend go unsatisfied, especially on her period.

✧.* she'd be so doting especially when it comes to the pain, caitlyn wants to just hold you until all of the cramps are gone. realistically, she knows there's not much she can do besides offer a few over-the-counter methods. she's gonna have to wait until they run their course, but it doesn't make her want to cling to you any less. she wishes she could hold you and you'd feel the rest of the world melt away

✧.* "fuck, cait, it hurts," you'd whimper, clinging tight to the girl with your brows knitted together. she'd softly hush you, her one hand slipping under the fabric of your top to run soothing circles over your lower back. "i know, darling. i'm here, it'll be alright."

✧.* cait would run you warm baths as well, she's at your side the entire times. she'll throw in flower petals and salts, maybe even a bath bomb if it'll make you happy. not only will it help ease the pain, but making you feel cared for in this time is of the upmost importance to her. yes, you feel gross, but you don't have to! look at the nice bath she drew you! she'll even help wash you off if you need it, or she's happy to just stay by your side and talk to you as you soak.

maddie;

✧.* maddie's own are pretty moderate, but she has a cut-and-dry routine she's stuck to as a teenager. works like a charm every time her period rolls around, so she hopes those methods will work for you. though, if they don't, maddie will immediately stop and regroup.

✧.* maddie i don't think would be super in tune with everything.. i apologize. she'll connect the dots after she sees you hunched over in pain or with a bottle of painkillers in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, but she won't be able to pick up on it right away like some others might.

✧.* but that doesn't make her any less good at comforting you, let's make that abundantly clear. as soon as she catches onto what's happening, she's basically waiting on you hand and foot. maddie is devoted!

✧.* now of course, she's a junior officer. maddie can't be by your side as often as she'd like to, unfortunately. she likes her job, but sometimes she curses it for holding her back from her girlfriend in times of need.

✧.* so she second she's allowed off the job, she's swinging the door open with a bag full of snacks to make her presence known. "i'm home, darlin'! where are ya?" she'd announce, glancing around the empty space before her eyes land on you. "oh, there you are. here, i brought these back! sorry, i know i was gone for a while, but i'm here now, yeah?"

✧.* however, you'll have to ask for a lot of what you need. maddie knows that you're independent and capable of helping yourself, so she doesn't want to assume unless she knows for sure that you're incapable of it because of pain or discomfort. that's one of the things she doesn't really budge on. if you're able to voice what's bothering you, she'll be more than happy to be of help!

✧.* also really, really good at distracting you. she'll put on movies, plug in cassettes of your favorite albums, talk to you for hours on end about nothing and everything simultaneously. maddie figures that if she can take your mind off of it, that's better than just waiting out the discomfort.

✧.* she kinda sucks at cooking. sorry.. but! she'd still make sure any cravings of yours are filled. freezer is packed to the brim with ice cream, and she's got lots of sugary treats for you in her cupboards. i also would imagine she lives basically smack in the middle of piltover, next to a lot of vendors and convenience stores. so on the off-chance she doesn't have something you need, she's already on her way to grab it for you.

✧.* "i'll be right back, okay? just running around the corner. rest assured."

✧.* also so cuddly especially when it comes to being in bed with you. she's already clingy, but you might have to pry her off of you when you're on your period. she hopes you wouldn't want to, though, not when she's got her legs wrapped around your waist and her head nestled into the warmth of your neck.

[aquatark]

Marine Encyclopedia - The Gabbiano

Endless Ocean, Nintendo Wii

*grabs yatabei blenny* YOU

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what���s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, kidnapping, LOTS of non-consensual touching, threats of violence, implied public sex, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Geto Suguru is a surprisingly tactile man.

You wouldn't expect it from a man so cold, so withdrawn, so prone to keeping his hands tucked in his sleeves away from any filthy, undeserving lesser beings like yourself, but it's not hard to spot once you know what you're looking for. When his girls were young enough to put up with it, he always had at least one, if not both of them in his arms, and his preferred form of greeting towards those in his select, but not exclusive inner circle has always been a hug, kiss, or some combination of both. Even when he claims he can't stand to look at you, when he orders you to bathe in scalding-hot water before admitting you so much as might be worth of his affections, he never lasts more than a few minutes before slipping in beside you with excuses of 'you're not thorough enough' or 'I can't even trust you to do this correctly' ready on his tongue. It might be sweet, if it wasn't so controlling. You're not really in a place to complain, though.

He likes keeping you close. For someone he claims is nothing more than a pest, he treats you akin to a lapdog; constantly calling your name, constantly petting through your hair, constantly keeping you pressed against his side or slotted against his chest or perched on his lap, an arm as thick as your leg wrapped around your waist to better snuff out your attempts to squirm. Any attempts to withdraw before he allows you to are met with punishments of the most severe order. You don't like being at his beck and call, having to sit through his depraved sermons for the sole reason that he doesn't trust you to leave his sight, but it's better than being shackled to his bedpost for another four weeks. You can be a lapdog, so long as you aren't a collared one.

Even the politest touch he offers you is unspeakable invasive. You're not sure how he manages to turn something as simple and as shallow as grazing you're lower back into yet another show of his authority over you. Part of it just might be the whole 'genocidal cult leader' shtick (it's hard not to find someone a little creepy after they've abducted, tortured, and traumatized you), but you'd like to think that even if you had entered into his company more willingly, you'd still find his intimacy more than a little off-putting. The worst of it comes at night, when he assumes you're asleep. The way he holds you to his chest, clings to you like a child does a stuffed animal might be cute in another context, but it rarely serves to endear him to you. If anything, it only proves that even unconscious, his greatest pleasure in life is smothering you.

Worst of all, he's handsy. That, in itself, shouldn't be all that surprisingly, but the lecherousness of it, the shameless of it still manages to leave you as disgusted as you are unnerved. It's rare for a full hour to pass in his company without his hand slipping under the collar of the silken kimono's he dresses you in and groping at your best until he's left indents in the shape of his blunt nails. Other times, his fingers will find their way underneath your skirts or into the waistband of your shorts while he's preoccupied with another matter, splitting you open on his fingers with all the attention one might pay to tying their shoes or brushing their hair. If you're lucky, he'll choose a private moments, one where you'll be forced to fall apart for his entertainment alone, tucked safely away from the prying eyes of his co-conspirators and congregation.

You don't get lucky very often.

Sometimes, you think he does it just to be cruel. He does most things to be cruel, and this would be far from the only way he's cruel to you, in particular. But, when drapes himself over you at night, when he drags you so suffocatingly close to his side, when he grinds his palm into your most sensitive point of vulnerability and whispers so possessively that you ought to be thankful for each second long he lets you live, it's not cruelty you see in Suguru's dark eyes, but rather something much, much more dangerous.

Desperation.

[ill0usainte]

LADS Men as cigarettes after sex songs.

Angst/comfort

Zayne - cry

"It's making you cry every time

You give your love to me this way

Saying you'd wait for me to stay"

Zayne sat in his car, staring at the apartment building in front of him, his chest heavy with guilt. The night had been long at the hospital, and his mind was tired, but his heart... his heart was exhausted from the same endless cycle.

Every time he came home late, he’d find you there, waiting-- sitting alone in the living room, curled up on the couch, your eyes closed, as if you were trying to force yourself to sleep and forget that he wasn’t there.

You didn’t say anything. You never did. But he could see the emptiness in your eyes, feel the distance growing between both of you, even if you never voiced it.

You had stopped asking where he was or why he couldn’t make time for you. You understood, you always did-- he knew that. But what hurt was that, despite understanding, you were still hurting.

Still feeling like he was slipping away, like he couldn’t be the man you wanted him to be.

And the worst part was, he does love you. He loved you more than he could ever express, but he didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t know how to show you the depth of what he felt without feeling vulnerable, without feeling like he might mess it all up.

He knew you thought he didn’t trust you, that he didn’t love you the way you deserved. You overthought everything-- every silence, every moment when he pulled away, when he couldn’t find the words to express what he felt.

It made you question yourself, made you wonder if you were enough. And that broke him. He could see it in your face, the way your eyes would flicker with doubt whenever he didn’t say the right thing, whenever he didn’t act the way you thought he would.

He could hear you crying softly in your shared bedroom, and it twisted something inside him, because he knew why you were crying.

It was because of him.

It was because he couldn’t find a way to be what you deserve, to give you the affection you craved.

He walked inside quietly, trying not to disturb you as he found you, once again, asleep on the couch. Your face was peaceful in sleep, but the emptiness lingered in the room.

You were waiting for him. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, knowing that he was the cause of your pain, knowing that despite everything he did for you, he still couldn’t be the man who could open up fully.

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, how deep his feelings ran. But every time he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, and the walls he had built around himself grew higher.

He hated himself for it, for making you feel like you weren't enough when all you ever did was love him with everything you had.

Zayne crouched beside the couch and watched you sleep, his fingers brushing the soft strands of your hair. You looked so peaceful, so trusting, and it tore him apart knowing he was the one breaking your heart. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

He didn’t know how to be the man who could open up without fear, who could say the words that seemed to be trapped inside.

As he sat there, watching you sleep, the quiet ache in his chest only deepened. He didn’t want you to feel empty. He didn’t want you to feel like you aren't loved. He just didn’t know how to show you the love he carried for you.

Because it was there, always there, buried under layers of fear, of old scars, of unspoken words.

And he knew it was eating you alive.

It's fine, you understand him.

Maybe in another life you would be the girl that is worth it to change his self for....

But not this lifetime.

Sylus - sunsetz

"And when you go away

I still see you

The sunlight on your face in my rearview

When you go away

I still see you"

Sylus sat in the quiet, the absence of yours is like a weight pressing on his chest. It wasn’t just the empty space beside him-- it was the space in his heart that felt hollow now, because you were gone.

He had pushed you away, again and again, every time you tried to show him love. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, he did, more than he could even express, but he was afraid. Afraid that if he let you in completely, if he allowed himself to be vulnerable, he’d end up hurting you.

The memories kept flooding in-- the "sweet days" when everything felt right. Your laugh, the way you’d reach for him like you didn’t want to let go. Your touch, your quiet support, your warmth.

Every time you’d try to get close, to show him affection, he’d pull away, convincing himself that it was for your own good.

But now, with you gone, he realized how wrong he’d been.

Every time he pushed you away, a little part of him died inside.

He told himself it was to protect you, but all he’d done was shut you out when you just wanted to love him.

Now, the memories felt like a cruel reminder. Visions of your face, your smile, your gentle hands in his. He could still feel your presence in his mind, but it wasn’t enough. He would never get those moments back.

He was left with nothing but the regret of not opening up, not letting himself love you the way you deserved.

He could still hear your voice in his head, the softness of your words, the quiet moments both of you shared. But now it was too late.

He had lost you.

He had been too scared to let you in, and now, without you, everything felt like it was falling apart.

Sylus closed his eyes, swallowing the pain. He couldn’t stop thinking about how things could’ve been if he had just let go of his fear. If he had been brave enough to love you without holding back. But now, all he had were these memories, these “visions” of a life he pushed away.

And he wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive himself for it.

Maybe in another lifetime, he can love you freely without fear.

Rafayel - sweet

"It's so sweet, knowing that you love me

Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet

Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair

It's so sweet"

Rafayel lay awake at night, the soft rhythm of your breathing beside him the only thing grounding him in the moment. Everything about you was so pure, so effortless. You loved him. He could feel it in the way you looked at him, in the gentle touch of your hand on his arm, in the way you laughed at his stupid jokes.

There was no guessing, no overthinking-- just your love, simple and constant. He didn’t have to question it, didn’t have to wonder if you really meant it. It was just there, woven into every moment you both shared.

But as sweet as it was, it also hurt. He had never known love like this before-- uncomplicated, unwavering, and real. And for all the beauty of it, there was a part of him that couldn’t believe it. He didn’t deserve it. Not after everything he’d been through, all the mistakes he’d made, the ways he felt like he wasn’t enough.

How could someone as incredible as you love him so deeply, so completely, without hesitation?

He watched you sleep, your face soft and peaceful, and a pang of guilt hit him in his chest. You deserved someone who could give you everything, someone who was certain, someone who didn’t doubt himself at every turn.

But here he was, holding your hand, feeling your love surround him-- and all he could think was, I don’t deserve this.

It was almost too good to be true. He would lie in bed next to you, fingers intertwined, and feel his heart swell with love, but also with this ache, this nagging voice in his head telling him that he was going to mess it up.

He didn’t know how to accept your love fully, because the part of him that had been bruised too many times couldn’t believe that something so pure could really be his.

And yet, there you was, always patient, always kind, showing him that love wasn’t about perfection-- it was about trust, about giving without expecting anything in return. You loved him without asking for anything more than what he could give. And that was both the sweetest and the most terrifying thing he had ever known.

It was beautiful. It was everything he had ever wanted. But it was also a quiet storm inside him, because every day he had to remind himself that you aren’t going to leave, that your love wasn’t just a fleeting thing, and that you wanted him-- exactly as he was. That you didn’t want him to be anyone else.

But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, Rafayel would lie there and wonder if you really knew what you were giving him, how much he could never repay you for, how much he didn’t deserve.

And yet, every time he saw the love in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wish that he could be the man who could finally believe in his own worth, if only to truly deserve you.

Every lifetime, Rafayel always doubts his worth for your love.

But always remember, he will always love you no matter what.

Xavier - heavenly

"Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Touch me with a kiss, feel me on your lips

Because this is where I want to be

Where it's so sweet and heavenly"

Xavier stood by the window, staring out at the night, but his thoughts were consumed by you. He feels your presence, your warmth lingering in the air even when you weren't around.

The love he had for you was unlike anything he had ever known. It was overwhelming, a beauty that both filled him with a sense of heaven and yet made his chest ache. You were everything-- everything he had ever dreamed of, and more than he ever thought he deserved.

When you came into his life, it was like the world shifted. It was like the weight of his past, all the scars and mistakes, had melted away, replaced by a lightness, a peace he hadn’t known before.

You made him feel seen, made him feel worthy in ways he never thought possible. You loved him without question, without hesitation, and in return, all he wanted was to give you everything.

To show you that he was capable of loving you the way you deserved. To give you a love that was as pure and as beautiful as you are.

But as much as he loves you, he was afraid. Afraid that he wasn’t enough. Afraid that his flaws, his insecurities, would eventually push you away.

He wanted to be the man who could make your dreams come true, who could hold you, cherish you, and give you all that you deserved. But sometimes, when he sees you smile, when he felt the depth of what you gave him, he wondered if he was capable of giving it all back.

He wasn’t perfect, and the fear of not being enough for you crept in, making his love feel like a bittersweet thing.

He watched you, sometimes, lost in the way you existed so beautifully in his world, and it made him feel both the highest of highs and the heaviest of lows. He wanted to be your everything, to be the one you turned to, the one who could make you feel as cherished as you made him feel.

But deep down, Xavier couldn’t shake the thought that maybe-- just maybe-- he wasn’t worthy of such an overwhelming, perfect love.

And that, more than anything, hurt the most.

It might be like that, but he always finds a way to give you love in every lifetime.

Caleb - nothing's gonna hurt you baby

"Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine

Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

Nothing's gonna take you from my side"

Caleb sat by the bed, his gaze distant, lost in the memories of years spent with you. The promise he made to you as a child-- those words, those promises-- still echoed in his heart.

“I’ll always protect you. I’ll be the one who loves you, and no one else will.”

He had been so sure of it back then, a child’s innocent certainty, but now as an adult, the weight of that promise felt heavier than ever.

He had always been there for you, standing beside you through every phase of life-- through the good days, through the hard ones. Both of you had shared so many sweet times together, laughter and love woven into the fabric of your relationship.

He had watched you grow, seen your strength, your beauty, and yet, no matter how much you blossomed, he couldn’t shake the fierce need to protect you.

He loved you deeply-- more deeply than he could ever explain. It was the kind of love that wasn’t just about the happy moments; it was about the quiet ones too. The ones where he would sit beside you, knowing that just being there was enough.

But the more he loved you, the more he feared. Life had a way of throwing storms at you, and he wasn’t sure he could always shield you from them. He couldn’t control everything-- couldn’t stop every pain from reaching you.

But he swore, as he had all those years ago, that he would try. He would do whatever it took to make sure you are safe.

The thought of you being hurt, in any way, made his heart ache.

It wasn’t just about physical protection-- it was the emotional pain too, the world that could sometimes feel so cruel. He had promised to be the one to love you, the one who would guard your heart, but the truth was, he was afraid.

Afraid that one day, he wouldn’t be enough. That his love and his promise wouldn’t be enough to protect you from everything life might throw your way.

But as long as you are there, he would keep fighting, keep standing by your side, and keep loving you with everything he had. He knew it wasn’t enough to erase the pain you might face, but it was all he had.

And as long as you would let him, he would be the one to love you, to protect you, to fight for you in every way possible-- because you deserved nothing less.

And deep down, Caleb knew he couldn’t live with the thought of anything bad happening to you.

He had promised as a child, and now, as a man, he would keep that promise--no matter what.

He will always fight for your love in every lifetime.

I was actually listening to these songs listed here while writing this. And yes, I did cry.

++first time writing angst, be nice >:(((

[herasversion]

''Fake'' boyfriend

Max verstappen x Female reader

Summary: You are being botherd by a guy who can't take a hint after you're friends left you behind. Until you're saved by the one and only Max Verstappen.

A/N: Contains smut, female reader no use of y/n.

masterlist

You don't know how you are supposed to feel about the situation you are in. I mean, how are you supposed to feel in this situation? The situation in which you are being held by an F1 world champion, only because a guy couldn't take a hint in Jimmy's.

There are moments in life when you really regret becoming friends with the quiet Australian guy at your boarding school. Like right now, as you look around in panic for said quiet Australian friend who brought you here.

Suddenly, you're shaken out of your thoughts of murdering your best friend when you feel a hand moving lower down your back as you're being pulled into a chest. You freeze because this isn't a random chest; this is the chest of Formula 1 world champion Max Verstappen.

Max, probably sensing you freeze, mutters, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure that guy won't get close anymore." You're not really worried about that guy anymore; after all, Max really scared the crap out of him. Although you're still offended, you were just making your way from Lilly and Oscar to get a drink when you were rudely interrupted by one of the ugliest guys you have ever seen who asked you to dance.

When you told him you didn't want to dance the first and second time, he didn't listen. When you told him the third time that he was ugly and rude, he still didn't listen and grabbed your arm. Just as you were about to either give him the biggest earful he ever heard or punch him in the face, you were interrupted by an arm sneaking around your waist and sneaking up under your breast. You heard an angry voice with a Dutch accent saying, "Is there a reason you're holding her like that?" As the ugly guy was muttering about how he didn't know I was his and he wouldn't touch somebody else's girl, he was interrupted again by Max, angrier than before, "How about you don't touch any girl here, especially not my girl, alright pal?"

After he said that, he moved his arm to the small of your back and guided you to the bar. "You were getting a drink, right?" he says. You look up at him and mutter the worst, most stupid response, "Yes… yes, I was getting a drink because I got thirsty. Thanks for helping me, I guess." You guess what a stupid response, although maybe it wasn't the worst response on the planet as Max is looking down at you with a cute smile (not that his smile normally isn't cute).

Just as you are about to embarrass yourself further, the bartender interrupts you guys by asking you what you would like to drink. You order a Sex on the Beach, and Max orders a Red Bull vodka. Shocker, right? Apparently, your look says enough as Max lowers his head and whispers in your ear, "Shocker, right? I like Red Bull."

You giggle, and who still giggles as Max guides you again with his hand on your back to the VIP lounge where you were sat before with Oscar and Lilly, who are now gone. Max notices you pause and asks, "What's wrong?" You move on your tiptoes and say, "I don't see Oscar and Lilly here anymore. They were waiting for me." Max looks around and shrugs and guides you further until you're in the VIP lounge and says, "Don't worry, sweetheart. You can stay with me until they're back."

And that is how you ended up in this situation, with you being pulled into Max Verstappen's chest as you explain to him that you aren't really worried about that ugly guy anymore. He scoffs and says, "You're still looking pretty tense, sweetheart. Is there something else?" Alright, panic, big problem. There is something else, but you can't just say, "Yes, there is something else. I find you really hot." Apparently, you waited too long with answering as he looks really worried now, so you thank the Lord for your quick thinking skills as you murmur to him, "I'm worried about Oscar and Lilly."

Max is quick to interrupt by saying, "Don't worry, Oscar's a big guy. He can take care of himself, and you worrying won't help him, sweetheart. Relax and have fun. Come on, let's dance." And with that, you're being pulled to the dance floor.

And the next thing you know, you're having fun dancing with your arms around Max Verstappen's neck and his hands on your ass to the beat of "Sweet Caroline." How is this your life? Maybe making friends with the quiet Australian guy isn't all too bad. Just as you are getting in the happy, flirty mood, you're suddenly interrupted by blinding white light and a voice saying that Jimmy's is closing.

You grab your phone and realize it's empty and look at Max, who also has his phone in hand. He sees you looking at him and mutters, "I didn't realize it was already so late. Let's find Lilly and Oscar for you, alright, sweetheart."

You nod, and you and Max move outside. He gives his phone to call Oscar and Lilly. You smile at him until you're not smiling anymore and Max is looking worried as, after 15 minutes, Oscar still hasn't picked up his phone.

"I can also give you a ride to your hotel," Max sweetly offers as you bring the bad news to him. "I am not staying at a hotel. I am staying at Oscar's place," you say apologetically to Max. "You can stay at my place. I have enough room, schat."

And that is how you end up in a cab, sitting next to Max Verstappen, who has his hand on your thigh on the way to his apartment. "What does it mean?" you ask. "What does what mean?" Max asks. "Schat," you say. Max turns red at that. "What does it mean?" you tease. "Alright, it means 'sweetheart' in Dutch, alright," Max says.

Which you find adorable, apparently adorable enough you make the first move. And here you are making out with Max Verstappen in the back of a cab. Well, you're making out until the fake coughing of the cab driver interrupts you guys, and you both turn scarlet as you arrive at Max's apartment.

And that's how you end up in the most awkward moment of your life, standing in the flat, petting his cats while Max is fixing you a glass of water. "So," Max awkwardly interrupts you as he gives you the glass of water. "Uhh alright, schat, this is my bedroom. You can stay here, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, I'll take the couch," you say. "No, I will take the couch," Max says. "Then we will both take the bed," you say with finality in your tone. "Fine," Max says. And just like that, you're both standing in the doorway of Max's bedroom, breathing hard.

Well, you're standing there until Max jumps at you, and you're making out again. You're pulling his shirt over his head and kissing down his chest as he tries to unbutton your dress. You help him with the last button as he kisses your breasts, and you finally reach the edge of the bed and both fall on it.

Max quickly pulls his pants down and settles at your waist, kissing your stomach while he pulls your panties down. He stops what he is doing and looks at your pussy. You suddenly look up at him worried, until you see him smirk, and he starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Just like that, you feel your first orgasm of the night coming up, at which you let out the loudest moan of your life. Max moves up, kisses you again, and pulls his underwear down. And Jesus, this man has it all because that is not a small dick.

It feels twice as big inside, and Max waits until you've adjusted and starts to move. And you would be embarrassed if it didn't feel this good as your second orgasm comes up. Max notices it and starts to move faster until you come, and he helps you ride out your orgasm.

As you catch your breath, you notice that Max didn't come yet and decide to change positions so that you're riding him. You kiss his neck, and you quickly hear his breath getting shorter and feel his orgasm building up. You kiss him as he rides out his orgasm.

With that, the last energy leaves your body, and you land on top of him, catching your breath. After a few minutes, you feel him move. "Where are you going?" you ask worriedly. "Just getting something to clean you up, schat," Max says. You smile at him as he walks into the bathroom, grab your phone from the floor, and put it on the charger. Max comes back, cleans you up, gives you a shirt of his to wear to sleep in, and pulls you back on top of him.

You snuggle closer into your warm pillow as you get woken up by a few sun rays coming through the window. You suddenly stop as you feel an arm pulling you closer and quickly look up at the face of Max Verstappen, who leans in, kisses you, and says, "Good morning, schat. Your phone has been blowing up."

You sigh and grab your phone, which has been blown up by one Oscar Piastri, asking if you've had a good night with Max and questioning if his plan worked. You know what, it was a mistake making friends with the quiet Australian kid.

[northopalshore]

Descendant Persona Chart: observations

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

ೀ⋆｡ The descendant persona chart tells you how you act in relationships, but also describes the type of partners you're likely to attract or be drawn to. It also gives you some depictions of your love life.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

1st house stellium

You might've gone through many relationships. Perhaps the person you are today is the amalgamation of yourself in different relationships. Your partners are likely to have a great impact to your personality, and they will also have a lasting impression of you even after the relationship ends.

ex: Matty Healy has this placement. Most of the artists that he's dated have noted him as a soft, genuine lover. Most have a special fondness to him.

Uranus in the 1st house

On and off relationships, situationships, sudden romantic encounters that come and go. You're likely to experience many extremes within your relationship. You're also not one to stay around one partner for too long. At least not until a point of maturity.

Neptune in the 1st house

Your partners may feel very connected to you. They could also romanticise you very often, seeing you as an untouchable, gentle lover that can do no wrong. They may also worry for you often. Perhaps they see a part of you that's hidden, or broken and they want to protect that. You could also be a muse to your partners.

Virgo rising ( virgo degrees 6°, 18°)

You have a practical approach to love & relationships or partnerships . You are NOT one to indulge in one night stands. If they aren't willing to see eye to eye with you they can walk out that door. You are attracted to level-headed, mature and well perceived individuals. People could think your approach to love can be too harsh or too boring lol, but you know what you want so what? You could be into the smaller/ younger looking individuals. Twinks if you will lol.

Aquarius rising ( Capricorn degrees 10°, 22°)

You could treat your relationships as your job. Being in relationships may as well be apart of your career or ambition in life. Your relationships could shake your career status, either for good or for worst. You are attracted to the rebellious, eye catching partners.

ex: Sid Viscous had this placement. His relationship with Nancy Spungen rocked his career & both of them are a well known couple in pop culture and punk rock history. He also has eros, mars, chiron & venus in the 1st house. She was a stubborn, slightly off her rocker hot-headed prostitute who he fell in love with at first sight.

Sun virgo (9° Sagittarius)

You tend to come into relationships knowing where you want it to go. When you fall in love with someone, you think far into your future together. How will it turn out realistically? You don't play when it comes to romance. Love, loyalty, maturity. That's the key to your heart. Once you find that stable relationship, you are also the type to do anything and everything for them just to make sure they are loved & cared for.

Sun in 12th house

You might find that you have a hard time getting into relationships in general. You romanticise love and devotion, and could be disappointed when things turn out rather bleak or shallow. Also, you could decide to refrain from the dating scene for most of your life.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

Venus (18° virgo) in Libra 1st house

You're very picky with romantic partnerships. You likely know what you like, and hold yourself to a high standard. It's not as unreasonable however as Libra would make it. Rather, you want a lover that will treat you as they're supposed to; with care and comfort.

Venus (10° capricorn) in Gemini 2nd house

You could meet a lot of your romantic partnerships through work or through friends. You could talk about love a lot but may find that you focus more on gaining stability or on your career & ambitions.

Jupiter in 1st house

You long for a partner that will sweep you off your feet & change your life as you know it. Your relationships bring you a lot of fun, luck, love and prosperity. Your lovers could love to shower you with gifts. Your partners are likely older or have some sort of status to them i.e well-known & respected.

Jupiter in 5th house

You crave fun, exciting experiences in your love life. You want to be with someone you know will be a good parent, slightly dramatic but immensely romantic.

Saturn in Cancer/cancer° in 3rd house

You value gentle communication between your partners or close relationships. You may have had trouble seeing eye to eye with your siblings when you were younger, but have likely come to terms with them when you got older. In romantic relationships, you need there to be an even, mature exchange of feelings with your partners.

Pisces descendant (18° virgo)

You long for a hopeless romantic. Someone who can feel the depths of your emotions, and connect with your mind, body & soul. However, you also want someone logical. Someone that will understand you both mentally and spiritually. A realistic but deeply romantic faithful partner. You want to be able to connect to them on the spiritual and physical lane.

Mercury (24° pisces) in Leo 12th house

You could daydream & fantasize about love often. Perhaps you'll have dramatic scenarios playing in your head " what if he leaves me?" Tragic music playing in the background. " What if one day he betrays me?" Lol. Very dramatic, always thinking of the worst case scenarios. Usually it's not something that would realistically happen, it's just that your fears can cloud your judgement when it comes to love & romance.

Moon (19° libra) in Leo 12th house

You need to feel worshiped by your partner. Feeling loved, cared for, hopelessly devoted to & being the only one they see lol. There may be a tendency to be a little selfish with your lover but that's because you know how deep you go when you show affection! You need to feel like they truly love you to the ends of this earth. If you start to question what you mean to them or if they neglect you, that's a sign for you to leave because you know you deserve better. You want to love as deep as you are loved. There is an equilibrium that needs to be met for you to feel loved. There is a tendency to see what you want to see however (usually assuming the worst outcome).

Moon (18° virgo) in Scorpio 5th house

You need someone mature, someone deep, loyal and freaky lol. You want to have fun with someone who knows their limits. You crave for a love that is practical yet at the same time not shallow or too serious. You want to feel uninhibited in relationships, being with someone you know will be there for you no matter what happens at the end of the night.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

Gemini Midheaven at leo° (5°, 17°, 29°)

People will gossip and talk about your relationships a lot. They may idealise your relationship or draw attention to it often. They can also spread rumours about your relationships as well.

Sagittarius MC (8° scropio)

Your relationships could serve as a lesson to others lol. People might point at your relationships and say "Don't be like them" or " At least I'm not like them" People could judge your love life a lot.

Pluto retrograde in Sagittarius in 4th house

Your love life could be disrupted by your priorities or commitments. You could have gone through many issues & change within your home life. Your relationship with your parents may have been tough growing up. They may have played a part in how you now perceive romance, especially if it aspects venus, sun, moon, mercury or mars.

Mars (17° leo) in Taurus 8th house

True devotion is what you crave, giving everything to your partner showing them all of your sides; the good, the bad & the ugly. Selfishness can be an issue in your relationship. Perhaps you will want to keep your partner all to yourself & you see how much they shine and attract attention from other people vice versa. If they're not all yours, you don't want them lol. Leo & Taurus are especially stubborn in this area. Your partners may be very possessive of you and it could cause some arguments. Other people may be jealous or intrusive in your relationship.

Mars (24° pisces) in Gemini 11th house

You live on romanticism. Emotional & mental connections turn you on lmao. Rumours, outsider opinions and assumptions based on what people say about you could cause issues in your relationship. Perhaps your partner will feel threatened or clouded by these rumours and that will cause miscommunication between you. It's important to be as clear as possible with your partner to overcome this.

Mars (8° scorpio) in Cancer 7th house

You want true commitment. Loving every inch of your partner's soul, knowing that they feel the same. Attachment issues, past trauma, past relationships and fear of betrayal or abandonment may be a cause of friction in your relationships.

Mars (22° capricorn) in Taurus 9th house

Your work, travelling or distance can be an issue in your relationships. Perhaps you do not want to be apart from your lover, but your or their work & career could interrupt that stability. It could also cause arguments if not handled properly.

ex: Nancy Spungen had this placement. Sid's job involved a lot of traveling caused a lot of issues within their relationship i.e not wanting to be apart. (& People that he works with literally wanted her gone lol)

Also, she was a groupie so most of her romantic interests were either seen as a business relationship or just didn't last (flighty ) because of money.

Uranus retrograde (26° taurus) in Capricorn 10th house

Your love life may be very public. More specifically, your erratic relationships, breakups and relationship drama will be quite public. Usually it means people will see you at your worst, but also how you heal and learn from it as it's in retrograde.

ex: Ariana Grande has this placement. Hers also conjuncts MC. All of her relationship struggles have been exposed if not monitored by the public. She herself has been very vocal about those relationships i.e.her ex-husband, and all her other exes were openly addressed by her herself throughout her career.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

***entertainment purposes only: reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 all rights reserved.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Resuested by @outof-spite : was wondering if you could do a winchester bros & little sister! reader where theyve been arguing constantly lately, and reader is usually combative and always argues back but, this time shes just over the arguing so she just gives up trying to argue with them and kinda goes mute?

Warnings : family fights, yelling

Pairings : Sam/Dean Winchester x sister!reader

A/N : Sorry for the late postt ❤️❤️

-----

Things happen, right? Misunderstandings, judgement, reproaches and blame, all of them, the worst thing that could happen to a family, more importantly-right now-to yours.

Back from a hunt gone bad, you heavily lay in the backseat of the impala, your feet hung over the left window while your head rests over the opposite side of the car.

"Hey-get your feet off my damn leather." A complaint you've heard one too many times, and one you usually fight but- this time, as a sigh leaves your lips, you uncross your legs and bring them down, consequently lifting your upper body to sit up. An avertion from your side that's different from your usual habits, causing the car to fall into heavily loud silence.

And although it is loud with almost audible thoughts and anger, you still enjoy that while it lasts.

And it fucking doesn't last, in fact, just as soon as you entered the motel, another sentence commenced by Sam sent Dean into a fury, and just as things heated up, you found yourself in the middle of it all-again-

"Hey!!-" The shout is directed at you, this you know and choose to disguard. You would answer but- your body is fatigued and so is our mind, answering seems to lead to no vail. You answer, he fights you, you all go to sleep and wake up forcebly normalizing things, as if your throats aren't sore and your brains aren't fried.

"Hey-i'm talking to you-"

The words sound more bitter this time around, and you find yourself reluctantly lifting your gaze up . You look at Dean, slow and undetermined, exhausted.

"I asked you why you did that-You could've waited for us. I know you said there was no time le-" Dean pauses. "And fucking answer me when i talk to you-"

You shrug, causing a choking gasp out of Dean. His eyes widen and he leans forward. "Are you-Is she provok-are you-"

You throw your jacket over the bed, disdain discerned in your every move and you flop on the bed, unaware of the sudden tension that-again- suddenly settles in.

But the thing is--You don't care anymore. You haven't enough energy to get you to fight them once more, neither to explain or defend yourself. Too damn fucking tired is what you are at the moment-Too damn tired of it all.

"Kid?"

You rest your hand over your forehead, closing your eyes in an effort to soothe your aching muscles, and maybe suck in a little more patience.

"Kid."

Your stomach tightens and soon, you'll recess into a bawling mess, so you get off the bed and pick up your jacket.

Please don't lead to another fight, please..You just want it all to be ov-

"What's wrong?"

You shrug once more, shaking your head to motion that all is fine before heading for the door. But Sam comes your way, blocking the door and you blow a long sigh.

"Come here"

Sam grips both of your arms and swiftly-you find yourself glued to his chest. But all happens all too fast-why would he suddenly get all feely- and before you even realize it, you find yourself pushing against him.

"'im sorry-i'm sorry."

A lump builds up in your throat and as flashes of the past few weeks occupy every single space in your brain, your breathing increases-just as it gets harder to breathe. Just the thought of it all_

Your eyes are slowly flooded with warmth, announcing the tears gathering at your eyes. You need to leave. You need to go.

You choke on a sob.

You can't do this anym- "I know, honey. I've been there. I know." And with that, another sob loudly escapes your throat and a whimper follows.

"i've been there with Dad, i didn't realize we were doing that to you-i'm sorry. I see you. I really am sorry."

You shake your head as your cries fill the room, getting increasingly louder the harder Sam rubs your back. But that's not what you need. Not for them to see you-but for them to fucking stop.

"We'll stop. We'll talk. I promise."

You pull away from him, skeptical of a promise you doubt he can hold. And just as you're about to process that, Dean speaks.

"I'm sorry too." His honest tone makes you sigh. This isn't.what.i.want.

"Sam and i are sort've used to it- we lost sight of the fact that it wasn't affecting just us, but you as well. I really am sorry." Sam looks into your eyes and you slightly lean back, averting your gaze.

"It must've been really stresstful for you the past few weeks." Taken aback by his words, you pull your chin away from his hand and turn around, wiping at your tears before resting your hand against your forehead.

"we're sorry, kid."

You shrug, still mistrusftul. Mistrustful but hopeful. Because Sam and Dean are different, fights and bad things might accure but no matter how disconnected from each other they might be, they always come back to each other. And you are no different. You know them well enough.

Your silence is apprehended as anger. "Okay..We understand, we'll leave."

But it's not anger and it's most certainly not hatred. So you envelop Sam again and bury your face in his chest.

Maybe that'll be enough for him to understand?

His surprise manifests through his still figure. "Thank you, honey." That surprise quickly dissipates and he hugs you back. "It..."

"it's going to be okay, honey. We'll make it okay."

------

I hope it isn't too cringe or too cliché because like-who would say sorry in under a minute. But yeah anyway much love sorry byyiii 🍁🍁🍁❤️❤️❤️

[reidsbabyhoney]

opposite | s.r.

the one where spencer has a new girlfriend, and she couldn't be more different than you.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader category: angst, fluff during the flashback but mainly angst cw: spencer not using his 187 IQ, reader feeling like their not enough, self deprecating thoughts. wc: 3.3k a/n: thought a great way to start my spencer masterlist was with angst! no I'm kidding, I was listening to 'opposite' by sabrina carpenter and felt very inspired, will probably make a part two where they have a happier ending (pls don't yell at me for this) I imagine season 6 Spencer for this, but you can imagine him however you want. this post is long overdue, I hope you love it! (also its not proof read at all so i'm sorry in advanced)

masterlist spencer masterlist

Falling for your coworker was probably the worst thing you could have done, especially when that coworker is Dr. Spencer Reid.

You had a crush on the resident genius since you had joined the team a year after Spencer.

In your mind, there were two scenarios that would happen in the case that he did find out about your infatuation with him.

Either you told him you were in love with him, he rejects you and you have to live with the embarrassment seeing him everyday at work, or you tell him you're in love with him, you start dating and the relationship doesn't work out, living with a Dr. Reid shaped hole in your heart. So you lose either way.

About a year and a half ago you finally decided to tell Spencer how you felt about him. A result of one too many drinks at a bar you were both dragged to.

-

"You know you look really pretty under this lighting Spence," you say, clearly affected by the alcohol in your system.

A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead, a few stray hairs sticking to his face. He was flushed from the few glasses of alcohol he had consumed that night, but regardless, you thought he never looked prettier. Though, that might be the alcohol you consumed talking.

Spencer's cheeks redden a bit from the compliment, his brain working in overdrive to figure out how to respond to your compliment.

"Ah, um, thanks, you always look beautiful y/n," he says, a bit shy with his words.

You blush at his words, looking down towards the glass in your hand.

"It's a bit loud in here, do you want to go outside?" he asks, a bit of hesitation in his voice.

"Well I was just about to leave, will you walk me out?"

"Of course," he quickly responds.

"Okay, let me just grab my purse," you say, putting the glass down on the table behind you.

You grab all of your things, quickly letting the team know you're both leaving so they don't worry.

As you make your way around the bar to say goodbye, the girls give you suggestive glances, and you just shake your head and laugh at their antics.

After saying your goodbyes, you both make your way outside.

Standing right outside the door to the small bar, you shiver as the cold air nips at your skin.

You hear Spencer shuffling next to you, and suddenly he's handing you the cardigan he was wearing.

You're about to respond saying that he'll get cold, but he quickly shuts you up.

"No, no, take it. Between 700 and 1,500 people die from hypothermia in the United States annually. Though you might not think it's not that cold for you to get hypothermia here, it can occur in temperatures above 40°F if someone is chilled from rain, sweat, or cold water. I also just really don't want you to be cold," he finishes his sentence by putting the cardigan in your hands, not letting you say no.

"Thank you Spence, I just don't want you to possibly get hypothermia either," you say with a small laugh.

"Well that's a good concern to have, because men are 9-10 times more likely to get and die from hypothermia. This is because men are more likely to be exposed to the necessary conditions to contract hypothermia, so, I-sorry I'm rambling aren't?" he says, his cheeks turning to a deep shade of red once he realizes that the information continues to spill from his lips.

"No don't worry, I like listening, I always do," you say, a blush of your own covering your cheeks at the confession.

"Yeah, I've noticed, you're really the only one who pays attention to my rambles when were on the plane, or anywhere for that matter," he says, now noticing how the moonlight glows against your skin.

"I've always found it really interesting and kind of attractive that you just have all of this information stored in your head," you say looking up to the stars that littered the sky, completely oblivious to the effect your words had on the genius.

"Attractive? I didn't think you'd ever use that word to describe me," he's a bit stunned at your sentence, because no way the girl he's had a crush on since he laid eyes on her is telling him this.

"Well you don't get the nickname Pretty Boy from just anywhere do you," you say, a teasing smile falling across your lips.

There's a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you after that. Though that doesn't last long.

"Y'know I've had the biggest crush on you since I met you four years ago, I just never thought you felt the same," realizing what you just said, your eyes widened and you quickly turned towards Spencer, about to take back everything you just drunkenly confessed.

"y/n that's not something funny to joke about," he says, completely serious.

"I, no, I'm being serious. I've had the biggest crush in you since I joined the team. I'm pretty sure everyone but you knows, or well that used to be the case."

And just like that the biggest secret that's been resting on your shoulders for the past four years fell from your lips.

"Are you being serious right now?" he asks, as if he truly couldn't believe the words coming from your mouth.

"Spence, you can just reject me, you know. You don't have to play dumb."

Embarrassment wraps around your words, clearly upset that it seems that Spencer is trying to let you down easily.

"y/n, no. I-I like you too. I have for the longest time. If anything, I thought you were the one that wasn't going to feel the same if I'm honest," he says with an awkward smile covering his lips.

"You're serious?"

"Of course I am, I've had the most absurd crush on you since your first day you joined," his blushes a bit at the memory, "I'm surprised you never caught on."

You look down at your shoes, the alcohol seemingly left your body and now you're unsure about how to respond to him. You're about to speak when he interrupts you.

"I, um, I have to go soon, the last train is going to leave in about 27 minutes, but I was wondering if would you want to get coffee with me sometime?" he painfully stutters through his sentence, but you find it endearing, knowing its not due to the cool air outside.

"I would really love that Spence, yeah."

Leaning up to plant a shy kiss on his cheek, you say your goodbyes and make your way to you car to drive home.

Turning back for a second, you see Spencer with his hand on the spot that you gave him a kiss. Almost touching it to keep the warmth there to ensure that it truly happened.

The entire car ride home was bliss, you couldn't believe you told Spencer how you felt, and he actually shared those feelings.

Once you arrive home you realize you never gave Spencer his cardigan back. Wrapping it around yourself a bit tighter, you take your phone out of your pocket, feeling the buzz of a text notification.

From: Spence

Hi y/n! It's Spencer, I just got home. Please let me know when you're home so I know you made it back safe. I'll see you at work on Monday :)

Your face splits into a smile that nearly hurts your cheeks. Realizing you are home, you send him a quick message before getting ready for bed.

To: Spence

Hi Spence, I just got home, thanks for checking up on me. I'll see you at work on Monday, sweet dreams. ♥️

-

You shake your head at the memories. Looking up from the book in your hand, you spot the exact cardigan Spencer gave you that night across the arm of the couch, almost taunting you.

The year you were together was a dream you never thought would come true. You really thought your nightmare of Spencer deciding you weren't good enough and breaking up with you was never going to happen.

Though life isn't all fairy tales.

The job got to you, as people said it would. You both grew stressed and agitated. There never seemed to be enough time in the day, hell in a week, for you two to find time to spend together.

Even though you worked together, you rarely found time to actually separate your relationship from work.

The day you both realized that was the day you mutually came to the decision that it was best if you stayed friends. Or whatever word is used to describe still working with the person that you were the most vulnerable with and knew you inside and out, better than anyone else in the world.

The breakup happened six months ago. It wasn't messy or anything of the sorts, but it definitely created a drift in your relationship with the genius. Everyone in the office could tell, and you both knew that the relationship you shared before you started dating would never return.

Now, months after the breakup you were trying to become the person you used to be before Spencer. Though that seemed like an impossible task. You didn't realize how much of an effect he had on you until he wasn't there anymore.

It was the first Friday that the team wasn't completely swamped in work, so naturally Rossi invited you all to his mansion for one of his infamous pasta nights.

Declaring that we needed to spend time with people other than each other, he also extended the invitation to anyone the team felt like bringing along.

Wrapping your coat around you tighter, almost as a safety blanket, you knock on the door. You're sure not even a second goes by before you’re met with the face of Emily. Though she looks a bit distressed, like the evening has started out disastrous already.

"What's up with the face? Did Pen interrupt while Rossi was explaining how to perfectly cook pasta again?"

Letting out a small laugh at your own joke, you look up at Emily's face and realize something must be seriously wrong if she didn't even fake a smile at the lame joke.

"We need to talk," she says, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the house. You walk off into a hallway where both JJ and Penelope are waiting for you.

"Woah, what's wrong? Why are we having some kind of intervention?"

Looking at the both blondes, they keep their lips shut and look towards Emily, practically begging her to break the news to you.

Your voice is small, barely above a whisper when you say Emily's name, worried for what she's about to tell you. Taking a shaky breath, she finally speaks.

"Spencer brought his girlfriend."

As the words came from Emily's mouth you basically felt your entire world collapse around you.

He was dating someone? The same Spencer, who was nervous to even talk to a woman before you started dating, was dating someone else? Just after six months of being broken up he found someone else?

"Emily, please tell me you're joking or I might throw up on Rossi's floor right here," you say, completely serious, feeling your lunch already making its way out of your stomach.

The three of you hear footsteps coming your way and you start praying that it's not the person you want to see least right now.

Mystery person clears their throat and you're met with the face of a concerned looking Derek Morgan. Once he spots the tears in your eyes he opens his arms to give you a hug.

"Oh princess, I'm so sorry," he sighs, rubbing your back affectionately.

"I'll go knock some sense into him if you really want me to."

That gets a small laugh from you, but you quickly shake your head and step out of Derek's arms.

"No," you breath in a shaky breath before saying, "it's okay, seriously. He deserves to move on."

Knowing the words leaving your mouth are a complete lie, the tears return to your eyes and JJ is quick to take Derek's place and bring you into her embrace.

"Oh sweetheart, it's okay, we can stay here for as long as you want okay? Or we could even leave and pretend like you never came in the first place."

Attempting to take a deep breath, you give her a final squeeze and leave her arms.

"No, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, I can handle my ex having a new girlfriend."

They four of them share a weary glance, knowing those words are the furthest thing from the truth.

Penelope is the first to speak as she grabs your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Let's do this angel face."

With that the two of you walk hand in hand to the backyard, greeted with the faces of the rest of your team and their families.

Walking over to the tree where Rossi and Hotch are standing, seemingly deep in conversation, Penelope makes her presence known when she lets out a happy squeal seeing her margarita glass was magically refilled.

"Well, I'll leave you in the hands of the host my love, I see a margarita calling my name," she plants a quick kiss on your cheek before making her way to the table her drink was sitting on.

Knowing that was just Penelope's way of making things a bit more normal for you, you shake your head and laugh at her antics.

Finally turning towards the two men, you see the pity in their eyes and let out a disappointed sigh.

"Seriously, you guys too? If all of you keep looking at me like that he'll definitely know something is wrong and will realize I'm the crazy one for not being over him yet."

Once you finish your sentence Hotch moves to say something but quickly shuts his mouth. His eyes are fixed just right over your shoulder.

Shifting to see what -or better yet who- he was looking at, you turn and find the new couple sitting on the bench near the opposite side of the yard. Your eyes fix on the woman sitting next to Spencer and you’re met with a woman with striking features. As you looked at her closer, you began to realize she looked nothing like you. In fact, she was the complete opposite of you.

Is that what Spencer was looking for this whole time? Did he want you to be more like her? Was he holding out with you just to find someone better?

These thoughts continued to swirl through your mind for the rest of the night. The team was obviously trying to distract you and make you feel better about the whole situation, acting as if it wasn't happening. JJ even asked you to watch Henry for a bit even though neither her nor Will were busy.

Finally the moment you were dreading had arrived, dinner.

Rossi, one for tradition, had a massive dining room table that somehow fit the entire team plus the extra guests.

Opting to sit in between JJ and Emily, you hoped that you could stay quiet all of dinner and quickly leave once it was finished. Really you hoped you didn't have to see Spencer and his girlfriend any longer than you had to.

But your luck seemed to have run out because she took the seat directly across from you, causing Spencer to sit next to her, directly across from Emily.

Looking down at your food you try to ignore them as best as you could, that was until you heard her voice.

"Hi, you must be y/n. I'm Maya, Spencer's girlfriend."

Her voice reaches your ears like nails on a chalkboard and you try your hardest to not physically react to her high pitched voice. God, what was Spencer doing?

Though you quickly rid yourself of the distaste you already have for her and give her your best fake smile.

"Yes, I'm y/n. It's…nice to meet you."

It's almost like the entire table was holding their breath to see what your response would be. Morgan nearly chokes on his drink as you pause to find the words to describe your feelings for meeting her.

The silence continues until Spencer clears his throat. At the sound you look up at him. You realize that was the worst thing you could have done when he doesn't even look at you. Instead he's looking at Maya with the expression you thought was only reserved for you.

Emily is the first to speak after the interaction, some reason directing the conversation towards the couple. Did she just want to see you suffer tonight?

"So Reid, how long have you two been dating?"

Though the question is directed at Spencer, Maya is the one to answer. "Oh me and Spencie? We've been together just over a month!"

She basically screeches the words and you have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

The table goes quiet again. No one has anything to say, quietly eating their food.

"Hey Uncle Spence, when are you and Auntie y/n/n going to be like that again? I remember you used to hold her hand and give her kisses all the time!"

Oh God. Poor Henry didn't know what he just caused. You nearly spit out your drink at his questions, coughing down the wine you basically inhaled.

JJ's eyes widen, going to apologize for Henry's words until Miss chalkboard decides to speak again, except this time it's her awful laugh that makes an appearance.

"Oh my goodness! That is such a funny joke, little Henry. Kids and their imaginations, am I right?"

Her eyes dance around the table waiting for anyone to respond to her. When no one does she continues with a delighted smile on her face.

"Don't worry y/n, there's no need to say anything about that. I know my Spencie, he would never go for someone like you."

As she finished her sentence the entire table grew silent. The profilers actively deciding if they could get away with the thing they put people in prison for.

Your chair is what breaks the silence this time, screeching against Rossi's wood floors.

"Well I really wish I was a good liar and could say it was nice meeting you but I'm not. I hope you and your Spencie have a wonderful relationship."

For the first time all night Spencer finally talks to you. Though it breaks your heart even further. And it's not the words that come from his mouth, but rather the way he says it. All he says is your name, though he speaks as if he's disgusted that you would say something like that.

Letting out a dry laugh you shake your head and click your tongue, hoping he doesn't see the tears in your eyes when you lock eyes with him.

"I'm so glad to know that our year together meant nothing to you Spencer," you say, turning and leaving the room.

You make your way through the hall to collect your things before leaving. You don't even bother with saying bye to everyone, hoping they would understand.

Closing the door to the coat closet you see JJ standing behind the door, looking at you with eyes full of worry.

"y/n/n, are you okay. Both of them were so out of line, and I'm so sorry about Henry I didn't-"

You effectively cut off her short lived rant by giving her a short hug, knowing if you were in her arms for any longer you would be a crying mess before you even stepped foot out of the house.

"It's fine Jayge, really, you didn't know I don't blame you. And I'm fine. I just really need to go."

With that, you finally make your way out of the house and into your car.

There's only one thought that consumes your mind the entire drive home.

He was just holding out to find the opposite. 

likes, comments, and shares are always appreciated!! loving you always xx

tags: @clairoscharm @agent-nobody-knows

[zukosdualdao]

so, this post was originally born from a post i saw a couple of months ago that was deriding people for criticizing katara’s main role in lok being a healer when that was never all she wanted to do but liking the scene where she heals zuko in sozin's comet. at the time i thought about responding directly and decided against it, but i have since scanned through transcripts of every instance (i could find; it's possible i could be missing something) of katara healing someone in the show and how they respond. (you know, like a normal and well-adjusted individual. lmao.)

anyway, aside from katara explicitly stating that she doesn’t only want to be a healer, another aspect of why people don’t like that this is how her story goes in lok is because of the way healing is treated in the atla narrative.

Katara: Aang, you're burned! Let me help you. [Katara heals the burn on Aang's arm.] Aang: Wow, that's good water. Sokka: When did you learn that? Katara: I guess I always knew. Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Oh ... Well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the greaseberry bramble. [Angrily.] Or that time I had two fishhooks in my thumb!

this comes, of course, after aang accidentally burns katara and she learns she can heal through her waterbending by healing her own hands. then (after comforting aang despite being the one who got hurt, not that i'm bitter), she heals aang after he gets burned in his fight with zhao. and like... there's not so much as a cursory thanks in this scene.

to be clear, because i can already hear some responses in my head and i am making a preemptive strike: i'm not saying that when other characters don't thank katara for her healing, they're like, the worst people ever for not doing so or there aren't other ways at different times where they show their appreciation. what i am saying is that it feels like this sets up a long pattern of katara's healing specifically being taken for granted, and it makes me especially uncomfortable when i see her healing as a sort of metaphorical parallel to the emotional labor often expected of her in the show, especially because this and being The Avatar's Girlfriend/Wife is more or less what she's relegated to in post-canon.

also, i have to note sokka's line here. i don't want to come down on him too hard for this, because it's obviously being written humorously (and does genuinely make me laugh, for what it's worth, if just for the inherent ridiculous nature of two fishhooks), but his sarcastically saying thanks for all the help over the years when katara says she always knew (which is supposed to be her saying it just somehow instinctively came to her) does feel like another mark in this pattern. but i also really read this as sokka trying to lighten the mood after a Difficult (TM) day, so i cut both him and the writers some slack for it.

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Wall, Katara attempts to heal a member of the Terra Team. General Sung: What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured. Katara: His chi is blocked. [Stops healing.] Who did this to you?

i find it interesting that katara has sort of naturally fallen into a token team healer role, to the degree that we don't even see them ask for her help or her agree to it; it's just automatically assumed that she will. and i mean, on the one hand, it's fairly standard to have an Assumed Healer in a fantasy action setting like this, where people will get hurt in combat and therefore the narrative needs someone whose job is to help them. the problem for me is that the show kicked up such a fuss about how women shouldn't just be allowed to be healers, and yet it's still the role no one but katara ever fills. aang is also a waterbender! why couldn't she have taught him healing, too? i genuinely think it would have added a lot to the story, but katara is The Girl (TM), so healing is what she (and only she) does, what's expected of her, and again, with very rare thanks for it.

Katara stares open-mouthed at Jet, her hands hovering near her mouth in shock. Snapping out of it, she withdraws water from her water skin, with which she covers her hands, and it begins to glow as she kneels down next to him. Cut to a shot from over her shoulder, with Jet glancing at her while she rubs her hands over his chest in an attempt to heal him. After rubbing his chest three times, the glow fades, the water stains Jet's clothing, and Katara looks back over her shoulder toward the rest of the group. Katara: This isn't good. Smellerbee: You guys go and find Appa. We'll take care of Jet. Katara: We're not going to leave you. Longshot: There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader. They stare at Longshot in surprise. Jet: Don't worry, Katara. I'll be fine. [Smiles a little.]

Cut to a closer shot of Katara placing Aang's body on Appa. Katara opens the vial around her neck and uses water healing on Aang's wounded back. The rest of Team Avatar, Kuei, and Bosco all look sadly and in anticipation. The glowing from the spirit water stops, and Katara starts crying, assuming that it was not enough to save Aang. Aang's tattoos glow for a second and Aang groans. Katara, overcome with joy that Aang is alive, looks at him, who smiles a little, and she holds him closer.

writing about these together because i have less to say about them. i'm definitely not going to fault jet for not thanking katara when she tries to heal him as he literally lay dying, or aang for not having the mind to do so after she brings him back. but i am still going to fault the narrative for putting her in a position where healing is just inherently expected from her and yet very rarely allowing her to feel the emotional toll of that or to feel constricted by it. and when she does struggle against the weight of it (not necessarily of being a healer, but of being expected to be kind and good and uncomplicated with no room for other aspects of her identity, which are very tangled up in why she is The Healer) in episodes like the runaway or in the southern raiders, she just... does not receive a lot of support from the people she should be most able to rely on.

Katara: Maybe we should go upstairs. [Helping Aang up.] You need a healing session. Back in Aang's room on the ship. Katara bends some water onto the scar left by Azula's lightning attack. Katara: Tell me where the pain feels most intense. Aang: Mmm, a little higher. Uhhh! Aang briefly flashes back to the battle at Old Ba Sing Se where he rose into the Avatar State, then back to reality. Aang: Wow, you're definitely in the right area there.

not much to say here, it's just another instance where it would have been so easy to slip one thank you in, and the writers just... do not. the reason i think it bothers me so much with aang specifically is because katara is supposed to be both aang's physical healer and his emotional crutch in a way that she's not written as being for, say, toph or sokka. he's sometimes shown appreciation for her emotional support, but he still comes to rely on and expect it in ways that do not always feel healthy, and knowing that, it bothers me that he shows even less appreciation for her healing, because it's just what katara is there for.

A figure resembling the Painted Lady glides over the water on a carpet of fog and enters the village. She steps into a hut where several people are sleeping on the floor, and bends over each of them in turn, healing them with a blue glow. Her last patient is the mother of the little boy seen earlier, her son sleeping at her side. He wakes as the Painted Lady turns to go and silently follows her out the door. Little boy: Thank you, Painted Lady.

this is a genuinely sweet scene in which katara does receive appreciation and genuine thanks for her healing, but i think it's also worth noting that katara is not being recognized as herself here. still, i am genuinely very glad that it's included in the episode because (again, unless i am missing something) it is the first time katara gets thanked for her healing.

The scene cuts to show Appa landing on the edge of the battlefield. Sokka and Katara help Hakoda onto the ground, and Katara starts trying to heal him. Katara: How does that feel, Dad? Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster?

they're in a high intensity situation, and sokka is Stressed because hakoda is supposed to lead the mission, so i, like, Get It, but "can't you heal him any faster?" does strike me as another moment in which katara's healing is being taken for granted. i think it's something that would bother me a lot less if this was an isolated incident in the writing, but *gestures vaguely at whole post*.

Sokka: [Brightening.] Dad! [Rising and approaching the two.] You're on your feet again. Hakoda: [Sitting down; somewhat weakly.] Thanks to your sister.

that being said, in the next hakoda and katara scene, there is this very sweet moment, where hakoda might not be thanking katara directly but is showing a lot of appreciation and admiration for her skill in healing (and though she's not in the dialogue i included, she's around to hear it, which makes me happy.)

Katara: It's gonna take a while for your feet to get better. [Stops healing.] I wish I could have worked on them sooner. Toph: Yeah, me too.

once again, i'm not gonna fault toph for wishing katara could have healed her feet sooner, because she's been in pain all night, but the writers could have very easily (as they could have in any of these scenes!) chosen to include a perfunctory 'thanks' here, and they just didn't. i know this is getting repetitive, but i swear it's because it's largely more me being mad at the writers than the characters, lmao.

there are also a couple of scenes in which katara doesn't heal anyone, but her healing gets brought up by aang.

Aang: He doesn't look sick. You okay, buddy? [Appa groans and Aang pulls out Appa's purple tongue.] His tongue is purple! That can't be good. Katara, can you heal him?

to be fair, aang asks here, and it's not like aang gets defensive or angry when katara says appa needs medicine (and also to be fair, appa's not even actually sick, lmao, katara's being slightly trickstery), but it's another instance where katara is automatically positioned as the person who is and should be responsible for healing.

Aang: [Chuckles.] Well, not over over. I mean there's always Katara and a little Spirit Water action, [Turns to Katara.] am I right? Katara: Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you. Aang: [Disappointed.] Oh.

i actually don't mind this so much as a writing moment, as i think it's a lot more intentional wrt aang not always conceptualizing the reality of the violence he’s facing. still, it’s another instance of katara’s ability to heal and care for him being taken for granted, and i find it especially notable it’s in of the last significant moments they share together (the other being an argument as katara urges him not to run away from the reality of their situation with ozai) before they spend the rest of the finale separate until they’re kissing without a word at the end.

and then there is the zutara healing scene, where katara heals zuko after he interferes and takes azula’s lightning to the chest when she’s aiming for katara.

Cut to Katara as she rolls Zuko on to his back and begins healing him. Zuko opens his eyes, feeling the pain lessen, and smiles weakly at Katara, who smiles back as she sheds a tear.

Zuko: Thank you, Katara.

Katara: I think I'm the one who should be thanking you.

it seems fair to me to say that one of the reasons the motifs of healing in the zutara are dynamic are so appreciated by their fans is because of how it contrasts to a lot of moments where the work katara does with her healing is under-appreciated. for one thing, it happens as part of a mutual exchange—katara heals zuko after he gets hurt saving her. (this also somewhat calls back to their scenes together in the crystal caves in the tcod, where she offers to heal his scar after they are trapped together and zuko extends her empathy.) it’s based in reciprocity. it’s also, as shown here, one of the few moments of explicit, heartfelt appreciation and thanks given for katara’s healing.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[pomefioredove]

HIII I SAW THE FLIRTY PROMPTS EVENTS AND RAN HAHA

Can I please get "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?" with Rook please???? 🙏🙏🫠🫠🤍

anon this one is PERFECT omg screaming...

summary: "you're a shy little thing, aren't you?" type of post: short fic characters: rook additional info: romantic(?), reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, Rook being a little freak, shamelessly flirty, not proofread a part of this event

There's that feeling again.

Your heart rate picking up, muscles tensing, adrenaline urging you to find somewhere to run, a quiet corner to lurk until those eyes you feel on the back of your neck have turned away...

You're surrounded by people, but even the crowd isn't enough to hide you.

For so many years, you hadn't been noticed at all. An unsaved seat, a forgotten name, a dull, drooping wallflower with nowhere to root. Ignored and undesired, nothing more than a piece of furniture in everyone else's lives.

You had long come to accept that it's just how things are, even here.

And, so, the feeling of being watched is wholly unfamiliar.

You slip out of the midday crowd and into a quiet corridor. Your worst fear, really, is that whoever's keeping their eye on you is picking you apart at the seams, analyzing your every flaw...

As if being quiet didn't make you enough of a target...

"Ah, there you are! I thought I lost you,"

You nearly jump. For a moment, you're tempted to look around the vacant corridor for someone hiding in the shadows, because, surely, that voice isn't addressing you.

The boy at the other end of the hall tilts his head. "Ah, do not be frightened! I was only worried you had been swallowed by the crowd,"

You blink.

"...Me?"

"Oui," he responds, putting his hands on his hips. "You are such a tiny thing, I could not let any harm befall you under my watch."

There's something rather unsettling about his gaze. Familiar, even.

"Tiny?" you scoff at the description. "...Who are you, anyway?"

His smile is just as uneasy. Too eager, you think. "Je suis désolée, how rude, I have not introduced myself yet. Where are my manners?" he scolds himself, taking a step forward.

"Rook Hunt."

No, not familiar at all. You've never seen this man in your life, even if there's something about his gaze that strikes a chord with you.

You give your name in return, to which he hums.

"You are quite the interesting creature, you know."

Creature? You give him a sour look, and he chuckles.

"I mean it in the loveliest way. Like a flower which takes a century to bloom, or a comet one might see but once in their lifetime,"

He speaks enthusiastically, and thus fast, leaving you dizzy with metaphors and imagery.

"...Is that a compliment?"

A small smile graces his lips, and he leans forward. "Would you like it to be?"

Full of surprises. You instinctively lean back, further away from those piercing eyes.

He hums again, eyes shining with amusement. "Ah, ah, have I embarrassed you? My apologies,"

"I'm fine," you lie, and leave it at that. You can't seem to come up with a good excuse, and your face feels warm.

Rook tuts, circling around you like a predator surveying its prey.

"...There is no shame in being flattered, chérie. Though I would gladly embarrass you all day just to see that lovely look on your face again,"

You watch him carefully, though avoid eye contact as he stops, eventually, standing in front of you again with a little smile.

"It is a shame you hide yourself, even now. Your beauty should be appreciated," he says. "...Though, I admit, I find the idea of keeping it all to myself rather tempting."

He's going to give you a heart attack, you think. You can feel the embarrassment swelling in your chest, making your heart beat a little faster and averting your gaze to the ground.

He chuckles. "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?"

"I..." you cough awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. "...Don't get complimented often."

Rook places a hand over his heart, as if offended by the very thought. "Non? What a cruel world we live in, where such beauty goes unnoticed! The very notion wounds me!"

"Well, then..." he says, getting down on one knee and taking your hand in his, kissing each of your knuckles.

"...Let me make up for it, chérie."

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[mingtinys]

" you always come first "

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : none

word count : 0.4 k

a/n : producer !! woozi !! that's it (:

Jihoon is exactly where you expect to find him when you get home from work. Hunched over in his chair, eyes boring into a computer screen, and pen in hand furiously scribbling away at a notepad. You knock three times to alert him of your presence. He turns to you with a wide smile and tired eyes.

"Hi," He breathes out, ushering you in with his hand. You oblige, though you don't plan to stay for long. It's been a long day and you're tired. But on top of that, you know Jihoon enough to notice when he's gotten into a rhythm and doesn't want to be disturbed.

"How was your day?" He humors. His hand settles back on the mouse and he begins clicking around the program he uses. "Fine," you shrug, stopping just behind his chair, a little curious as to what he's doing. "Tiring, but not the worst it could've been."

Your replies are rather lackluster and you can tell Jihoon notices by the way he quirks up an eyebrow at your last sentence.

You rake your fingers through his hair, smoothing back the pieces that have fallen out of place before letting your hand rest on his shoulder. He hums in satisfaction when you press a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll let you get back to work."

Jihoon cranes his neck to peer back with a confused frown on his lips. "Aren't you going to tell me about your day?"

Your brain short circuits for a moment and you just stare at him, dumbfounded. Of course, Jihoon always takes time out of his schedule to hear about your day. However, he usually prefers to finish up whatever he's working on first so he doesn't lose focus. "You look busy, I don't want to interrupt. This looks important." You wave your hand vaguely at his screen.

He just tsks, then swiftly saves his project and cuts the power to his monitor. "You're important. You always come first, now tell me what's wrong." He's spun around in his chair, already standing up to take you in his arms, and trails his fingers up and down your spine.

He smells nice and his warmth is comforting, inviting. A long sigh escapes your lips and you allow yourself to relish in the feeling Jihoon brings. Tucking your face into his shoulder and melding into his hold.

"Just feeling a little worn out, but it's better now."

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion

[angstywaifu]

Hi, how have you been??

I was wondering if your requests are still open? If so, it crosses my mind: what if Garrick had a cousin secretly dating Bodhi, and how would he and Xaden react if they found out about their relationship after Bo goes feral because Garrick's cousin is hurt?

It's just an idea, if your requests aren't open or makes you uncomfortable in any way I apologize and please forget I asked in the first place.

Love your work, btw. Bye 👋 💕

Worst Kept Secret - Bodhi Durran x Reader

A/N: Just like Bodhi not telling Xaden and Garrick, better late than never right? I'm so sorry this took so long to get to. I hope you like it!

Masterlist | Support Me

“We should probably tell them soon.” I tell Bodhi as we make our way to class.

Bodhi’s eyes widen before he shakes his head. “Hell no. Garrick would have my head if he found out about us.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re acting like he’s my brother.”

”He may as well be with how protective he is over you. Have you seen the way he glares at any guy that looks your way for a second too long?”

I sigh. “You’re over reacting, it will be fine. He’s going to have to find out eventually.”

”Yeah, when he’s stationed far away from here when he can’t hunt me down and murder me.” He says before coming to a stop outside his classroom.

It had been six months since Bodhi and I had started seeing each other. Both of us agreeing to keep it a secret at first in case it didn’t go well or we decided to go back to being friends. But six months in it was clear that this was going well, and it was getting harder and harder to cover up sneaking off together. Especially now Bodhi and I were helping with supply runs, meaning our time together was becoming more and more limited.

“No we are telling him before he graduates and gets stationed elsewhere.” I tell him sternly.

Bodhi’s shoulders sag in defeat, before slowly nodding his head. “Fine, but when my body turns up one morning in the middle of the rotunda just know it was because of you.”

I quickly check the hallway to make sure we’re alone before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll remember your noble sacrifice. See you at challenges.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me as I turn and walk away to my own class.

Bodhi.

I rush into the training room, the familiar sounds of fighting echoing around the room as everyone watches on. My squads flight training had gone over time due to an inccident, so I’d missed the first half of challenges. I push my way through the crowd to the ususal spot I stand in with Y/N, Garrick, Xaden and Imogen. But as I break through the crowd the only one there is Imogen. I scan the mats in the centre of the room, expecting to see them fighting on one of the mats. But none of them are there. Strange.

”Where are the others?” I ask Imogen as I manouver into the gap next to her.

”Healers Quadrant.” She says timidly, as if almost scared to tell me. Which was not normal for her at all.

”Imogen, what’s wrong?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I look down at her with narrowed eyes.

She looks up at me and recoils slightly at my stare. “Jeez, it’s scary how much you look like Xaden when you do that.”

”Imogen.” I say more sternly.

“It’s Y/N. She…”

”Imogen I swear to the gods you better tell me what happened.” I demand.

”She got badly hurt in challenges. That new Barlowe kid got paired up with her.”

I feel all the colour drain from my face at her words. Barlow had no care or regard for anyone but himself. He was ruthless, and was already known for killing quite a number of cadets already. As well as sending a long list of cadets to the Healers Quadrant in very bad condition.

I turn and shove my way through the crowd, Imogen calling out to me in an effort to stop me. She was pretty much the only one that knew about Y/N and I. She had covered for us numerous times after stumbling across us one night in an abandoned tower. Clearly it was not as abandoned as we had thought.

As soon as I push through the doors, I sprint over to the bridge connecting us to the rest of the college. But no matter how hard I push myself it feel as if time is slowing down, as if I’m running through mud.

I can’t help but think of the worse. I had seen first hand many times how Jack’s opponents had ended up post challenging him. Most of them unconscious, a lot of them gushing blood from some sort of wound, or…. Dead. No she isn’t dead. Imogen would have said so. But she had called out to me….

The thought has me pushing my legs harder, barrelling towards to door opening that finally looked like it was getting closer and closer. Rounding the corner, I nearly take out a healer who squeals with alarm as I dodge past her.

I push open the doors to the infirmary, Garrick and Xaden’s heads whipping towards me as I rush towards them. “Where is she?” I demand loudly as I stop in front of them, frantically looking around at the beds.

”She’s back there with Nolon.” Xaden tells me, nodding towards the closed door at the back of them room.

I side step him, starting to rush towards the doors before a hand grabs my flight jacket and hauls me backwards. I reel around, shoving Garrick in the chest hard, causing him to stumble back as he releases my jacket.

”What the hell has gotten into you?” He nearly yells at me, the room going silent as the healers look at us with alarm.

I freeze, realising I’m reacting in a way I probably shouldn’t be for someone they think I’m just friends with. Yes she was Garrick’s cousin, but I had only know her coming up to two years now. Garrick should be reacting like I am, which I’m sure on the inside he was.

“Sorry. Imogen just made it sound bad.” I say as I lower my gaze, awkwardly scratching the back of my head in an effort to pass this off.

”What did she say?” Xaden asks.

”That she was up against Barlowe.” I say quietly. Imogen hadn’t actually said it was bad, I had just assumed it was. If I was smart I would have rushed in and asked what happened. Not come barging in here like I was out for blood.

”And?” Garrick asks, his tone almost teasing as if he can see right through me.

“And that was it…” I mumble out, but with the breathy laugh I hear from the two of the I know they’ve heard me clear as day.

“Yes it could be better, but all Barlow managed to do was break her arm.” Xaden tells me, my head snapping up in relief at his words. A broken arm was nothing, happened all the time around here. And easy fix. And explained why she was in the back with Nolan.

”If anything, Barlowe should be the one you’re worried about.” Garrick says with a laugh.

I turn and follow his gaze to where Barlowe lays in one of the beds I’d missed in my scan of the room, clutching a very blood stained cloth to his side as the healers work to mend the wound. On his bedside table lays on of her daggers covered in his blood. I can’t help but smile knowing that she’d gotten him back, and done worse damage to him than he had done to her.

“Definitely not worried about him. He deserves it.” I say as I turn my attention back to them, both of them nodding in agreement.

I think I’ve gotten away with hiding why I reacted the way I did, until Garrick looks me in the eyes and just smirks at me. “So instead of trying to pass off your reaction due to Imogen being vague, you going to man up and tell me you’re dating my cousin?”

I feel like my heart stops as my eyes go wide. Xaden doesn’t even try to hide his laughter at my reaction to Garrick’s words.

”How the hell did you know?” I blurt out with out thinking, mentally slapping myself.

Garrick rolls his eyes. “You really trusted Imogen to keep your secret from us?”

I groan as I hide my head in my hands. “Definitely wasn’t your smartest move cousin.” Xaden says as he pats me on the back.

“Excuse me while I go find a certain pink haired cadet to murder.” I grumble out as I storm out of the infirmary back to the Rider’s Quadrant, Garrick and Xaden’s booming laughs echoing behind me

[another-random-paradise]

Can I rq for hc about twst.. Where the fem!reader(gn!reader if like) has an abusive father and caused her a truma? And the boys ( the first years + lilia & leona & azul & trein) are shocked when they find out?

Something about angst/comfort with some fluff .... I hope you're comfortable writing that.

A new start

thank you for the request. I'll be honest, i was debating wether to write this or not, as abuse is a complex subject, and i was worried about misunderstanding or accidentally offending those who have gone/are going through this. But remembered that, I too, turned to fanfics for comfort during some of my worst days, and if i can be, or at least create, that comfort for someone else, then I'm satisfied with what I've achieved in live. But I do have a 4 character limit that i have to enforce for the sake of my own mental health, so i didn't do the first years, I'm very sorry.

---------------------------------------------------------

Reader opens up to them about their abusive father

Characters: Lillia, Leona, Azul, Proffessor Trein

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: Talk of past abuse

written platonically, but Leona and Azul can be read romatically

!Please note that this is not meant to glorify or romanticize abuse, but meant as a form of comfort for those that need it!

Lillia

-Lillia has always been one to sneak up on and scare people, he just found their reactions so funny!

-But he can easily tell that you react a lot more intensely than others. He eventually stops sneaking up on you, because your reactions aren't fun, they just seem.. sad to him.

-Instead of surprise, you feel fear, and he doesn't like it. He can tell, just from that, that something is wrong, and while he wants to know what, he won't pressure you. As a father, he learned quickly that, that only leads to dishonesty

-As the two of you become closer, you start to be more comfortable and open with him

-And during a particularly calm conversation, a rather rare thing with someone like Lillia, you finally open up to him

-You two are sitting on a bench near his dorm, with no one around, when your conversation suddenly shifts to the past.

-As you tell him what your father did, Lillia feels anger, no, rage.

-But not at you, never at you. No, he is enraged that your father could treat his own child like that. He raised his enemy's son, after a war that lastet years, the child of the same man that killed the woman he loved, and still managed to be the best father he could be. And that trash bag of a person- if you could even call him that - couldn't even take care of his own?! 

-When you see the look in his eyes, you almost get scared, but something just tells you, that anger isn't directed at you. And before you can question him, he pulls you into a hug. You would dare to call it the most gentle hug you have ever experienced.

-"You are safe now. You always will be for as long as I'll live."  His words are as genuine as can be, as his grip tightens ever so slightly. But it doesn't feel like a cage, more like a weighted blanket engulfing your body, the weight slowly lulling you to sleep.

-If you weren't crying before, chances are you are now. And he lets you, comfortingly rubbing your back your back as you sob into his shoulder, finally letting it all out.

-The days after that, you notice that Lillias attitude towards you has changed over so slightly, he is acting a lot more caringly, he is acting.. almost fatherly. And you don't even realize that, that is his goal.

-He makes sure you always eat enough, and will cook your lunch and dinner himself if he has to, and that alone is motivation enough to eat properly, checks up on you, helps you with homework and similar, and always lends you a shoulder to cry on.

-Lillia has already made up his mind. He raised a human and a fae prince, what harm could taking in one more human do?

-You may have not have had a proper father up until now, but rather late than never, no?

Leona

-He noticed how skittish you seemed to be when you first met. The fear in your eyes obvious, no matter whether you try to hide it or not, as he snapped at you for stepping on his tail. It was the main reason he let you of so easily.

-He saw it again during his overblot, right before he transformed, as well as shortly after his recovery, when he approached you to sort things out. He expected fear, an overblot is nothing short of scary after all, but something about your fear just seemed different to him, but he decided not to bother you about it.

-Eventually you two get closer, he considers you one of his closest friends ...which isn't that great of an achievement since he doesn't have that many- but at least actually becoming one of his friends at all can be counted as one!

-One day, while simply hanging out, he decides to bring it up. He says it casually enough that you know you don't have to answer, without him having to outright say it. 

-You decide you trust him enough and tell him about your father and what he did

-He's shocked. He doesn't know what exactly he expected, but it, for some reason, it wasn't this. He thought maybe bully's, a bad ex, or something like that... but your own father? He didn't know he could hate someone so much without ever meeting them

-He's now wide awake, but stays quiet. He has never been good with words, let alone comforting someone, so he just lends you an open ear. 

-The quietness might put you off at first, but his tail subconsciously wraps around your arm, as he processes it, I'm afraid this is as much proper comfort you'll get, but if you decide to hug or cuddle him, he'll let you

-While he may not be the best with words, he does know how to take action while still being lazy.

-He practically has his own fan club at his beck and call, also known as the savanaclaw dorm, and he puts them to use.

-He tells them to make sure no one gives you trouble, and that you remain harm free, or else they'll have trouble with him. And it works! Suddenly all your bullies leave you alone!.. you don't even realize the amount of savanaclaw members staring the bully down.

-It's Leona's way of comforting and taking care of you, because if your father won't, then he damn sure will.

Azul

-Azul can be very observant when he wants to be, so it wasn't hard to tell, that the fear you felt when the twins got violent in front of you.. your fear was different, than that of the usual person

-He has to be honest, when he first saw it, he thought maybe he could utilize it to make you sign a contract.. but after his overblot his entire perspective seemed to change, you just seemed to understand his childhood trauma a little to well, how the constant abuse could hurt and even change oneself

-He'd be lying if he said that, that wasn't part of the reason you two got as close as you did, you two just seemed to understand to understand each other on a deeper level

-One day, while simply sitting in the VIP lounge while he worked, you two once again ended up talking about the past, and this time, you decided to be the one to open up to him about your childhood

-Azul stops in his tracks as you do, horrified at the thought of that happening  happening to you. He was just quiet for a moment, and unlike usual, this wasn't a comfortable silence

-"Well.. you're here now, he won't reach you here. I'll make sure of this, I'll make a contract to prove it." His voice was quiet, as he was debating what to do, he wanted to properly comfort you, but he didn't know how. He was still very young when his mom got divorced and, well, the twins never exactly needed comforting. So instead, he does what he does best, write a contract.

-For once, it's a contract that benefits you more that him. It mentions that you'll get protection from bully's and your father, should he somehow end up in twisted wonderland, and that Mostro lounge can be like a save haven that you can go to even after it's closing times. In return, he asks that you come to him should anything happen to you, from your father actually finding you, to simply getting triggert by something that reminds you of the past, whatever that may be.

-He just hopes that, even though he isn't the best when it comes to comfort, he can be the save haven for you that your dad failed to be.

Professor Trein

-Trein likes you for the simple reason that you're one of the very rare students that doesn't either cause trouble or fall asleep in his class

-During the topic of ancestry and how it affected history, ever so often the topic would change to the students family's, some students interested in yours, since your from another world. He couldn't help but notice how you never brought up your father.

-Eventually Trein became your favourite teacher! Sure, his lectures can be boring, but history is one of the few subjects you can participate in, and as long as you behave, he's actually pretty nice!

-Trein, already a father of multiple daughters, couldn't help but feel fatherly towards you, he made sure you knew you could confide in him

-One day, the lesson is about the past of some important historical figure, as things happened to be, this historical figure was abused too. Trein almost immediately noticed how quiet you got, and how hesitant you were to do the assignments. So, Trein asked you to stay after class

-He told you he noticed the change, and you decide to entrust him your story

-Trein, as a father himself, is horrified. How could anyone do that to their own flesh and blood? He lets you speak, nodding occasionally to let you know he's listening.

-"I am so sorry that happened to you. you deserve better". If you need or want it, he'll hug you and let you sob into his shoulder

-Trein, similarly to Lillia, will start to act more fatherly after that. He won't be less strict with you exam wise, but if he feels a subject could be triggering to you, he'll let you know before class, so that you can mentally prepare yourself, or miss class with his permission if needed.

-Since you aren't from twisted wonderland, you don't have a legal guardian here, do you? How do you feel about adoption? He's already raised multiple daughters, he's sure he can do it again. That way you also have somewhere to go during holidays! 

-He can't change what has already happened, but he'll make sure your last few teenage years are spent happily in a proper home

Abuse is a sensitive subject, and while i tried my best to be as respectful as possible, I know it is very possible for me to have done something wrong. So, if anything here is disrespectful, triggering, or just generally insensitive, I beg you to tell me, so that i can fix it as fast as possible.

I admit to not being the most educated on this subject, but if you are still in this situation or believe someone else is, I believe there are different hot lines for different country's that can tell you what you can do to get help. If you can, find a public computer or use a friends phone to find and call said hotline.

I truly hope that your okay anon and anyone else that is reading this, and that this fic could bring you some comfort.