#i guess that when they finally have to part ways

[andhumanslovedstories]

An intro to doing crosswords for complete beginners

as told by someone who didn’t do any before this year and now has gotten so deeply into them

with examples pulled almost entirely from crosswords published in American publications this week

A crossword is not a measure of general knowledge or intelligence or skill with words anymore than a Mario game is a measure of how good you are at plumbing. It certainly helps to have the same cultural reference points as the puzzle, but you can brute force your way through a lot of it if you just know how crosswords work

Easiest on Mondays and then get harder over the week

The answer is in the same verb tense as the clue (ex. “doesn’t float” is “SINKS” while “didn’t float” is “SANK”)

If there’s an acronym or abbreviation in the clue, the answer will have one as well (ex. “Toothpaste-approving org.” is “ADA” because that the short way of referring to the American Dental Association)

If the answer is in written like a text from a teen girl with her first flip phone, the answer will be a common texting abbreviation (TMI, OMG, LOL, LMAO, BRB, TTYL, etc) (ex. three letter word with clue “i can’t believe u told me that” is “TMI”)

If the clue is in quotes, it’s dialogue and the response should also be dialogue (ex. the clue “‘That’s it for me!’” is “IQUIT”)

An answer can be multiple words, (see above) so some correct answers can make you second guess yourself because it creates letter combos that seem impossible to be in one English (mostly) word or mess you up bc it’s ambiguous where one word ends and another begins (ex. you have the letters “OWFO” and the answer ends up being “PILLOWFORT” or “UDAT” being “BERMUDATRIANGLE”)

Treat clues with a question mark like they’re going to be puns that make you groan so think about other meanings of the words in the clue (ex. “Volumes you can hear?” is “AUDIOBOOKS” or “Not fancy at all?” is “HATE” or “Remained under cover?” is “SLEPTIN”)

Clues that add hedging language line “they could be called…” or one might use this as…” are telling you to think very laterally. These are the ones that make you a little mad when you get them (ex. “They might be said to be dancing or raging” is “FLAMES” or “They admit they might be punched” is “TICKETS”)

The word “maybe” usually indicates the answer will be an example of the clue, not a synonym (ex. “Pet, maybe” is “CAT”)

If a person is in the clue and a person is the answer, the answer will be from the same part of name as the clue (ex. Trevor Noah replaced John Stewart on the Daily Show. So the clue “Stewart’s successor on the Daily Show” is “NOAH” while “John’s successor on the Daily Show” would be “TREVOR”

No word in the clue will be featured in the answer (ex. “What Beyoncé Knowles goes by” could be “ONENAME” but could never be “BEYONCÉ”)

A answer can be a phonetic spelling of a letter (ex. “Epic finale?” is “CEE”)

Not every clue is going to be tricky and clever, don’t rule out an obvious choice just because it’s obvious (ex. “Do ___ disturb” is “NOT”)

Roman numerals pop up a lot but typically only in clues where a Roman numeral makes sense, so “finale of a play?” could be “ACTII” but “Number of Stooges” is not going to be “III”

There’s a ton of really common clues. If you do enough crossword puzzles you recognize them. (ex. Literally almost anything about oil is going to be OPEC, any variations on “things on a smartphone that someone can download and use” is going to be “APPS”, and anything about a european capital city is probably “OSLO”)

If a clue can be about a cookie, the answer is almost certainly “OREO”

[inkedinshadows]

A Place Called Home

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Follow Azriel as he recalls all the places where he's lived but never belonged, until he finds the one where he finally does.

Warnings: a bit of Inner Circle slander, I guess? But not really tbh. Mentions of wing clipping

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I don't know what I think of this one tbh. It's not exactly what I had in mind, but I've made my peace with it. @azrielappreciationweek

Azriel had never belonged in his father's mansion. He never once believed he did. But he didn't belong in Illyria, either.

Though he was Illyrian, he always disapproved of their backward traditions, especially regarding females.

He had seen how his mother was treated; he knew what had happened to Cassian’s, and too many times during his training in Windhaven, he had to witness brutal clippings without being able to stop them.

How could he belong in such a place? A place where females were treated as little more than objects and breeding mares, where children were taught to fight as soon as they could walk and left to care for themselves in the mud and cold?

He had done horrible things—most of which to protect his family and court—and they still haunted him in his sleep at times. But he liked to think that he was at least better than the Illyrian brutes he had grown up among. That there were certain lines even he wouldn't cross.

Illyria was a beautiful land, with its snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes. It could be merciless and harsh, but that was nature. Its inhabitants, however, chose to be that way, and Azriel had long since lost faith in any change.

~~~~~~

He didn't belong in Rosehall, either.

He was always welcome there and visited as often as he could, but that was his mother’s house. He had bought it for her as soon as he had enough money.

It was her safe place, her haven, where she didn't have to worry about anything and where she wasn't anyone's servant. Azriel remembered the tears shining in her eyes the first time he brought her there, when the house was still empty and cold.

It had taken him a long time to convince her that she didn't need to worry about money. He worked directly for the High Lord now, and he was paid well enough for her to furnish the house however she liked.

She had still tried not to spend too much, but she had chosen each piece of furniture and decoration with attentive care. It was the first time she had a place she could call her own after centuries of living, and Azriel liked what she had done with it. The place was simple yet elegant, with cream-colored walls and wooden furniture. Colorful flowers bloomed on the windowsills, and paintings hung in the hallway and the living room. She had even made sure to have a bedroom for him, so he could stay as long as he wished.

But Azriel's favorite part of Rosehall was probably the delicious smell of food wafting through the rooms. Now that she no longer had to cook for domineering males, she had rediscovered her passion for cooking. Whether it was spices, freshly baked bread, or roasted meat, the smell never failed to make his mouth water.

Yes, Azriel enjoyed his time in Rosehall and tried to visit as often as he could, but it was still his mother’s house—not his.

~~~~~~

He belonged in the Inner Circle, he guessed. Though sometimes he felt like he didn't.

Azriel cared about Amren; after all, he had known her for centuries. But it was still Amren. How many times had it been just the two of them, spending time like normal friends? Once, maybe twice, and even then, their conversations had mostly revolved around Court matters. Sometimes he wondered if they would have ever approached each other at all if it hadn't been for Rhys bringing them together.

And then there was Mor. He had spent centuries quietly loving her, longing for something he could never have. He had long since stopped believing that her concerned glances and gentle touches meant anything beyond deep affection—sisterly affection. Yet he'd held on to those feelings even when they started to fade, because he had never known anything different. It was a twisted form of both protection and punishment: if he still loved her, then he wouldn't risk his heart being broken by another rejection. Yet knowing Mor would never feel the same, that she had her own lovers and relationships, was like being stabbed in the chest. He wasn't sure when it started to hurt a little less each time he thought about it.

With that pain easing, the resentment he'd carried buried deep down for most of his life began to fade as well. He never once held it against Cassian. He knew it wasn't his fault Mor had chosen him. Who would have chosen Azriel anyway? He wished things were different, but he didn't blame either of them. It still chafed, though. It was something he couldn't shake, like a shadow lingered on the edges of his heart, and it resurfaced whenever he saw Mor and Cassian together.

And his brother… Azriel loved him deeply, and he was grateful to have him in his life. But there was no denying how different they were, and sometimes it felt as if Cassian didn't really understand him. There was a rage inside Azriel, rarely rising to the surface but it was there, born the moment he'd seen his mother's fear in the presence of his father. That rage never left. It grew until Azriel had to learn how to contain it, to live with it, for the sake of the people around him and his own.

Cassian never really understood it. Rhys did, though. Azriel knew that if he pushed, Rhysand would match him. Yet his brother still tried to thaw and tame that icy rage he had grown so accustomed to, which was probably an honorable aim—if Azriel hadn't lived with it so long that he wasn't sure who he would be without it.

He loved his family deeply, and he knew they loved him back. But they didn't always understand him, and he often felt out of place among them.

~~~~~~

Velaris was his home, and he'd do anything to protect it. He tortured and killed for that very reason many times. But at the end of the day, the City of Starlight was just that—a city. No matter how beautiful or welcoming, it was too vast a place to call home.

He had never bothered buying an apartment or a town house for himself. Maybe he should have. But the House of Wind had always been enough, with its views and endless rooms. It was practical living there—there was the training ring, the hall where Rhys held court, and the library for when he wanted some quiet.

But the House of Wind belonged to Rhys. Now that he had given it as a mating present to Nesta and Cassian, it was theirs. They assured him he could still live there, that his room would always be his, but Azriel had preferred to move out. He had no interest in living there during their mating frenzy.

The townhouse and the river house belonged, once again, to Rhys and Feyre. They never made him feel like he owed them anything for staying there—Elain lived there too, after all—but Azriel longed for a place he could call his own. Yet the idea of buying an apartment had still felt too definitive. He had tried, but none of the places he'd seen made him want to own them.

He had almost given up hope of finding a place he could call home, but then he met you. And he realized, after five hundred years, that maybe home wasn't a place at all.

“Az?”

Your voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present, to the feel of you in his arms and your big eyes staring up at him.

“Baby, are you listening to me?”

Azriel blinked, slightly shaking his head to chase away the remnants of his past. He looked down at you, and his heart fluttered at the love shining in your eyes.

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. Your hand came up to cup his face, the touch warm and familiar. “I lost you. Where did you go?”

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I was just thinking.”

You waited patiently, giving him the freedom to continue or return to your conversion. Embarrassment flooded Azriel as he realized he couldn't remember what you were talking about.

He held you imperceptibly tighter, trying to find the right words to convey what he felt.

“I never felt like I fit in anywhere,” he said eventually. His voice was quiet even in the silence of the room, and he struggled to keep his eyes open when all he wanted to do was lean into your touch. “I've been looking for where I belong for centuries.”

It came easy to voice those thoughts to you. You never judged. You listened, and then you gave your opinion or simply shared your own thoughts. You saw all of him, and you didn't run from it. You accepted him. You loved him.

Sometimes, Azriel still wondered if it was all a dream or if you were really a part of his life.

“And have you found it?” you murmured, your thumb brushing his cheek just below his eye.

Azriel nodded. “I found it.” He took your hand, gently removing it from his face to bring it closer to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his lips lingering on your skin before he repeated the gesture with your fingertips. Your smile was soft as he murmured, “I found you.”

Your eyes, which had been following the movements of his lips, shot up to meet his. Even after a year together, he was still mesmerized by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. It was so easy to read you, and right now, blended with your unconditional love, he could see curiosity and amusement playing on your features.

“Me?” you repeated, your voice a murmur.

Azriel nodded once more, letting go of your hand only to bring his own up to your cheek. “Yes, you, my love.” He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. “It doesn’t matter where we are. You’re where I belong. You’re my home.”

Wherever you went, he would follow. If you woke up one day and told him you wanted to move to the Spring Court, or even to Vallahan far east on the continent, he would go with you. He would go with you to the end of the world if you asked.

He could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and a playful smile appeared on your lips as you pulled back to look into his eyes. “So… is this the right moment to tell you that I wanted to ask you to move in?”

Azriel stared at you, eyes wide, a huge grin slowly spreading across his face. His arms tightened around you, and then you squealed in surprise as his hands found your backside and he picked you up. The sound was quickly swallowed by his lips crashing against yours, and you could do nothing but kiss him back and wrap your legs around his waist, careful not to brush against his wings.

You were both breathing slightly faster when Azriel pulled back, but he didn’t let you go. If anything, he held you tighter, as if worried you might disappear.

“I’ll take it that’s a yes?” you chuckled. Your fingers brushed the hair on the back of his neck, his wings rustling quietly at the sensation.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Of course it’s a yes, love.”

He didn’t care if your apartment wasn’t suited for an Illyrian, if he had to carefully maneuver his wings to avoid knocking things over. He had already spent so much time at your place that he was used to it by now. The thought of staying there permanently—of waking up with you in his arms every morning, of coming back after a long day knowing you’d be there too—filled him with so much joy that his heart could burst.

You beamed, and all Azriel wanted to do was to spin you around and never let you go. And so, he did, because nothing was stopping him. He was going to share a home with his love, and nothing had ever made him this happy before.

As he spun you around, you threw your head back and laughed joyfully, the sound echoing off the walls. Azriel’s laughter joined yours when he stilled, and then you were kissing him again.

After more than five hundred years, he finally knew where he belonged. And it wasn’t a place.

It was with you.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), Chuuya-levels of cursing, don't say he's cute, he'd get grumpy about it and fuck you stupid to prove a point, incessant flirting, Approx 1.1k words

It really started off as a joke.

An off-hand comment you made. You didn’t intend on paying more attention to it… were it not Chuuya’s reaction; an eyebrow raised as he leaned into his seat, that god-awful grin of his spreading wide as he regarded you.

Your date was going well, all things considered. A nice restaurant, your own secluded corner to settle in at and relax, a gift of overly extravagant flowers–always the charmer that one, Chuuya even pulled the chair for you–it was perfect. A sense of being with the right person doing the right thing.

Finally having the time for each other.

And doing normal, romantic things was part of this evening’s plans.

Except it was Chuuya you were speaking of. Nothing that simple ever happened around him.

“So you think I’m boring?” he asked, playing the amused card to the tenth. There was none of his usual bark, only the teasing tone you had grown accustomed to.

“Misleading–” you began, leaning into his personal space to poke at his chest. “–is what I was referring to. This grand, scary mafioso… that also happens to spend half an hour choosing which shoes go best with which vest. You portray the part of barking dog really well but you’re actually a cutie.” And you winked, just to nail it down.

Chuuya clicked his tongue. He didn’t like it when you babied him, you knew that. But his reactions were too good to miss out on. 

“Hah? That the type of man ya take me for?” he grumbled, not quite masking the slight annoyance this time around. 

You hummed, trailing a finger down his chest. “Devastated, are you?”

Chuuya grabbed your hand, raising it to plant a kiss to your wrist. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he said, “Damn right I am. Calling me ���cute’ out here like ya don’t know any better.”

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised in feigned confusion. “What? You gonna do something about it?” You knew perfectly well where this was going.

A whispered “fuck” left Chuuya’s lips, audible only for you to hear. And it was then it got settled– you weren’t suited for the romance part. Not the innocent, charming one at least. You needed a bit… more.

It became even clearer when less than an hour later your hands fumbled for your keys, Chuuya glued to your back as he trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“I really hoped we’d be doing the ‘sweet date and movie night combo’, you know? Have you snuggled up against me and all,” you said, wasting no time as you both stumbled through the entrance, your hands finding their way around Chuuya’s neck. He kicked the door shut before trapping you against the nearby wall, lips seeking yours. 

“I’ll snuggle you up all night long, doll.” You could taste the wine on his tongue, the hurried way he kissed you leaving no space for distraction. Demanding your full attention was a staple mark of Chuuya’s, you couldn’t deny it.

“You seem preoccupied with other things, though,” you said, unbuttoning his vest.

Chuuya’s hands were already on your bra, unclasping the hooks before you felt a hand cup your breast, the barely-there caress of a thumb over your stiffened bud sending tingles of pleasure down your body in seconds. “How about you just ask me nicely, hm?” 

“Ah, you want me to beg now?” you asked, a finger trailing the outline of his lower lip, and you savored the way his breath trembled. Teasing like this would be wise only for now, you doubted he’d let you off the hook as easily soon enough. Not when you could feel his cock through the fabric of his trousers, hard against your thigh and probably leaking. 

Chuuya kissed your finger before biting it lightly, and you chuckled. “Don’t wanna leave me guessing what you want, do you? I might end up biting somewhere ya don’t want me to, sweets.”

You arched your hips forward, drawing a low groan from Chuuya. “We’ll have to wait and see then. I’m very open-minded, you know.”

“And stubborn,” Chuuya grinned, rocking against you. “Fu-uck, this feels good. I forgot what my point was, damnit.”

“Ha, loser.”

“Fuck off, bigger loser.” 

You were about to make fun of him again, seeing as he lost brain cells faster the hornier he got, but… you felt him pinch your nipple this time, rolling your bud between his skilled fingers as he dived for your neck again. The throbbing between your legs distracted you, intensifying even more as Chuuya’s tongue trailed along your pulse, leaving damp skin to prickle against the cold air. 

Rough wall against your back turned into soft sheets in a flurry of fragmented moments. Only Chuuya’s presence remained firm beside you. He settled between your legs, hands hurriedly discarding any remaining garments as fast as you both could, all the while without letting go of each other. Not once.

You barely had your underwear down before Chuuya was rocking forward, cock settling between your pussy lips as he rubbed against you. Your wetness spread over his tip only to draw a low moan from his parted lips. 

“Impatient,” you said, hooking your ankles around his hips. 

“You wanted the real deal tonight,” he grinned at you. “Going around calling me boring and cute all evening. Like hell I’ll leave it at that.”

“You gonna change my mind, fancy hat boy?”

“Ooh, you betcha,” Chuuya said, and slowly sank into the heat of your throbbing cunt.

You knew Chuuya was a talker; never shutting up even when you really would rather just hold him, hand clasped over his mouth as he fucked you in peace.

But not this time. It was quick and rough, him bottoming out in you with every slick thrust. He barely gave you time to take your bearings, his hand finding your clit only to start rubbing mercilessly in sync with his movements. Trying to stifle your moans was proving near impossible. Only Chuuya’s lips served as help, swallowing your every sound as he kissed you stupid. 

“Oh, fuck…” you panted, pulling away. 

“Nuh-huh, where ya going, sweets?” Chuuya ground his hips against yours, drawing another pained moan from your throat. “I’m doing you good, yeah? Come on, keep up with me.”

Your nails dug into his back even as your body trembled all over. “A bit too good there.”

“Yeah?” Chuuya trailed kisses down your jawline, his pace slowed. For now, at least. “Wanna ask me nicely about it?” he whispered.

Fuck. “I’m in for it, aren’t I?” you asked, knowing full well the answer. 

Chuuya only grinned.

Yeah, it was about to be a long night.

[r3leee]

OKAY FINE YOU HORNY SLUTS

you get smut 😒😒 this is the last time i'm installing on this tho

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: part 2 to this fic, which is based off this ramble (idk why this is such a rabbit hole omfg)

warnings: RPF!! don’t like, don’t read, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT bear with me 😭🙏🏻, established relationship, hickeys, oral, overstimulation, i guess a little bit of cum play??, pet names (mama, ma, sweet girl, baby), strap + strap sucking, aftercare (all r receiving)

word count: 1,757, should take about thirteen and a half minutes to read

listen to: needy by ariana grande

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."

IT TOOK ONLY a matter of seconds for her to pounce on you. you'd only ever seen her like this a few times before. but every time it happened, you would try your best to ravish the feeling. because when billie was like this, you were getting treated right until you were ruined.

your back lay flush against the fluffy hotel pillows while your girlfriend grabbed your face and kissed you. rough. hard. almost with a force that knocked the wind out of you. oh ya, you were getting fucked.

she didn't stay near your face for long. but instead of reaching for your neck like she usually did, she instead reached for the top of your dress. since it was strapless, she was going to have a relatively easy time getting it off. "arms up."

you commanded to her words, putting your hands up as she pulled the shiny dress over your skin. what she found excited her even more. "no bra? oh, baby, you know what you're doing." the nickname. baby. it rolled off her tongue so well, so sultrly. it gave you goosebumps.

"and your nipples are hard?" accentuating her words, she wrapped her hands around your chest and rubbed the buds over her thumbs. not with any pressure, though. just so you could feel it there. "this is evidence, sweet girl. you found that hot and you know it."

suddenly, you felt a sharp pinch on your right nipple. it made you gasp. she just smirked and leaned down, quickly using her tongue to soothe the pain. you threw your head back as she started to rub your left nipple like previously.

after a while, when she was satisfied, she pulled away and switched nipples. it was like a game to her to see how much you could take. she, at some point, started to suck so hard you swore it would leave marks.

one she felt she had enough, she took her mouth off you. she stuck her tongue out, running a line down your cleavage. she went slowly, her tongue trailing down your body feeling like fire. her tongue quickly dipped in the trench of your belly button before reaching just above your clit.

right as she reached your pussy, she looked up at you. there were no words exchanged, but you could tell what she was asking you. if this was okay. that’s the thing you loved about your girlfriend. no matter how desperate she was, if you told her to stop, she would. but, as you nodded, her soft gaze got thrown away.

today wasn’t a teasing day. hell, barely even a prep day. almost immediately, she was on you like a prisoner eating their final meal.

billie left no mercy as she ate you out. her tongue took on different patterns, too spontaneous with her movement to care.

she seemed to do something new every few seconds. it transitioned from licking up and down your folds to sucking your clit to sliding her tongue down and into your entrance in such a way it made tears form in the corner of your eyes.

you whined and pulled her hair, making her chuckle into you. the action made you seem to fall even harder, the vibrations easing just the right ache.

billie was relentless. it was often she got engulfed in your pussy, not wanting to stop pleasing you until you were begging her not to. but this was different. it was feral the way she was licking up your arousal that was spilling onto her tongue. it was almost like she wanted to completely clean you out, not wanting a single part of you untouched.

once you’d finally announced you were close with a high pitched moan, she didn’t even seem as if she heard you. she just kept up, sucking your sensitive bud and rolling her tongue around it.

when you did cum, it was fuzzy. it felt like laying on a cloud. well, only for a bit. until you realized billie was nowhere near done with you, licking up her reward.

“ billie, bills! oh my god, bills, i came, i came!” your voice was high pitched as you squirmed, trying to get out of her iron clad grip on your thighs.

for whatever reason, which you didn’t expect, she released, making a little “pop!” as if she was just sucking on a lollipop. to her, it was candy either way.

she quickly wiped her mouth with her sleeve before taking her pointer finger and sticking it back inside. you jolted, but she quickly took it out before you could whine again.

it was jarring the way she licked your release off her finger. but it was hot. it made you feel warm all over again, wanting her to devour you again and again and again.

billie crawled back up to kiss you lips. you could taste yourself on her tongue, making you reel. she pulled away quickly, a string of saliva connecting you. “i’m gonna get the strap,” she mumbled frantically.

you nodded, not at all complaining. you laid on your back, eagerly waiting as your girlfriend hopped off the bed and toward her suitcase. of course she brought the strap to a different country. of course she did.

you watched with hungry eyes as she undid the buckle on her belt, shimming her pants down to harness the fake dick around her waist.

as she walked back to the bed, she stopped right at the foot of it. you tilted your head in confusion. “come here, mama, suck on it.”

you obeyed to her request, hopping off the bed and settling on your knees on the floor. you didn’t immediately take the whole thing in at once, instead just going for the tip.

you hollowed your cheeks as if billie could feel the thing (which she always swore she could.) “mhm, just like that, baby, just like that.” she gently pushed your head forward, seeing just how far you could take the indigo dildo.

once she’d decided you’d had enough, she commanded you off. immediately, you got on your back, easing into the pillows.

billie crawled on the bed to get into position. she cupped your face, giving you one more kiss, before grabbing the strap. she ran the tip of the dildo up and down your folds, collecting your slick. “you ready for it, ma?” she asked as she lined it up with your entrance.

“yes.” she didn’t need to be told twice. immediately, she sunk into your pussy, bottoming out. although you had a few different dildos that you two used, this one was the one you used the most. so, it was no surprise how your pussy immediately engulfed the silicone, almost like it for perfectly.

you groaned and threw your head back as billie drew tight circles on your clit with her finger. “just tell me when i can move,” she spoke in a tone so soft it almost wasn’t like she didn’t just put 7 inches of silicone inside you.

after a while, you nodded.

billie didn’t need to be told twice.

her thrusts started off gentle and calm, moving her hips to only take an inch out and put it back into your waiting hole. the slow speed of these thrusts made it so you could feel everything: the gentle touch of billie’s thighs against yours, the dildo pressing so nicely on your walls.

you were content with this. but, billie wasn’t. at some point, it seemed she got bored, as she strung on of your legs over her shoulder and went faster.

the new angle made her be able to penetrate that spot all the way in the back that made you see stars. and with the speed and hardness she was going, the pleasure only multiplied.

“oh, fuck, billie, yaaa, right there,” you encouraged her. she only laughed and nodded in response.

it didn’t take long for the sound of skin slapping on skin to take over the room. well, if you could even hear that over your moans. billie was fucking you with a rawness she hadn’t shown in a while.

you swore you could feel the strap kissing your cervix with every thrust, making you unable to stop letting out sounds. little “uh, uh, uh, uh”s filled the room every time she thrust.

but, who could blame you? the strap was so deep you swore if you looked down, you could see it peeking through your stomach. but you couldn’t even lift your head. the pleasure was too good.

your tits bounced as billie pounded into you, causing her to reach down and take your nipples between her fingers. “oh, you like this?” she teased you. “ya, you like me fucking you like this? like you deserve? ya, i know, i know, it just feels so good…”

the feeling of your hard nipples being played with combined with the damage your girlfriend was doing to your pussy was starting to make you feel overwhelmed. like you were about to fall off the edge.

“billie, shit, i-i’m close,” you said out. “can i cum? please, can i cum, please please please…” that made her smile.

“you don’t gotta beg me, baby. just let go.”

and let go you did. you slapped a hand over your mouth as your back arched off the bed. white hot was all you could see as billie slowed down, letting you ride out your high.

once you were done and could feel the seepage dripping out of you, you took your hand off your mouth, heavily breathing.

billie leaned down to kiss your lips. she smiled into it before pulling away. “you doing okay?” she asked. you nodded. “i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

in a few seconds, the strap was out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. she quickly undid the harness and threw it somewhere across the room for her to wash later.

she pulled you into your arms and kissed your head, rubbing your back. “you did so good for me, sweet girl. thank you for letting me do that.”

you hid your face into her neck and spoke. “of course, bills.”

she grinned and kissed your forehead. “okay, you go pee, then i’ll run you a shower, ya?” she proposed. you nodded and went to crawl off the bed.

“hey!” she called out one more time. you turned your head back to look at her.

“i love you.” you beamed.

“i love you, too.”

[monamipencil]

this is my fav series. (yes i've said it a hundred time and i'll say it a hundred times more). i absolutely loved this ep lol, it was the right amount of lore with crack. their dynamics take me out everytime lmao. i love how you characterised all of them !! and ofc my fave parts below!!

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.”

??? weren't you trying to kiss her just yesterday ???

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?”  “Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.” 

smh, the realities of living with 13 men

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.” 

THE HOUSE, YOU IDIOT

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

?? uhm, thanks for the save ig (he's a sweetie pie)

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

when does he not? i love his lil character lmao

“Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.” Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire. 

lmao, frying pan into fire–also like yk gyu is like the son of hephaestus and fire and ikyk. I love your writing skills mia!!

you had in fact, caught him butt naked.

uh? asdfghjkl

He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist,

LMFAOOO

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it? 

thanks ig

He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.” 

ah yes, cough cough mr. healer, i feel very sick, will you please check ^3^

 it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia’s daughter.” 

im very invested in this lore btw. It’s just itches my brain the right away :))

 Sighing, Jihoon sat down beside you. “You can’t allow yourself to be governed by emotions Y/n. You are the result of a God’s lack of resistance to impulses - those who sit in Olympus have their own flaws. If you run your whole life seeking their validation, you will keep running. They will keep you running.”

that got deep real quick. And also a very good life advice. Ngl, i kept thinking about this line

 “Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.” 

that is so foul, choi seungcheol. wth, he is a man afterall

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly. 

well my friend over here actually meant to ask if she can ride yo-

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.” 

help??? lmaoo

“Maybe because it’s an illegal blend?” Seokmin shrugged before realising what he had let slip. “You cannot tell anyone. Everyone in camp will kill him and Soonyoung will resurrect and kill me.” 

lmao, very characteristic of seokmin to say shit he’s not supposed to

Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb.

what are we soonyoung?

Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently. 

... that rly did sting

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.” 

nahhh. woman, trust me, i dont wanna know any of that

He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad. 

for some reason “mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad” is tickling my funny bone more than it should. But still lmao

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless. 

LMFAO?? TOAD??

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

clears throat WHY IS EVERYONE SO HORN—nvm this is an aphrodite rager

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.” 

i–yes

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….” “Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin. 

😌😌😌

“Good boy.”

sub soonyoung, anyday, anytime, anyplace, everywhe–

Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you. 

... yes

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“That’s my good girl.” “Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!”  Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

GOOD GIRL?!? I ENJOY PAIN?!?!?

“Didn’t you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.” 

cocky minghao is doing smthn to me

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours.  Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously. 

well fuck you too seungcheol. ngl, i giggled like hell reading the last line

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 2

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13 (Soonyoung x reader x Minghao)

Word count - 13K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As you delve deeper into the world of the demigods, a party throws you spiraling down a road less taken. While it seems there's one member who may be able to help you with it, there's another you want to lend a hand to. And more.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

Smut warnings - I'm trying this thing where I won't be adding any detailed warnings as of now now, I will be including them after 1 week instead! I'm trying to keep the suspense for those who are interested but I understand there might be some of you who are wary of reading certain things - I will be adding warnings for your sake in a week's time! (There are no trigger warnings for this fic though!)

(edited) - Sexual tension phew, fingering (f.receiving), male masturbation, oral (m.receiving), threesome, sub-ish Soonyoung, dom Minghao, slight mlm? (feeding her cum), couple of spanks, unprotected sex (plis refrain), they're kinda rough - she's struggling to breathe, Minghao is mean and a bit of a sadist, deepthroating, edging, marking, hickies, sloppy seconds, they both finish inside her, I think that's about it?

Today you slept with both the windows and the curtains closed. 

Not just Seungcheol's eagle, even the late morning sun couldn't wake you up, leading to you casually strolling into the dining hall, late in the day. As you walked in, still dressed in your pajamas, twelve heads turned towards you, following your every step. 

Seokmin turned towards Seungcheol who's gaze was fixed on his food, like it was adamant not to meet yours. Hesitating, the former cleared his throat, taking one for the team, questioning you instead.

“You uh….didn't come to train today.”

“Yes, I didn’t.” 

Walking in, you grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and sat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. If anyone noticed the hostility between the two of you, they didn't say anything. Seokmin looked at you like he was expecting to hear more - then he realised that was all you had for an answer. 

“Why didn't you…...” 

“I got wet in the rain last night.” You munched on your fruit. “Felt sick in the morning.” 

A part of you expected at least one of them to have the decency to ask you how you were doing now but all the boys simply exchanged looks. As you frowned at them confused, Joshua finally looked at you. “Demigods don't fall sick Y/n.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“We're half gods, so uh…. stuff like bacteria and viruses don't really have an effect against us.” 

Suddenly, at that point, the last 25 years of your life made a little more sense - you realised you hadn't ever fallen sick. You also realised that last weekend when you offered to watch a movie with Seungcheol because the two of you were alone in the house, he had declined, stating he had a cold and didn't want to pass it on. 

Of course he lied. All that man did was lie. 

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Of course we don't.”

“Is there a problem?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at you conspicuously. “Any particular reason you couldn't or didn't want to come?” 

Sighing, you shook your head. “It's just been hard getting used to things, I'm trying but-” 

“There's no room for but Y/n.” Seungcheol finally spoke, looking up. “Quest season is approaching and we cannot have a weak link on the team.” 

“Cheol.” Jeonghan cautioned, looking at him just a little sternly. “Enough.” 

Seungcheol stared back at Jeonghan like he wanted to retort but when the latter shook his head at him, he got up, throwing his plate into the sink a lot louder than anyone had expected. 

If Chan hadn’t muttered that the cab was ready to leave, you would have exploded - how dare he? He was the one who hinted at something more last night and he was the one who had left you in the middle of the storm so why was he behaving like this was your fault?? But before you could say anything, Seungcheol and the members going for morning shifts grabbed their things and set out for the day, unusually quietly. As Mingyu began to follow the crowd, you held him by his wrist, 

“Where are you going? You don’t have work today?” 

“Are you keeping tabs on me, newbie?” Mingyu bent down, smirking at you. “Can I consider you interested?” 

“Your schedules are on the white board genius.” You rolled your eyes, letting him go and pointing at it. “We need to talk.” 

Mingyu frowned, both confused and curious. 

“The house Gyu, my house. I have a final plan for it.” 

“Oh! Okay sure let’s go-” 

“Wait.” Joshua stood up shaking his head. “I don't know what's going on with you Y/n, but unlike Cheol, I cannot walk away from what I am responsible for in this camp. You're going to put that fruit down-” He pointed at the plum you just reached for. “-go shower, have a full breakfast and then you can sit with Mingyu and finalise whatever you have to.” 

“But Shua-” 

“No.” He said in a tone that you knew meant that this was not open for any more discussion as he turned towards the man who was stuffing his face with cereal. “And Kwon Soonyoung, why are your sheets still in the dryer?” 

Oh fuck. 

Soonyoung looked at you confused - you had completely forgotten about that.

“I uh couldn't carry them back in the rain last night.” He muttered, drinking the last of his milk straight from the bowl, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'll take them now.” 

“Why did you need to wash your sheets in the middle of the night?” Hansol frowned at the man beside him sceptical and Soonyoung glanced at you but you were suddenly deeply interested in some random crack on the table surface. 

“I was bored and jerked off.” Soonyoung washed up his bowl, shaking the water off his hands. “It was a good one.”

Hansol groaned disgusted and you looked at Soonyoung scandalised as he shot you a cheeky wink before disappearing out of the hall. A part of you was kind of relieved - you were worried after last night, especially considering what he said as you were leaving. Perhaps you heard it wrong because Soonyoung seemed just as relaxed as ever, like nothing had changed. 

You were thankful for that - now things could go back to like they were before. 

Or could they? Because Jihoon was yet again looking at you like he knew everything

“This is your final plan?” 

“Yes.”

“Isn't this the first plan you had made?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n,” Mingyu groaned. “If you wanted to do this we could have finalised it days ago.” 

“I told you, I was confused about the whole bathroom situation.” You muttered, tracing mindless patterns over the floor plan. “Let's just make the residence alone. I'll adjust with the common showers.”

“We can still arrange to build a bathroom for you.” Joshua glanced at the papers. “Since we have to divert water pipes, it'll just take a little longer-” 

“No.” You gripped the pencil tight. “I don't want anything that takes a little longer. I want this house made as soon as possible so I can shift to my own space.” 

Your adamance was definitely new but neither boys commented on it. Instead Mingyu pulled out his phone and scrolled through clumsily.

“I need to place an order for the brick and cement and sure Chan has got a decently sized cab but it's going to take a couple of trips to bring the whole load.” He sighed, not looking up. “It's going to take a couple of weeks to get the house ready-”

“No, no no.” You shook your head. This couldn't be happening. “I need my own house as soon as possible, Mingyu….” You looked away rambling as both men frowned. “I'm in my final year, I've uh got projects and submissions to work on. The library isn't well lit enough to study all night and Seungcheol's house is too far from the charging station in the Great Hall, I can't keep making such long trips just to charge my laptop? What if it rains like last night again? What if all my stuff gets wet and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Mingyu set his phone down and tried to calm you down. “Though if those are your concerns, you can move into my house. I live close to the Great hall and I have a loft - you won’t have any issues there.”

Oh no. No no. You weren't about to fall from the frying pan into the fire. 

“No Mingyu, what I need is my own space, like every other member of the camp.” You sighed. “And I know it's a lot to ask but I hope we can be done with it fast.” 

“I really wish I could help Y/n.” He looked at you pitifully. “You’re an architect, you know the kind of time it takes to build a house. Maybe if you had opted for something simpler, like a wooden cabin-” 

“Can you build that faster?” 

“I mean we do live in the middle of a forest and I do have automations to cut trees-” 

“How long will a wooden cabin take?”

“A few days.” Mingyu rubbed his chin in thought. “Provided it doesn't rain or-” 

“Do it.”

Both men looked surprised. 

“You're sure?” Joshua spoke up this time. “Wooden homes tend to feel colder, it would also be harder to-”

“I'm sure.” You nodded, gathering the sheets. “I'll have to make a few amendments to the layout then you can start. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead now with the….. wood gathering?”

Mingyu nodded, stuffing his phone into his pocket, resting his face on his interlocked hands. 

“What're you waiting for Mingyu?” 

“Now as in right now??”

“Yes right now.” You looked at him like it was obvious. “Please.” 

Joshua nodded, signalling Mingyu to leave and grumbling, the bigger man left, much to your relief. Just a few more days. You could handle a few more days with Seungcheol, right? 

“You cannot.” Joshua turned to you. “You cannot survive with a group of people if you don't communicate Y/n. Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

You let out a deep breath considering it for a minute but then shook your head. “It's not worth discussing. I'll deal with it on my own.”

“Well you better do it fast because,” Joshua pulled out a sheet from his bag and slid it across the table to you. “Things are about to get a lot more hectic.”

You were too scared to extend your hand and reach for that paper. Good god, what else was in store for you. 

“Seokmin and Minghao are already covering physical training for you but being a demigod is so much more than just combat - you need to learn about this world, about its people, about the laws that govern it.” He looked at you apologetically. “I've drafted a schedule where the members will cover these different areas with you. Of course you will have time for your own obligations but you will also have to strictly adhere to the rest…..” 

Joshua's words trailed off as your eyes landed on the timetable and the names scribbled on them.

You counted 12 names, all the members were scheduled to help you except- 

“Wonwoo.” You breathed out. “His name isn't….here?” 

“Yeah…” Joshua scratched the back of his head. “Wonwoo isn't really available for stuff like this, he's got other things to do….” 

Of course he did. He was a top secret government official, he did guard duty at night, he was working on your case too, you could understand that he was busy. 

But what you didn't understand was why he always ignored you. Even earlier when you popped into the showers forgetting that Wonwoo usually washed himself much after everyone, you had in fact, caught him butt naked. 

Any normal person would've covered himself up or at least responded to your small scream, quick turn and innumerable apologies but Wonwoo? He simply grabbed a towel, wrapped himself and walked straight past you into the locker rooms like you didn't even exist, the trademark scent of his perfume the only thing lingering behind. 

“Y/n where are you lost?” 

You shook your head. “I was just thinking about how the bath house would've been more efficient if the showers were attached to the locker room so we didn't have to walk so far in a towel to change.” 

Joshua looked at you like he didn't understand a word you were saying. Or why you were saying it. 

“It's just…. I'm just being an architect, don't bother.” You shook your head then the paper. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries.” He smiled sweetly, getting up, leaving you to your breakfast. “I see your first lesson is History of the Gods. Unfortunately I think Chan is busy with some delivery in the evening so, it'll be just you and Jihoon. I hope you'll attend the lesson earnestly.”

You nodded, giving him a hard smile. 

How were you supposed to last 2 hours with a man who read you like an open book? 

The darkness behind your closed eyelids was supposed to be comforting. That's why you were lounging in your chair, half asleep while waiting for Jihoon to show up. But somehow, it felt like you were being watched and sure enough when you opened your eyes, the face of your instructor of the day was inches away from you.

“Jesus Christ Jihoon…” You sat up scrambling, pulling yourself away from him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You're tired.” He tucked his hands in his pockets walking back. “I was wondering if I should let you rest-” 

“I'm fine.” 

“-but it's strange considering you skipped training and slept all morning, yet you're incredibly sleep deprived.” Leaning back against the table he looked at you amused. “What might have happened last night that exhausted you so?” 

Words refused to leave your mouth considering you didn't know if he was teasing you or actually concerned. Given the last few days you assumed it was the former and ignored him as you began closing all the books you had strewn on the table before you. 

“I see you're doing pre reading.”

“Chan gave these to me before he left for work. He said I should read to understand better.” 

“Did you?” 

Of course you didn't. You were almost snoring away and Jihoon saw that, yet he asked the question like he wanted you to feel embarrassed about the answer. 

“I thought you were supposed to teach me.” You shut the last book and glared at him. “If you just expect me to just read off a book, I don’t see why you’re required here.” 

“Are you suggesting I leave my own class?” He raised his eyebrow amused. “I’m going to have to disappoint you but unlike some, I take what I’m told at camp seriously.” 

You glared at him like you were contemplating throwing the book straight at him and you almost did when he walked around the table, sat down on the chair and cocked his head at you. 

“For someone who is the daughter of Hestia, hospitality isn't really your trait is it?  

“How would I know, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me about this God stuff?” 

“I am.” He nodded, crossing his arms. “But it depends on how much the mortal world has already taught you.” 

“I’ve never really bothered myself with Greek mythology.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re just stories for bored children.” 

“Except they aren’t. They are your reality.” 

“Not by choice.” You mumbled. You did not wish to be an outcast in the only world you knew and thrown here. You did not wish for any of this. 

“Parentage is no one’s choice.” Jihoon sighed. “But to be a demigod is a gift. It’s a shame that you disregard your power.” 

“What power?” You scoffed. “I don’t have any….” Trailing off you gulped. 

That was a lie. 

“I am the Son of Apollo which means I was there at the Court of Delphi when the Oracle assigned you.” Jihoon reminded you of the fateful night.

The night when a couple of masked men had forcibly picked you from your dorm, throwing you into a large room of unknown people and a round crystal in the middle on an altar. No sooner than you took a scared, confused step forward it spoke - Daughter of Hestia, Camp Seventeen. 

“The Oracle only recognises those who have God's blood. So if you’re telling me you don’t have any powers and this is all a mistake, you must think I’m an idiot.” 

“If you’re so smart-” You narrowed your eyes at him. “-why don’t you do that mind reading thing you do and figure out what my powers are?”

“I can’t read minds Y/n,” Jihoon looked at you quizzically. “I’m not Athena’s progeny.” 

“Y-you can’t? But all these days…..” You blinked at him confused. “Oh my god, can Jeonghan??” 

He shook his head. “Neither can Jeonghan. Not all of Athena’s children are mind readers. I’ve only ever come across one in my life and if she wasn’t busy shuffling through everyone’s brain in the quest, perhaps she wouldn’t have been killed.” 

You opened your mouth and then shut it, unsure which of the hundred questions in your mind to ask first. 

“If you really must know, my father is the God of Medicine which makes me a natural healer.” He leaned back with a small smile. “I don’t read people’s minds but their bodies. I can tell when one is sick, or hungry….or even horny.” 

You gulped, feeling your heartbeat raise. Could he tell that too? 

“It goes without saying that a demigod's powers are associated with their parentage. So as the daughter of the Goddess of Hearth and Home, I’m assuming you have some sort of bond with fire.” 

Tightening your fists, you refused to meet his eye. 

It made sense why you never told anyone in the human world about your ability to create fire out of thin air but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone in the demi-world either. 

You had seen the powers the boys had - Seokmin was the son of Posiedon, God of the Sea, but he couldn’t create water, only bend it. And Mingyu? His father was the literal God of Fire and even he was only immune to flames. 

But you, birthing fire from thin air? Something told you that even in the world of demigods, the world where you belonged, you were a freak.

“Or maybe I’m an architect because of you know, the ‘home’ bit.” 

“I don’t think so. Your college preference is pretty much just a personal interest.” 

“Then I guess I don’t have any powers.” You shrugged. “Maybe the Oracle made a mistake.” 

“The Oracle isn’t human. It never makes mistakes.” 

“Then maybe my powers are too insignificant for us to care. I mean think about it - what can the daughter of such a goddess have to offer? I most definitely don’t have anything of value.” 

Jihoon stared at you like he had too many thoughts. 

“Do you know the life cycle of a demigod?” 

You shook your head confused about where he was going with this.

“Not everyone born half breed inherits powers and even if they do, it is dormant until puberty. At the ages of 16 to 18, demigods are at their highest energies which gives them an aura that makes them instantly identifiable - the stronger their abilities, the stronger the aura. After they are picked either by their parents or our scout force, they’re taken to the Oracle who puts them in camp where they will be best suited to train and learn to harness their powers. If a demigod isn’t placed in camp by 18, you best believe that they are dead.” 

“Huh?” You blinked. “Why is that?” 

“Because either the inability to handle their own powers will kill them or in rare cases, monsters.” 

“M-monsters?” 

“There’s always good and bad in the world. Where you have gods, you have monsters too.” Jihoon opened one of the books to a page filled with sketches of the most gruesome creatures you’d ever seen. “Most of our predecessors have already locked up many of these in the Underworld but there are still some out there, lurking around. If they sense an aura and you aren’t trained for combat, you don’t stand a chance.” 

“So you think because I’ve managed to survive the last seven years, on my own and untrained, I am powerful?” You frowned. “Did you consider the fact that perhaps my aura was so weak no one could detect me?” 

“I did. That was my first assumption till the Oracle.” He leaned onto the table. “Even Gods have to touch the orb for a reading but your mere presence lit her up Y/n. Your aura isn’t weak, it’s different and my guess is it has something to do with being Hestia's daughter.” 

You hummed, trying to make sense of things. “Well, did the same thing happen with her other children?” 

Jihoon shook his head. “We don’t know. Unfortunately for us, there are no other known children of Hestia - you are the first ever.” 

You stared at him, letting the weight of his words sink in. 

“I’m her only child?” 

Jihoon nodded slowly. 

If that were true, the whole of last week made no sense. Ever since you had discovered the temple, you had been trying to reach out to your mother every other hour. You assumed she might have been busy or probably had too many places to be to tend to you, but to learn that you were her only progeny and she still didn’t care hurt differently. 

Scoffing sadly you shook your head. “What kind of mother doesn’t care about her only child?” 

“One who is not proud of her momentary lapse of judgement.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Jihoon sighed. “Hestia is one of the three virgin goddesses, along with Artemis and Athena. She’s not supposed to have any offspring, much less one with a human. If anything, you are a walking talking symbol of her weakness.” 

“I am her child-” 

“In theory.” Jihoon emphasised. “But in reality, you’re merely a fragment of her.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Humans and Gods don’t mix Y/n. Hell, even humans and demigods can’t.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Jihoon took a pause before he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Why and how are you aware of that?” 

“Irrelevant.” You brushed off. “But if what you’re saying is true, how can demigods even come to be?” 

“Because it’s not unlike even the Gods to succumb to lust. At any time they feel particularly attracted to a human they enchant their partners.” When you frowned like you didn’t understand, he sighed and continued. “Enchantment is what we call the process of gods…to crudely put it, possessing people. Taking over their bodies, controlling them.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

“You mean they possess one person to have sex with another???” 

“Well, sometimes it’s just sex but sometimes it is love. They stay on Earth for years together till the lesser gods aren’t able to handle things and they are forced to go back.” Jihoon got up, pacing around the room. “Demigods are born to two human parents who are completely unaware about what happened with them and what their child actually is.” 

“Wow” You breathed out dumbfounded. “You mean to say I have two parents in the Mortal world and one sitting in Olympus-” Jihoon nodded. “-and neither of them care about me?” 

Jihoon looked at you like you had given him more information than he asked for. 

“I can’t speak for your mortal parents but as far as Gods are concerned, they don’t really care about their half human children…… unless they are powerful.” He locked his arms behind his back. “Demigods train for years to become worthy of their parents' attention.” 

“So being a demigod isn’t really a gift after all.” 

Sighing, Jihoon sat down beside you. “You can’t allow yourself to be governed by emotions Y/n. You are the result of a God’s lack of resistance to impulses - those who sit in Olympus have their own flaws. If you run your whole life seeking their validation, you will keep running. They will keep you running.” 

“What do I do then?” You blinked at him lost. “I think I have more than one question I want to ask the woman because of whom my life is a mess. How do I get her to notice me?” 

“Play it smart. First, learn about our world and the things that shape it. Understand how Olympus works - what the God's weaknesses are, what ticks them off, what will bring them on your side.” He turned to you. “If you play your cards right, trust me, your mother will come looking for you in no time.”

Letting out a deep breath, you whispered hesitantly. “Will you teach me how?” 

Smiling in a way that made your stomach turn a lot differently than it used to for Jihoon before, he nodded. “I'd love to.” 

You didn’t even realise when your supposed two hour session with Jihoon dragged on till after the sun had set. 

By the end of it, you had a book full of notes stuffed in your backpack and a head full of information that your instructor had filled. As you stepped out of the library building, Jihoon offered to walk you back to Seungcheol’s house given it was nightfall and as much as you wanted to continue talking to him, you politely refused. You weren’t ready to face that man just yet but just as you began walking towards the Great Hall to grab a snack or two, your eyes fell on Jeonghan and Seungcheol whispering away near the trees. 

As you skidded to a stop in your path, they turned towards you, both surprised and relieved by your presence. When you noticed Jeonghan nudge Seungcheol making him take a step towards you, you immediately walked back, knocking into someone behind you, earning a shriek. 

“Watch it rookie.” Seungkwan muttered as you apologised under your breath. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a couple of the guys standing fully dressed like they were headed out to a party. 

“Y/n.” Seungcheol took another step, trying to get your attention again. “We need to talk-” 

“I can’t,” You walked over to the boys, placing yourself right in the middle of the group. “I’m going out tonight.” 

“Dressed like that?” Seungcheol raised his eyebrows, looking up to down at a really old t-shirt you had donned over a pair of worn out shorts. 

“Funny that a man who pairs socks with sandals is judging me about my outfit.” 

Behind you the boys snickered, glancing down at Seungcheol’s feet. 

“That’s not my point-” 

“Can you drop my bag in my room?” You looked over the leader’s shoulder at his sidekick. “Since you love roaming around that house anyways.” 

Jeonghan caught the bag you threw to him, sighing as he swung it over his shoulder. 

“Well, that would make a total of eight of us..…” Seokmin looked around, doing a headcount. “Dino’s car can take us all but it will be a bit congested-” 

“I can take my bike.” Mingyu offered, running his hands through his hair. “It’ll be more convenient for you guys and-” 

“Can I ride with you?” You turned to Mingyu, looking at him just a little pleadingly. 

Even though you were on the way to a party, you weren’t in the mood to be stuffed in a small car with a bunch of guys right now - all you wanted was some air and space away from Seungcheol. 

Shooting you a small smirk, Mingyu nodded, just in time for his mechanical bull to jog over, modifying into a slick bike the moment it neared him. As he got on, you followed him, gripping his shoulders as you clambered on. 

“Hold tight.” 

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you glanced at the two boys left behind - Seungcheol’s jaw was tight and Jeonghan looked mildly curious, eyes darting where your body pressed up against Mingyu’s back. You could tell the normally cocky Mingyu did seem slightly tense under your touch, perhaps because you were not wearing a bra and he could feel everything very clearly. 

“Shall we?” He muttered, turning on the engine. 

Sighing, you nodded, a part of you well aware that tonight was most definitely going to be a long night. 

“Let’s go.” 

“I’ve been to funerals better than this.” 

You muttered to Seokmin about fifteen minutes after reaching the house that the boys had brought you to for the night. Your expectation had been that of a frat party, one with pizzas and chips and dip and booze instead you were looking at a living room filled with pink balloons, rose gold streamers and french appetisers. 

“Wait till Soonyoung’s alcohol goes around.” Seokmin half giggled, grabbing a canape from the table. “Things always get so much fun after that.” 

You watched the man in question pulling out some bottles from his pockets, handing them over to some boys at the corner of the room. 

The moment Chan’s car had stopped at the location, all the boys had practically disappeared. Seungkwan headed over to a bunch of people Mingyu said were some of his very close friends. No sooner than he said that, he too disappeared as did Chan, Soonyoung and Mingao. The only ones who remained by your side were Seokmin and Joshua but just as you stepped into the house, a couple of girls pulled Joshua away, leaving you with your current company. 

“Why do I feel like something about Soonyoung’s alcohol is sketchy?” 

“Maybe because it’s an illegal blend?” Seokmin shrugged before realising what he had let slip. “You cannot tell anyone. Everyone in camp will kill him and Soonyoung will resurrect and kill me.” 

Laughing you shook your head, grabbing a cracker and topping it with brie, stomach rumbling due to the lack of dinner. 

“You don’t have to keep me company Seokmin.” You turned to the man who was sweet enough to stay by your side. “I don’t wanna ruin your night.” 

“It’s no big deal.” He muttered, putting himself between you and a drunk guy leaning over you to grab a drink from the table. “I know you don’t know anyone here-” 

“I’m not looking to socialise anyways.” You confessed, piling a bunch of stuff on your plate. “I’m just going to sit outside and grab a bite in, hopefully, some peace and quiet.” 

“Oh.” Seokmin looked a little upset, like he wanted to hang out with you but before you could tell him that you didn’t mind his company, Mingyu popped by out of nowhere, pulling his friend by the elbow and dragging him away excitedly. Chuckling, you got back to piling your plate. 

“You worked up an appetite.” 

You turned to see Soonyoung hovering behind you, hands tucked in his pocket. 

“Yeah….” You shoved a spoonful of cold but nevertheless tasty pasta salad into your mouth. “Apparently spending three hours learning about Greek gods can really drain you.” 

“Jihoon can be a bit intense with teaching.” Soonyoung laughed, nonchalantly wiping the cream at the edge of your lips with his thumb. “The trick is to remind him about his workout. He'll drop everything and run.” 

“Huh.” You laughed uncertainly before struggling to swallow your bite and turning to him. He stared at you stuffing your mouth with an expression you couldn’t quite read. 

“Soonyoung we…. “ You swallowed. “We didn't get to talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung blinked. “What about it?”

About what he said. About if you heard it right. About if he meant it. 

“About if whatever happened was…. of any use with Mina?” You diverted like a coward.

“I uh haven't spoken to her yet.” Soonyoung confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Surprisingly I haven't returned any of her calls.”

“Why is that?” 

“I don't know.” He looked at you intently. “I don't feel like doing it.”

“Is there…” You whispered softly, wondering if you should even be asking this. If you were ready for his answer. “....something else you feel like doing?”

Soonyoung nodded, his tongue running across his lower lip, his eyes darting to your mouth. Just as it seemed like he leaned in, out of nowhere, the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, threw her arms around Soonyoung's neck, pulling his mouth to hers instead. 

“Hoshi.” She mumbled against his lips, pressing her body up against him not so subtly. 

You weren't sure why exactly you were continuing to watch the two people before you shoving their tongues into each other's mouth but perhaps that's how shock worked. Though you didn't have the intention of continuing anything at all with Soonyoung, something about being interrupted this way stung differently. 

By the time they had separated, you had chugged an entire can of beer, crushing the metal in your hand.

“And who might this be?” She looked at you, pushing her hair back. 

“She's the new member of camp seventeen Y/n,” He pointed between the two of you, “Y/n, this is Mina, my uh….”

“Girlfriend.” She smiled, with an unbelievably perfect set of teeth. “So the rumours are true. The infamous all-boys-celibate camp finally has a female presence. Tell me,” Her eyes glowed. “Have you gotten your eyes on any of them? Or even better,” She lowered her voice. “Have you gotten your hands on any of them already?”

You looked at Soonyoung, utterly uncomfortable. 

“Mina, you can’t ask such things-”

“Why not? It'll be between just us girls-” 

“Please.” He pulled her back. “Last I saw you, we broke up and now you just waltz back and-” 

“I know, I know. We never should have broken up in the first place. That whole fight was stupid.” She pouted, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “Forget about it Soonyoung-” 

“Forget about it?” His expression was of disbelief. “So you don't have anything to say to me?” 

She looked away, pretending like she was thinking before turning back to him with a smirk. “Yes, I do. I didn't wear any underwear today.” 

Inwardly groaning you stared at the design of the tile hoping the ground would just swallow you instead. You wanted to get the fuck out of here since this conversation was of no interest to you but moving was impossible with both their intertwined figures blocking the way. 

“Come on Soonyoung, it's been so long and I'm in the mood tonight. The bedrooms on the second floor won’t be free for long.” 

Soonyoung’s adam's apple shifted, his words stuck somewhere there as Mina held him by the wrist and began leading him away. As he was dragged off, you expected him to turn and shoot you a grateful look, instead, he looked at you wistfully. 

Your plan was simple - stuff your face with all the incredibly bougie food, catch some air in the patio away from all the noise and then leave with the boys whenever they were ready to go. Instead here you were, your plate somewhere unattended while you were gripping the edge of the sink, leaning over it, chest heaving as you stared into the mirror. 

Now you knew you weren’t supposed to be hogging the washroom for this long but you couldn’t bear to go out. One, you didn’t want to see Soonyoung and his girlfriend again - especially if she was going to be all over him like a leech because something about that sight made your stomach turn violently. And two, you were somehow, for no reason at all, incredibly wet.

Perhaps it was because suddenly, everyone in the party was quite literally all over each other, or because you were thinking about what happened in Soonyoung’s residence this time yesterday, or because you were just plain desperate to have something, anything inside you. 

Last night awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed and now nothing seemed to satiate the beast. Chiding yourself for being out here when you could have been in your own room, having your way with Soonyoung’s toy or your own fingers maybe, you gripped the sink tighter, feeling your heart rate rise unprompted. It was getting harder and harder to stay modest. 

The only thing that stopped you from putting your hand down your pants in a house full of sixty people on the other side of the door, was the knock on it. 

“What part of I am throwing up in here do you not- Oh!” You gasped, walking back as the door flung open and in stepped a slightly inebriated Chan. “What are you doing!?” 

“You won’t open the door….” He slurred. “It’s been so long, Seokmin was worried.” 

“How the hell did you open three locks….” You stared at the door as he slowly shut it behind him. 

“My father is the God of thieves. Are you really surprised that I can open any lock and any door?” 

“I guess not.” You muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub. “But you didn’t need to, I was going to come out-” 

“You’ve been in here for over 20 minutes.” Chan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I thought you passed out or something.” 

“I wish.”

Passing out would be much better than whatever was going on between your legs. 

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party.” 

“I’m not. I’m just waiting for us to head back.” 

“Then why ask to tag along?” He raised his eyebrow. “Does it have anything to do with the hostility between you and Seungcheol?” 

“So you noticed.” 

“I think everyone did.” Chan chuckled. “Do you want to tell me why or should I guess?” 

“Shoot your shot.” 

Chan shrugged all knowingly, “He rejected you.” 

You looked up at the boy before you so fast, you nearly fell back thanks to the inertia. 

“W-what makes you think that?”

“Sons of Zeus and Daughters of Aphrodite have a natural tendency to attract the opposite sex.” He stated like it was obvious. “Seungcheol has women swooning over him like they're in some sort of trance. He doesn't really care for them because he knows it's a mere chemical attraction thanks to his dad. Instead he just ignores them or if things get unbearable, he breaks their hearts so they snap out of it.” 

You knew Chan had to be quite tipsy to so bluntly place you in the list of women Seungcheol had rejected. It wasn't like that was it? Yesterday in the rain, he had hinted his feelings for you, he almost kissed you but….. what about what you were feeling? Was this irresistible attraction you felt towards him nothing but chemical? 

Considering how you had been feeling since Mina wrapped herself all over Soonyoung…. You wouldn't have felt that if your heart was set out on Seungcheol right? 

Then again….. it was Seungcheol’s name that left your mouth as you orgasmed yesterday. 

Staring at the floor you shook your head slightly. You could not think about last night again, not with how soaked you already were at the moment. 

“Hey,” Chan inched closer, putting his finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet your eyes. He did not however notice the way you pressed your thighs together at his touch. His eyes skimmed over the features of your face, a slight amused smile forming on his face. “You’re flushed…. Did you have any of Soonyoung’s alcohol?” 

You shook your head but were unable to shake his fingers from your face. “His blend is not my drink of choice.” 

“Oh gods, please don’t tell me you had any beer.” 

“I think I had two cans…… or maybe four?” You frowned. “I can't remember but I'm not drunk! Beer barely makes me-” 

“Y/n,” Sighing, Chan finally let you go. “Party rule number one, you never drink alcohol at an Aphrodite rager.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because Aphrodite’s children are a bunch of troublemakers. Don’t let their gorgeous faces fool you.” He brushed the hair off your face. “You must think people like Joshua are the finest to walk the Earth, but don’t judge a man without knowing his stories.” 

Joshua? You frowned. How could he be anything but a sweetheart? Soonyoung’s girlfriend maybe was an obnoxious toad but not Joshua. He was flawless. 

“You might as well have drank Soonyoung’s disgusting blend.” Chan muttered. “Why do you think his alcohol sells so well at these parties?” 

“Because his annoyingly beautiful girlfriend is a daughter of Aphrodite?” 

“Yes, but also because only the insane drink the booze served at an Aphrodite party. She may be the goddess of Love but she’s also the goddess of Sex and more importantly, her children are addicted to it.” Chan looked at you just a little worried. “Those drinks are their special concoctions of aphrodisiacs.” 

“A-aphrodisiacs???” 

“Aphrodite, aphrodisiacs - not far off huh?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure if it hit you yet - do you feel anything?” 

“No….” You shook your head. 

The correct answer was hell yes. Everything going on with you suddenly made sense but you couldn't tell Chan that, not him. 

“Are you not feeling unnaturally hot?” He looked at you concerned as he sat down beside you, his body unwittingly brushing against yours. “Doesn't the tiniest bit of proximity rile you up?” 

You didn’t answer him. You didn't need him to know just how much even his presence was affecting you thanks to those stupid sex potions.

“I should tell you beforehand, when it hits, it’s going to be intense but the longer you resist it, the stronger it gets.” You turned to him, only just realising how close his face was to yours. “The only chance you have of getting out of it…. is to give in.” 

Gulping you stared at him. The boy who was always bright, laughing around and cracking jokes like he was an old man was looking at you with unusually darkened eyes, his thighs pressed against yours, your hand inches away from him. 

The only chance you have of getting it out is to give in.

“Chan do you think….” You gulped. “...you can guard the door for a while?”

Perhaps if it were anyone but Lee Chan you would have climbed them by now. Because he was right - the more you tried to control yourself, the more you felt yourself slipping. But not with Chan, definitely not with him. He was far too sweet and innocent to be dragged into whatever mess was going on with you. 

“I might uh need a few minutes alone here.” You mumbled. 

Chan blinked like he didn't understand but when you looked away, wiping the sweat trickling down your neck in a pretty cold room, he seemed like he got it. 

“Oh y-yeah sure.” He got up quickly, not looking at you. “I'll be right outside.”

And with that he scurried out, closing the door behind him. 

The moment he disappeared you smacked your head - you didn't particularly enjoy beer anyways, why did you have to drink it tonight? If you were being honest, it was because of Soonyoung and his irritatingly gorgeous girlfriend and their unnecessary antics right in front of you face- 

No. 

No no no. 

You couldn't be spiralling with these thoughts again. Chan said the longer you resisted, it was going to get worse so you were going to do whatever it took to get this feeling out of your system. 

As you unbuttoned your shorts, you got up and leaned against the sink to avoid seeing your face in the mirror, barely able to meet your own eyes given what you were about to do. Pushing your embarrassment aside considering the need of the hour, you slid your hand past the material of your underwear, fingers feeling exactly how drenched you were. 

“Fucking hell.” You muttered. How was it possible that you were this wet absolutely unprompted and for no reason at all? What the hell was in those concoctions?? 

You thought you could just get off with your own fingers but given how easily they were sliding past your hole there was no way you could do this on your own, especially not here. Annoyed, you pulled your hand out and turned, washing it under the running water, sighing at your reflection in the mirror. Chan was right, you were incredibly flushed, your pupils were blown and the sheen of sweat was very evident - oh it was definitely getting worse. 

Maybe you could go find Mingyu and convince him to give you a ride back to camp. If you could get your hands on Soonyoung’s toy again, you could help yourself out of this. That was perhaps the best thing to do right now. 

Adjusting your hair and your clothes, you gave yourself a determined nod and opened the door, expecting to see Chan but finding someone else entirely guarding the door.

“M-Minghao.” You stuttered as he looked over his shoulder, eyes finding you.

“Party rule number two, never trust Lee Chan to do anything in a party with alcohol.” 

You should have known - he might be your age but Chan was like an overexcited child. And did Minghao just say rule number two? Did that mean he was aware….

“You’re still very aroused.” He smirked as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’m guessing whatever you were trying to do in there didn’t work out.” 

You groaned. “I can’t believe Chan told you-” 

“He didn’t.” Minghao shook his head amused. You watched as he ran his eyes from your face down. “He didn’t have to, it’s pretty evident.” 

“I just need to get home and I’ll be fine-” 

“I don’t think so.” He dropped his voice, his wide frame covering anyone from seeing you. “On the contrary, you might quite literally pounce on the first guy you see-” 

“You’re the first guy.” 

Minghao’s eyes darkened as he looked at you wordlessly. Strangely, you felt something shift inside you too - oh god he was right.

“How much longer-”

“There’s bedrooms upstairs you know-” 

”Are you guys done-”  

“No.” Minghao shook his head, silencing the voices behind him as he slid his bracelet off his wrist and hooked it to the door handle, eyes not leaving you even once. “Get in.” 

Surprisingly you obeyed, taking a step back, allowing him to enter as he closed the door behind him much to the disappointment of the many queueing outside. 

“Y/n,” How was his voice so much deeper suddenly? “This is the exact kind of trouble the Aphrodite children are looking for. They want the drama that comes from the inability to control oneself, you’re better than that.” 

“What do you want me to do?” You groaned. “Before you shoved me back in here, I was trying to leave and get back to camp so I can deal with it myself-” 

“The art of war lies in self control.” He slid his arms in his pockets, looking at you just like he did every morning on the training field. “As a demigod, you are at your best when you learn how to control yourself. People misunderstand how this aphrodisiac works - you don't have to give in, it does wear off after a point. Most just don't happen to be able to control themselves till then.”

“Wears off at what point because Minghao, it's been barely 20 minutes since I’ve had those drinks and I’m barely able to get a hold of myself.” 

“Which is precisely why leaving right now is a horrible idea - you don’t have a hold over yourself.” He let out a deep breath. “We can fix it. We can stay here for however long you need and you can let this pass. Consider it a lesson in your training.” 

“We’re training in the middle of a party?” 

“As warriors we’re always training.” He walked past you, sitting on the edge of the bathtub like you had been just a while ago, looking annoyingly relaxed. “Do you think I enjoy these all-pink, snooty french parties? I come here just for the drinks.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Y-you had the beer too?” 

Minghao nodded. 

“On purpose? After knowing what they do?” 

He nodded again.

“Why in the world would you do that?” 

“To practise self control.” He stated like it was obvious.

“By drugging yourself?” 

“A good warrior is one who doesn’t allow himself to be governed by any kind of emotion - lust is usually the hardest to control.” 

“So that concoction has no effect on you?” 

“It's starting to hit.” Minghao looked at you intently as your eyes flickered down to his pants, noticing the bulge. “But I'm not the kind to give in.” 

“Well I think I'm the kind to.” You muttered, throat going dry as you peeled your eyes away. Minghao didn't. “I don't know how to explain it.” You shut your eyes tight, embarrassed of the words leaving you but you knew he might be the only person who understood where you were at. “but I have this feeling like I'm being clawed on the inside, like if I don't have anything in me right this second, I might just lose my mind.”

“I get it.” Your eyes flew open to find him standing right in front of you, his face inches away. “I feel like I'm on the edge of my sanity too but you can fight it.” 

Gulping you looked at the way his lips moved, the vein of his neck stark as was his collarbone peeking from under his shirt. Before this, you hadn’t actually noticed just how handsome Minghao was. 

“l can't.” You whispered, running your eyes over his features. “Can…can you help me?” 

Leaning closer, his gaze hardened. You could see there were thoughts running in that head of his - the warrior was engaged in a battle with himself. 

“Minghao please.”

Grabbing your waist, he spun you around swiftly, trapping you between his hands and the sink, meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Help you how?” 

You looked at how his mouth was right by your ear and his frame so wide behind you that he was engulfing you merely with his presence. On one hand there were his arms, veins running up them as he gripped the edge of the sink and on the other was the fact that if you just took one step back, you knew you would feel his length pressed against you - both of which were making things exponentially worse. 

“Tell me how you want me to help Y/n.” He muttered, his breath soft against your ear.

“I… you know how-” 

“I was helping. I was telling you what to do-”

“Can't you do something instead?” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you took a small step back, pressing your back against his chest and your ass against his length. “Didn't you say it hit you too?” 

You thought it was a fair enough proposition. Both of you had taken the drink so it was easy to put the blame on it for anything that might potentially happen.

“But I don't need any help.” He shook his head adamantly. “If I help you, what's in it for me?” 

“I'll owe you one.” You sighed. “Whenever, wherever, please Minghao….”

“Remember those words.” He whispered, his hand snaking around your waist to unbutton your shorts, fingers lingering over your skin. 

“W-wait.” You gasped. Though this was exactly what you were expecting when you asked for his help, as it blended into reality, you felt an uncertainty kick in. “W-what if someone opens the door-”

“A door that has the bracelet of Ares on it?” Minghao's reflection raised his eyes amused. “They'd be crazy to.” 

“b-but what if…. I'm too loud or something. Wouldn't we be in trouble?”

“Y/n.” His hand drew back just a little. “Are you sure you want me to….” 

“Yes.” You shut your eyes mortified that just the feeling of him withdrawing his touch was physically painful. “Yes please …” 

Almost instantly Minghao obeyed, his hand snaking past the material of your shorts, just the thin layer of your underwear keeping his fingers away from you. 

“Oh you poor thing, you're drenched.”

You nodded as his hand pushed aside your panties, running his digits along your folds, smearing your arousal everywhere, a fingertip prodding your hole ever so slightly. 

“I'm not sure two fingers are enough for you.” He muttered, groaning. “You really want a dick inside don't you?” 

“So bad.” You whispered back. “I wouldn't even mind two of them in me right now-” 

You felt your words die in your throat as Minghao chuckled, slipping his fingers into your wet hole. “Let's start with two of these first.” 

A soft moan left you as you agreed, hands gripping the edge tighter as his digits simply stayed inside you. 

“Look at you.” He muttered in your ear. “Open your eyes and look at yourself.” 

Hesitating you obeyed, catching sight of the two of you in the mirror as his free hand wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against him. Something about the way your small frame fit against his wider one was….nice. 

You wanted to ask him to move his fingers, to give you something but before you said it, he slowly began pumping his digits in and out, burying his face in the dip of your neck. As his mouth brushed your skin, you felt yourself tense around his fingers. 

“So tight. ” He mumbled. “Oh you'd be such a delight to fuck.” 

“Then fuck me.” You moaned as his fingers picked up speed. 

“Tempting.” His voice left him like a low growl as his teeth grazed your skin. “But I'm a man of principles.” 

“Are you sure?” Reaching for the hand on your waist, you led it up your torso under your shirt, guiding him to your tits.  

“No bra?” He half groaned, squeezing it. “What a doll.”

“Don't you want to fuck me?” Moaning you tried to push your ass further against his rock hard self. “Use me and we can both be free of this-” 

“Don't be greedy Y/n.” Contrary to his words, he let a third finger join his act. “Take what I'm giving you.” 

Feeling a lot more full now, you felt your jaw slacken and no words left as both his hands took turns to harshly pump and squeeze, his mouth along your shoulder and neck, leaving painful, stinging marks of red. 

“Faster.” You panted as his tongue ran along your skin to soothe the burn and fingers obeyed, stretching you out just right. Minghao could tell it wasn't enough and his thumb darted to your clit, having you keen in his arms. The moment he curled his fingers up, met your eyes in the reflection and whispered, “cum for me doll.”, all that was building inside you instantly snapped, your orgasm washing over you in waves. 

Thank god he held you up against him because as you pressed your legs, riding out your climax, they began trembling. When your sight became clear and you came around, Minghao slowly let you go but whatever fire was burning inside you was not satiated. 

Fucking hell. 

“You need more?” Minghao chuckled as he took a step back and you turned to him, eyes still hooded with lust. 

“Perhaps just another…” You ran your hand down his chest, unzipping his hoodie, revealing his black tank top. “Finish off the favour.” 

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “As your campmate I did help. But now as your trainer, I'm going to let you get over the rest on your own.” 

“Minghao….” You groaned. If he was going to leave you halfway, he might as well not have done anything. Now you were, in fact, much more turned that you didn't think his fingers could even do the job anymore…..you needed the whole package. 

But like he said, Minghao was a man of principles, he wouldn't give in…. unless you could tempt him enough? 

Humming you looked around. The four walls of this bathroom did not seem like the right place to try and entice him but thankfully, you remembered Soonyoung’s girlfriend mentioning the bedrooms upstairs. 

“Fine.” You agreed, adjusting your clothes and buttoning up while Minghao washed his hands. Perhaps if the two of you found yourself in the proximity of one of those rooms, you could get him to succumb.

As you pulled your hair into a ponytail, Minghao opened the door, holding it for you to leave first but being the girl you were, you wantonly brushed your hand against his erection, pretending your actions were innocent. He stared at you as you walked away from him, stopping only at the edge of the staircase to glance at him before heading up, hoping he was following. 

Pushing through the crowd of people making out and feeling each other up in a way that was far from decent, you glanced down the corridor, slightly surprised. The house didn’t seem so big from the outside but the corridor before you looked endless with dozens of rooms on either side. You walked past them, avoiding the ones with socks on the knobs, knocking on some to receive screams of ‘go away’ and ‘taken’ and opening some unanswered doors to sights you wished you never saw. Half disturbed and half amused you continued to try and find an empty room when the sound of a particular something made you stop your tracks, eyes widening. 

Your name. 

Your name sounding like a strangled moan, repeated over and over, getting breathless with each word.

Gulping, you slowly pushed the door next to you open, both terrified and curious about what you were going to see because a part of you recognised that voice - it was one you heard on camp all the time. 

Sure enough, before you was a large bed, Soonyoung sitting against the headboard, his pants pushed down his thighs and his dick in his fist, pumping it hard and fast. He didn’t seem to notice your presence, his eyes screwed shut as your name continued to spill from his mouth. Of course this wasn’t the first time you were seeing Soonyoung do this but something had most definitely changed since last time. 

When you took a step ahead, letting the door close behind you, the click of it shutting was what finally got his attention, his eyes flying open. Catching sight of you he immediately swore loudly, tucking his length back into his pants, face turning a lot more red than it already was. 

“God woman, how long have you-” 

“Long enough to hear whose name you were saying.” You looked at him guiltily. “Soonyoung, you have a girlfriend-” 

“Mina and I are not together.” He confessed, gulping.”She wanted to but for the first time ever I refused to….” 

“Why?” You whispered, terrified of the answer. Please, please, please. Kwon Soonyoung cannot be in love with you. 

“For the last ten years I thought no one could make me feel the way she did and that’s why the two of us belong with each other but….” He sighed. “I learnt that that’s not true.” 

You blinked at him as he looked at you softly. 

“And you know why it’s not true.” 

“Soonyoung we….” You walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened between us was just a favour, one friend to another. How can there be something between us-” 

“I know.” He nodded. “I’m not saying I’m in love with you or something, I…. I myself don’t really know, all this is new to me too.” 

“But what you were doing,” You tried not to glance at his pants where his erection was still very much evident. “That seemed like-” 

“Y/n I’ve only ever been with one woman my whole life who gave me a boner before I turned her down for good.” He couldn’t look at you either. “What else could I really do…..” 

A part of you understood him. You too were incredibly wound for a while now and you knew what it was like to try and fight it - you too had succumbed. In fact you were still not fully rid of the feeling and Soonyoung was right before you, just as aroused. Yesterday could be justified as an ignorant act whose consequences were not expected but if you went through with this today, there was no coming back from it. It wouldn’t be right…..

.

.

.

But fuck it. 

“You didn’t finish, did you?” 

Soonyoung shook his head slowly

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes and climbed on the bed on all fours, crawling towards him as he held his breath. 

“This is yet another favour.” You clarified, more to yourself than him, “Just so you can understand if it's me you want to fuck or just anyone who's not your girlfriend.” 

W-what?” He stuttered as your hand found the waistband of his pants. “We're going to…?” 

“We don't have to if you don't want to-” 

“Yes.” He breathed out, nodding fast. “God yes I want to.” 

Smiling just a little, you pulled his pants down a bit, the way they were when you had entered. His erection sprung out, lying against his shirt, the tip pink and flushed. You were familiar with how it looked, but this was the most up close you had seen it and the first time you touched it as you wrapped your wrist around the base, earning a hiss from him. 

“How long have you been hard?” 

“Over 20 minutes.” He groaned. “Ever since we spoke at the table…. your ass looked fucking good when you bent over the table.” 

“Yeah?” You pumped his length slowly. “You're not too bad yourself. Your abs are hot.”

Almost immediately, without needing to be told, Soonyoung pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. 

“Good boy.” Tongue darting out, you licked the precum on his slit, looking up at his blown pupils. “You taste good too.” 

“Fuck y/n, I might just cum right now.” 

“In my mouth?” You cooed. “Not inside me?”

Groaning Soonyoung threw his head back. Honestly, you had no idea how these words were even leaving you - you owed it to both the aphrodisiac coursing through you and also how submissive Soonyoung seemed in your hands. So reactive, so easy to please. 

The moment you took his tip in your mouth, his hand gripped your ponytail, trying to push himself further in. Pulling back with a wet pop, you clicked your tongue. 

“Uh huh.” You shook your head. “If we do this we do this my way.” 

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” He panted, his thighs twitching. “I'm all yours.” 

Although you had some thoughts about that statement you didn't voice them. One because you really wanted to suck him off and two because you heard a voice you knew most definitely wasn't Soonyoung. 

“So this is how you choose to tempt me.” 

Before you Soonyoung froze, eyes looking past you at the door where Minghao was standing. You could tell the man before you was both shocked and embarrassed and wanted to cover himself up but you didn't move to give him room for that. 

“If you're worried about your modesty Kwon, you should know I don't give a fuck.” Minghao leaned back against the door. “I'm only interested in what Y/n has to offer.” 

Soonyoung looked at you confused as you smiled just a little. Oh you managed to crack him and it didn't even take much. 

“Tell him my offer is still open.” You ran your tongue from his base up. “If you’re okay with it too that is.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, finally realising what was happening. You doubted that he wouldn't be okay with it - the man was quite literally falling apart in your hands. 

Sure enough, he slowly nodded.

“From only one woman ever to this overnight?” Minghao raised his eyebrow. “Your girlfriend must've put you up to a really strong dose of those sex potions.” 

“I didn't drink a-any beer.” Soonyoung muttered as you ran your eyes over his face. He was the same as you - pupils widened, face flushed, breath fast and shallow. 

Oh. 

“You're telling me that woman isn't capable of slipping in a little something to entice her boyfriend who won't crawl back to her like he always does?” Minghao chuckled. “Because I think so.”

Well wasn't this ideal, now you could justify everything that was happening - it was simply three people succumbing to the effects of an aphrodisiac - nothing personal, nothing beyond anything physical. Except deep down you knew it must mean something if despite being drugged Soonyoung rejected his girlfriend because of you and Minghao who was a man of impeccable self control was crumbling for you. 

Except he hadn't really yet. 

Deciding to leave the thoughts for another time, you slightly looked over your shoulder at the man who was leaning against the wall. 

“Only my mouth is busy, I have two more free holes you know.” 

You could tell that something about the energy in the room had shifted the moment you said that, like it was only a matter of time before Minghao joined. Sure enough, you heard the lock of the door click behind you and from the way Soonyoung gulped and his eyes followed his teammate, you could tell Minghao had neared. Wrapping your mouth around the older man's tip again, you hummed at the weight of his dick on your tongue. 

“F-fuck.” Soonyoung groaned under his breath. 

As the bed dipped behind you, you knew Minghao had climbed in, finally succumbing, finally giving in. . 

“Is that the best you got?” He chuckled with a deep voice, pushing your knees apart with his own and running his hand down along your back as Soonyoung stared at him wide eyed. “That won't be enough for me.”

You could feel your mouth practically water, drool leaking down the corner of your lips as you took Soonyoung further in your mouth, earning a pained hiss. Minghao though was still not satisfied as he bent over, one hand unbuttoning your shorts, his breath at the shell of your ear, whispering. 

“Take care of my friend and I'll take care of you.” You looked at Soonyoung to see his eyes flickering between the two of you. “The louder he moans, the harder you'll get it.” 

Most definitely motivated, you sunk Soonyoung’s length deeper into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat, a deep groan leaving the man as his hand gripped your hair again to hold you back. 

Minghao smacked it away with the shake of a head as he drew himself back, fingers hooking onto your waistband as he pulled down both your shorts and panties in one go, letting it pool at your bent knees.

You could feel your arousal drip down your legs given how incredibly wet you were. A part of you wanted to see Minghao's face but then you would have missed the sight of Soonyoung panting, looking down at you like the mere smell of you had awakened something wild in him. To make things a whole lot worse, Minghao ran his fingers up your slit, playing with your wetness before gathering it on his digit and holding it out to his friend. 

“Want a taste?” 

“Bold of you to assume this is my first time.” Soonyoung smirked as he sucked off Minghao's fingers and you grinned to yourself. Atta boy. 

Minghao chuckled as he pulled his fingers away, smearing the wetness on the cheek of your ass, landing a smack that sent a sharp sting, making you moan around Soonyoung. 

“Barely a week in camp and look at you.” He mimicked his actions on your other cheek, the impact jerking your forward, Soonyoung’s length slipping into your throat. “Good girl.” 

“So fucking good.” Soonyoung moaned. “That mouth is divine.”

“Not more than this.” Cupping the curve of your ass, Minghao dipped his finger into your quivering hole. You keened at the sensation, but didn't stop working on Soonyoung's dick - you knew if you gave Soonyoung what he needed, Minghao would give you what you wanted and god did you want to feel full of him. When you grinded against his hips, his hands left you and you finally heard the sound of Minghao's zipper despite the lewd noises leaving your mouth being much louder. 

“Fuck baby just like that.” Soonyoug groaned as you picked up the speed, making him feel more and more of your throat. 

You still couldn't tell what Minghao was doing, the absence of his touch testing your patience, your teeth accidentally grazing Soonyoung’s dick making him hiss in pain. 

Minghao chuckled, adjusting your body on each knee to pull out the clothes on your lower half and when he aligned himself behind you, you could tell he discarded his own too. His hands returned to your ass which you guessed was faint red, a colour that was exceedingly a part of Minghao's life, a colour he seemingly enjoyed. Although you did want him to rail you into tomorrow, you didn't mind if he took a moment to admire what he saw. 

As though he was lost in thought about the same, Minghao dragged his dick along your folds, his length bumping your clit and sending a jolt down your nerves, before he aligned himself.

“W-wait” Looking at his friend, Soonyoung let out a strangled cry. “She hasn't been prepped-”

“Oh Kwon.” You felt his tip pushing into your needy wet hole. “She's already ready for me.” 

And with that he buried himself to the hilt, the suddenness making you choke around Soonyoung’s length much to the latter's surprise and delight. Barely giving you the time to get a hold of yourself, Minghao began thrusting into you, the force pushing your mouth to take more of Soonyoung, your hands painfully gripping his thighs. The older man, who could have been a little more considerate, also began ramming his dick into your mouth, barely allowing you to breathe. 

You could feel yourself losing a grip on reality, one man fucking you onto another - you never thought you would ever find yourself in a situation like this but here you were, being wrecked on both ends by men who were strangers just a week ago but god did it feel good. 

Minghao bunched the material of your shirt, pushing it up along your spine, as you pulled yourself away from Soonyoung, desperate to get some air before you passed out. He groaned at the loss of your warm mouth but his expression turned fond as you looked up at him, drool running down your chin messily. Considering you looked absolutely fucked out, you didn't get why he was so enamoured as he tucked your hair behind your ear. 

“Shit I could watch you all day sweetie.” 

You wanted to say something back but your throat felt too sore and bruised so you settled on just giving him a sweet smile. Minghao watched the interaction between the two of you intently, his movements slowing down to deep, hard strokes. You could feel him so far in, reaching spots no one ever had before. Not even Cheol’s dildo model. 

“Do you need a breather?”

Soonyoung's concern laced voice was echoed by another one that sounded a lot more condescending.  

“Do you?”

Though you had barely gotten any air in you for so long and your eyes were threatening to roll back, you knew Minghao would only allow you to cum if Soonyoung did and man did the latter have the stamina of a bull. 

Shaking your head you spat in your hand and wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, stroking it. 

“I'm tired.” You muttered. “Fuck me Soonyoung.” 

Forgetting Minghao’s previous instructions to not use his hands, Soonyoung obeyed, gripping your hair again, guiding your mouth back to his cock. 

“Tap me twice if you want to stop.” 

Much to his surprise, you took him in at a whole new depth, making him throw his head back in pleasure as he held your head down, dick getting squeezed down your throat. At the same time the man behind you decided to pay attention to your clit, making you tremble at the combined sensation but there was nothing you could do - you were at the mercy of both men. 

As Soonyoung loosened his grip, allowing you draw back, you barely had the time to catch a breath before he was fucking his dick into your mouth, at the same speed Minghao was ravaging you from behind. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Soonyoung groaned as his movements got sloppy and his grip tight. 

“Fuck I'm gonna come.” 

Oh fucking finally. 

But to your complete surprise, you felt Minghao's weight press against your back as he leaned over you, hips not stopping their abuse on your hole, whispering, 

“Enough.” 

Although you knew it was cruel, you immediately tapped Soonyoung’s thigh and the moment he let you go confused, you pulled away, looking at him guiltily as you got on all fours.

“That's my good girl.”

“Xu Mingao.” Soonyoung groaned as the other man drew back. “What the hell?!” 

Minghao simply chuckled. “You know how much I enjoy pain.”

“Sadist.” Soonyoung mumbled, trying to push himself to the edge again, pumping his length slick with your spit, hard and fast. 

“Oh no.” Minghao shook his head, continuing to fuck the living daylights out of you. “If you cum I'm not letting you get a taste of this.”

“That's for Y/n to tell.” 

“Tell him doll.” 

You didn't know how he expected you to answer as he rolled his hips against your ass, hitting all the spots.

“Tell him what you want.” 

“Don't you…” You moaned as Minghao tightened his grip on you painfully. “Don't you want to cum inside me?”

Muttering under his breath, Soonyoung looked at you with eyes filled with lust. You could tell he was leaning to kiss you, but suddenly Minghao's hand wrapped around your neck, drawing you away. 

Sitting on his ankles, he pulled you back till your thighs rested on him and stripped you of your shirt, baring your body to Soonyoung like a mannequin on display. 

“Didn't you say you could watch her all day?” He smirked at the older man, hand snaking around your waist. “Now watch.” 

You finally seem to understand where the shift in intentions was coming from as he began snapping his hips up into you. Though he wasn't hitting you as deep, his fingers found your clit again and was tightening that knot in you unbelievably fast, your body growing hot and tense. 

It was the sound of Soonyoung’s soft sigh that brought you attention back to him as he watched where Minghao disappeared into you with unwavering eyes, fully discarding his pants. When you let out another unholy moan, he looked up, not before his eyes lingered at your tits, his tongue running along his lower lip ravenously. At the sight of him and with Minghao hitting that spot once again, you finally convulsed around him, your orgasm hitting you with an intensity it never had before. Under your grip as tight as a vice, Minghao swore in your ear as he came too, ropes of his release painting your insides. 

It was only when his warmth hit your walls that you realised he had not worn a condom and you had not cared.

Before you could justify to yourself that Demigods probably didn't get STDs and it didn't matter, Minghao pulled himself out, depriving you of his girth to clamp around. With a swift movement that was all a blur to you, he manhandled you around till you felt your back aligning against Soonyoung’s chest, the latter spreading your legs apart, the mixed releases leaking out of you, onto his dick. 

“Just a little longer.” Minghao tilted your head up by the chin, face hovering over yours. “Be a doll will you?”

You nodded as Soonyoung slipped himself into you with a groan. 

“Fuck I don't think I'm going to last long enough anyways.” 

Considering you still hadn't even fully come down from your orgasm yet, Soonyoung's intrusion felt like an intense surge of pleasure shooting up your being. Overwhelmingly, in less than a thrust or two, you found yourself cumming again almost immediately, walls fluttering, tightening around him. 

Muttering a string of fucks, Soonyoung bit down on your shoulder, his hips moving erratically as he felt himself nearing his high. Cooing into his ear though his thrusts were starting to get painful given your sensitivity, you rolled your hips and with two sharp jerks, Soonyoung finally emptied his load straight into you, cumming copiously. 

As he softly held you against him, letting your breaths slowly become regular again, your vision finally cleared and you caught sight of a half naked Minghao before you, watching you snuggled in the arms of his friend. Your eyes ran down, finally catching sight of the dick that had been inside you, lips curling into a small smile. 

“Good?” 

He asked, scanning your features as he slid off the bed.

“So good.” You muttered, beckoning him with your hand. 

Narrowing his eyes confused, he walked around, picking up all the clothes tossed around before he neared you. Pulling him closer to the edge of the bed by the hand, you wrapped your hand around his dick, leaning over to take it in your mouth. As you licked it clean, tasting your mixed releases along his length, you watched his eyes darken. 

“Just wanted to be fair.” 

“You're not satiated are you?” He smirked amused as you slowly shook your head. “Careful doll, you won't be able to stay conscious through another round with us.” 

“I know..” You muttered, snuggling back into Soonyoung’s chest. “I’m tired. Wanna go back.” 

“Let's clean you and get you dressed first.” Soonyoung patted your head softly, unwilling to move as your eyes began fluttering shut. “Hao, open that third drawer under the sink, there's washcloths in there.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“This is my gir- ex girfriend's room.” Soonyoung muttered. 

That information seemed to surprise even Minghao who was usually quite unfazed. “You're crazy Kwon.” 

He voiced your thoughts as he disappeared into the bathroom, shaking his head. Within seconds he returned, handing a white towel to Soonyoung who slowly wiped you clean, trying not to brush any sensitive areas.

Just as he finished and his lips softly pressed against your temple asking you not to fall asleep, the sound of a knock resounded in the room, along with a voice.

“Anyone from Camp Seventeen here?” 

“Yes.” Minghao and Soonyoung replied at the same time.

“Someone is here looking for your team. Says it's code yellow.” 

You watched as the boys shared looks, panicked. Slowly pulling himself away from you, Soonyoung caught the clothes Minghao threw to him, the two of them moving quickly to dress themselves.Pulling your hair into a neat ponytail again and trying to ignore your aching body, you swung your legs off the bed.

“What’s going on?” 

“Get dressed.” Minghao handed you your clothes, looking tense. “When a team member calls a code, it means everyone needs to gather immediately.” 

 You nodded, half understanding as you began to dress yourself. “But what's code yellow?” 

Looking at your shivering self, Minghao threw you his hoodie, which you slipped on, letting it envelop you in its warmth. 

“Yellow is a moderate danger alert.” Soonyoung held the door open for you as Minghao stepped out. “It most likely means the camp is under attack.”

Oh fuck. 

Pushing through the crowd, you followed the boys downstairs, trying not to lose them in their hurry. Noticing you lagging behind thanks to the fact that you were struggling to walk, Soonyoung grabbed your hand, wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seokmin and Joshua laughing away with a group of girls but before you could call them along, you were dragged away in the urgency of the boys you were with. As you reached the front door, coming to a halt right behind Minghao, your eyes fell on the familiar back of a man leaning against the frame. 

Oh no.

“Chief.” 

Seungcheol turned as both boys bowed, greeting him. 

You simply stared wordlessly, as the blonde man's eyes found you, flickering from the jacket you had donned, to Soonyoung's hand which was still holding yours. 

Behind him lightning cracked opened the sky and rain began pouring furiously. 

a/n - please send me your thoughts - this series is waaaay out of my comfort zone, I need to know I'm not completely messing shit up and if I missed you in the taglist, please lmk! Also please be patient for chapter 3 - I have to temporarily shift focus to my other stories as well, I will be back here soon!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 6

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5

In the next letter, Eddie makes no comment about their differing opinions. Chrissy knew he wouldn’t. She doesn’t know Eddie, not really, but he’s never seemed like the kind of guy who’d stop talking to someone over such shallow, small differences, no matter how he comes off in his little cafeteria rants.

       Secret Admirer,

       You’re enough, just the way you are, brown eyes and all. I bet they’re real pretty. I could look into them for hours, mesmerized by every color differentiation, spend days counting every one of your eye lashes.

       Just say the word—I’ll pick you up in my van and we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time. I’ll wear my silver jewelry, and you can wear gold. I bet your hands would look real pretty wrapped up in mine.

       I’ll be a gentleman, sweetheart, I swear.

       Only the best for you.

       Yours,

       Eddie

       P.S. Romantic meeting spot. I can’t wait to put this note right next to your heart. Next time maybe I can put my letter in Moby Dick. After all, you’re my white whale, baby, I’m always looking for you.

She likes Eddie, really she does, but the way Steve blushes as he hands the letter to her is ridiculous. The guy’s not exactly smooth, or suave, or any of the things that should leave Steve all hot and bothered.

Still, she dutifully helps him write his reply:

       Eddie —

       Maybe someday, we’ll get to go to that movie. When we do, you don’t have to be a gentleman at all—I’m easy, if it’s for you, and it would be such a waste not to make use of all that space in your van.

       I don’t have any rings, but if I did, I think I’d want one of yours. That way, whenever I look down at them, I’d be reminded of you.

       How was your day? All I want to do is ask and hear your reply.

       Yours, always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I’ll search the seas for you.

“I know he’s your friend, but I just don’t get it,” Chrissy says to Jeff, walking close enough to his side that their shoulders brush. “The guy looks like a mangy poodle, and he’s not exactly Shakespeare.”

Jeff snorts. “Hey, he’s at least a cute mangy poodle,” he replies, bumping their shoulders purposefully this time.

“I guess if you’re into that sort of thing,” she mutters, and somehow, Steve is. It still shocks her, sometimes, when she thinks about it too much.

“The heart wants what it wants,” Jeff says, sounding wise, but when she glances at him, he’s grinning, eyebrows jumping up and down at her like this is all just some joke.

She scoffs, “I just wish what Steve wanted wasn’t leading toward a broken heart.”

Jeff’s expression drops at that, mouth pursing. He’s quiet all the way to Eddie’s locker. She slips Steve’s letter between the slats and keeps walking, only stopping when she realizes Jeff’s no longer beside her. When she turns around, he’s staring at Eddie’s closed locker like it holds the answers to the universe.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, finally turning back toward her and catching back up with quick strides.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, at a loss for what to say. She can’t see it, but for all the letters she’s helped write, her and Eddie aren’t friends. She doesn’t know him as well as Jeff, who’s been by his side for years, or even as well as Steve, who watches him every chance he can get.

“Yeah, maybe,” she replies, unwilling to let any hope build, not when it’s Steve’s heart on the line. “Want a ride home?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jeff replies.

And when he slides into her passenger seat, she feels a little less alone.

The letters keep coming, and Steve keeps blushing and pushing them across the table at her.

       Secret Admirer,

       Oh, a flirty one, aren’t you? I like it. But maybe I’m shy, did you ever think about that? Maybe I want to walk you to your door, slide one of my rings on your finger, and give you a little kiss. You can pick the ring, baby—I’ll even resize it to fit you just right.

       My days are always brighter when I hear from you. I go to the quarry on Wednesday’s to peddle my wares, but all I want to do is go home and play my guitar (my sweetheart). I’m writing a new song and I really want to get it down by next week’s practice, but I’m stuck on a riff I just can’t get right.

       Do you play any instruments?

       Sincerely,

       Eddie

       P.S. You’re going to make me swoon, babygirl.

And Steve keeps responding using Chrissy’s pen and Chrissy’s brain, and his own bleeding heart.

       Eddie —

       My mom made me take piano lessons when I was little, but my dad refused to keep paying for them. I didn’t want to at first, but I really liked it. Maybe I’ll brush up my skills so I can play a song for you. Any requests?

       Does your band play anywhere? I remember you from the middle school talent show, are you still going by Corroded Coffin? I bet you look hot when you play—I want to see it, someday. Your rings would glint under show lights, hypnotizing the entire audience. Especially me.

       Did you figure out your riff? I’m waiting with bated breath.

       Sincerely,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. leave this one in The Taming of the Shrew.

She wants to build a cage and lock him inside, or shake him and shake him until he sees what a risk he’s taking. Jeff might not see it, his priorities are different. But her first concern is Steve, always will be Steve, whose heart isn’t the only thing on the line. And she can feel it coming—the moment, inevitably, when this whole thing falls to pieces.

       Secret Admirer,

       Have you read this play? It’s not the romantic story you think it is. Since you’re already holding the book, why not check it out? I promise not to look at the checkout card to figure out who you are (I say, unrepentantly lying).

       My band actually just got our first gig at the Hideout. It’s next Tuesday, and you should come! I would love to see you in the audience, cheering me on. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries, but darling, I want to see you. Will you come? Please?

       Thinking of you, always,

       Eddie

Chrissy doesn’t want to stand by and watch Steve Harrington break.

*** 

Part of Eddie wonders if he won’t get another letter—if she’ll just show up at the Hideout next Tuesday with a smile. Still, when he hasn’t received an answer for a couple days, he checks if anyone’s checked out The Taming of the Shrew, but no, it’s still there, nestled on its shelf in the library, Eddie’s damning letter no longer inside.

He’s starting to wonder if he made a terrible mistake.

It’s happenstance, the way he finds out. He could have just as easily not forgotten his campaign notes. He could have been prepared, and not left all his little sheep moaning and groaning about what amounts to a five minute delay, if he’s quick about it.

He could have, but he didn’t.

Instead, Eddie stands at the end of the hall, transfixed, as he watches Chrissy Cunningham’s distinctive high ponytail sway back and forth as she walks away. From his locker. Where he just saw her slip something in.

She’s well out of sight before Eddie walks up to the looming hunk of metal on shaky legs. It takes three tries to get it open, and there, for all and sundry to see, is an envelope with his name written in a familiar scrawl.

He doesn’t open it.

“What took so long?” Doug gripes as Eddie shuffles back into the room, clutching his notebook to his chest.

Eddie walks slowly to his throne without replying, eyes still unfocused and fixed on the swishing of Chrissy’s hair.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asks.

Eddie shakes the thoughts out of his head, leans back on his throne, and smiles. “Sometimes a quester is besieged on his travels and must defeat a mighty foe before he can return from whence he came.” He says it with all the gravitas of his dungeon master voice.

Doug laughs, Gareth rolls his eyes, but Jeff’s eyes are narrowed on his face for the next ten minutes until he gets sucked into the campaign. And Eddie? Eddie’s heart isn’t in it. No matter how determined he is to put it out of his mind, it keeps sticking to his neurons.

Because Chrissy? She’s nice, sure. And pretty, definitely. Her hair’s…nice? Bouncy? It’s probably soft. And yeah, she’s a jock, but she’s not like most of them—too kind to give a kid a swirly or call any of the other girls fat.

Which brings him to the King of the jocks, Steve Harrington, whose name is practically branded on Chrissy’s shoulders by this point, whose arm is pretty much super-glued around her waist. Steve, with his perfect hair, and long eyelashes, and those big brown eyes, and all those muscles.

Something too squirmy to be hatred sinks in his gut. Jealousy, maybe? Because how could someone like him compete with King Steve for a lady’s hand, love notes or no?

He’s distracted for the rest of the campaign, says half-hearted goodbyes to the boys before finally closing the van door on them and driving away.

When he opens the letter in the safety of his bedroom, it’s shorter than usual:

  Eddie —

  There’s nothing more I want than to see you up on that stage, rocking out, in your element, but I’m just not ready. I hope you’ll forgive me.

  Yours,

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. If you still want to respond, I’ll look in the big print edition of The Hobbit.

He goes over the words again and again, finger running along the lines of each character, trying to picture Chrissy pouring over them with her pen.  He loves all the words in all the letters, wants to carve them all on his skin, helplessly charmed by each vulnerability shared.

He can’t quite make the words fit the girl.

Eddie still drops his next reply in the big print edition of The Hobbit the next morning. He watches Chrissy all day. He’s surprised, somehow, when she meets his eyes once across the insurmountable distances between them in the lunchroom. She ducks her head immediately and blushes, even with Harrington’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

There isn’t another note by the end of the day.

“So, wait,” Gareth says, stoned out of his mind and sprawled out on Eddie’s bed after the hell they call education finally released them. “You’re saying Chrissy has been leaving you all those notes?”

Eddie spins around in his desk chair, but it’s not one of those fancy wheeled ones that Harrington probably has, so he’s forced to turn and straddle the back, letting his head hang over the headrest as he groans.

“For the last time, yes!” he says, more to the little bits of his carpet that he can see than to Gareth himself. “It’s Chrissy!”

Gareth takes another hit, blowing smoke toward Eddie’s ceiling to swirl around and join the rest of the stains up there. “Are you sure it wasn’t just someone who looked like her? How close to her were you?”

Eddie groans again, shuffles off his uncomfortable chair to flop beside Gareth and steal his joint back. “She was wearing a cheerleading uniform, man,” he says before taking a puff and letting all the smoke out with his next words. “And no one else on the team has that color hair.”

Gareth hums, twisting on his side to burrow his head into Eddie’s only pillow. “What is that color even? Like, blond but with a weird red in it? What’s it called, bluh-red?”

He laughs like that’s the funniest joke in the world, so Eddie doesn’t hand back the joint, just pulls on it until he’s down to the quick and ashes it on his nightstand as Gareth whines.

“It’s strawberry blond, you idiot.”

Gareth wrinkles his nose at that. “That’s a stupid name.”

Eddie smacks his hand out, lets it hit Gareth’s arm with a solid thwack. “You’re supposed to be helping me!”

“With what?” Gareth replies, rolling away from Eddie when he goes to hit him again. He ends up on Eddie’s floor, fall cushioned by all of his dirty clothes scattered about. “Just like, talk to her?”

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Eddie demands. Gareth doesn’t seem to be understanding the severity of the situation. “Whose head cheerleader and, oh yeah, dating Steve Harrington?”

“So what? The guy’s a douche,” Gareth replies.

Instead of getting back up on the bed, he snuggles further into Eddie’s dirty clothes, rolling around like a pig in a mud puddle until he’s got enough of Eddie’s discarded shirts on him to function as a makeshift blanket.

Harrington is a douche. He’s got to spend an obscene amount of time on his hair in the morning, and he hangs out with those hyenas on the basketball team all the time, and he’s Steve Harrington. Rich kid, lady killer, King Steve Harrington.

Maybe all Chrissy really wants is an excuse to leave him. If that’s what his lady wants, he will provide.

*** 

Steve’s been sitting on Eddie’s letter for a few days now, at a loss for what to say. He puts it under his pillow at night, hoping the perfect answer will come to him in his dreams. He finds himself unfolding it and refolding it again and again, wondering if the words will change.

  Darling,

  If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t blame me for trying, can you? Even still, I’ll be singing just for you.

  Of course I still want your letters, never doubt that. They’re still, always, forever, the best part of my day.

  Always,

  Eddie

  P.S. Excellent choice in hiding places, have you read it?

It’s just, a big part of him had expected Steve’s dismissal of meeting up would end this thing they have. He’d braced for it, and instead, Eddie was sweet.

And Steve can’t give him what he wants, isn’t what he wants, so he keeps the letter with him and stews on it, Chrissy sending him worried looks when she thinks he’s not paying attention.

No matter how lost in thought he is, a part of him is always tuned into Eddie’s presence, so he sees him coming before Chrissy does.

“Miss Cunningham,” Eddie says, leaning forward like a gallant knight as he takes her small hand in one of his own. She jumps, eyes darting up from her lunch to meet Eddie’s own. “Can I have this dance?”

The rest of the lunch table titters. It might have been charming, if they were at a dance, or anywhere aside from shoehorned to the side of the table with all of Steve’s shitty friends laughing.

It might have been charming if Eddie’d looked at Steve at all.

Chrissy’s sure looking at him, though—eyes all wide in her face as she shifts her gaze back and forth from Steve sitting across from her to Eddie crouched at her side.

“Um—” is all she gets out before Jason stands from the far end of the table and starts taking threatening steps forward.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Freak?” Jason demands, chin raised.

Steve’s about ready to stand, insert himself in the whole thing, but then Eddie’s lips graze Chrissy’s hand.

Jason stumbles back like he’s been shot. Eddie grins against Chrissy’s skin, turns his gaze away from Jason, and lands on Steve. He can almost feel it on his own skin as Eddie puckers his lips again and presses another kiss to Chrissy’s skin, this time to the smooth surface of her wrist.

He never looks away from Steve.

“Um!” Chrissy says again.

Only then does Eddie break eye contact with him. He drops Chrissy’s hand, placing it gently back to the table, says, “until next time, mi amore,” and saunters away, continuing until he’s out of the cafeteria entirely.

Steve doesn’t look away until the door swings shut and blocks his view of Eddie entirely.

“What was that, Chrissy?” Jason demands. He’s moved closer while Steve was distracted, absolutely towering over her, looking more like a beleaguered father than an ex. “First Harrington, and now the Freak?”

Steve wants to defend himself, defend Eddie, defend Chrissy. But despite what Jason clearly thinks, she’s never needed defending, so he asks, “do you want to get out of here?”

“God, yes,” Chrissy sighs.

They leave their lunches uneaten and their tables unbussed, hustling out the same doors Eddie’d just sauntered through, leaving a scolding Jason in their wake. Something about devil worship and blaspheming?

Steve’s not exactly the church-going type; he’s just glad when the doors swing shut and cut off Jason’s little speech.

“What was that?” Chrissy asks in a whisper despite the deserted corridor.

“Jason?” Steve asks at his normal volume. “I don’t know, he’s always been a bit like that, hasn’t he?”

“Not Jason,” Chrissy snaps, slapping at Steve’s arm, taking any sting out of the motion by wrapping her arm in his after and reeling him right back in. “Eddie!”

Steve, who had sort of been hoping that he could pretend the whole thing had been a vivid hallucination, has nothing to say.

“Do you think he knows?” she asks, voice quiet again as she looks furtively around the deserted halls, for random passerby’s or even Eddie himself.

“About you?” Steve asks, stomach sinking even further when he continues, “or about me?”

Chrissy stumbles, eyes going impossibly wider at the thought. She pulls him into an abandoned classroom and pushes him into one of the uncomfortable chairs. She sits in front of him, looking across the desk between them like he’s a sad woodland creature she’d just hit with her car.

“He can’t know about you,” she says. “He was flirting with me.”

Steve grimaces. Chrissy’s too nice, always thinking the best in people like she doesn’t have Jason Carver as living, breathing proof that sometimes, beyond all expectations, people can suck.

“He could be fucking with me. Eddie seems like the type to play with his food.” Steve stares down at the grooves of the desk he’s seated in. Someone had carved FUCK on it in big, bold letters. Steve’s never agreed with a sentiment more. “Do you think Jeff told him?”

Chrissy shakes her head so hard that her ponytail whacks her in the face. “No way, he promised!” she reminds him.

Jeff seems like a good guy, but Steve’s not sure how far that goes. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to trust like that, not with this.

“Well, what do we do?” Steve asks. “Should you just flirt back next time?”

Chrissy bites her lip, worrying at the dry skin there until Steve taps her chin in reminder, and she puts her teeth back in her mouth.

“Maybe it won’t happen again?”

Steve sighs, thunking his head down against the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmurs into the wood, Chrissy’s hand patting his shoulder a paltry consolation to the nightmare he’s found himself in.

*** 

It happens again.

“Carry your books, my lady?” Eddie asks. He’s already got his hands out expectantly, but he’s too much of a gentleman to make a move without her say-so.

She watches his hopeful grin for a moment before sliding her pile of books into his awaiting arms. Once secured, he does an endearing little fist bump before taking up residence at her side like it's his birthright.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” he asks, almost sounding clueless enough to convince her, if it wasn’t for that little smirk on his lips.

Everyone in the hallways are giving them a wide berth, clearly shocked by the unexpected pair. It’s nice, almost, to be given so much space. But—

But.

“You know I’m with Steve, right?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie grimaces, like just hearing Steve’s name is enough to sour his mood. “What, is it illegal to walk a pretty girl to class now?” he asks.

Chrissy’s own mood sinks to the pits, and she sighs, disappointed. “No,” she replies before letting the silence between them linger uncomfortably.

Eddie’s fidgeting with her books, anxious fingers fluttering against the loose pages of one of her notebooks, and his eyes dart toward her every couple of seconds.

“Chrissy—”

“You know, for someone who spends so much time ranting about the status quo, you sure can’t seem to look past skin deep.”

Eddie jerks like she struck him. Chrissy would feel bad if she wasn’t thinking about having to tell her best friend about this in a couple hours. “I see you,” he murmurs, shifting on his feet and not meeting her gaze as he holds out her books for her to take.

When Chrissy sighs, he flinches again. “I don’t think you do,” she says, not sticking around to see how it lands.

She’s got class to get to, and a best friend’s heart to break.

Chrissy snags Steve’s hand before he can walk through the cafeteria’s swinging doors and pulls him the other way. They settle into the same, abandoned classroom in the same, abandoned seats.

“It happened again,” she says, not letting go of Steve’s hand.

He’s still got a bit of polish clinging to his nails, the chipped yellow making him look almost jaundiced with how patchy it is. She uses her own fingernail to chip at it, ignoring the sunshine yellow flakes dropping down to the empty desk separating them.

Steve doesn’t ask what happened again; he doesn’t need to.

“Did you flirt back?” he asks.

Chrissy bites her lip. “I let him carry my books.”

She hadn’t flirted, is the thing, but she hadn’t gotten rid of him either. She knew, no matter how heartbroken he looks across from her right now, he wouldn’t have wanted her to.

“Okay,” he says, like it really is, like he means it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me!” she snaps, snatching her hands back for a second before the bewildered look on his face has her reaching out again. “What are you thanking me for?”

Steve smiles—it’s small, and sad, and he’s beaming it right into her soul. “For keeping me safe.”

Chrissy groans, dropping her head onto their clasped hands and just keeps groaning. He means it—of course he does. If there’s one thing she’s learned since this whole thing started, it’s that Steve Harrington is somehow, inexplicably, too nice for his own good.

“I love you, you know,” she says, lips brushing against his skin with every word.

She’s been thinking it since he’d called her his best friend in that letter, since he’d said it and she hadn’t said it back. It sits unsaid behind her teeth every time he smiles, or frowns, or anything at all. He’s just too dang easy to love.

When he doesn’t reply, she forces herself to raise her tired head and get a look at his face. His eyes are big and round, mouth hanging open far enough that she’s tempted to close it for him, and there’s a damning sheen to his eyes that makes her own water.

“Really?” he asks, voice cracking. “You do?”

“Of course,” she replies, the way he always does to her, no matter what she asks for.

He smiles again, and it’s big this time, happy and watery around the edges as he says, “love you, too,” leaving the “I” out of the confession like that’ll somehow make the whole thing less real.

They’re smiling at each other like damn fools when Steve’s stomach growls and they dissolve into giggles.

“Buy me lunch?” she asks.

“Of course.” He jumps up from the desk and holds out his hand for her, an unknowing mirror of Eddie this morning.

She doesn’t put her books into his arms, just takes his hand.

PART 7

[imtherain]

He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part Two

Guess who finished this finally??? IT TWAS ME

Included is a lot of smut, some angst because of who I am as a person, after care, and snacks. Mostly it's smut though.

Lowkey could be in honor Deadpool and Wolverine being out on Disney+ today, but that's a coincidence I swear.

Hope you enjoy!

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

Tagging all these lovely people who lowkey helped make this happen simply by telling me they wanted more

@katsukis1wife

@gothamnighthawk

@emotrash1

@squishyfruitloop

@angeiulst

@unitedbyfreak

@chubbyhedgehog

@jessie-baby-96

Anywho, at 9433 words (I am not sorry)

My body was on fire.

I tried to breathe through it, to keep whatever madness that wanted to consume me away. I couldn’t let it consume me. I shuffled in my seat, trying to put out the flames but it mostly just shifted them around.

I had to get us home.

By the time I landed the jet at the mansion, I figured I must have lost two to three years off my life from exertion alone. Holding even one person for so long took a toll on me, and since I refused to practice the skill, holding all five of them was basically me deciding to run a marathon when I hadn’t run so much as a mile in years.

Not to mention the angry gnawing that had picked up in my center that demanded I let Logan do what he had been aiming to do to me. At some point during the flight, he had shifted in my hold, trying to break free again. But all he managed to do was flop over and land with his face on my boot.

Luckily, he stopped fighting once he was using my foot as a pillow, perhaps the contact contented him for now. Unluckily, I could feel the warmth of him against me, even through leather, and the gnawing just grew sharper and sharper until I was softly moaning to myself, pretending that rubbing myself on the seat did anything to ease the fire.

But I was in no state to care by the time the supplemental staff came to get everyone. I watched them from my seat as three people in full hazmat came onto the jet to assess the situation.

“You good, Miss Y/N?” This was Hank’s voice but I couldn’t tell where it came from.

“Golden,” I managed, my eyes squeezed shut. “Just please, get these fruitcakes unloaded so I can unfreeze them,” I sounded a little drunk and I heard Hank’s chuckle.

“You did good getting everyone home,” I could hear the smile in his voice and had it been any other situation I would have preened at the proudness he was showing. But I was trying really hard not to shove my hand down my pants and all I really wanted was to get to my room and sort myself out. After all… surely, being away from the others, away from Logan, would be enough.

“Keep everyone separated for now,” Someone commanded. Logan groaned from at my feet and I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke free of my grasp. I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but I was pretty sure no one would want to witness all that… and  knew I wouldn’t be able to fight him off for long in my current state.

I almost wondered why I’d even want to.

“We’ve got Scott and Jean secured,” I heard someone shout loud enough for me to hear. I let those two slip from my hold. It felt like pulling splinters out, a moment more of discomfort, and then a relief.

“Storm and Rouge are good,” A different voice called next. I let them go and I heard Rouge shout something profane which made me smile absently. She was apparently extra feisty when she was feeling some type of way.

Two hazmat suits came and pulled Logan away from me and I choked myself on the whine that tried to escape me at the loss. A third hazmat suit sat in the copilot's chair and I was dully aware that it was Hank.

“I did some research on Malachi Mitchelle.” His voice was soothing, in a way, to my foggy brain as his voice did not stoke the fire. I nodded. “I think I know what happened to all of you to make you so… affectionate.” 

Somewhere outside the jet a roar sounded as Logan finally got free of my powers. There was a scuffle and his voice quieted down. Even the sound of him made my thighs tense.

“Not me, I’m just sleepy,” I lied. I just needed to get away, as far away from Logan, as I could. Because I was weak and getting weaker by the second, if he came asking, I’d likely give in this time. 

And then I’d never be able to face him again.

“Good, that’s good.” Hank said. “But the others then, based on the readings we downloaded from the jet and what I was able to find on Malachi…” He coughed once, uncomfortable. “Well, let's just say, Malachi was known for making people feel good and he ended up making something that went a little too far. I’m sure that’s what they got into,” 

“How do they fix it?” I asked. My eyes were blurry and I felt kinda like my uterus was going to melt down my legs at any second. I just wanted to crawl into bed and wait it out.

“The only way out is through I’m afraid,” Hank laughed nervously.

“Oh,” I managed. Maybe I’d have to be more active in my ‘waiting it out’ plan, but whatever. As long as I got away from Logan. As long as I didn’t make him hate me.

“Are you sure you’re ok, though? You weren’t exposed?” Hank asked again. I waved him off. 

“I just beat my record time for freezing someone by a couple of minutes,” I managed a smirk as pain shot up my spine. “And I did it times five. I just need a really, really, really long nap.” Hank chuckled at my tone but nodded his head.

“Alright, you still need to be decontaminated.” He stood. “And I’ll have someone come check on you, just in case,” 

“Ok,” I mumbled. But I was not going to stick around to find out what they wanted to check. I could already feel myself straining to hear Logan’s voice, but so far all I could hear was machinery and the hazmat shower.

Someone came to get me, but it took all of my brainpower to focus on being normal. I grumbled through the decontamination spray, which was dry and unpleasant like getting sand blasted.

“Wait here,” The hazmat suit that had decontaminated me said. I didn’t recognize this voice, not that I tried hard to while I was sitting on the edge of a chair, trying really hard to not call out for Logan. I knew he was in the medbay somewhere, we all were. I also knew that if I called his name he would come running and he’d be able to ease the burning ache in my core.

But I didn’t want that. 

I didn’t want him to want me just because of some stupid sex pollen. I knew Hank said the only way out was through, and from the bits I’d understood from the conversation around me, that meant you had to bang whomever it was that your body craved. Which was why I hadn’t felt the urge to jump any of the staff that were helping. 

And also why I could hear Jean and Scott going at it from across the medbay, which was as awkward as it was unhelpful to the heat in my blood.

Before the hazmat suit that had helped me returned, I decided it would be best for me to just leave. Go somewhere where I couldn’t hear the sounds of Rouge and Ororo getting off too. The whole medbay sounded like a porn set and I needed to get out of it before I made a move I couldn’t take back.

I figured if I could get to my room, I could get my own rocks off enough times to get rid of this feeling. I had toys, I had batteries, I had my hands. It’d be fine. And then Logan and I could still be friends when this was all finally over.

Walking turned out to be a specific kind of torture. 

Everything hurt. While it had kind of felt like period cramps at first, the pain had shifted and spread out. It was like my skin was trying to eat itself, like my bones were made out of razor blades. I stumbled along the hall and into the elevator to go up to where the adult dorms were.

I didn’t recall the dorms being so far away.

I leaned on the wall, thankful that the metal elevator wall was at least cool against my burning skin. Maybe I’d need to take a cold shower too. But the thought of even that made me whimper in displeasure. I knew what my body wanted, what I probably needed, and yet I so desperately denied it. 

I just needed to get to my room. To cool off. To calm down. To hold on just a little bit tighter. 

My suit was uncomfortable on my skin, I could feel the seams as though they were also razors like my bones. I was beginning to wonder if I’d made the right decision. It wouldn’t be the first time my pride or whatever, got in the way of feeling better.

The hallway seemed longer than normal as I shuffled my way to my room. It wasn’t very late in the day, and most people that lived in this wing were elsewhere and preoccupied, so I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing my moaning as I made my way past each door. 

Only three more doors until mine, but that felt like so far to go. Too far maybe. Maybe I could curl up out here in the hall and let the pain take me.

Every step shot lightning through my limbs that ricocheted around in my rib cage. My core felt like it had been filled with angry bees. I paused long enough to try to squeeze my legs together, to get some friction, hoping it would help somehow. But it did nothing. I tried to use my hand over my suit but the only thing that did was make my knees wobble and the bees inside me sting me harder. It wasn’t the correct hand, nor nearly enough touch. 

I tried to gather my strength by leaning against the wall, but it didn’t seem to help me other than to keep me from falling on the floor.

“Y/N!” Logan’s voice was like fresh rain on a forest fire. 

I didn’t have the energy to look behind me to see him coming. I did, however, feel those frustrated and angry tears that had plagued me since being on the jet finally break free. I knew I wouldn’t be able to push him away anymore and I hated that I was so weak. 

“God, baby, look at me,” He sounded so worried for me. I wished it could mean something.

“Hurts,” Was all I was able to mumble at him. I felt his hands on my arms, turning me so my back was against the wall. So that he could look at my face. My blood seemed to hum at his nearness. Like a magnet reaching for metal.

“Hank said you didn’t get hit with the pollen,” Logan’s eyes were still hazy, but he was at least restraining himself now. “Seems you lied to him sweetheart,” His fingers brushed my cheeks and I whined as if his touch hurt.

“You…?” I tried to ask why he was handling this better than before but got cut off by a wave of pain that threatened to knock me to the floor.

“Come on,” Logan said instead. I shook my head at him and tried to pull myself off the wall, to walk away from him. But I couldn’t. I had always prided myself on being strong, a sick sort of triumph at my ability to deny myself anything I wanted and didn’t think I deserved. But with this? 

I hated how all I wanted to do was bury my face in his chest or maybe just swallow him whole.

Logan got an arm around my waist to help me stand and I felt like I was drowning in his nearness. 

I wanted to get away from him. 

I wanted to pull him closer.

When I stumbled along with him, he cursed at my slowness. He paused long enough to make a decision. His hand on my chin made me look at him, but I struggled to focus on his face when I saw him lick his dry lips. I wanted him to lick me like that. Gently, softly, thoroughly.

“Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart, just gotta get to your room or I’ll have to fuck you out here in the hall,” Logan’s voice tried to remain light, as if it were a joke of some kind. But we both knew he would do exactly that if we didn’t get behind a door.

I could only whine, low in my throat, because the pain was blooming behind my eyes like solar flares. I wondered if it would kill me if left unchecked. I wondered if that would be better than giving in.

But when Logan’s lips pressed against my sweaty forehead, I leaned into him. Another kiss on my temple drew my focus away from the burning hum in my blood. The third one landed on my jaw and I turned, trying to catch his mouth without thinking. 

I knew if he touched me just a little more, the pain would ebb. I knew it. I didn’t want to give in, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I got to taste him… just once. Maybe he’d be able to forgive me for just one kiss.

I heard him chuckle as I chased more contact. He was breathing hard, wanting more too.

He swung me up into his strong arms, bridal style, and I pressed my face into his neck while he carried me the last several feet to my room. If my brain hadn’t been so hazy, I would have marveled at how easily he’d lifted me, how easily he could carry me.

As soon as my door closed behind us, Logan set me back on the ground and buried his face in my neck, my back pressed against the wood. I had my arms around his shoulders still, fingers buried in his hair while he mouthed his way up to my ear.

“Say you want this, sweetheart,” Logan purred. I had one leg up around his hip, giving him room to press himself into me between open mouth kisses on my skin. My hips rolled into him of their own accord.

 I felt like I couldn’t bring enough air into my lungs, but somehow, I managed to speak.

“No,” My voice was torn, and my face wet. It felt like someone else had pulled the word from my chest, someone so far away from the heat of my room. 

I didn’t register the way his face contorted in confusion.

“Sweetheart,” It was his turn to whine. Annoyed at the thought I’d deny him. I knew the pollen was surely in his system still, making him want me as badly as I wanted him. 

Which was the only reason I still tried to resist.

“Didn’t want…” I panted, too many sensations running through me. “Not like this,” My arms made no move to push him away from me but my body betrayed my lungs as my leg shifted, trying to pull him closer. With him close like this, at least the ache wasn’t getting any worse.

“Like how then?” Logan asked. His hips bucked up into me and I felt the ache in waves as his body teased mine with the promise of release. 

Oh god, release.

I could only shake my head as I cried because I wanted things to be different. I wanted this to matter, wanted it to mean he liked me. But it was nothing other than a need we hadn’t asked for because of a mission that went weird, and that broke my heart.

Logan cursed to himself, kissing at the tears on my cheek.

“It’s ok pretty girl, it doesn’t have to mean anything, just… just let me help you, alright?” His voice betrayed an ache I didn’t expect in him. The kind of ache you couldn’t mask and you couldn’t fabricate.

“No, no… I want it to mean something… I don’t want - ahh - a pity fuck,” I said into his shoulder as my body tried to get more from him. I gasped each time his body bumped into mine while he held me against the door. Just being near him like this seemed to clear my head some though and I knew I should let my pride go. 

That we both needed this. 

That the only way out was through.

“It’s not pity,” Logan growled against my throat, something angry, something hurting. 

I couldn’t respond as I felt a new wave of pain and wanting crash through me, pulling a low whimper from my chest. What we were doing simply wasn’t enough. We were knocking at the door maybe, but we needed to step into the home beyond the threshold.

We couldn’t get out if we didn’t go through.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” Logan groaned, his mouth against my jaw. Begging, hardly restrained. A gentleman even when dosed with sex pollen. 

My chest ached for him.

“Won’t you hate me tomorrow?” I squeezed my eyes shut as he adjusted his grip on me, his hand was so warm on my thigh as he helped balance me.

“I could never hate you, sweet girl,” He said against my cheek, kissing a few more tears from my fevered skin. 

I nodded finally. 

I felt him grin against my cheek before he added, “I need to hear you say it, baby,” I could hear the same smile in his voice.

“I want… Want you,” It somehow still felt like a betrayal to admit it and as the moment drew on for a heartbeat too long, I thought for sure that he had realized he didn’t want me. That this had all been some elaborate ruse. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that I missed the way his face broke open into a pure joy smile.

I felt more tears in my eyes at what I thought was rejection. 

“I need you,” I pressed again, sure that if he didn’t speak, didn’t keep touching me, didn’t fuck me, I was going to die. I opened my eyes and saw his smile and my chest thawed at the happiness he showed me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him smile like that before.

Logan’s hands squeezed my hips, pulling me tight against him again so that I could feel how hard his cock was straining in his suit.

“I need you too, sweetheart,” I felt his smile against my neck before he finally, finally, covered my mouth with his.

It was like wind after rain.

Something soft that whispers about tomorrows that are brighter and hurt less.

His mouth did not cool my blood completely, but suddenly, the pain was receding. I twisted my hands in his hair, holding him to me, daring him to try to pull away. But Logan’s hands were making their way into my suit, pulling zippers and searching for skin. 

He had no plans to leave me. Thank god.

“You taste so good,” He purred, pulling away to look at my face. I was sure I looked a mess, but I had no willpower left to be embarrassed about it. His eyes were glittering with mirth and heat and something my brain wanted to believe in.

“You do too,” I panted. I didn’t remember him getting the top half of my suit off, but he was tugging the rest down my hips. When did my feet end up back on the floor?

I was wearing an undershirt and a pair of close fitting shorts under the leather suit and Logan growled at the next set of barriers.

“Too many layers,” He grumbled. I pulled him back to where I could kiss him and he seemed happy enough to lick his way into my mouth while his hand stumbled blindly along my stomach in search of the waistband of my shorts.

I mewled when his fingers brushed the skin of my hip, having found their way inside. Logan chuckled against my mouth as he glanced down to make sure he was where he thought he was.

“Bed,” I commanded, brain short circuiting at the mere thought of what was to come. His hands, one still in my shorts, moved to scoop me off my feet. Both of those wide, warm palms of his squeezing at my ass as he pulled my legs around his hips. I moaned again, surprised at the heat of him pressed into my ache, and also turned on by the very fact he could lift me so effortlessly.

“Wanted to do this for so long,” Logan murmured into my throat.

“Yeah?” Curiosity more than disbelief for once.

“Yeah, pretty girl,” He was all but purring,  kissing any skin close enough to reach as he moved us deeper into my room, aiming for the bed, but not really looking.

“How long?” I wondered out loud. Surely it couldn’t be that long, but my brain was running at about 1% cognition so I didn’t bother thinking too hard about what I was asking.

“Since that time you subbed for my class,” He said without missing a single beat. He groaned at the memory. “You were wearing a dress with little flowers on it. It stopped right at your knees and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get under that skirt,” He pulled me tighter against him, cursing at the sensation while I gasped against his shoulder.

I felt blood rush to my ears at his confession, as I hadn’t subbed for him in months, but I didn’t get to revel in it long because we’d finally made it to my bed. Logan and I toppled over onto the unmade mess I’d left my bed in that morning. 

“Fuck, I need you in my mouth,” Logan moved off of me so that he could kneel on the floor between my legs. “You going to let me taste you?” I nodded happily and he gave me a sharp-toothed grin that made me shiver. 

He easily pulled off my shorts and underwear and as soon as I was exposed to him I felt the ache rear its head again. Like hot coals dropped into my pelvis, everything was concentrated and too hot.

“Logan, please,” I whimpered. “Hurts again,” He wasted no more time and lunged headfirst into my open legs. I almost screamed at the sensation of his tongue moving up to my clit. It was too good, pure honey, and yet, entirely not enough. I reached down and got both of my hands into his hair, tugging him closer, unable to stop myself from chasing the high that was nowhere near close enough yet, by rubbing myself against his face.

Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

Logan moaned against me as he hoisted one of my legs over his shoulder. His free hand moved up my stomach, pushing its way under my shirt until he met with one final barrier, my sports bra. He grumbled vaguely, doubling down on his efforts with his mouth on my core. The lewd noise of him devouring me filled the room. If the pollen wasn’t clouding my head, I knew I’d be embarrassed, but he sounded like he was eating his favorite meal, slurping and sucking and making me see stars in a way I could only have dreamed about.

I felt his callouses slide under my bra, up through the valley between my breasts. He pulled the fabric up away from me and with a turn of his wrist, his claws sprang free just long enough to slice through the fabric that had dared hide my chest from him.

I gasped, startled, but also my core clenched at the show of force. Logan chuckled at my sharp intake of breath.

Logan made a noise low in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and whimper before he moved to explore this newly exposed skin. My fingers flexed against his scalp as his tongue brought first one, then the other, nipple to a hard peak.

My hands were beginning to shake as I clenched them tighter, pulling at his scalp. My body couldn’t focus on anything for very long, instead it simply demanded more, more, more.

“Fuck baby, you trying to pull my head off?” He teased, mindful not to leave me wanting while he spoke. He pressed his thumb against my clit and it shot electricity up my spine. I tried to shove his face back where I needed him, but he resisted me easily. I whined unhappily.

He pulled my hands from his hair so he could sit back on his heels. Logan seemed distracted as he ran his fingers through my sopping core again and I jumped and whined at each pass. He just continued to toy with me and I mewled.

“Need you,” I got out. I was breathing like I was worried I’d be pulled underwater at any second, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I could before the air got taken away.

“I know, baby, need you too,” He began to work his way out of his suit, but he kept getting distracted by my leg over his shoulder, my hands reaching for him, and his incessant urge to lean back in and run his tongue through my folds again and again and again.

As if just a single taste could sustain him.

The way we were sitting prevented me from seeing more than a flash of nudity before he settled again with his knees on the floor. Logan went back to his assault on my clit, but now he was teasing me with one of his thick fingers too. I groaned loudly when I saw his hips buck into the edge of my mattress. Simply knowing he was getting off with his tongue in me made the coil in my pelvis wind tight.

“More,” I demanded, feeling my orgasm finally building as he focused his tongue on my clit. “Logan, ‘m getting close,” 

“Good,” Logan responded with his mouth still against me. “Cum for me, wanna taste you, dreamed about what you taste like,” I felt his finger press slowly into me, his tongue still working my clit, and I bucked my hips up as he stopped to look at what he was doing.

“Logan,” I complained. I felt his finger slide in farther and we both cursed at the feeling of my walls gripping him. I had never been so desperate for friction in my entire life.

“So tight, so perfect for me,” Logan murmured. I just nodded as he worked another finger in with the first and I arched off the bed, chasing my high. I felt his free hand press on my hip to keep me here on earth with him as he pumped those two wicked fingers in and out, licking at my clit all the while, as though it were his favorite brand of lollipop.

I couldn’t warn him before I actually came.

My ears were ringing as my body burst into a million pinpricks of light. Nothing else mattered as the waves came up and broke over me, Logan pushing me far past where I would have stopped had I been alone. When my pieces resettled into a sentient being I got only a few moments of clarity before the pollen pulled me back under.

But in those few moments, I saw how much love and affection Logan had in his eyes as he looked up at me from between my legs. He looked like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

“How was that?” Logan asked with the sort of grin that told me he knew exactly how that was.

“How are you not as horny as I am?” I complained. With a chuckle he kissed the inside of my thigh and then kissed his way up to my throat. My legs instinctively circled his hips, ready for more of him. I felt the heat of his length slide along my ass as I held him to me.

“Hank gave me something to take the edge off, some sedative,” Logan admitted dismissively. “Said he didn’t want me hurting anyone before we got ourselves sorted out,” 

“Oh,” I felt his teeth teasing the soft skin below my ear and I wiggled a bit because it tickled.

“But it’s wearing off fast,” he added cheerfully. “So I hope you’re ready for another,” 

“God yes. Please,” I whined at the thought of another orgasm. The first one had done wonders for the fire in my blood, but it wasn’t gone by any means. My bones were still feeling too sharp any time he stopped touching me.

Logan chuckled at my eagerness, but kissed me anyway. I happily parted my lips for him as he deepened the kiss. I felt his hand, warm on my hip, as he adjusted me so he could slot himself better between my thighs as our tongues took turns tasting each other. 

We both groaned when his dick slid past my clit the first time. Another pass and we became creatures of feeling and nothing more. 

Funny how you could dream of something and once you face the reality of it, it is so different. No matter what you think you know of the matter, you're so deliciously wrong. 

When Logan finally pressed his tip into me, I swear the world ended. Inch by inch he filled that emptiness inside of me, pushing out any lingering thoughts of him not wanting me. 

My fingers dug into his skin and he groaned lowly into my neck. 

“Fuck,” he growled. “Relax for me, baby,”

“Can’t,” I forced the word out as my whole body tensed up. It felt amazing to be filled, but the intrusion was also new to me. My muscles didn’t know what to do with him, but they loved the feel of him simply being there, a pleasant burn, a wondrous sort of ache.

“Breathe,” he panted. “I can't move with you squeezing me so tight,” 

“Sorry,” I had my eyes squeezed shut, trying to focus on letting my body adjust to him. He was bigger than anything I'd even used myself and I had no idea how he'd managed to fit. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I felt Logan's hand rubbing circles on my hip. “Just take a deep breath for me, sweetheart,” the pet name made me whimper as the pollen demanded friction I wasn't getting. 

A shaky breath escaped me. Then another. 

“That's it, keep breathing for me, just like that,” Logan praised me and I felt my face flame in pleasure. I could feel my muscles finally loosen as he pressed gentle kisses along my throat. “I'm gonna move now,” he warned. I nodded quickly, eyes still shut. 

He pulled his hips back slowly, then pressed himself back in, this time somehow farther into me than he was before. My head felt hazy as he did it again. And again. And again. I could only let out little groans of pleasure as he split me apart.

“Look at me, baby,” Logan had a hand on my face again, holding me so he could look into my eyes when I finally opened them. “Doing ok?” 

I nodded almost sleepily, feeling like every brain cell I'd ever grown was knocked out of my skull. 

“I need you to say it, pretty girl,” he whispered, a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth. The pet name made me clench around him and he cursed to himself at the feeling. 

“I'm good,” I managed, wondering if I should pick a pet name for him too. But he seemed to be hogging them all. 

“That's my girl,” Logan kissed my mouth again and I could taste his grin. 

Pretty quickly it became clear his sedative had worn off completely. 

The wild look from the jet came back to his eyes as he hoisted my legs up higher in his waist, drilling down into me as I continued to whimper. It felt like he was trying to mold me to the shape of him, so that no other dick would ever fit me quite right. 

I wouldn't mind if that were true. 

When his thumb pressed on my clit again I bucked up into him, arching off the bed. Logan chuckled and rubbed tight circles on the nub until I was crying from the stimulation. 

“Need you to come for me again, sweetheart,” 

“Trying to,” I huffed out, blinded by how easy it seemed for him to lift my hips and reposition me. I knew I weighed more than he did, it came up as a joke once and never left me alone. But he didn't seem to notice or care. 

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” he begged, his other hand, the one not preoccupied with my clit, moved to tug at one of my nipples. My fingers dug into his biceps as the orgasm wound itself tight around my pelvis. I swear I could feel my nails digging in, past his skin, into the meat of him. “Fuck - give it to me,”

If he noticed how far my nails dug into him, he didn’t care, redoubling his efforts with the movement of his hips against mine.

“Almost, almost,” I chanted. “Almost,” it was just babbling now but he understood. 

It felt like heaven having something so large to clench around as the orgasm snapped through me. Doubly so when Logan's hips jerked a moment after my tremors ended and he filled me in a new way. 

For a brilliant moment, the pain was entirely gone.

We lay panting, trying to catch the breath we’d stolen from each other. Logan chuckled, but it turned into a growl as he pulled himself out of me. I couldn’t help but gasp at the loss of him.

“You got another one for me?” Logan asked, pressing open mouth kisses along my neck and chest. I closed my eyes, trying to sear this memory into my brain so I could look back at the feeling of it, not just the knowledge that it had happened.

“Yeah,” I finally sighed, a contented noise, as the warmth that lingered in me spread out again and began to smolder. The pollen really must take a while to get out of one’s system… but I found that I didn’t really mind. “Just tired is all,” 

“Poor baby,” Logan teased. “Come ‘ere,” He pulled me around so that he was behind me.

“Logan?” I questioned. 

“Just let me take care of you,” He purred, nibbling his way across my shoulder to my ear. “Or don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I said, confused as to what trust had to do with it. I trusted him with most things, if not everything outside of this room. So why not with this thing, inside the room? 

“Good, now just relax and let me take care of my pretty girl,” he nipped at my earlobe as my face grew warm at his affections. This pollen was cruel if it made him so sweet only to take it away. But I didn’t find myself wanting to do anything I wouldn’t normally want to do, so maybe…just maybe…

“Ok,” I moved my head to catch his lips, and for a moment that distracted him from whatever it was he was originally planning when he got us situated on our sides, spooning, his front warm against my back.

When his calloused fingers bit into the meat of my thigh and lifted my leg up and and back to rest it over his, it quickly became clear what his plan was.

Logan shifted a bit so he could actually line himself up with me, but sank into me, deeper somehow, than ever before. I let out a pathetic noise at the sensation of being filled from this new angle. 

“Shh, shh,” Logan hushed me, placing softer kisses on my exposed and sweaty skin. “Just like before, sweetheart, breathe,” It took less attempts to fill my lungs this time, my muscles relaxing enough to let him push and pull himself through me with practiced ease.

“Feels good,” I told him, wanting him to know I was still enjoying this.

“Good, baby,” I felt him smile against my neck. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” When he rocked his hips forward, I couldn’t help but moan instead of respond.

Logan slid his other arm beneath me, the muscles fitting perfectly into the curve of my natural waist. I’d have thought my stomach would be off putting to him, but here he was fondling it, fondling me, while also sliding so deep inside of me that I was surprised I was still breathing.

Somehow, the next orgasm felt deeper, stronger, and snuck up on me too.

I came with a cry, the sound a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure.

“Gonna cum again,” Logan warned me. “With you milking me like that, can’t…can’t help myself,” he clarified as though I’d asked or he was embarrassed.

“Please,” I begged, eyes wet. When I moaned, the drag of his cock through my folds beginning to overstimulate me, Logan bucked his hips harder once.

“Make that noise again,” he begged in return. I was happy enough to oblige. The next moan fed into his low roar as he spilled himself for the second time into my waiting heat.

When he made to pull himself out again, I whined and scooted back against him.

“Don’t leave me yet,” I mumbled, half asleep suddenly.

“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” His arms wrapped around me then and he held me close to his chest, still buried to the hilt inside me. I sighed happily.

“When you pulled out last time, the pain came back right away,” I told him.

“Oh, is that why?” He asked skeptically. 

“And it feels good,” I mumbled, my eyes closing. “Like you inside me,” But right as I was about to fall asleep, a shot went through me. Like static pains as your limbs wake up, having been asleep too long.

I felt my heart rate pick back up and my breathing came out harder.

“Back already?” Logan mused.

“I guess so,” I mourned the loss of rest, but was not opposed to more shenanigans with the man in my bed. I’d thought if he stayed inside me the pollen would wait.

“Lucky for you, I can go all night, pollen or not.” Logan bragged. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know exactly how pleased with himself his smirk would be.

“Even with that sedative?” I smirked, but I whined as Logan pulled himself out of me. He just readjusted us so that I was flat on my back and he was looking down at me. He looked like heaven resting his weight on his elbows next to my head. He was so close, he smelled so good, and for at least this one moment, he was entirely mine.

“Sweetheart, that’s been out of my system for ages,” He leaned down to cover my mouth with his and I couldn’t help but reach up and tangle my fists in his hair. He chuckled against my tongue when I pulled to keep him close to me.

“Oh,” I said, rather shyly. 

“Why? Have I not been giving it to you hard enough?” Logan’s voice was mostly teasing, but he moved to take my bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged enough that it pulled a gasp from my chest, before he let go.

“You saying you can’t go harder?” I wasn’t sure why I pushed him, and I could blame the pollen… or I could blame all the romance novels I’d read where every sex scene was dotted with harder, harder, harder!

“Oh honey, be careful,” Logan warned, mirth and something fiery in his eyes…animalistic joy at the thought of harder.

“Oh honey,” I mocked him. “I dare you,” I used the same mocking tone and was not surprised when he growled and descended on me like a lion on a baby gazelle. 

All teeth and tongue and primal heat.

I lost count of the orgasms he pulled from me. All I knew was that I would never be able to face him if he decided that this meant nothing after all because I would never stop craving him. Having had a taste of Logan, even if it had been coerced by a silly plant, I knew I’d never crave anything else.

“You still with me, pretty?” Logan’s voice made me open my eyes again.

“Mhmm,” I murmured, reaching out to get my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, just hugging him to me like he was the teddy bear I needed to fall asleep. He pressed his forehead into mine. I hummed, happy to have him in my arms. He pressed a few chaste kisses to my lips, gentle and sweet. 

“Do you need another?” Logan’s voice was slightly worried but I just shook my head. The feeling of the pollen clouding my head, clogging my veins… that feeling that my bones were too sharp… was entirely gone now. I was left to bask in the afterglow and tiredness of what we’d done.

“Do you, handsome?” The pet name tasted funny but I figured I could go one more round if he needed to. After all, it would only be fair.

“I was good two orgasms ago,” Logan admitted. I clicked my tongue, giving him a scandalized look.

“What?” I asked, sounding a bit like I thought he was lying.

“Yeah, the pollen was out of my head probably two ago,” He kissed the tip of my nose as I wrinkled it at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Didn’t want to cut the fun short,” Logan smirked. “Plus, you still smelled wrong,” 

“Oh thanks,” I rolled my eyes, feeling more like myself than I had in what feels like weeks.

“You smell much better without that sickly sweet pollen on you,” Logan assured me. He kissed the edge of my mouth, asking permission to kiss me properly. I moved to catch his lips and he purred against me. “You taste better without it too,” 

“Mmm,” I made a noise of agreement because the tiredness was back.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up, then I’ll be back to clean you up, ok sweetheart?” Logan asked, his knuckles running along my side. I nodded, feeling sleep coming for me. The last thing I heard was Logan chuckle as he moved across the room to my ensuite.

I was face down, when Logan returned. Most of my bedding had been tossed aside at one point or another, the pillows were gone and all that remained were the sheets. The fitted sheet had popped off one corner and the other sheet was only enough to cover my nudity, but it was cold and damp in far too many spots to be any sort of comfortable.

“How ya feeling, love?” Logan asked, crouching down next to where my head was. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but it was clear he’d showered since I’d seen him last. I was the wrong way round on my bed, arms curled into my naked chest because I was cold.

“Sticky… sore… cold,” I mumbled. “And tired, but I really want a shower,” 

“Come on,” He moved to help me up and I grumbled the entire time. Logan just chuckled as he helped me into the bathroom. “Want help showering?”

“No, I’m ok,” I told him. Something about how gently he was speaking kept me from making any snide comments that may have normally slipped free. I wondered if he was being nice because he was a gentleman, or if it was because he genuinely cared. I wondered if it could maybe be a bit of both.

He reached to start the shower anyway.

“Do you want me to be here when you get out?” Logan’s voice almost hid his fear of rejection.

“Do you want to be?” I countered him, unsure if he should want to remain in my space after… all that.

“Of course,” He turned to place a gentle kiss on my forehead and I leaned into him.

“Please be here when I get out,” I said, catching his eye. He nodded as I got into the waiting warm water.

As I stood in the shower, my brain finally clear, I couldn’t help but wonder what came next. 

Would Logan want to date me after all this? Would he want to just fuck? Would he want anything to do with me at all? 

Would he remember saying he wanted me?

Instead of spiraling, I forced myself to focus on washing the sweat off my skin. I found several spots marked with Logan’s teeth, all of which were bruised or bruising. I felt my face get the sort of warm that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water running down my back.

I washed my hair, I washed my skin. I washed the evidence of fucking from between my legs. Something in me mourned the loss, if only because with the mess gone, there was less evidence that, even for a moment, he’d wanted me like that.

Eventually, I turned the shower off and wrapped myself in my towel, which was damp since someone had already used it.

“Logan!” I grumbled loudly. “You got my towel all wet!” It didn’t really matter but I was hoping he’d still be there for me to be grumpy with and it was easier than asking if he was there.

Logan appeared in the bathroom doorway, shirtless still, and wearing a pair of my sweatpants that were comically loose around his hips, even though he had the strings pulled tight.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He moved away for a moment and came back with my spare towel. “I found this one while I looked for sheets,” 

“Sheets?” I took the towel from him and turned around as though there was any need for modesty. I put the new towel around my shoulders before letting the damp one fall, then readjusted so the fresh towel was around me properly.

“I figured while you got cleaned up, I’d work on the mess we made of your bed,” Logan’s smirk was cheeky and proud. It made my skin flame.

“Oh, well thank you for that,” I said. I went through the motions of my normal after shower routine. Brushing my hair, lotioning my face, putting product in my hair… distinctly aware that Logan was watching me from his spot leaning against the doorframe. 

I was brushing my teeth when Logan spoke again.

“I think we should talk about it,” He said with that tone he used on students when they were clearly lying to him. I wondered why he used that tone now, as I wasn’t saying anything. How could I be lying?

“What about it?” I asked, finishing up. I just needed to dry the rest of me and put some pjs on. I paused when I turned and Logan was still blocking the doorway with his shirtless chest.

“Are you good? I didn’t hurt you… did I?” Something vulnerable made its way into his eyes before he could stop it.

“I mean, you bit me in the ass, that stings a little bit,” I tried to joke. When he didn’t laugh, I shrugged. “You didn’t hurt me, but… It was a lot, I won’t lie.”

“It was a lot for me too.” He agreed. “I’d been hoping to ask you out before sleeping with you, but it seems we didn’t get much of a choice,” I choked on my own throat at his confession.

“You wanted to ask me out?” I fumbled with that idea, even after everything. No one asked me out, especially not when they meant to actually follow through. Logan nodded.

“I’d love to take you out sometimes, if you want,” He watched me with those hazel eyes and I felt a strange mix of fear and warmth at the way his face softened. “But we can talk about that later too,” 

“I’d never had sex before,” I blurted out suddenly. Logan froze. “It’s fine, and I didn’t really think it mattered to me, but… but it feels like I should say something,” 

“Well fuck,” He cursed. “That’s not how I would have envisioned it,” 

“Can’t say I ever really envisioned it at all,” I told him, trying to make it sound like a joke. 

His brow furrowed.

“Why not?”

“People never exactly lined up to take me out or sleep with me, and I made my peace with that,” I stepped closer to him and he watched until I shooed him from the door. “Let me get some undies on,” 

“I wouldn’t mind if you left them off,” Logan smirked, enjoying the way my skin darkened with a blush.

“Oh shush,” I shot over my shoulder at him while I dug out some underwear and my pjs. I picked the prettiest underwear I had, which honestly were still pretty much granny panties, but they were a cute color and design at least. And for pjs, I picked something simple, a tank and shorts.

“Are you avoiding looking at me, pretty girl?” Logan hummed from close behind me. I shivered at his sordid tone. 

“It’s not my fault you’ve decided to stay half naked and gorgeous,” I grumbled, pulling on my clothes. I felt somewhat better with clothes on, but also, it felt weird after being naked for so long.

“Can’t promise to change either of those things anytime soon,” When he pressed a small kiss to my shoulder, I jumped. “Sorry,” he purred, no longer advancing. 

“I can’t believe you still want to touch me after all that,” I said softly. There was no anger in it. No malice. Just surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’d fuck you again right now if you asked me to,” The heat of his words tore through me like a stray bullet.

“I don’t think I could handle that just now,” I forced a smile thinking about how raw I felt inside and out. “Thanks though,” 

“This ok?” Logan asked, taking my hand and turning me around. He set my palm against his sternum and his hands found new purchase, one on my hip, the other on my cheek. I nodded against his palm. “I want to make sure you’re really ok,” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I felt my throat closing on unexpected tears. I frowned at myself. “Why do I want to cry?” 

“Go ahead and cry, baby,” Logan said softly in return. “If that’s what you need,” 

“But I’m not sad,” I mumbled as tears, hot and fat, rolled down my cheeks. “What the heck,” This was more to myself and the tears streaming down my face. I tried to wipe them with my bare hand and it really only smeared them along my cheeks. Logan kissed my forehead and led me to my bed.

“It’s a lot, and new, and not exactly normal.” Logan assured me.

“What, your first time wasn’t with your crush dosed up on sex pollen?” I joked through the tears. I pulled a handful of tissues from the box that miraculously had remained unscathed on my nightstand and wiped my face with a pair of them. My lamp was in an entirely different spot. I guessed we’d knocked it over and Logan had righted it when he remade the bed.

“The first time with my crush might have been like that,” He teased back and I blushed.

“You saying you have a crush on me?” 

“Maybe,” His smirk was boyish and if I didn’t know any better, I thought maybe his cheeks were a little bit pinker than they were before.

I crawled into the bed and watched Logan stand there in my sweatpants. 

“Will you join me?” I asked carefully. I wiped at my face again and was happy to find that the tears were leaving as fast as they had come.

“Was just thinking about sneaking down to the kitchen,” Logan gave me a smile. “Unless you’ve got something else tasty hiding in here somewhere,” A sudden grumble came from my stomach as I realized I was starving. 

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘something else’ tasty, but I’ve got a stash of snacks,” I stood again and went to my closet, kneeling down to pull out one of those sort of flimsy storage ottomans you get at big box stores. Logan followed me and chuckled.

“I mean other than you, sweetheart,” He shook his head when I scoffed. “You know, you are terribly hard to flirt with,” 

“Do you want my snacks or to tease me?” I complained, leaning back so he could see my stash. I had a little bit of a lot of things in the ottoman. Everything from beef jerky and granola bars, to poptarts, to candy of all kinds.

Logan let out a low whistle. 

“I wondered how you always seemed to have the good snacks,” 

“Well Scott steals anything in the kitchen. That man is a menace to poptarts. Plus Rouge specifically takes any candy I’ve ever left in there, and I have no proof, but I’m pretty sure Ororo steals all the salty snacks, so I had to improvise if I wanted anything to be where I left it.” I sat crossed legged and pulled out a granola bar, opening it right there and taking a bite. “God, I don’t think I’ve been this hungry in my life.” 

“It’s probably a side effect of the pollen… takes a lot out of you,” Logan joined me on the floor, our legs touching while we faced the ottoman and the bottom half of my clothes over it. Logan grabbed a pack of beef jerky and I nodded when he held it up to ask if he could eat it.

I opened a pack of pop tarts next while Logan watched me break it into pieces and pop them into my mouth one by one. 

“What?” I chuckled as he absently chewed on his snack while staring at me with such adoration in his eyes it made my stomach flip. Which was surprisingly easy to handle on my current diet of poptarts and sugar.

“You’re pretty,” He told me and looked away only long enough to fish another chunk of jerky out of his bag. The bit he pulled out was one of the bigger ones and he held it out to me. “Pretty girls need protein too,” 

“You’re pretty,” I snorted, pretending it was an insult. But I took the jerky from him anyway and tore it in half with my teeth. I caught Logan swallow hard at the sight and my cheeks grew warm yet again. 

“I mean it, you know,” He added. “I’ve been around for a long time and you’re my favorite thing to look at,” I smiled at that. It was so much better feeling than the normal things he said that I didn’t believe. 

“You’re my favorite thing to look at too,” I told him, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles. He moved to press his mouth into mine, a chaste kiss around sugared and salted lips. I chuckled, giddy, when he pulled away. Maybe I could believe him.

In the quiet darkness of my closet, watching him sift through my snack ottoman, it felt like it would be so easy to believe him. To believe that he might love me.

“I love you,” I told him suddenly. He paused with his own pack of pop tarts in his hand.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Logan’s grin was soft and so full of love. For once I didn’t look away because I figured if I witnessed it enough I would believe it. I smiled as I watched him tear into his next snack. Maybe I should stop fighting my feelings and just believe him.

It felt so easy to just give into it.

So, I think I will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part One

[Logan List]

[Masterlist]

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal 🫡 let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <😭3 ⬇️

Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly

Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested.

don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

why did this line hit me so deep???

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

the way i went—

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven.

u mesh so well with canon events 🩷🙂‍↕️

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

so bf of him

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

why is this so funny LOLL

“You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”“That’s so sweet.”

im literally gonna miss them sm 😭

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.

FEARRRR

“Let’s go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

such a cute ending <3

FINAL THOUGHTS • i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 6

In which things are made official (finally)

Warnings: little angst, social media posts Pairing: Lando Norris x SainzSister!reader Word Count: 1.4k words

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 3 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 4 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 5 - Master List

Monaco May 2024

Sunlight streams in through the partially parted curtains of Lando’s bedroom the next morning. Your entire body is warm, wrapped up in the thick duvet that covers his king sized bed. The soft cotton of the t-shirt Lando gave you last night brushes against your skin, not unlike the way he touched you last night. 

He had just popped out to the cafe that was down the block from his apartment to get you breakfast, as he had absolutely nothing other than a few sweet potatoes in his fridge, one of which smelled suspiciously of vodka. The moment alone allowed you to fully soak in the sore feeling that radiated up from between your legs to the rest of your body. The delicious languid stretch that you felt when you moved even just the slightest bit reminded you of how Lando had played your body so well last night, like he’d been worshipping you for his entire life. 

You lazily reach for your phone just as you hear the front door click open.

 “I’m back.” Lando calls out and you grin, enjoying the way your heart flutters at the sound of his voice, still a little gritty from sleep. 

Instagram is your first choice, watching the private stories of your friends from last night, recapping what you had missed after you and Lando ditched the party. And then you come across a suggested post on your feed and your entire world stops for a moment. 

“Uh…Lan?” Panic dances at the edge of your voice as stare at the photo.

“What’s wrong?” As he rounds the corner, you see he’s holding two to go coffee cups from the cafe that’s down the street from his condo, a look of concern furrowing his brow when he sees the panicked look on your face. 

You flip your phone around to show him the post you’d been sent by a friend in London this morning. It’s a post from an F1 gossip account and it’s a picture from Lando taking you home last night, the two of you very obviously together as more than friends. Embarrassment flames at your cheeks as Lando crosses the room to take a look.

F1GossipNews: Fans in town for the Monaco Grand Prix this weekend caught some interesting shenanigans on the streets of Monte Carlo last night. McLaren driver Lando Norris was spotted outside the Hermitage Hotel last night with none other than Carlos Sainz's little sister and from the several reports we've recieved, they were looking VERY cozy together with Lando even carrying the Spanish McLaren employee at one point. As we all know, these two have been friends for years but have never outright confirmed that they were anything other than just that. We have to wonder what it'll take for these two to go public now??? user928 anyone who follows F1 knows that these two have been in love with each other for YEARS. Thank God they're finally realizing it themselves. user9827 i'll always feel bad for that one girl he dated a few years ago. it feels like there was always 3 people in that relationship. i guess she was right to be jealous >>>user8272 i always heard she was the cause of their breakup. confirmed ig. >>>user0388 oh come on, they've been broken up for TWO YEARS. get a life. touch some grass. user023828 MOM AND DAD MADE IT OFFICIAL. MY LIFE IS COMPLETE.

You hadn’t had a chance to talk about what last night had meant yet and your heart hammered in your chest at the possible rejection. It was still possible that he changed his mind, wasn’t it? That this morning while he had gone out to get breakfast, the space had given him a chance to have second thoughts. You knew that Lando was intensely private about his personal life, hating the way gossip accounts and fans sunk their teeth into any bit of gossip they could get their hands around. 

Fans had tried to link the two of you early on when you were friends and Lando always got so angry when that particular rumor would start swirling again. How was he going to react now that this photo, where you both had been identified by name. Sure, you had shared that one photo of his hand low on your back last night but you couldn’t see his face. This was different. There was a video too, attached to the gossip post and you could clearly hear his thick British accent and your unmistakable laugh floating through the background of the video. 

Lando sits down at the foot of the bed with your phone in his had. A smirk plays on his face as he watches the video for the third time, hand reaching out to stroke your toes that now sit in his lap. When he looks up though, his smile fades and matches your anxious one. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, tears threaten to spill. 

Lando is fully confused by your reaction. “What do you have to be sorry about?” 

“They caught us. I know how private you are, how you don’t want to be linked to anyone unless it’s serious. I should have been more careful, Brenda is going to fucking kill me if you don’t. Oh God, Lan. I’m so sorry.” You ramble, twisting the sheets beneath you out of sheer anxiety.  

You remember the rant he went off on before he had started officially dating the girl that ended up ripping you two apart. It had somehow been leaked to the press that they were together and Lando had felt pressured to make it official with her after that. What you didn’t know was that it hadn’t been the press that had made him feel pressured, it had been the girl. She had pushed and pushed, saying that it would ruin her reputation if nothing came of the gossip posts and he had just gone along with it. 

“Hey, there’s no need to panic. Come here.” Lando reaches out to gather you up in his arms, smiling at the fact that you’re still wearing the t-shirt he had given you last night before you two fell asleep. “Why are you freaking out? It’s fine if the press publishes this stuff.” 

“I just…” You struggle to comprehend what he’s saying to you. He’s not mad? “I just know how much you hate the press in your private life. How angry you got when they found out about…her. We hadn’t talked about what this means and I just didn’t want you to feel forced or anything.” 

Lando pulls you further into his lap, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. God, this was his favorite place now, with how soft the skin at your neck is and always smelling like your perfume no matter the time of day. He was so glad he got to fully indulge in it now and didn’t have to hide how deep his feelings for you were. 

“I do hate the press in my private life, you’re right but I also very much want to shout from the rooftops that I finally get to kiss the love of my life whenever I want. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear to you last night, but you’re it for me pretty girl.” He leans in then, brushing your temple with his lips before dragging them down the line of your jaw, fingers gripping at your hips to pull you even closer. “It’s always been you, pretty girl. Always. Be mine forever?”

“You don’t even have to ask, Lan. I’ve been yours for a long time now.”   

If your heart could have exploded in your chest, you wouldn’t have been surprised. You hadn’t really known, hadn’t really realized how much you’d needed to hear Lando say those words until now. You’d spent the better part of five years shoving your feelings for him down so deep in a desperate attempt to accept the fact that maybe all you two would ever be was friends. It was dizzying knowing that that wasn’t going to be the case now and you struggled to wrap your head around it. 

“I can’t go around telling you how much I love and adore you in private and hide those feelings in public. I don’t want to.” To emphasize his point, he grabs his phone out of his back pocket and swipes to open Instagram. You watch with mild amusement as he scrolls through some of the photos he took last night before he lands on one where he’s got you slung over his shoulder, not unlike the gossip post, but this one is in his hallway after he took you home. He types out a caption before handing it over to you for your approval. 

Laughter spills out of your lips as you read it before you look up at him. “This is quite bold, are you sure you want to be this…open?” 

Lando nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m about to be so obnoxious about the fact I finally landed you. How else is everyone in the paddock going to know you’re spoken for now? Max fucking Verstappen better stop texting you now or else I’m going to run him into the bloody wall on Sunday.” 

“Lando Norris!” You scold, swatting him on the shoulder while you both dissolve in giggles. 

“Go on, I know you want to post something too. Although I suspect that story you posted last night of me and you in the elevator was what sparked people to look for other clues. They’ve been trying to ship us for years.” 

You blush under the accusation but you know it’s all in good fun. Fear and anxiety gone from your body you reach for your phone again to make your own post. Lando gives his nod of approval and you both post the photos simultaneously and then grinning, you leave your phones in the bedroom as you enjoy the rest of your morning before you have to be on track later for media day. 

You two didn’t earn the nickname Chaos Gremlins for nothing.  

LandoNorris Confirmed. (tagged: LittlestSainzSis, F1GossipNews) CarlosSainz you'd better take care of her or else you'll end up in a gravel pit. LittlestSainzSis love you darling >>>(liked by landonorris) McLaren IT'S ABOUT TIME >>>user928 even admin knew these two idiots were in love before they did. user0292 oh my GOD he tagged the gossip account. HAHAH >>>user92828 he is down BAD for our girl user0332 if you look closely in the background, you can see me laying down in the middle of the highway. >>>user928 srsly. this post called me single in seven different languages. user02828 god they're so hot together

LittlestSainzSis cat's out of the bag, ig ;) (tagged: LandoNorris) user0292 god they're perfect LandoNorris love you, pretty girl >>>(liked by littlestsainzsis) McLaren our favorite papaya couple finally official!! >>>user0383 admin's been rooting for this ship just as much as the rest of us. user029921 legit the hottest looking couple on the grid, fight me.

the end.

IDK why half of the tag list isn't working but if for some reason you're not being tagged (it says you are when I'm editing the post but it doesn't show up live when I publish it) make sure your settings are fixed on your end or maybe it's just bc i'm a new blog and i can't tag this many? idk but i'll keep trying to fix it!! you can also turn on post notifs for me if you want!)

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[pseudophan]

nora can i just ask… WHAT was he thinking? how was that lie ever going to work when they were doing everything so publicly in 2009? sure you can delete stuff but he must have known it was still out there anyway right? isn’t it pointless to be like i didn’t watch his videos when he was commenting on the interactive adventures like his life depended on it ?? he was trying to convince people he just happened to be in manchester one day with a friend and he just saw phil ???? when we all saw you counting down the days to meeting each other online like WHAT

https://x.com/pinofdnp/status/1855973085771387187?s=46

tweet link (it's one of the infamous 'we met through a mutual friend' claims)

to be fair to them both, if the phandom wasn't as unhinged as it was (is) they could've gotten away with that lie. kind of. dan and phil are hardly pr experts but this isn't really too crazy a move, like yeah the people who know the truth will always know the truth but if you tell a lie enough times then in theory new fans, and people who just never looked into it, are gonna go with your version of events and not question it. the main issue for dan and phil specifically was that their fanbase was essentially built on and around speculation about their relationship and cataloguing any and all proof of it. new fans and casuals often believed the lie at first just because like, why wouldn't they, but the second they stepped foot into the phandom they obviously discovered the not-so-hidden truth, because you didn't have to be a shipper or be looking for Phan Proof in order to come across it, all you had to do is search dan and phil on literally any website with a prominent phannie presence

to their credit they seemed to realise it wasn't gonna work pretty quickly, they abandoned the 'mutual friend' story almost immediately it feels like. then they went with the 'yeah we met online but we met up to collaborate' angle but i kind of feel like they didn't go too hard on that one, probably because they had finally started to learn that Oh My God Say Less Please Say Less Always Say Less Stop Talking Jesus Christ. like by far the most damning part of the clip in the tweet is dan insisting on being like "a lot of people seem to think-" about the actual truth like girl why would you plant that idea in the heads of those who hadn't heard it before. just say you met through a mutual friend and move on like fbsdhjfbdjksf. also at that point they kinda didn't give a fuck anymore, by the time they gave that infamous editing tips interview in 2015 they had long since abandoned trying to convince anyone they didn't meet because dan was an amazingphil fan and desperately wanted to befriend him because of it. the only part they were trying to hide at that point i would say was the whole y'know, fucking and sucking of it all

this whole reply is way too rambly and idk if it makes sense but i guess my point is IF dan and phil had a more casual core viewerbase (and also didn't give up on the lie immediately. and dan was less blatantly defensive about it) they probably could have made it work in the long run, even with the amount of evidence against it. i would go as far as to say that if not every then at least nearly every single influencer/celebrity/public figure of any kind have readily available information about them out there that most people, even fans of theirs, don't know about literally just because they wouldn't think to search for it. like how often does a Major Scandal break about some celeb and some people in the comments are like yea this has been known since 2004 everyone just stopped talking about it, lmao. not that dnp being gay for each other is a scandal but you know what i mean

basically they started telling that lie just as their popularity skyrocketed and i guess the hope was that the massive influx of new people would allow them to rewrite history, but alas...

[unhingedangstaddict]

Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

[louisferrignojr]

i don't know if i have the energy to write this into a full fic but i want to write something from tommy's pov and i got this idea that could work as a prequel to the fix it fic i already wrote but basically

chimney shows up at his house with a six pack and tommy opens the door and wordlessly steps aside to let him in

of course chimney is there because he heard about the break up and he wants to offer tommy a shoulder to cry on because he knows tommy is hurting just as much as buck is, and buck has his sister and his best friend and his makeshift father figure, but tommy doesn't really have any close friends; a lot of surface-level friendships with the people he hangs out with, and he's good with his coworkers but harbor station isn't like the 118. he also knows it's only been a few days and the wound is still so fresh, and when tommy doesn't show signs of opening up, chimney does.

he wasn't going to share the news of the pregnancy, they aren't telling people yet because it's too soon, and he didn't think it was a good time to flaunt his joy so to speak, but it works as a segue to a conversation about his relationship with maddie, everything they've been through - tommy doesn't know the half of it, because while they've seen each other a lot more often in the past six months, they haven't had a chance to hang out one-on-one and dig deep. he tells tommy about all of it, from the beginning, how they met and how they started dating, the first surprise pregnancy, the separation, the engagement, all of it. and everything he's learned these past few years, all the ways he's grown as a person since tommy's transfer.

and he tells tommy about the buckleys of it all, how maddie is the one who runs and buck is the one who gets left behind. he sees the way tommy's expression shifts when he hears that, and he says, "yeah, you fucked up big time, buddy." because it's the truth, and because tommy hurt his brother, after all, and chimney's always going to have his back.

and finally tommy cracks and admits how much he's been struggling, second guessing himself, part of him knowing it was self-sabotage and part of him justifying the decision with all the logical reasons it was the right thing to do, but he never thought about how it would have affected evan, and now he's beating himself up over it, because he'd been selfish and impulsive and cowardly, and he wishes he could have stayed and talked it through instead of running.

in the end chimney tells him it's not too late, and he deserves a second chance, and he bets anything buck is willing to give him that. tommy replays their conversation in his mind the next day as he's driving to evan's loft to pick up his things. end scene.

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by ...

- disgruntledkittenface -

[1]

“So,” he says casually, looking from Nick back to Louis, “you and Nick didn’t come back to the bar last night.”

And the sentence just hangs in the air between them, like an accusation. Louis can practically see the effort Harry’s putting in to keep his face neutral, but the intense frog expression creeps its way back in. And suddenly Louis get it.

Harry is jealous.

He wants to laugh. It’s preposterous to think of, being jealous of Nick of all people. Nick who can see Louis’ feelings for Harry written all over his face and in everything he does.

“Yeah, after we went for a smoke, I just felt like going home,” Louis explains, biting back a smile. Knowing he’s not being clear enough, he continues, “Nick just walked with me, stretching those ridiculous legs of his, I guess, but Liam picked him up as soon as we got back to my apartment building.”

Harry is still glowering. It’s ridiculous. It’s so fucking cute. Louis is so fucked.

[2]

“I do! We do,” Harry says, looking at Louis, who smiles warmly at him. “I just always thought I would adopt, but I guess I see the issues here for, like… succession?”

“Yes, my successor has to be a biological relative,” Louis says gently. “Lottie wants no part of it, that’s why she was so eager to donate eggs. And I’m not sure if she’ll have children of her own.”

“It is actually a matter of state,” Hervé adds, not unkindly. “Securing the line of succession secures Monaco’s status as an independent principality. If there is no biological heir, upon the prince’s passing then the state would be absorbed by France.”

“Oh, fuck,” Nick mutters, summing up how Harry feels. Well, he wasn’t wrong when he tried to tell Harry what a big fucking deal all of this would be. 

[3]

“Sorry to bother,” he says lowly, dripping sarcasm. “But would you mind shutting the fuck up? You’re ruining the show for the rest of us with your passive-aggressive bullshit.”  

Harry automatically twists around to see the couple’s response; it looks like husband is gearing up for a retort, but there are quiet murmurs of agreement from the people around them, and the man on his seatmate’s other side even claps him on the back in thanks. Chagrined, the couple slump down in their seats, their lips unhappily sealed.

Harry turns to the man next to him, who’s already looking at him from under the smudge of long, dark lashes that frame his blue eyes. A slow grin overtakes Harry’s face as he meets the man’s steady gaze. For once his words don’t fail him, and he leans in just close enough so the man will be able to hear him as he whispers “thank you.”

[4]

“Is that another new tattoo, Z?” she asks, reaching out and gently turning Zayn’s arm to get a better look. “Oh, yin yang, right?”

Louis immediately squeezes Harry’s thigh, turning to her with wide eyes, but Harry’s too busy fishing for a thin slice of cucumber at the bottom of her glass to register what’s happening. Zayn is still holding her arm out so Liam can see the tattoo when she glances up and Louis pointedly looks from her to the tattoo and back again. Harry’s confused face is adorable, she looks like a disgruntled kitten trying to surmise what Louis is attempting to silently communicate. It takes a minute, but understanding finally dawns in her eyes and she claps her large hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What?” Zayn asks, throwing a dirty look at them.

“Nothing,” Louis manages in a strangled voice. “Nothing! Great tattoo. Harry? Shall we?”

- Answers Below -

[1] you came into my life

They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

[2] Darling, so it goes

Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He just needs Louis to meet him halfway.

Grace Kelly AU.

[3] just one look (and i fell so hard)

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–” 

“Do you want to come up?” 

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.  

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…” 

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis. 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

[4] i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

[literallys-illiteracy]

Trans Allegories in Lobotomy Corporation

Part 0.5 in a series that i'm making going over the archetypes, themes, and interpretable meanings of all the abnormalities in this game, before the next, and then finally in Limbus.

Cut is for further explainations

First Tier: Trans Allegory 100%

It is important to note that there is no strict defining line on what a trans allegory is, which I also have a project working on to describe my theory, but in the Scaffold one could theoretically understand the structure that I have.

Snow Queen:

The power of love overcoming that of cold, stagnating, uncaring evil in order to help one re-find themselves. The snow queen herself does not represent that of the allegory, it is rather Kai (Kay) and Gerda's story from the original tale that can represent this, however interlinked all the same to the queen.

King Of Greed:

Part 1, the work line:

"When The King of Greed assumes the form of an egg, you can faintly see a smiling girl inside it."

alongside the fact that her title is "king", a traditionally masculine rank.

Part 2, the actual thematic:

The concept of "greed" in this abnormality is not truly one that is borne of what one would traditionally think, rather than the desire to take for the sake of taking, it is the concept that the root of happiness is desire, and at the root of all desires is an insatiable greed within.

While desires many will go unfulfilled, they will always be the root of ones happiness, and will always remain in ones subconscious.

Snow Whites Apple:

Snow whites apple is one of being discarded and abandoned, hoping to rot (similar to another teleporting, hallway damaging, plant based Waw in this same tier), who, after time passed, realised that the life she had seen come to fruition for Snow White was not the life that would come forth for her, so she leaves to go on her own journey, to find herself.

The apple, realising that the life they had once thought was not for them, sprouted forth, grew, and became a princess in search of a story.

Nothing There:

Egg.

Beauty and the Beast:

Change, death, a life trapped in a body that is not *you*, an endless cycle that all parties wish to part from.

Today's Shy Look:

someone in a discord server noted that this abnormality is a parallel to neurodivergence, especially ASD. Unfortunately i beat them to that analysis a few months ago.

The themes of identity, denial, and divergence all carry over to themes of trans nature, however that is not to say that Shy Look is intended to be one, it is almost certainly intended to be that of ASD.

That being said, kill the author with your own bare hands, the autonomous psyche that exists in humanities collective contains these archetypes of identity and denial, and integrally they are linked to these conscious perceptions we have of them — Inseparably these ideals are linked to conscious perceptions, though borne from the unconscious mind, and forth from this there is no way to remove change from identity, to remove denial from the 'self', to differentiate one's societal differences and strife to that of another. We are all human, we all share in this human collective, these unconscious symbols are not defined by a singular perspective, interpret things as you wish. If you disagree with my analyses, by all means, slay me by your own hands; forthcoming the 'Death of the Author' is the 'Birth of the Reader'.

Alriune:

Doll wished to be human, abandoned to the wayside, finding their own goals shattered.

Though Alriune may be interpereted very strongly as a trans allegory, which i also have a different (netzach) project related to, that is once again to the visceral humanity of these abnormalities, which i plan to touch on at a later date if a certain mutual doesn't beat me to it.

Funeral of Dead Butterflies:

Whom also has their own post on this topic. which is another 'death of the author' tangent for you to read on i guess.

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies' thematic is that of death, and hence that of rebirth, of life.

This concept is best demonstrated through a quote from Demian:

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas.”

Herman Hesse, Demain

However, i also have a topic essay separated from PM somewhat regarding the nature of death as an allegory, alongside an additional essay named "Transing Death".

Notes of a Crazed Researcher:

"The final chapter ends with the phrase: “Born again.” "

Notes of a Crazed Researcher, observation level 4.

We Can Change Anything:

Don’t like how you look? Are you too fat? Too skinny? We can change that!

We Can Change Anything, Observation level 3.

Being somewhat more serious, with both the notes and this tool, though not integrally linked to that of these allegories, they are both understandably interpretable as this with reasonable argument to support them.

Tier 2: Plausible to Write as a Trans Allegory:

Burrowing Heaven:

This abnormality will come back later. Keep an eye on this one for a moment until then, hold on.

So Burrowing Heaven's gimmick is that of attention, wings, and eyesight.

It's descendant from the trope of 'gazing upon a god' often present in fictional or extant religions such as in the Lovecraft mythos (which is noted in particular due to the abnormality being described i later depictions as "wings of an elder god").

That being said, this abnormality's concept of "existing within ones perception" is interpretable as that of identity, alongside the line of "I could only bear fruit in your sight", akin to the concept of only flourishing when viewed as what or who you are.

Scorched Girl:

Abandonment, sights of a better future, disregard by society.

This abnormality only gets this lower tier due to its source material's differentiation, rather than seeking a better life for strictly herself, she sees in the fires a world of warmth, of joy. Though hope is a powerful emotion, and one that is linked to desires at a primal root neighbouring the king of greed, it is wrote here in a way that is less linked to that integral theme of identity I seek.

The following three exist in the same vein:

Queen of Hatred, Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary, and Big and Might be Bad Wolf:

All three of these abnormalities share the same virtual story framework, one of managing your identity within a predestined story.

Queen of Hatred defines her existence upon the extant force of evil, though in opposition to it, hence her dual thematic of both love for good, and hatred for evil. Little Red, similarly, is not a being without her antithesis, without the wolf she cannot exist as an individual, without her hatred for the one which haunted her for so long.

The Might be Bad Wolf exists in a barely different stream, though still that of a predestined story, it is rather that of societal fatalism, wherein its nature as a wolf determined its future, the wolf is always the villain of the story, the wolf is meant to hunt.

The wolf is also the most trans-coded out of any of these abnormalities, its nature of being hated due to its nature alone, its lack of decision in the matter, its fate, it "will be" the Big and Bad Wolf.

The former two however share this in many ways, due to the aforementioned predetermined nature of their tale, however in both a meta, and mirrored parallel.

The Hood and Queen both define themselves on another's basis, being unable to exist without the other, leaving themselves as incomplete — In queen's hysteria we can see the repercussions of this unfold, her strands of being still loose she unweaves into a beast, into a creature that she does not *want* to be.

The Hood exists in a slightly different manner once again, as she has found herself in the wolf's hunt, though less so in this unweaved state that the Queen has.

Warm hearted Woodsman:

Desires and is denied a heart due to its nature from birth, from its creation.

Do you know what letters heart has? thats right. HRT. I rest my case.

Der Freischutz:

Loss and searching for identity, sacrifice of ones old life in order to create a new one on their own accords.

Red Shoes:

This abnormality is the literal incarnation of desire, so much so that it's EGO is the only one to actually include the word "desire".

The Firebird:

The Russian avian version of Moby Dick essentially, a bird which wishes to be perceived, wishes to be hunted like it once was, in order to regain its glowing feathers.

This bird exists in the same concept of Burrowing Heaven (you can stop keeping an eye on it now), wanted to exist in ones perception, as beautiful as it truly can be.

Plague Doctor/Whitenight:

Both Plague Doctor and Whitenight share both of their placements due to its fucktonne of different plausible interpretations, this one was extant on its own, but furthered by someone named "chaos" in a twitch chat when i first made this list.

This concept is mostly that of change, of becoming your true self, and finding those that know about and accept this self before the advent comes.

This transformation is integrally linked to Whitenight, alongside Plague Doctor, however they will get their time in the spotlight soon enough.

Mirror of Adjustment:

Changing one's self though appearing the same in the mirror, see Limbus Company canto 4 for more details.

Meat Lantern:

Appearance verses reality.

Knight of Despair:

Yet another struggle to find one's identity in a cruel world, a tale as old as time, where the knight's experiences, her cycles of despair, lead to her view of herself, her sough purpose in life, to be naught.

This purpose is then renewed through the protection and guidance of others, similar to mine, like how i attempt to guide others (in both understanding themselves, alongside subconscious themes, and media literacy), the knight attempts to guide others, and protect them from the harm that she could not protect others.

Yin/Yang:

The innate feminine and masculine traits that each holds, alongside their obvious dichotomy and wholeness in unity can be understood as one coming to understand or accept their true identity.

The reason that this is not in a higher tier is because of some psyche stuff that i don't want to get into here but i think i may have wrote about in the past.

[Censored]:

This abnormality is by design an enigma, which is its entire purpose, the concept of a hidden form, of redacted information, of a 'true form'.

Now as the river of humanity I may be a bit biased but i think that this abnormality is the peak form that one could take in a transition i think.

Tier 3: Transphobic:

Forsaken Murderer:

Medical experiments forced upon someone in order to cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

The above paragraph is describing what is known as "conversion therapy" which is a fucking horrendous concept that draws parallels to the forsaken murderer's story involving medical experiments forced upon someone in order to cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

Whitenight:

This is about people who use religion to justify their hatred of others, about people who make their anger justified through their posited god, who make their disdain, their xenophobia, into a so called 'Divine' wrath.

Plague Doctor:

[...] cure an unseen disease of the mind, which removes ones identity and personhood in the process.

(me, 3 paragraphs ago).

The plague doctor, sharing the concept of Forsaken Murderer, seeks a so called 'Disease of the mind', which culminates in the deaths of many once its mission is seemingly complete.

Bald:

[...] forced upon someone in order to remove [...] which removes ones [Hair] and [Hair] in the process.

[milfhunter6698]

Star girl

Synopsis: You were a talented but underappreciated actress lands a dream role in a highly anticipated romance film directed by a well—respected filmmaker. Your cast opposite Victoria Neuman, an industry icon known for her powerful performances and magnetic screen presence. As you work together, unexpected feelings develop between you, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways you didn’t expect.

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, suggestive themes, a lot of angst, teasing, hollywood AU, slow burn, Acting, friends to lovers.

AN: Hello hellooo!! happy tuesday everyone, guess what? yep another Victoria Neuman fic because I ain’t gonna even lie and just say that I got over that crazy bitch, I’m missing her like crazy baddd. Anyway this is just something that’s been on my mind, heh… I dunno I mean who wouldn’t love a good Hollywood love storyline. It’s just something short, while I work on a few requests I’ve gotten, I’m gonna also be posting this on ao3 If you’re interested go check it out. Now as always have fun, and lmk what you think because I kind of have mixed feelings about this.

wc: 4.1k

You moved between tables at the cafe, balancing a tray loaded with coffee cups, sneakers squeaking faintly with each step. The place was buzzing with late-morning chatter, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and fried eggs. You’d perfected the art of pretending to be completely focused on your job, but every spare second, your mind wandered back to the idea of acting—your true passion, the career you were chasing even if you were currently only known as “the girl with the tray.”

On your break, you slumped into a corner booth with your phone, scrolling through casting calls, your eyes landing on headlines you’d read a dozen times. Your finger hovered over an audition listing when your phone suddenly vibrated. You barely recognized the number, but your manager’s name popped up on the screen.

“Hey, it’s really not a good time, I’m—”

“Sit down,” he interrupted, his voice breathless with excitement. “Are you sitting down?”

You raise an eyebrow glancing around. “Yeah, I’m sitting. What’s going on?”

“You know that big casting call I sent you on last week?” His voice was buzzing with excitement, a little smug.

“The one you said was a ‘long shot,’ right? Look don’t mess with me. You said they wouldn’t even look at—”

“They looked. And they loved you. You got the part.”

For a second, the noise in the cafe faded to nothing. You blinked, trying to make sure you’d heard him right.

“You’re not serious,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“Dead serious,” he said. “This is the role. You’re going to be in a movie with Victoria Neuman. The Victoria Neuman.”

Your heart started to hammer. “Wait, Victoria Neuman? That Victoria Neuman? The one who—”

“The one who’s headlining the Oscars, the one whose face is on every billboard on Sunset Boulevard, yes. I told you it’s big.”

You gripped your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. “But… how?”

Your manager laughed. “Because you’re good, that’s how. Look, they want to meet you this Saturday for lunch. The director wants to give you the rundown himself.”

You could barely process it. You’d spent so many nights pacing around your tiny apartment, rehearsing lines for auditions that led nowhere, wondering if you’d ever break through. And here it was, your shot.

“I swear… if you’re messing with me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Trust me, kid. I’d never mess with you on this. So you better get your best outfit ready.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, a small, breathless sound. For the first time in months, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Saturday afternoon you stood outside an upscale restaurant, your heart thudding as you stared up at the polished glass doors. You’d spent nearly an hour choosing an outfit, finally settling on something simple—a black dress and a vintage jacket you’d found in a thrift shop. You tugged at the sleeves nervously, feeling a strange mix of excitement and intimidation. Your manager had reassured you repeatedly, but the idea of meeting with a famous director and talking about your role felt surreal.

Inside, your manager waved you over, standing beside a man with sharp, discerning eyes and a warm, easy smile. He was younger than you’d expected, dressed casually in a way that somehow made him look more important.

He greeted and you reached out, introducing yourself and trying not to let your nerves show. “Thank you so much for… I mean, this is just…”

He grinned, shaking your hand. “Take a breath. We’re all just people here, no need to be so formal. Grab a seat. Let’s talk.”

You slipped into the seat across from him, trying to play it cool as the waiter poured sparkling water into your glasses. He leaned back, studying you with a quiet intensity that made you feel both exposed and encouraged.

“So, I saw your audition tape,” he started. “You’ve got something—an authenticity that I want in this role.”

You couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you. I’m really honored you thought of me.”

“Now, I’m not going to lie,” he continued, “this project is demanding. The story centers on two women, past lovers who come from very different backgrounds, but they find solace and understanding in each other. It’s raw, emotional. We’re looking for chemistry, vulnerability. That’s why Victoria Neuman is the co-lead.”

At the mention of Victoria’s name, your eyes widened. You tried to hide your reaction, but he noticed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, the Victoria Neuman. She’s a big personality, but she’s focused. And demanding. Don’t be surprised if she challenges you—she does that with everyone.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” He said, nodding approvingly. “I have a feeling you’ll do more than that.”

You spent the rest of the lunch discussing the film, the script, and his vision for your character. Your excitement grew with each detail, feeling a spark of confidence you hadn’t known you had. By the end of the meal, you couldn’t believe you were about to step into a project like this.

The morning of the table read was overcast, the gray sky adding to your nerves. You arrived at the studio early, clutching your script as you walked into the bustling room. People were milling around, flipping through scripts, chatting casually. Your heart thumped as you found your seat, glancing nervously around the table.

Just as you were trying to steady your breath, you heard a small hush ripple through the room. You looked up and felt your pulse quicken. Victoria Neuman had arrived.

She moved gracefully, exuding a quiet, confident presence. She was dressed simply, yet she looked every bit the star she was, her gaze sharp and focused. She walked over to the table, catching your eye for a brief moment before giving a polite nod.

Your breath hitched. Act normal, you reminded yourself, pretending your palms weren’t sweating. You managed a small smile in return, trying to look calm.

The director greeted everyone and launched into his vision for the film. “This isn’t just a love story. It’s about connection, about finding something real in the chaos. We want to capture those quiet, vulnerable moments, the ones that people don’t talk about but feel every day.”

When it was time for the read-through, you and Victoria shared your first scene together. You focused on your lines, but your heart was pounding as you read opposite Victoria. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly slipping into character, and her eyes stayed locked on you all throughout the scene, intensifying each line.

By the end of the scene, you could hardly breathe. She leaned back, nodding slightly, and then you offered a small, approving smile. It was just a flicker, but it felt like an acknowledgment—a silent promise that you belonged here, too.

After the session ended, you lingered at the edge of the room, replaying the moment in your mind. You were about to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Victoria, your name escaping her lips softly. “Is it?” she asked, her voice calm but with an unmistakable warmth.

You nodded, trying not to let your voice shake. “Yes. I… I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve watched all your films.”

She gave a soft laugh. “Thanks. I know it must be overwhelming, jumping into something like this. But you were great today.”

Your heart lifted. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

She nodded, her eyes lingering on you just a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll see you at the next rehearsal.”

As she turned and walked away, you felt a flutter in your chest. You knew this role was going to be life-changing, but you hadn’t expected Victoria’s presence to affect you so deeply. For the first time, you wondered if this film might change your life in more ways than one.

Your apartment was a mess. Scripts were scattered across your small, worn coffee table, along with half-empty coffee cups and stacks of notes. You had highlighted every line, each margin filled with scrawled thoughts and questions. Late into the night, you practiced alone, your reflection in the mirror staring back with the intensity you hoped your character would convey.

The role wasn’t simple. Your character, Lauren, was a guarded, impulsive complex woman burdened by loss. She had loved deeply once but had lost it all, and as you read through the lines, you felt yourself peeling back her layers, finding the pain and resilience hidden beneath.

You practiced your lines over and over, speaking them softly, then with anger, trying to understand the character’s emotional range. You kept Lauren’s experiences in mind, dissecting every reaction and choice she’d made, wondering how you yourself would react in such moments. You hadn’t had much in life, but you knew about chasing dreams, about feeling that endless mix of hope and fear. There was so much of yourself in Lauren—and that scared you. You wanted to do this right, not only for yourself but for the chance you’d been given to stand on this stage.

You arrived on set early your first day, your nerves a steady thrum under the excitement. The studio was a blur of movement—crew members rolling carts stacked with equipment, actors adjusting their costumes, assistants buzzing around the director with notes and coffee cups. Cameras and lights stood like sentinels around the set, wires coiled across the floor in intricate patterns you had to carefully step over.

You spotted your director in the middle of it all, standing beside the cinematographer, discussing the shots for the day. His voice was calm yet energized as he gestured toward the mock-up of the first scene. This was where the magic was happening, the place you’d dreamed of being. And now, you were here, not as an extra or a bit part, but as one of the leads. The weight of that realization pressed down on you, but it was also exhilarating.

“Hello there! Good to see you,” he called, waving you over as he noticed you lingering at the edge of the set. “Ready for the big day?”

You smiled, hiding the nerves that knotted in your stomach. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good, good. Remember, this isn’t just about the lines. It’s about Lauren’s silence, her glances, her gestures. Don’t be afraid to let the camera see that,” He said, his eyes filled with encouragement.

You nodded. Feeling the director’s words sink in, you needed to live the character—not just act her. You weren’t sure if you would be able to pull it off, but you were at least ready to try.

The first few days on set went by in a haze of new faces and whispered directions. You and Victoria had only one brief exchange about your first scene together. She had approached you with a warm yet reserved smile.

“Hey, I thought maybe we could run through this scene together. Just to get a feel for each other’s rhythms,” she suggested, her tone calm and professional.

“Absolutely. I’d love that,” you replied, your heart racing. You kept your voice steady, but you couldn’t shake the nervous flutter you felt deep in your chest.

Victoria read the lines with such ease, her delivery flawless, yet subtly different each time as if experimenting with nuances. You watched her, trying to keep your focus, yet every word from her seemed to pull you in deeper.

As you wrapped up, she nodded approvingly. “You’re good. I can see why they’ve picked you.”

You flushed, stammering a quick thank-you, and then watched as she walked off, her steps graceful, her confidence effortless. Just keep it professional, You told yourself. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore the warmth you felt whenever she looked at you, a lingering gaze that seemed to see more than just your role.

When the day came for your ever first scene, you arrived on set early, going through your lines one more time. The scene was intense—a reunion between Lauren and Helene, two people who had shared a complicated past and were bound by emotions neither of them could entirely let go. You had thought you were prepared, but now, with each beat of your heart, you felt a new nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

As you walked on set, you saw Victoria standing at the other end of the room, speaking with the director, who animatedly explained his vision for the scene. She caught your gaze and gave you a nod, her usual professional demeanor in place, though something about her expression felt unreadable—guarded, maybe, as if she was bracing herself for what was to come.

He turned toward you, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Hey, come on over. Let’s get you in place. So, here’s the setup: Lauren is paying an unexpected visit to Helene at her office, and she’s there because… well, that’s up to you. She has her reasons, but the scene hinges on that ambiguity, the push-pull between them. Lauren is bold, maybe even a little reckless, but we need to feel that Helene is barely holding herself together.”

You took a steadying breath and nodded, your nerves slowly morphing into a focused determination. This was Lauren’s moment to push, to test the waters with Helene. And in a way, it felt a little like you yourself were testing something—feeling your way through the strange pull you’d somehow begun to feel around Victoria. You couldn’t explain it, but it was there, like an undercurrent humming just beneath the surface.

Your director called for quiet on set, and as the cameras rolled, you transformed. You were no longer you but Lauren, striding into Helene’s office with a calm confidence, a hint of mischief in your gaze as you found Helene at her desk, pouring over stacks of papers.

“Hello, old friend. Long time, no see,” you said, your voice low but carrying a hint of hesitation, as if unsure of the reunion.

Helene looked up, startled, and for a split second, the cool facade she wore slipped, allowing a flicker of surprise and maybe even a touch of longing. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual detached, slightly exasperated expression as she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Lauren,” she said, her voice edged with a mix of wariness and familiarity. “Not that long. Maybe a year?”

You tensed, responding instinctively. “A year’s a long time when you’re left wondering.”

The words hung in the air, and the silence that followed was thick, charged. You could feel Victoria’s eyes on you, not just as Helene but as herself, watching you, assessing you.

You let a slow smile spread across your face, the kind that was both playful and just a bit dangerous. You crossed the room, closing the space between you until you were just close enough to lean down slightly, your gaze intent.

“What, I can’t just stop by for a friendly visit?” Lauren’s voice was light, teasing, but there was an unmistakable intensity in her eyes that made Helene shift, visibly uncomfortable yet rooted to the spot.

Helene rolled her eyes, but her hands, you noticed, clenched slightly on the arms of her chair. “Last I checked, we weren’t exactly on friendly terms.”

Your smile softened, and you tilted your head, a touch of vulnerability breaking through. “Maybe that’s something I wanted to change.”

For a long, charged moment, you held each other’s gaze, a silent conversation happening in the space between you. Helene’s jaw tightened as she looked away, a hint of pain flashing across her face.

But Lauren wasn’t one to let go that easily. She stepped closer, until she was close enough to reach out, to touch, though she didn’t. Her presence was all-consuming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken, blurring the line between yourself and Lauren.

“Come on, Helene,” Lauren murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you… that I haven’t missed this.” She let the words hang, raw and intimate, before adding softly,

“Missed you.”

Helene’s cool facade cracked just slightly, a flash of pain and frustration in her eyes as she stood up staring back up at Lauren, her composure barely holding. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all this time.”

The line struck something deep within you as she spoke it, feeling Helene’s hurt and resentment like a living thing. But Lauren your character, ever defiant, only leaned in closer, her hand coming up to brace against the wall beside Helene, effectively trapping her.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” Lauren challenged, her voice a low, urgent whisper. The tension in the room thickened, and you felt the weight of Victoria’s gaze, a spark of something intense and undeniable in her eyes.

Helene hesitated, her resolve wavering, her breath catching as her gaze flickered from Lauren’s eyes to her lips, the charged air between them pulsing with all the words left unspoken. But just as the moment seemed poised to tip over into something more, the director called, “Cut!”

You snapped back to yourself, blinking as you released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart raced, your skin tingling from the lingering tension of the scene. You let your arm drop from the wall, stepping back to give Victoria space.

Victoria straightened, her expression unreadable as she adjusted her jacket, her gaze sweeping the set before finally settling on you. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked almost like�� admiration? Or was it something else?

“That was intense,” you said, trying to keep your tone light as you offered a small, slightly self-conscious smile.

Victoria nodded, a faint smile playing at the edges of her lips. “You have a way of bringing out the worst in Lauren,” she replied, her tone laced with irony but also something warmer, softer. “It’s… refreshing.”

You laughed, a little relieved but also thrown off by the words. “Well, she’s complicated. Keeps me on my toes.”

Victoria tilted her head, studying you for a moment. “Complicated is good. Makes it more interesting.”

The look you exchanged held a spark, something you couldn’t quite name but was beginning to recognize more and more each time your eyes met. It was as if you were both playing a game, one where the rules were unspoken, yet unmistakably understood.

Before you could say anything else, your director clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention for a quick break before the next setup. You caught one last look from Victoria before she turned away, feeling the remnants of the scene still thrumming in your veins.

As you headed back to your trailer, your mind swirled with a mix of emotions—excitement, nerves, and the undeniable pull you felt whenever you and Victoria shared the screen. You’d always thought the hardest part of acting was embodying someone else’s feelings, but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybe the hardest part was keeping your own at bay.

You rubbed your temples, fatigue and excitement mingling as you gathered your things in your trailer. The day had been intense, the charged energy between you and Victoria in that last scene still humming under your skin. Just as you were about to head out, you swung the door open—and nearly collided with Victoria, who stood in front of the trailer with her hand mid-air, ready to knock.

“Oh!” you stammered, stepping back in surprise. “I didn’t expect—”

She chuckled, lowering her hand. “Neither did I, apparently.” There was a slight pause as you stood there, your heart beating just a bit faster, the exhaustion from the day melting away in her presence.

“I was actually going to suggest grabbing a drink. Somewhere quiet to unwind after…” She gestured vaguely, but you knew exactly what she meant.

You blinked, caught off guard but strangely thrilled. “A drink sounds… perfect,” you said, a smile slowly spreading across your face.

You ended up at a dimly lit, tucked-away bar, the kind of place you would never have noticed on your own. Victoria seemed to know it well, however, leading you inside with the ease of someone who valued privacy.

You settled into a booth near the back, ordering drinks and sinking into the quiet atmosphere. For the first time all day, you were free of the cameras, the lines, the lingering tension of your roles. Here, you were just you and Victoria, sharing a drink like two colleagues winding down after work.

“So,” she began, raising an eyebrow over her glass. “How was your first day of intense romantic drama?”

You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. “I have to say, it was… exhilarating. But definitely a bit intimidating.” you glanced at her, a little more openly than you might have dared earlier. “You make it seem so effortless. I keep wondering if I’m doing it right.”

“Trust me, you’re doing it right.” Victoria leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Acting isn’t about ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ anyway. It’s about trusting yourself. You get lost in the moment, and… well, you did that today.”

You felt your cheeks warm, feeling simultaneously grateful and a little self-conscious under her gaze. “Thanks. Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

You fell into an easy rhythm, talking about the movie, then drifting into lighter topics—the absurdity of long filming days, the occasional mishaps on set. Victoria shared a story about an elaborate costume mishap during a period drama that left her frantically trying to fix her dress just seconds before a big shot. You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

“Is this your secret weapon?” you asked with a grin. “Getting everyone to laugh so they forget their lines?”

“Ah, you’ve caught me,” she replied, a playful glint in her eye. “It’s all part of my master plan. Throw them off just enough so I can look that much better.”

You chuckled, and then, in a moment of pure spontaneity, you blurted, “Well, I don’t have your number. So if you ever need a partner in crime… or just someone to grab a drink with…”

Victoria’s eyebrows rose, a hint of mischief in her smile. “Is that your idea of subtle? Or is that just how you are with women?”

You felt your cheeks go warm again, though you grinned, refusing to back down. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before reaching for her phone. She tapped a few times, and your phone buzzed in your bag. “There. Now you have my number,” she said, her tone playful, yet her eyes held a trace of something deeper. “Just… don’t go spreading it around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, matching her teasing tone.

You finished your drinks, lingering for a few more quiet moments before you finally decided to head home. Outside the bar, you shared a quick, almost shy goodbye, both of you staying just a bit longer than needed. You watched as she disappeared down the street, a strange blend of exhilaration and confusion swirling inside you.

When you finally returned to your small apartment, you lied awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The day’s events replayed in your mind, your thoughts wandering from your intense scene to the quiet, easy comfort of the bar. Every moment with her felt like an uncharted path you were just beginning to explore.

A smile crept onto your face as you thought of her teasing remarks, her gaze, the effortless way she seemed to fill every space she entered. You couldn’t quite pin down what was happening between you, only that something had started, and you were more than ready to see where it would lead.

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: Ezra Bridger is home at last . . .

*Author's Note: This was originally a sabezraweek2024 fanfic that did not get finished on time and was delayed due to . . . circumstances. I hope that this story gives you, dear reader, some small measure of joy. We will be needing it in the days, months, and years to come.

Prompt - Surprise(?)

@sabezraweek

Your name is Ezra Bridger, and you have finally returned home.

Standing in the doorway of the old comm-tower you lived in for seven long, dark, and lonely years. All the old feelings return in a rush: a heady surge of nostalgia, joy, and lingering sadness that not even your Jedi training can fight against.

It almost brings you to your knees in that moment, that wave of emotions. You fight it off, swaying in the doorway.

(But you do not fight the stream of tears falling down your face. You do not even try.)

The woman who is practically a second mother to you gives you a gentle squeeze on your arm. Hera Syndulla has barely aged a day since you last saw her. Her voice still carries the gravity of command that you had grown accustomed to since the day you first met - but now it sits more heavily, more pronounced. The title of General does not seem to weigh much on her, yet the wear and tear of years fighting a war for freedom do.

You can see it in her eyes. The sadness of those who were lost.

(You were not with her to mourn the passing of your mentor, Kanan Jarrus. That is something you will always regret, no matter how necessary the sacrifice was.)

But none of that diminishes the joy. In the Force, you see her truly: a gentle fountain of golden light, always pouring forth. No darkness will ever blight the person that is Hera Syndulla. Whatever evil the galaxy conjures up to throw at her, she will never falter in her truth.

(That is an immutable fact of the universe. And everyone who knows her understands that.}

Both of the Jedi who loved her were inspired by the light she represented. So much so, that one died to protect it.

Even now, you turn to her for strength. Not to stand against an incoming darkness, but a return to the light.

You have returned home.

Hera says some gentle words, joined with a tearful smile. She has never left your side since you came back. There is always a smile - and, sometimes, with it comes some tears.

She leaves you be, once assured that you will be okay, to wait outside and extend some privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you walk inside the place you once called home.

It does not surprise you to see the mess that greets you. You know who has been living here during your absence.

(She fought for this place to remain a home. Not to become a tomb.)

A loth cat - Murley, you were told was his name - watches you with bright, curious eyes. It loafs, in the way loth cats do when relaxing, on the edge of a work bench. Cautiously, you extend a hand.

Murley sniffs hesitantly, and then gives a tender boop of his nose on the edge of your finger.

Guess that means I'm welcome to stay, you think, a smile forming on your face.

With the loth cat's approval, you walk around the comm-tower's interior slowly, taking everything in.

You see the paintings on the walls; the paint, the symbols, the signs of life and light that were not present before. The notes, the data pads, the texts, the tools, the clothes all strewn about like they were caught in the grip of a vicious gale of wind - all of it, burning brightly with her presence.

She made this a home, just as you did. A part of you wonders why she came here, of all places. She was a war hero. Surely, they offered her anywhere to stay on Lothal.

You know why, whispers a voice from the corner of your heart. She had nowhere else to go.

No. That was not the reason.

There was nowhere else she wanted to go. Not after . . .

You close your eyes, extending your senses in the Force. It takes far longer than it should, as your heart threatens to hammer its way through your chest, fueled by the sudden resurgence of feelings long thought buried.

When the calm comes, and you reach out -

Ezra.

Her voice. Saying your name in a hushed whisper, a thousand - no, a million times over and over.

Like a prayer. Every utterance comes with a different inflection - sometimes sad, sometimes happy, and sometimes angry - but, as you delve deeper into the Force, you can sense the same emotion of where it all is born from.

It's the same emotion you felt when first seeing her again after so many years of dreaming of the moment when she would come for you, at last.

You felt it when your eyes locked with hers; an achingly familiar face that you imagined on your bleakest days. A beautiful face, full of fierce pride and devotion, that you tried clumsily to recreate with a crude pen and even cruder hand, on the days when loneliness threatened to take you.

You felt it when she spoke; her voice being like a melody whose tune you had almost forgotten in the long years abandoned. Hearing it was like seeing the sun break through a dark, gray morning. She teased and joked and bantered with you like no time had passed.

You felt it when she embraced you; the steady, sure strength of her arms, clad in the unbreakable beskar steel of her people - an unbreakable strength that paled next to her own will and determination. Once, when you were younger, you thought that strength could shake the stars.

(You are more right than you are willing to admit.)

You felt it when you inhaled her scent - a scent that reminded you of the fresh bloom of flowers, delicate and lovely - as she hugged you close enough to feel the beating of your heart. Although you both acted the part of dearly reunited friends, you know that something deeper had transpired in your reunion.

Because when you felt her heartbeat, you mistook it for your own at first - until you realized that both of yours were beating so profoundly in unison that it felt like one heart.

When you open your eyes again, you are not surprised to feel the tears falling from them again.

You think about the last time you saw her - fighting on the top of a dark tower, saving another friend. A flash of emerald, flaring bright against the bleak sky of a foreign world.

You, Ezra Bridger, suddenly feel more alone than when you were stranded in another galaxy.

Looking around now, the place you called home feels empty. Despite the familiar surroundings and scents, it does not feel right. Something is missing.

Someone is missing from it. The absence fills the silence inside the comm-tower, robbing you of breath and peace.

You wonder, briefly, if this is how she felt for all those years. You can scarcely stand it now, not being there with her.

How did she handle it? How did she survive?

(You know what she did. The question is what will you do?)

You, Ezra Bridger, are surprised to realize that you are not home.

Not yet. Home, you now know, was never a place.

Home was left behind.

There is shame now. A gentle, burning regret. Once, you think to yourself, you knew this to be true.

How easy it is to forget.

(She never did.)

(What will you do, with all your power?)

You take a deep breath - and listen to the Force.

Hera comes beside you, concerned. You turn to her and say three words - a truth, a reason, and a call to action.

She laughs gently. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, ruefully.

A gentle rap on your forehead. "Guess there's still some things for the Jedi Knight to learn."

You nod, thinking fervently, I hope so.

Hera studies you closely. "You sure about this?"

You repeat the same three words. She snorts.

"You already said that."

It makes things simpler, you think. But you only answer with a smile.

"Alright, then. Let's go get her, Ezra."

Your voice comes out firm and steady with purpose - and you think about her again, an image vividly springing to life in the forefront of your mind: her, smiling up at a sea of stars far, far away, thinking of home.

But not a place. A person.

This time, you start to think, as you walk out of the comm-tower and into the lowered ramp of the waiting Ghost.

This time, I really am going home.