#the pocket book of calm

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[crvngefrvll]

Me: *watches a movie series adapted from a book series*

Me: Alright I'm going to join the fandom and maybe buy the books-

*Me eventually joining the fandom and learning about the series*

*Sees the entire fandom fighting and arguing on about how inaccurate the movies are compared to the books*

Me: Holy shit here we go again-

[urmum-lovesme]

The Gas Station

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pregnant!Reader

summary: Y/n is in her final trimester of her pregnancy and Rafe is eager to make sure the birth of his first baby goes smoothly, but thanks to Y/n's stubbornness they find themselves stuck in a pretty sticky situation with the last two people they expected.

a/n: So I watched "We Live In Time" yesterday and I loved the movie so much that I wanted to rewrite the childbirth scene from it cause it was my favourite! Rafe is so 'grumpy to everyone else but soft for her' core in this. Ps: I’ve never given birth so this might not be too accurate, don’t kill me

warnings: Spoilers for the 'we live in time' childbirth scene, mentions of contractions, labour, childbirth (pretty visual ig?), mentions of a zoot but no smoking, mentions of alcohol but no drinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The living room of the Chateau was warm and filled with the low hum of conversation. Sarah was sprawled on the floor, while Kiara leaned back against the couch, discussing the possibilities of the new Cameron baby being a boy or girl. Pope sat at the kitchen table, half-focused on whatever book he had cracked open, pen scribbling against the paper trying to figure out the probability the mathematical way, and Cleo lounged near the window, lazily watching the wind shift the trees outside as they all spoke to one another

Y/n was sitting on the couch opposite Sarah and Kiara, half-listening, half-focused on the cookie in her hand as her other one rubbed over her large, rounded belly. Sarah grinned as she caught Y/n eyeing the cookie. 

“What, are my cookies that good?”

Y/n opened her mouth to answer but suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand instinctively flew to her lower stomach, the cookie forgotten on the side of the couch.

Rafe, who had been leaning against the doorway, taking the time to admire the girl in her last couple of days of pregnancy, immediately straightened. His relaxed expression vanished. She had been persistent that she wanted to come and visit Sarah and the Pogue’s at the chateau, and as much as he protested, knowing the due date of their baby was any day now, she managed to sway him with those pleading eyes of hers and small pout, which he couldn’t seem to say no to.

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice softened, but there was a thread of tension running through it as he crossed the room in two quick steps. Y/n didn’t answer right away. She squeezed her eyes shut, shifting to the edge of the sofa and placing both hands on her belly. She took in a slow, shaky breath.

“I… think I’m having contractions.”

The room fell into a sudden, heavy silence as they all looked at eachother. 

Sarah blinked. “Wait, what? Like, actual contractions?”

Cleo sat up straighter, eyeing her. “No way sweet thing, maybe you just ate too many of them damn cookies huh?”

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving. Right now.” 

Rafe’s face paled and he was already patting his pockets for the car keys, panic creeping into his voice as he grabbed the girl’s shoes from next to the door. Pope closed his book slowly, brows furrowed. 

“Hold on, how far apart are they? That matters, right?”

Kiara leaned forward, calm but attentive. “Yeah, how bad was that one? Like, on a scale of one to ‘get in the car’?”

Y/n exhaled slowly, leaning her head back. “It wasn’t that bad. Just… caught me off guard. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You just said you’re having contractions!”

Sarah gawked her eyes wide with disbelief. She had been buzzing with excitement ever since she found out she was going to be an aunt. The girl had been planning baby showers and picking out names for months, practically bouncing off the walls with anticipation that her brother was going to be a father, and that he’d changed so much since the couple had found out about their little angel. And now, that Y/n was in labour, and she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of concern and sheer excitement.

“She said ‘think,’” Cleo corrected, smirking. “Key word, Sarah. Could just be gas, ya know?”

Y/n let out a weak laugh. “Thanks for that, Cleo.”

Rafe didn’t laugh. He crouched in front of her, eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress, “Y/n, we should go. The hospital’s all the way in Figure 8, and we’re in the Cut, that’s not a quick drive.”

Y/n shook her head, breathing steadily, she’d noticed how he’d been on edge for the past few weeks, his nerves fraying with every little thing. Rafe cared about her more than he ever thought possible- she was everything to him. The thought of losing her or their baby terrified him to his core, he couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for her, of not protecting the two most important people in his life.

 “Rafey, that was the first contraction, my waters not even broken yet. We have time.”

“No, we don’t,” he snapped, then caught himself and softened his tone, letting out a sigh, “I just… I don’t want to risk it, okay?”

Kiara, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression surprised to see the once frat boy asshole so attentive, leaned over to Sarah. 

“Is he always this dramatic?”

“Oh yeah, it's become a talent.”

Pope stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Look, if they’re still spaced out, you probably have hours. First babies take their time. But we should keep track.” As he looked around the kitchen drawers for something, cutlery clanged in them as he opened and shut the wooden furniture, finally fishing out an old plastic stopwatch.

Rafe shot him a glare, “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly betting on that.”

Y/n reached for Rafe’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Lets just sit here for a bit more please. If they get worse, we’ll go.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, then let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. But if anything changes, we’re out of here. No arguments.”

“No arguments.”

She responded as she smiled in agreement, leaning forward slightly to give the boy a quick peck on the lips. Reluctantly, Rafe sat beside her, shuffling so she rested against his side, his hand protectively resting on her belly, a place it had gotten used to resting on in the past few months. Sarah cleared her throat. 

“So… does this mean more cookies, or…?”

Y/n laughed out nodding her head with wide eyes and Cleo snorted at the girl's reaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room had grown quieter, but the tension clung to the air as Rafe stood by the window, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear. His free hand raked over his short hair as he listened to the calm, too-casual voice on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t come in yet?” Rafe snapped, disbelief lacing his voice.

“She’s in labour!”

The nurse on the other end responded evenly, used to anxious fathers. “Sir, unless her contractions are between three to five minutes apart, there’s no point in coming now. First-time labours can take hours, sometimes longer. You’ll be more comfortable at home.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Do you know who I am?” his tone dropped, sharp and cold, “My family practically owns half this island, and you’re telling me to just sit around and wait?”

From the couch, Sarah groaned audibly and rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God.” 

She pushed off the armrest and stormed over, snatching the phone from Rafe’s hand before he could say another word and pressed it to her ear,

“Hi, sorry about him,” Sarah said sweetly into the phone, giving Rafe a sharp glare. “We’ll keep an eye on things and call if anything changes. Thanks for your help.”

She hung up and tossed the phone onto the table.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “Pulling the Cameron card on a nurse? What was that supposed to do- magically speed up labor?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked down to his younger sister, his finger jabbing into his chest as he spoke, “I’m trying to make sure she’s safe, Sarah! We’re stuck in this shithole cause you've,” his raised his finger pointing it to his temple, “put some voodoo spell on her so she doesn't want to leave and no one seems to care!”

Cleo looked over from where she was sitting, flipping her pocket knife, her eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his sudden bizarre speculation. Sarah crossed her arms. 

“Yelling at the hospital won’t fix that. You need to calm down before you stress her out even more.”

Rafe opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of the back door creaking open cut him off. Kiara stepped in, shaking off the light drizzle from outside, a bright blue yoga ball awkwardly tucked under her arm.

“Found it!” she grinned, holding it out like a trophy.

Y/n’s face lit up despite the discomfort. “Oh, thank God.”

Kiara rolled it over to her, and Y/n carefully shifted forward, accepting it gratefully.

“I heard these help,” Kiara said with a small smile.

Y/n slowly eased herself onto the ball, her hands holding onto Kiara’s outstretched ones in support before she sat down on the plastic sphere starting to gently bounce. A relieved sigh slipped from her lips.

“Oh wow… yeah, this is way better.”

Sarah smirked. “Look, see? This is called helping, Rafe.”

Cleo, still lounging by the window, spoke up. “Yeah man, maybe if you threaten the ball next it’ll really speed things up.”

Pope cracked a small smile from his spot at the table at the girl’s words. Rafe, still tense, exhaled sharply and dropped into a chair by the kitchen table, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes drifted to Y/n, watching her breathe easier with each bounce. As he watched her, he realised he seemed to be more stressed than she was, but was he in the wrong for that? He only wanted to make sure the mother of his child could have the most comfort possible. Without a word, he pushed up from his chair and slowly crossed the room. He crouched down in front of her, eyes locked on her face, his hands resting lightly on her knees.

“Baby… are you sure you want to stay here?” 

His voice was softer now, the edge gone, replaced by something fragile. Y/n blinked down at him, her breathing steady. She lifted one hand from her belly and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing along his skin which was still smooth from when he shaved before they left their home.

“Rafey, please relax, yeah?” she murmured, her other hand drifting to rest protectively over her bump. “We’re okay.”

The weight in his chest loosened just a little at the sound of her voice, but it didn’t disappear.

Rafe leaned in just a bit closer. “Okay, but when you start feeling off you tell me, yeah?”

Y/n gave him a playful eye roll, but her smile was soft. She leaned forward, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips once more, she knew he was on edge, but she just wanted peace for the last few hours it was going to be just the two of them.

“Yes, I promise.”

Rafe’s shoulders finally dropped as he let out a quiet breath, grounding himself in her touch. Behind them, Kiara exchanged a look with Sarah and smirked. 

“Well, that’s gross.”

Sarah laughed under her breath at her best friend's comments, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her smile as she watched them. As much as she teased, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness for her brother. It was clear that Y/n had done something to him- something that had changed him for the better, something that made him softer, more present. Sarah could see it in the way he looked at her, how much he cared. It warmed her heart to know her brother had found someone who truly made him happy.

Rafe didn’t hear the girls giggling as his focus was completely on Y/n, “Alright,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her knee before standing. 

“Just… don’t scare me like that again.”

Y/n smiled, leaning back and resuming her gentle bounce on the yoga ball hands circling her bump again.

“No promises.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours had passed the sky outside the windows now dark, the streetlamps having switched on which caused an orange glow around the island, but time seemed to stretch as the intensity of Y/n’s contractions grew. The living room was dim, the rain outside tapping softly on the windows, the air thick with anticipation.

Y/n was on her knees, her body leaning against the couch for support. Her face clearly reflected her discomfort, lips pressed together in effort as she rocked back and forth slowly, trying to breathe through the latest wave of pain. Rafe kneeled beside her, one hand gently rubbing her back, the other resting on her arm. His voice was low, soothing, a steady presence as he spoke to her.

“Is it passing?”

Y/n groaned softly, her breath hitching before she let out a quiet whine, barely audible. 

“Yeah… it’s passing.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he kept his hand on her back, massaging in slow circles, his eyes never leaving her face. He looked up to Pope, who was standing near the window, timing her contractions with the stopwatch hanging loosely around his neck.

Pope glanced at the timer, then back at Rafe. “Okay, that’s about ten minutes apart now, but getting closer.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted back to Y/n, his concern deepening. He rubbed her back a little harder, as if that would somehow ease her discomfort, “Sweet girl,” he murmured gently, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear. 

“I think we should get going now, hmm? The hospital’s still a bit of a drive.”

Y/n, in a small haze of pain, didn’t answer immediately. She just rested her head against her arms on the couch, humming out in agreement. Her nod was slow, but definite.

“Mmhm… yeah, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice small and weary.

Rafe exhaled, relief flooding through him but mixing with the urgency that had been building in his chest. He helped her slowly rise, supporting her as she stood, her legs somewhat unsteady beneath her.

“Alright, that's it”

As Rafe helped Y/n slowly stand, Sarah came rushing down the stairs, her face flushed from the hurry. Cleo was right behind her, holding a bag in one hand and a frantic expression on her face.

“Rafe!” Sarah called out, her voice breathless. “We got the bag Y/n left last time.”

She handed it over to Rafe, but before he could take it, Cleo swiped it from her hands with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

“Let the man take her to the car,” Cleo said, “I got this.”

Cleo gave Rafe a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to Y/n. “You’re good, girl. Just focus on not giving birth in here, aight?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, despite the tension in the air. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice calm and steady. Rafe shot Cleo a grateful look, still holding Y/n’s arm as she stood by herself, steady on her feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, before turning back to Y/n. “Okay, baby, let’s get you to the car. You sure you’re alright to walk?”

Y/n gave him a sideways glance, rolling her eyes a little. “I’m fine, Rafe, really.”

But before they could make it to the door, Kiara popped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of concern and determination. “Wait, wait, don’t leave without me I want to say goodbye!”

Sarah quickly followed behind, carrying a jacket for Y/n, while Pope grabbed his keys, shaking his head in amusement. The group swarmed around Y/n, helping her navigate the small space. It was a chaotic rush of arms and voices as everyone tried to keep the situation under control- except for Y/n, who was walking at a steady pace, looking far calmer than anyone else in the room. It was amusing, watching everyone fuss over her, she couldn't wait till the baby was here and they’d have all their aunts and uncles fussing at their every cry.

“I swear, I’m fine,” she said again, giving Rafe a teasing smile as she walked on her own. “I’ve got this.”

Rafe’s eyes were glued to her, his brow furrowed in concern, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he followed her toward the door.

“Alright, if you say so,” he muttered, his voice low but full of warmth.

The car was already parked outside, the engine running, the group had gathered around the car, each of them offering their well-wishes as Y/n leaned against the car door, not wanting to get in till Rafe came out. He’d gone back in to the bathroom and Sarah had scolded him for being an ‘unprofessional dad-to-be’ which he told her to ‘fuck off’. Sarah called out, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Good luck, Y/n! Let us know when Baby Cameron gets here!” 

“You got this,” Kiara added, offering a smile. “Call us if you need anything- I mean we can’t give birth but you know….”

Cleo, arms crossed and leaning against the car, smirked. “Don’t be taking forever, yeah? I wanna meet the little Poguette!”

“Poguette? We don’t know the gender yet” Pope asked as he turned to the girl eyebrows drawn down into a small confused frown

“Don’t worry- auntie Cleo’s got a feeling” She responded with a wide smile as she winked to Y/n causing her to giggle.

“I think you mean Kookette not Poguette” 

Rafe spoke up as he appeared back from the house helping the girl into her seat. Y/n, sitting in the car, gave them all a tired but genuine smile, her face a little flushed from the effort. “I’ll do my best. Don’t worry, you’ll all get your chance to meet Baby Cameron soon.”

Rafe was about to close the door when she paused.

“Wait!”

The group froze, and all eyes snapped toward her, panic flashing in their faces for a brief second.

“Is everything okay? Are you—?” Sarah started, her tone suddenly worried.

Y/n looked up at her friends, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Biting her bottom lip gently before she spoke out, 

“Are there any of those cookies left?”

The entire group stared at her for a beat, then burst into laughter, the tension breaking in an instant. Kiara snorted. “Nope, you ate them all, girl, not a crumb left.”

Y/n’s face dropped in exaggerated disappointment. “Aw, man… they were so good.”

Rafe, who had just started to walk around the front of the car, stopped and turned back to her with a grin. “Come on, baby. You’ll get your cookies in the hospital. I promise.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.”

Y/n sighed softly, leaning back into her seat with a deep breath. Kiara leaned in the window, shaking her head but grinning. “You’re gonna eat cookies while in labor…?”

“Hey, it’s what I want.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head at the girl, but he couldn’t hide the fond smile that crept onto his face as he finally closed the door. He muttered, half to himself, as he walked around to the driver’s side. “We’re getting you to the hospital, cookies or not.”

The group waved them off, still laughing and calling out their goodbyes, as Rafe got in the car. Y/n smiled at the familiar faces outside the window before the car pulled away, heading toward the hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive from the Cut to Figure 8 was a blur. Rafe’s focus was entirely on the road, but his eyes kept flicking over to Y/n, every so often. She was gripping the handle on the roof of the car, her knuckles white as the pain of her contractions began to intensify. Rafe’s hand rested on her thigh, his fingers gently squeezing as he glanced at her.

“How we doing baby?” 

He asked softly, though he could already see the tightness in her jaw, the way she was trying to breathe through the pain. Y/n groaned lowly, her grip on the car handle tightening as her breath hitched. 

“Mmm, not great…” 

She muttered, her voice strained. Her back arched slightly as another wave of pain hit, and her hand shifted to rest protectively on her belly. Rafe’s heart ached for her, but he kept his voice steady, trying to keep her calm.

“Breathe, baby. Yeah? Just like we practiced in the classes.” 

His voice was gentle, encouraging, though it wasn’t lost on him how much harder it was for her now. Y/n nodded slightly, her eyes squeezing shut as she focused on her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her whole body rocked with the rhythm, but it didn’t stop the groans slipping out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Good—”

“Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Her voice was sharp despite the pain, and Rafe froze for a moment, blinking in surprise at her words but he couldn't help but accept them with a nod. She was the one in labour not him. Y/n’s hand pressed harder against her bump as she groaned, her head resting back against the seat, her body arching slightly in response to the contraction.

She wasn’t having it.

Rafe couldn’t help but smile slightly at her attitude, but it was tender as he spoke, “Okay, okay,” he muttered, his hand still gently on her thigh. “I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes on the road driving carefully, now that he had precious cargo in his car, but they would flicker occasionally to Y/n in the passenger’s seat. Always watching, always waiting, as they pushed forward toward the hospital. The pain was coming in waves now, each one crashing over her with more intensity than the last. Y/n’s body was tense, and her breathing was shallow, but she still managed to mutter through the strain, 

“Sorry… just hurts…”

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he leaned forward, his eyes focused on the road, but Y/n could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles went white around the wheel.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, baby,” Rafe said softly, his voice tight.

Y/n turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his for a split second. He looked anxious, his focus split between her and the road ahead. The tightness in his posture didn’t escape her, and she could see how much he was trying to hold it together. With a small, reassuring smile, Y/n placed her hand over his, which was still resting on her thigh. The touch was gentle but firm, 

“Ready to meet Baby Cameron?” 

She mumbled, her voice soft but sincere, trying to ease some of the stress in the car. Rafe’s breath hitched at the mention of their baby, and he glanced down at their hands, a small smile crossing his face. He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so lucky that you’re the mother of my child Y/n… I love you.”

She squeezed his hand back, her eyes softening as she leaned back against the seat. Her breath was steadier now, a calmness settling in her chest as she gave him a small, exhausted smile.

“I love you, too, Rafey,” she whispered back.

—

The car crawled forward for a few agonizing seconds before the engine came to a halt once more. Rafe slammed his hand against the horn in frustration, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness of the traffic. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fuck.” 

He muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of why the cars ahead weren’t moving. Y/n, breath coming in heavy bursts now, groaned quietly beside him, trying to steady herself as another wave of pain rolled through her. 

“Rafe…”

“I know, baby, I know,” he spoke out to her, his voice tight with frustration. “No one’s fucking moving.”

She turned her head slowly, her hand resting on her belly as she let out another shaky breath. She could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way his shoulders were hunched in that familiar way he got when he was stressed.

“Rafe, please… just relax,” 

She said softly, though she was struggling to keep her own calm with each passing minute. It was no use because he could barely sit still anymore. Without another word, he threw the door open, slamming it behind him, and stepped out into the stagnant heat of the afternoon. Y/n’s eyes followed him through the windshield as he walked down the line of cars, frustration written in his tense shoulders. The bridge conjoining The Cut to Figure 8 stretched ahead, a long line of unmoving vehicles in both directions, but it seemed like nothing was happening. No one was getting anywhere.

Rafe walked halfway down the bridge, his eyes scanning the cars as he tried to figure out what was going on. He stopped beside a car with a window rolled down, the driver staring out at the traffic in the same defeated way everyone else was. Rafe stepped closer, his voice terse as he addressed the guy. 

“What’s going on up there?”

The guy glanced at him, his face creased with annoyance. “Accident upfront and tree fell in the back. Gonna be stuck here for a while, man.”

Rafe let out a low curse, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. “Fuck.”

He stood there for a second, staring at the endless line of cars, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. They were stuck. Stuck in the one place they couldn’t afford to be, halfway in the middle of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, Rafe turned around and started walking back toward the car. The frustration was palpable in every step, but it didn’t touch his determination. Rafe opened the door to the car, his eyes already scanning the area as he made his way back toward Y/n. But the moment his gaze landed on the seat next to him, his heart skipped a beat.

She wasn’t there.

His mind raced as he blinked, looking around the car in confusion. He slammed the door shut, his breath quickening as he jogged over to the other side of the vehicle, checking the backseat and the floor. Where the hell could she have gone? His pulse started to race- this wasn’t happening.

“Y/n?” he called out, his voice frantic.

He spun around, looking down the bridge, feeling the panic rise in his chest. She couldn’t have just disappeared, she’s literally a nine month pregnant woman, she wasn’t easy to lose. His eyes locked on a figure at the end of the bridge, and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

There she was.

Y/n was standing at the far side of the bridge, her body leaning slightly against the wall, one hand resting gently on her bump. She looked serene in a way, her posture relaxed even in the midst of the chaos, but Rafe could see the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she was swaying lightly from side to side. The air around him seemed to still as he watched her, his thoughts spiraling, but then he broke into a jog, moving toward her with urgency.

“Y/n!” 

He called out again, his voice rough. She didn’t seem to hear him at first, or maybe she was just focused on the feeling of her own body, her eyes unfocused as she rubbed her belly in slow, soothing circles, looking down at her hand. Rafe’s steps quickened, and when he reached her side, he gently cupped her arm, his fingers warm against her skin.

“You can’t just run off like that! Are you crazy?” 

His voice was sharp, but underneath it, the worry was clear. He wanted to scold her for being out of the car, but the relief flooding him kept him from doing anything but reaching for her. Y/n raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his scolding, as she gently rubbed her belly. 

“I just wanted some air, Rafey,” she replied with a calmness that made Rafe’s frustration falter for a second.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, shaking his head. His shoulders dropped in exasperation as he sighed. “I—I don’t know what I’d do- what if I lost you huh?”

She smiled at his concern, “I'm nine months pregnant and in labour, I doubt I would’ve gotten very far Rafe.” A soft, reassuring smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, that helped calm some of the nerves still buzzing in his chest.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the car,” 

He said, his voice softer now, his hand gently brushing the hair away from her face as he guided her back, but as they started walking back toward the car, Y/n’s eyes drifted behind him, catching something in the distance. Rafe looked over his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Y/n’s gaze lingered on the gas station behind them, her fingers lightly playing with his as she spoke. 

“Really want some cookies right now…” 

She said, her voice full of that playful lilt. Rafe blinked, taking a moment to process what she was saying before he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you serious right now?”

Y/n looked at him with a sweet, innocent expression. “Mmhmm.”

Rafe stared at her for a long moment, torn between disbelief and the need to smile. He glanced at the car, then at the standstill traffic behind him, a long sigh leaving his lips as the realization set in.

“Please?” 

Y/n added, her voice soft but pleading, her hand still holding his with that familiar touch which guided his palm to rest it against her baby bump which made it hard for him to say no. Rafe’s lips curled into a reluctant smile. 

“C’mon then,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock defeat. “Let’s just be quick, aight?”

And just like that, they veered off toward the gas station, Y/n’s determination to get her cookies almost making Rafe forget about the fact she was in labour, if it wasn’t for her groan every couple of minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door of the gas station swung open, the little golden bell above it ringing as soon as they stepped inside, Y/n’s breathing hitched. Rafe was right behind her, his hand resting gently on the small of her back, ready to support her. Yet the moment the door closed behind them, Y/n groaned loudly, the contraction hitting her with full force. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and her hand instinctively went to her belly. A few people in the gas station glanced over, some in surprise, others in concern, but Rafe barely noticed them as he leaned closer to her, his voice low and calm.

“Let’s grab your cookies and go, baby,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/n barely registered his words, still trying to push through the pain, her face scrunching in discomfort as she stepped forwards towards the sweet treat aisle. She let out another soft, pained groan as she leaned against the shelf, her hand gripping the cool metal for support.

She scanned the shelves in front of her, her eyes landing on a pack of cookies, double chocolate-chip. They weren’t Sarah’s but she guessed they would have to do. She grabbed one, then another right next to it, her body rocking slightly as she breathed heavily through the contraction.

Rafe stood behind her, watching in a mix of concern and frustration, trying to hold everything together while his brain screamed that they needed to hurry. He sighed quietly, trying to hold his patience as he watched whilst she picked up random things off the shelves- gatorade, crisps… a microwavable hot-dog for one? He furrowed his eyebrows at the girl as she shoved them all into his arms, groaning in distress, was she planning on having a picnic in the hospital?

“Is that good now?” 

Rafe asked quietly, glancing at her with a raised brow as he balanced the pile of items in his arms. Y/n didn’t even look up at him. She was bent over slightly, both hands gripping onto the handles of the fridge, her body still rocking gently as the contraction slowly passed. She nodded, the sound of her breath steadying now. 

“Mmhmm,” 

She mumbled, barely able to focus on anything other than the sharp ache she was still feeling.

“Jesus,” 

Rafe muttered under his breath, his frustration mixing with disbelief at the bizarre situation, as he moved toward the counter to pay. He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes flicking from Y/n to the Rolex on his wrist. The seconds were ticking by, and every minute felt like an eternity. He glanced over his shoulder at the long queue in front of him, a subtle frown on his face. He hated waiting, but he hated even more that they were stuck in this gas station in the first place. Y/n was still by the fridge, her back slightly arched as she leaned against it, trying to breathe through the pain of another contraction. Her groan echoed loudly through the small shop, and Rafe felt his stomach tighten.

“Oh my Gooooooooddddd-”

The people in line ahead of him turned around at the sound, their eyes narrowing as they glanced in the direction Y/n was. Rafe clenched his jaw, his grip on the products in his arms tightening as he fought to keep his composure. Another loud groan broke through the silence, and Rafe’s patience snapped. He shot a look at the guy in front of him who seemed somewhat disturbed by the sound, his teeth gritting as he tried to stay calm but his irritation bubbled over, and he shot at him quickly, his voice sharp.

“She’s pregnant, okay?” 

He snapped, his gaze hardening. The man blinked, taken aback by the harshness in Rafe’s voice. The rest of the people in line seemed to take a step back, all of them suddenly understanding the gravity of the situation. Rafe was breathing heavily now, his mind racing as the seconds dragged on, but he couldn’t look away from Y/n. She was still by the fridge, still gripped by the pain of the contractions, but somehow, there was a calmness in her, even in the middle of everything, and she was now once again rocking softly back and forth. He exhaled, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside.

The man in front of Rafe raised his hands in surrender, his face showing quick understanding. Without another word, he grabbed his items from the counter and muttered a hurried, “Sorry,” as he quickly walked past Rafe, giving him space. Rafe, barely noticing the man’s retreat, threw the items he was holding down onto the counter with a frustrated sigh. His eyes immediately darted back to Y/n, his head swiveling as he tried to spot her over the shelves. The moment he looked away from the counter, though, a voice interrupted his frantic search.

“Rafe?”

Rafe froze. He knew that voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, but of course, he did anyway. There, standing a few feet away, was John B. He groaned inwardly. How much worse could this get? He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Pogue.” The name slipped from his lips, a reflexive reaction to the guy who always seemed to be around just when Rafe didn’t need him. John B gave him a tight-lipped smile, clearly trying to keep the peace, but Rafe could see the faint annoyance in his eyes.

“You need a bag?” 

John B asked, trying to be helpful, but Rafe wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Uh, yeah,” 

Rafe replied absently, barely glancing at John B as he spoke. His focus was entirely on trying to spot Y/n. His hands clenched the card in his hand as he tried to spot her around the shelves, his eyes scanning every inch of the small store. He didn’t even wait for John B to reply as his feet moved instinctively, carrying him away from the counter. He walked quickly down the aisles, his breath shallow as he called out her name, his voice strained with the urgency and stress building inside him.

“Y/n?”

His eyes darted from side to side, but there was no sign of her. He rounded the corner to another aisle, his heart starting to race as panic set in. He called out again, his voice louder this time. 

“Y/n?!”

But there was still no response. Rafe felt the irritation crawling up his spine, seriously? Not again.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, his words laced with frustration as he threw a glance back at the counter. He felt like the whole world was working against him right now. Rafe’s eyes flicked back to John B, ready to ask if he’d seen Y/n, but then something caught his attention. The door near the counter, with a small blue sign W/C, was just slightly cracked open- it was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He shot a quick glance at John B, his jaw tightening. 

“Put my stuff to the side,” 

Rafe said, his tone clipped, he once again didn’t wait for an answer, already moving toward the bathroom door. The women’s, men’s, and disabled toilets were all closed, but Rafe stepped closer to the disabled bathroom, he placed his ear against the door, trying to hear anything over the noise in the gas station.

It was then he heard it- a soft groan, followed by heavy breathing.

A slight whine escaped the other side of the door, and his pulse raced. Without thinking, he knocked gently against it, his voice low but full of urgency. 

“Baby?”

A faint voice from within answered, weak but clear.

“Yeah?”

Rafe let out a relieved breath, his forehead resting briefly against the door, relief slowly hitting him. For a moment, he just stood there, collecting himself before he pulled back, his hand still gripping the handle of the door but it didn’t move. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, but he needed to stay calm- for her- well maybe for himself too.

“Are you okay?” 

He asked, his voice soft but still edged with concern.There was a pause before her voice came through, strained but almost casual. 

“Um…yeah?”

“What do you mean, um?”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at her response. Another groan came from the other side of the door, followed by a sigh. 

“Well, I… uh, I thought I needed to use the toilet, but now that I’m in here… I think I need to push.”

“NO!”

Rafe’s eyes widened, and before he could even think, he blurted out the word. His hands raked over his hair, the panic setting in as his mind raced. 

“Baby, no- no, don’t push, okay? Please. I need you to open the door.”

He could hear her groaning again, and the sound made his chest tighten, “Y/n, I need you to open the door, okay? So we can go to the hospital. Are you listening to me, baby?” 

His voice cracked with desperation as he waited for her response. Rafe took a step back from the door, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. His mind was spinning in panic, but he was doing his best to keep it together. Another groan came from the other side of the door, louder this time, and Rafe’s chest tightened.

“Rafe, I can’t… I can’t open the door,” her voice cracked, strained. “I need to push.”

His breath hitched, and he placed a hand against the door, his grip tightening. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” His voice was soft but desperate.

 “I’m gonna come in, yeah?”

There was a brief silence before her voice came through again, strained but barely audible. 

“Yeah.”

The word was cut off by another loud groan, and the sound sent a jolt of panic through Rafe’s veins. Rafe’s patience snapped. Without a second thought, he barreled back to the counter, his voice urgent as he slammed his palm onto the surface.

“I need the key to the toilets Y/n is stuck in the disabled one.” 

His words came out in a rush, and John B didn’t hesitate. His brows furrowed in concern, and he quickly reached under the counter, pulling out multiple sets of keys before he found the right one. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.” 

He gripped them in his hand as he looked at Rafe, he’s never seen the brunette so worried. “Sorry,” John B muttered to the guy on the other side of the counter as he quickly stood up, walking around the register. Rafe was ready to go straight back to Y/n when suddenly, John B called out.

“JJ!”

Rafe froze for a split second. Not him too. He shook his head in disbelief. What had he done to deserve this? He knew he had been a dick to so many people, for so many years, but was this really the punishment he deserved. JJ, the last person Rafe wanted to deal with, sauntered up to the counter with his signature blonde hair and cocky grin, with a zoot tucked behind his ear. 

“Sup?” he asked, sounding entirely too carefree for the situation.

“Need you to take over the counter for a bit,” 

John B said, his voice tight with urgency. JJ nodded lazily, unconcerned, “Mkay, my man,” he said, easily slipping into the role. John B turned back to Rafe, and the Cameron boy grabbed his arm.

 “Let’s go.”

They both moved toward the corridor with all the bathrooms, John B crouched in front of the disabled toilet door, the key in his hand as he started to unlock it. Rafe stood by him, his muscles tense, feeling like he could finally somewhat breathe again now that they were this close. They were about to get Y/n out, and finally going to leave this godforsaken place.

“Don’t worry, man,” John B said, trying to reassure him as he worked the key into the lock. “We’re gonna get her out of there.”

But then, there was a loud snapping sound. Both of them froze.

Rafe’s stomach dropped. 

“What? What is it?” 

His voice was sharp, fear creeping in. John B hesitated, his face a mixture of guilt and disbelief. “Well… um… the key broke.”

Rafe blinked in stunned silence. “What? Speak up!”

John B looked back at him, the words tumbling out quickly. “The key broke.”

Rafe’s frustration hit a boiling point, his voice cracking with anger as he slammed his hand against the wall angrily. 

“What the fuck do you mean, you broke the key?!”

“I’m sorry! It was an accident, alright?” John B’s hands shot up in defense.

Rafe’s eyes went wide. “How the hell do you fuck up opening a door? Are you fucking serious right now!?”

Before John B could answer, they both heard a loud voice from the other side of the room. “Heyyy, what’s going on here? What’s all the yelling for?” Rafe’s head snapped toward the voice. He could feel his blood boil. Of course. It was JJ. Of course it was. John B rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n’s stuck in the toilet, and I broke the key-”

Then, a loud, strained groan from the other side of the door cut him off. Y/n’s voice echoed out, desperate and pained. 

“Fuuuucckkkk,”

Rafe slammed his hand against the door, his voice softer but filled with worry. “Baby, you okay?” There was a brief pause before she answered. 

“Yeah, just… fuuuuuuck…”

“Jesus,” Rafe muttered, running his hands through his hair, trying to keep it together. John B glanced at him. 

“What was that?”

Rafe’s breath quickened, his anxiety rising again as he looked down to the door handle of the door, the snapped metal now lodging into the keyhole. 

“She’s in labor.”

JJ blinked, processing that. “What  the  fuck?”

“And now she’s fucking stuck in there… because of you!” Rafe growled, his eyes narrowing in fury. “I swear to god-”

But before Rafe could say anything more, JJ was already moving. He pushed past both of them, walking straight up to the door. Rafe stared at him, scoffing in disbelief. JJ turned to face the door, knuckles knocking against the wood in a rhythmic pattern. He called out, looking toward the door,

“Hey sunshine,” 

“JJ?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ answered as he pulled his cap off and readjusted his hair, putting it back on backwards. “I need you to take a step away from the door.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rafe’s confusion was evident, his brow furrowed. JJ didn’t respond. He kicked the door hard, and the force of it echoed in the space, making Rafe’s heart skip a beat as he realised what the boy was trying to do.

“Wait!”

He called out as he rushed forward, his voice frantic as he called out to Y/n.

“Y/n, I need you to step back from the door, yeah?”

“I just told her that.” 

JJ spoke back to the boy, hands out in the air in confusion at his actions. Rafe rolled his eye’s as he spoke back so Y/n couldn’t hear, 

“She’s a stubborn pregnant woman, obviously she’s not going to listen to you.” 

JJ gave him a look before shrugging his shoulders, “touché.” From the other side, her breath was labored, each inhale shaky. “Ughh… okay,” she responded weakly, and there was a faint sound of movement behind the door.

“Have you done that for me, Y/n?” 

Rafe’s voice was strained, as if he was holding onto his patience by a thread. Another soft “yeah” came from her, and he stepped back, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Without saying another word, Rafe squared his shoulders. The frustration of the past few minutes boiled over. He looked at the door one last time and, without hesitation, launched his foot into it with everything he had. The sound of his kick reverberated through the small space, but the door didn’t budge. John B stepped forward, shaking his head in skepticism, but nevertheless he kicked the door next, his hit less forceful than Rafe’s but still forcefull. 

Nothing.

JJ followed suit, throwing his foot at the door, his kick full of impatience. 

Still nothing.

Rafe watched them, frustration building in his chest. “Get out of my way,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Without another word, he ripped his jacket off in a quick motion, tossing it aside as he stepped forward with sheer determination. This time, he didn’t just kick. He slammed his foot into the door again and again, each strike more powerful than the last, the force of his anger and desperation driving him. Finally, with one last powerful kick, the door swung open, the sound echoing loudly in the small hallways to the toilets. 

Rafe rushed in, his breath still heavy from the effort of kicking the door in. His eyes darted across the cramped space until he found Y/n. She was sitting there, slumped against the toilet, arm supporting herself on the sink next to her as she sat leant over, her face flushed with sweat, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Sweet girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands instinctively cupped her cheeks, his fingers trembling slightly. 

“Are you okay? C’mon, let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”

Y/n’s eyes were wide, and her grip tightened around his wrist. “I can’t… I can’t, Rafe,” she gasped, her voice a strained, breathless whimper. 

“I need to push, Rafe… I can’t—” 

The words trailed off as another wave of contraction hit her, causing her body to tense up. Rafe’s heart dropped in his chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d promised her he’d make sure everything was smooth, that she’d be in a safe, controlled place when the baby came. This definitely wasn’t how he’d envisioned the birth of his first child to happen.

“Okay, it’s okay-” 

He whispered, his hand brushing the small strands of damp hair away from her flushed, sweaty face. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile, even though inside, panic clawed at him. 

“-I’m here now, yeah? C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

And as he gently helped her try to shift, he held her gaze, his own filled with worry and tenderness. He wasn’t sure how things would play out from here, but he knew one thing- he was going to make it work. 

The moment John B and JJ stepped through the door coming back from locking up the door of the small gas station shop, they froze. Their eyes locked on Y/n, who was still leaning against the sink, her breathing ragged and uneven, sweat dripping down her face. JJ’s eyes widened in realization, his mouth falling open.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. 

“This is like for real- she’s in labor… like it’s legit-”

Rafe didn’t even look at them as he snapped into action, the blonde boys rambles falling on deaf ears. His focus was solely on Y/n, his voice low and strained. 

“Go get some towels, some water- anything.”

They both stared at him motionless as they took in the scene of the Kook who’d tormented them for so many years, gently help the girl down to a sitting position on the floor.

“NOW!” 

He barked out. John B and JJ scrambled out of the bathroom, their feet clattering as they bumped into each other in their rush to get the supplies. They didn’t say anything, just focused on finding whatever they could to help in their panic. Rafe turned back to Y/n, his face softening despite the storm of anxiety in his chest.

 “C’mon, let me help you.”

He murmured, his hands gently gripping her arms as he helped her pull down her sweatpants, hands lovingly rubbing against her calves in an attempt to comfort her. Y/n hummed out slightly, her uneasiness palpable, but as another contraction hit, she winced, her face contorting in pain. Rafe’s brows furrowed with concern, his heart aching for her. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just breathe. We’re gonna get through this, okay?”

And just as she nodded, another wave of pain hit, and Rafe exhaled in frustration, running a hand over his hair. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain the rush of panic rising inside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gas station bathroom looked nothing like it had before. Blankets and towels were scattered across the floor beneath Y/n, cushioning her knees as she rocked back and forth, panting through each wave of pain. Bottles of water and crumpled packaging littered the corners- whatever JJ and John B had managed to grab in their scramble. Y/n’s skin glistened with sweat, strands of hair clinging to her flushed face. She reached up with trembling hands, tugging at her top, desperate to get it off. The sticky fabric clung to her skin, and she let out a frustrated groan.  

"Here, baby, let me—" Rafe’s voice cut off as his phone buzzed against his ear, someone's voice being heard from the other side. He was crouched down, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.  

"Yeah, okay, yeah—she's on the floor, towels everywhere. No, the hospital’s blocked off! We're stuck. I've just told you this, are you even listening to me!" 

His voice cracked, running high with panic. John B sat awkwardly near Y/n’s head, trying to offer some sort of comfort. Her hand suddenly shot out, fingers digging painfully into his arm. His breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. He muttered, voice shaky, 

"Shit- okay, okay, you're okay," 

Y/n barely managed to choke out, "Sorry," between laboured breaths as her nails digged into his skin. John B’s voice squeaked, 

"It's fine! Totally fine!" 

His face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare pull away. JJ hovered uselessly in the doorway, wide-eyed and wringing his hands feeling a little awkward with the situation at hand. 

“Uh… y’all need anything else? Snacks? Beer? No—okay, cool.”  

Rafe paced in a tight circle before crouching behind Y/n again, gripping the phone. The nurse’s voice was brisk but calm as she spoke into his ear,“Can you see the baby’s head, sir?”  

Rafe swallowed hard, leaning over for a quick glance. His face was drained of all colour.  

“Uh… yeah I can see the head.”  

Y/n’s head snapped up. "What?! What do you mean you can see it?!"  

Rafe’s eyes were wide, panic rising in his throat as the nurse’s voice cut through the phone, steady and firm. “Listen to me carefully. That means she’s ready to push. You need to place your hand firmly against the baby’s head to guide it out slowly. If it comes too fast, there’s a risk of decapitation.”  

Rafe froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Y/n, blinking rapidly, his mind spiralling. His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, but fear was holding him in place, like a heavy weight on his chest. He wasn’t prepared for this. He had no idea what to do, only that he couldn’t screw this up. 

“Hello? Sir? Are you still there? Is everything okay?”  

He cleared his throat, forcing the words out.  

"Yeah—yeah, I’m here."  

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut, dragging a shaky hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his eye’s. He needed to keep it together, but every second felt heavier than the last. He sucked in a breath, grounding himself before snapping his head up.  

“JJ! Get over here and hold this fucking phone!”  

JJ shuffled forward, noticeably hesitant, eyes fixed awkwardly on the wall as he stood beside Rafe, who held the phone out for the boy slightly. However, as the blond boy refused to look down Rafe remained with his hand held out, causing him to look away from Y/n and see the boy still staring straight ahead at the wall. Rafe stared at him, disbelief simmering under his skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”  

“Bro?”  

John B glanced over from where he was crouched by Y/n’s head, frowning. JJ muttered under his breath, barely audible. Rafe’s patience snapped. 

“What!?”  

“Listen, your girl is literally naked right there, man! I don’t wanna look- it’s disrespectful!”  

JJ winced, shoulders tensing. Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His fists balled at his sides, knuckles white. Every muscle in his body screamed to just hit him, to shake the stupidity right out of him. He could see himself doing it- just one solid punch.  But instead, Rafe forced himself to take a breath, exhaling hard through his nose. He dragged a hand roughly over his face once again, muttering, “Jesus Christ-”  

Y/n let out a sharp, pained groan, her voice cracking.  

“JJ, I don’t care! Just help him- oh SHIIIIIIT!”  

Her scream cut through the room like a knife, yanking everyone’s attention back to reality. JJ’s eyes shot wide. 

“Okay! Okay! If you insist-”  

He didn’t even get the words out before Rafe shoved the phone- now on speaker- hard into his chest. JJ scrambled to steady it, and as his eyes flicked down, his face drained of colour as he looked at Y/n. The very top of the baby’s head was there. 

“Holy shit, Y/n there’s like a fucking baby in your pussy-”  

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, JJ!” 

Y/n’s scream was sharp and furious, echoing in the cramped space. JJ jumped, gripping the phone like it might explode.  

“Okay! Sorry! Jesus!” 

His voice cracked as he lifted the phone so they could hear it if the nurse spoke out. Rafe knelt back down behind Y/n, and he swallowed hard, as he felt the slick warmth of Y/n's skin under his palm, pressing his hand gently but firmly against the top of the baby’s head, just like the nurse had told him. His other hand rubbed slow, steady circles along the curve of her trembling back, grounding her as best he could. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he forced his voice to stay calm, soft- for her.

“Okay, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I need you to listen to me, yeah?”

Y/n’s head lolled against her arm, sweat-damp hair clinging to her flushed face as she let out a shaky breath. His voice firmed, but it was still gentle, coaxing. His hand didn’t stop moving on her back. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good. But I really, really need you to push on the next contraction, alright?”

Her glassy eyes flickered to his, searching, scared. He gave her the smallest, crooked smile despite the panic clawing at him. 

“We’re so close, yeah? You’re so strong. Just one big push for me, okay?”

Y/n’s fingers dug into the blankets beneath her, knuckles white. She gave a slight, barely-there nod.

“That’s my girl,” his hand pressed steady against the baby’s head, the other still rubbing soothingly along her back, “Next one, baby. We’re gonna meet our little Cameron. You’ve got this.”

Y/n clenched her jaw, groaning through another push, but Rafe could feel it- nothing was changing. He leaned back slightly, panic creeping into his features, and turned towards the phone in JJ’s grip.

“I—nothing’s happening,” he said quickly, his voice strained, eyes darting from the phone to Y/n’s hunched figure. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the baby moving?”

The nurse’s voice came through, calm but firm. “She’s not pushing hard enough. You need to get the baby out soon, Mr Cameron. The longer the baby stays in the birth canal, the more risk there is of oxygen deprivation.”

Fuck. Rafe’s heart plummeted at the words, and he felt his hand slip slightly against Y/n’s damp skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, his lips parting to respond, but before he could, a faint sound drew his attention.

“Rafe…”

It was John B, his voice hesitant, almost soft. He was kneeling at Y/n’s side, her trembling fingers curled weakly around his forearm. 

“Rafe, man… I think you need to talk to her…” 

He said quietly, glancing down at the way Y/n’s grip seemed to falter, her breaths shallow and uneven. Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the sight of her pain and exhaustion. God, she wasn’t even on any painkillers, he didn’t want to imagine how she felt right now. His eyes darted between Y/n and the phone before he scrubbed a hand over his buzzed hair, frustration and fear mixing in his expression. John B slowly rose to his feet, giving Y/n’s hand a small squeeze before letting go. He turned to Rafe who had also risen, his face softer than it usually was when the two of them interacted.

“You heard what she said,” Rafe said slowly, voice tight.

John B met his eyes and gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. I heard.”

Without warning, Rafe’s hand shot out and fisted the front of John B’s shirt, yanking him in close, nose to nose. His grip was iron, knuckles white.

“You hurt my child…” Rafe’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, his blue eyes blazing, “…I’ll kill you. Is that clear, John B?”

John B didn’t flinch, didn’t fight back. He just stared at Rafe, steady and calm. Because for the first time, he wasn’t seeing Rafe Cameron the hotheaded psycho- he was seeing a terrified father on the edge.

“Yeah,” John B said quietly, voice even. “Crystal.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over his face, searching for any sign of weakness, but all he saw was understanding. He slowly uncurled his fingers, shoving John B back slightly. Without another word, they switched places. John B moved towards the phone, kneeling behind Y/n and Rafe dropped to his knees beside her, his hands instantly reaching for hers. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her own holding her hand, while the other gently rubbed along her back in slow, grounding circles.

“Hey, hey, baby, look at me,” 

He murmured, his voice softer now, but the cracks of fear still clung to the edges. Y/n barely lifted her head, her body trembling. 

“Rafe… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin and shaky, “I’m so tired-”

Rafe’s chest tightened, his throat burning. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this. Not here in this crappy gas station bathroom.

“I know, sweet girl… I know,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against hers for a moment. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this for you.”

Y/n shook her head faintly, her grip on his wrist weakening.

“No, baby, listen to me.”

 Rafe cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the sweat from her cheeks. His own eyes were glassy now, but his voice steadied. “I need you to be strong for me now, yeah? Just a little longer. You can do this. You’re so close.”

She blinked at him, breath shaky, and he leaned in closer, his nose brushing against hers.

“Please, baby. For me. For our baby.”

Y/n swallowed hard, a tear slipping down her cheek, but she gave him the faintest nod.

“That’s it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead as his thumb came out to wipe her cheek free of the salty water.. 

“That’s my girl.”

Y/n let out a guttural groan as she pushed with everything she had on her next contraction, her entire body trembling under the effort. Rafe was right beside her, one hand braced on her back, the other still gently cupping her hand, which she gripped ferociously.

“Oh my God- the head’s out!” 

John B shouted, voice laced with disbelief and panic. He was kneeld awkwardly, eyes wide as he stared down. JJ was next to him, his knees slipping slightly on the layered towels. 

“Holy shit, man, I see it! Okay, okay, you’re so close, Y/n!” His voice was high with adrenaline, but there was something soft in it, too. “Come on, mama, just a little more, you’re about to meet your baby!”

Rafe tightened his grip on Y/n’s shoulder, leaning in close, his breath shaky. “Sweet girl, we’re right there, yeah? One more push. You’ve got this.”

The nurse crackled through the phone still in JJ’s shaky grip, “Support the baby’s head! Careful, slow—don’t let it drop!” JJ scrambled, hands trembling as he carefully cupped the tiny, slick head, his face frozen in panic. “Okay, okay, I got it—I got it! Oh my God, John B, help me!” John B, swallowing his own panic, steadied JJ’s hands, both of them crouched and bracing themselves.

“Y/n, baby, one more. Just one more push,” 

Rafe whispered, voice breaking but full of determination. Y/n let out a ragged sob, gripping Rafe’s arm like a lifeline, her face buried into his neck. She drew in a shaking breath and bore down, crying out as her body strained.

“There we go!” John B’s voice cracked with disbelief. “The shoulders are coming!” JJ’s eyes were wide, hands gently guiding the tiny body. Rafe’s hand slid to her damp cheek, brushing her hair back. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

And in the next moment, the baby slipped free into JJ and John B’s waiting hands, their eyes wide with shock and awe. For a moment, the entire room was still. Breathless. Then, the silence shattered. A sharp, piercing wail filled the air—raw, loud, and alive.

The baby was crying.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, filled with warmth. “That’s exactly what we want to hear, means their airways are clear- congratulations!” the nurse’s voice came through, vibrating with relief.

Y/n’s body sagged with relief, sobs breaking free as she wept, trembling from exhaustion and overwhelming joy. Rafe let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His chest tightened, and his eyes, glossed over, locked on Y/n, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Oh, sweet girl…” His voice was raw as he leaned in, cupping her tear-streaked face. 

“I’m so proud of you. You hear that?” 

He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, voice breaking. “That’s our baby Y/n, you did that.” He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, his arms holding her close. Y/n’s breath hitched, tears slipping freely. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Is it… is it a boy or a girl?”

John B, though still emotional, took the lead as he carefully placed his hands on the baby’s tiny chest, rubbing gently as the nurse instructed to ​​ensure air was circulating properly. His movements instinctual despite the fear and emotions tangled in his chest. 

“It’s a girl.”

A fragile, joyful sob escaped Y/n’s lips, her hand flying to her mouth. The nurse’s voice crackled through the phone, her tone calm and clear. “Alright, now I need you to swaddle the baby tightly, make sure she doesn’t get cold.”

JJ moved quickly, wrapping the baby snugly in the towel, his hands surprisingly gentle despite the chaos unfolding around them. The nurse continued as they worked on the little being amongst the towels. “And how’s mom? Make sure she’s covered up too, don’t want her getting cold either.”

John B, standing up from his kneeling position, grabbed a second blanket and draped it over Y/n, making sure it covered her body as he gently rubbed her back. “Good job, Y/n. You’re amazing.” Never in a million years did he think when he got a job at the gas station he would be helping to deliver his brother in law’s baby. Y/n, leaning heavily against Rafe, gave him a small, exhausted smile.

The nurse’s voice came through again, more reassuring this time. “Now, I need you to pass the baby to mum. Be gentle, don’t pull on the umbilical cord. The ambulance is just two minutes away.”

Rafe, still crouched behind Y/n, gently helped her lean back against his chest . His arms were wrapped securely around her, as he supported her with a steady, comforting presence. He gently adjusted her position, making sure her back was firmly against his chest, and spoke softly, his voice laced with concern, 

“You okay, baby?”

Y/n hummed softly, her breath shallow as she nodded faintly, exhaustion clouding her features. She leaned back further into him, her body still trembling, but her grip on her blanket was firm. Rafe gave her a soft kiss on the side of her head, his hands gently rubbing her arm in soothing circles. JJ gently cradled the newborn, his hands trembling slightly from the weight of the moment. 

“Well done sunshine.” 

He said softly, his voice full of emotion as he carefully passed the baby to Y/n. With shaky hands, Y/n cradled the baby to her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down at the sweet, tiny face. Tears welled up in her eyes, the overwhelming joy of finally holding her daughter too much to contain. She let out a shaky sob, her heart swelling with emotion. Rafe leaned in close, his voice soft as he spoke, 

“It’s okay, we’ve got her now, yeah?” 

He wrapped his arms around Y/n from behind, his chin resting gently on her shoulder, offering her all the reassurance she needed. Y/n barely heard him though, her attention entirely on the little life in her arms. She watched as he ran a trembling finger over the baby’s cheek, the softness of his daughter's skin pulling at his heartstrings. 

“She looks just like you, Rafey” 

Y/n murmured, her voice full of awe. Rafe let out an emotional laugh, a tear slipping from his eye as he leaned in to kiss Y/n’s forehead, feeling completely overwhelmed by the moment. Y/n turned her head to look at him, and he leaned forward slightly to press his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet, sacred moment. After a moment of silence, he kissed her softly, his lips lingering for just a second. With glossy eyes, he whispered, 

“Thank you for giving us our sweet girl.”

Y/n smiled, her heart full as she leaned her head against his, both of them looking down at their peaceful, sleeping baby in her arms. Although baby Cameron was born in a gas station on the cut, in the hands of two Pogues who they didn't always get along with, and not in the prestigious private suite of the hospital they had planned to give birth in originally, they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[be4chywritez]

sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

prompt list

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works. 

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast. 

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you. 

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

[pandapetals]

Crush

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - slight angst, misunderstandings, struggle expressing feelings, crushes, introvert reader, x-men cameos, logan being jealous, fluff at end

You have a crush on Logan but being shy and introverted makes it hard for you to tell him that.

read on Ao3

You had a painfully obvious crush, at least to yourself. You kept it locked away, buried under layers of awkwardness and forced indifference. There was no point in admitting it, no point in setting yourself up for the kind of rejection that would leave you reeling for weeks. That’s why they called it a crush—it hurt. And you’d rather avoid the sting altogether.

Logan, of all people, would never look at you that way. Why would he? The man was a living embodiment of rugged confidence, the kind of guy who attracted the attention of bold, sexy women without even trying. Women who exuded confidence, who knew how to flirt without stumbling over their words or turning beet red at the slightest hint of interest.

You were not that woman.

You were awkward, sometimes downright clumsy with your words, and whenever Logan was nearby, you either avoided him completely or turned into a jittery mess. The few times you’d actually spoken to him, you’d kept it short, clipped even—anything to hide the way your heart raced whenever he was within arm’s reach.

But today? Today, fate was not on your side.

"Hey," Logan’s low, gravelly voice cut through the air, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts.

You jumped, nearly dropping the stack of books in your arms as his voice startled you. A squeal escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

"Hi!" you blurted out, avoiding his gaze as if your life depended on it. Your eyes darted anywhere but at him, settling on the wall, the floor, even the damn ceiling—anywhere but on Logan’s piercing hazel eyes.

You stood there, clutching the books like they were some kind of shield between you and him, your heart hammering in your chest. Logan stood in front of you, his hands casually in his jacket pockets, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. His brows furrowed slightly, probably trying to figure out why you were acting like a deer caught in headlights.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff, though there was a hint of amusement in it.

You nodded quickly, a little too quickly, your palms suddenly sweaty. "Yep, fine," you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Just busy.” You gestured vaguely to the books in your arms as if that explained your entire existence.

Logan's gaze lingered on you, those damn intense eyes scanning your face, trying to read something in your expression. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to act normal, but normal wasn't exactly your strong suit when he was around.

"Right," he said, his tone skeptical but not unkind. "You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt."

You forced a laugh, though it came out more like a strained chuckle. "No, no bolting," you lied, though the urge to flee was strong. Your nerves were screaming at you to make up some excuse and leave before you made an even bigger fool of yourself.

Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you off the hook that easily. He stood there, hands still in his pockets, watching you with that calm, unshakable presence that made him impossible to ignore.

"So, I was thinkin’," he started, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant—something you weren’t used to hearing from him. "You and me, we should... hang out sometime."

Your heart nearly stopped. Hang out? Logan wanted to hang out with you?

Your brain went into overdrive, trying to process the words, but instead of the cool, collected response you wished you could give, you blurted out, “Why?”

The word came out sharper than you intended, and you immediately winced, mentally kicking yourself. Of all the ways you could’ve responded, why was probably the worst? It sounded rude, and defensive, like you couldn’t believe he would even suggest it.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not?”

You blinked, feeling your face grow even hotter. “I-I don’t know, I just—” You stumbled over your words, trying to backtrack but only making it worse. “I mean, you don’t usually talk to me, and I figured you’d rather—uh—hang out with someone else, you know?”

The smirk on Logan’s face softened, his eyes narrowing slightly in the way they did when he was trying to figure someone out. "I’d rather hang out with you," he said, his voice low and steady, without a hint of hesitation.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t mocking you. He was... serious and that realization only made you more nervous.

You shifted on your feet, clutching the books tighter. “I’m... not exactly the best company,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze again. “I’m awkward, and—well, I’m not really good at this kind of thing.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and almost warm. “Darlin’, you think I’m lookin’ for someone perfect to hang out with? I’m about as rough around the edges as they come.”

You hesitated, sneaking a glance at him from under your lashes. He was still watching you, but there was something softer in his expression now, something that made the knots in your stomach loosen just a little.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, feeling your voice wobble under the weight of everything unsaid. Uncertainty hung in the air between you and Logan, thick and suffocating, making your chest tighten with every awkward breath.

Logan stepped closer, his usual gruffness softened by the unspoken question in his eyes. His hand moved toward your face, almost instinctively, but he stopped short, his fingers lingering just inches from your cheek, as if he was afraid to touch you—afraid of crossing a line. His jaw clenched the hard edge of frustration in his expression barely masked by the vulnerability he wasn’t used to showing.

“Do you hate me or somethin’?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, so sudden and raw that they knocked the wind out of you. Hate him? Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the disbelief written all over your face. How could he think that? How could anyone hate Logan? The idea was so far from the truth that it left you speechless for a moment, caught between the shock of his question and the overwhelming desire to fix whatever misunderstanding had led him here.

“No—” You shook your head, the word falling out of your mouth clumsily, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt that flickered behind his eyes.

Logan’s face hardened, that familiar guarded look slipping back into place like armor, shielding him from whatever pain he thought you were hiding. He shifted his weight, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that felt more like a barrier than anything else. “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, his voice low, almost resigned. “You don’t talk to me. Hell, you barely look at me.”

You winced, feeling the truth in his words like a knife twisting in your gut. He wasn’t wrong. You had been avoiding him, dodging his gaze in hallways, keeping your conversations short, brushing him off whenever he tried to get close. But it wasn’t because you hated him—not even close. It was because every time he looked at you, your heart raced in a way that terrified you, a way that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone who could never want you the way you wanted him.

Logan took your silence as confirmation of his worst fears. His jaw clenched tighter, the hurt in his eyes hardening into something closer to anger, though not quite—more like frustration and resignation rolled into one. “Look, if I’ve done somethin’ to piss you off, just say it,” he said, his voice rough around the edges, but quieter now, like he was trying not to let the hurt show. “But this whole… act? This avoidin’ me all the damn time? I don’t get it. I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve this.”

His words cut deep, guilt gnawing at the edges of your heart. You could see it now—how your awkwardness, your fear, had been misread as rejection. How Logan, of all people, had been standing there, arms outstretched, only to be met with walls you didn’t even realize you were building.

You opened your mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t know how to explain the mess inside your head, the way you’d convinced yourself that keeping distance between you and him was safer, easier, than admitting how much he affected you. How much you wanted him, despite everything telling you it could never work.

Logan’s eyes flashed with frustration as the silence stretched between you. He ran a hand through his hair, his rough fingers tangling in the strands like he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. “You’re really not gonna say anything, huh?” His voice broke a little, rawer now, like the frustration had finally worn him down.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the weight of his words suffocating. The look on his face—the quiet hurt, the way his eyes flickered between anger and something far more vulnerable—was too much. It was too much to bear, too much to know that he’d spent all this time thinking you hated him when the truth was the exact opposite.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried more weight than you realized.

Logan stilled, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something—some hint of truth, some explanation that made sense of all the confusion that had built between you. “Then what the hell is it?” he asked. “’Cause I don’t get it, darlin’. One minute you’re actin’ like I don’t exist, and the next you’re—” He stopped himself, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to find the right words. “I just don’t know what the hell I did wrong.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, at the way he seemed so sure he was the problem. The truth weighed heavy on your chest, but fear kept your mouth shut—fear that once you said it, once you admitted how you felt, there’d be no going back.

Logan wasn’t going to wait forever. He took a step back, pulling his hand away from where it had hovered near your face, his eyes flickering with something close to disappointment. “Forget it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna beg.”

He turned as if to walk away, and panic surged through you, your chest tightening with the fear that you’d let him leave without explaining, without fixing what you’d broken. Your hand shot out instinctively, grabbing his arm before you even realized what you were doing.

“Wait—Logan, please.” Your voice cracked, your grip on his arm tightening. He stopped, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you with those sharp hazel eyes, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

He waited. His silence a heavy, painful thing as you struggled to find the right words. “I don’t hate you,” you repeated, more firmly this time, your heart pounding in your ears. “I… I just—” You swallowed hard, your chest aching with the weight of what you were about to admit. “I didn’t know how to be around you.”

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied your face. “What d’you mean?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for an escape, any way to pull yourself out of this vulnerable moment. You could feel the truth bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill out, but fear clenched around your chest like a vice. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t tell him.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, your voice tight, forced. Your eyes flickered to the floor, your stomach twisting as you scrambled for something, anything, to steer the conversation away from the truth. A lie formed on your tongue, half-formed and desperate, and you latched onto it before you could stop yourself. “I’ve just been... distracted.”

Logan’s frown deepened. “By what?” His voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness to it, a need to understand that made your stomach churn. He was getting too close, too damn close.

Panic surged through you, and before you knew what you were saying, the words tumbled out. “It’s... someone else.” You cringed inwardly as the lie left your lips, feeling the weight of it settle between you like a barrier.

Logan’s expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face, and then something darker. He tightened his jaw as his eyes hardened. “Someone else?” he repeated, his voice low, carefully controlled.

You nodded, your heart sinking. You couldn’t stop now. The lie was out, and you had to commit to it. “Yeah, um... it’s just—I’ve been kinda... into someone from the team.” The words felt foreign, clumsy like they didn’t belong to you. You hated how easily they fell from your lips, how they felt like a betrayal of everything you actually wanted to say.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he studied you. “Who?” The word was clipped, sharp, like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to hear.

You froze. Who? You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Your mind raced, and in your panic, you blurted out the first name that came to you. “Scott.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Logan’s reaction was immediate—his jaw clenched so tight you thought you could hear his teeth grind. His eyes flickered with something hot and dangerous before he quickly masked it. He took a step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his posture rigid. “Scott, huh?”

You nodded, swallowing the guilt that rose in your throat like bile. “Yeah,” you mumbled, hating yourself more with every second that passed. “I mean... I know he’s kinda, you know with Jean but...you can see why I didn’t want anyone knowing—”

Logan let out a sharp breath, cutting you off. His eyes, usually so intense but warm, were cold now, narrowed and unreadable. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” His voice was rough, edged with something that made your heart ache. “Because you’re into Scott?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just nodded, the lie sitting heavy on your chest, suffocating you.

Logan’s laugh was humorless, more of a bitter scoff than anything else. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his movements tense, almost angry. “Well, should’ve seen it.” 

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too big, too empty, the weight of your lie pressing down on you like a heavy stone. Logan had left without looking back, his words still ringing in your ears—“Should’ve seen it”—and you wished, more than anything, that you could take it all back. But the damage was done, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret.

You slumped into a chair, burying your face in your hands, replaying the moment repeatedly, wishing you’d had the courage to just tell him the truth.

Meanwhile, Logan was storming down the hallway, his mind a tangled mess of frustration, confusion, and something he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t one for feelings—hell, he’d spent most of his life trying to bury them—but this? This hit him differently. The thought of you having a crush on Scott had thrown him, and for his life, he couldn’t figure out why. What the hell did you see in the guy?

His footsteps echoed through the mansion as he made a beeline for the training room, where he knew Scott would be. When he pushed through the door, the room was mostly empty, save for Scott, who was busy adjusting one of the control panels near the Danger Room entrance.

"Summers," Logan growled, his voice low and sharp as he approached.

Scott turned, eyebrows raised beneath his visor, clearly not expecting Logan to barge in like this. "Logan," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "What’s going on?"

Logan stalked closer, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Did you know she had a crush on you?" he demanded, his voice rough with barely contained frustration.

Scott blinked, clearly confused. "Know about what?"

"Her," Logan snapped. "She’s got a crush on you. You knew about that?"

Scott looked completely taken aback, his mouth slightly agape before quickly composing himself. "Wait, who are we talking about?" he asked, genuinely bewildered. "Are you talking about... her?"

Logan clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking beneath his stubble. "Yeah, her. She told me she’s been into you, and now I’m tryin’ to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on."

Scott’s confusion deepened, and he shook his head. "I had no idea," he admitted, sounding as baffled as Logan felt. "I thought she had a thing for Kurt."

Logan's scowl deepened. "Kurt?" he repeated, the name coming out like a low growl. "You’re sayin’ she’s into Nightcrawler?"

Scott shrugged. "That’s what I thought. I’ve seen them talk a few times, and she seemed... I don’t know, shy around him. Figured she liked him."

Logan’s frustration flared even higher, his temper fraying as the conversation spiraled further away from what he thought he knew. First, he’d thought you were into Scott, and now Scott was telling him you might have a crush on Kurt? None of it was making any sense, and the knot in Logan’s chest tightened.

"Thanks for nothin’, Summers," Logan grumbled, already turning on his heel and heading for the door.

Scott held up his hands, his visor catching the light. "Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I saw."

Logan grunted in response, barely acknowledging Scott as he stormed out of the training room, his mind racing. If Scott didn’t know, and if you weren’t into him... then maybe Kurt had the answer. Logan’s jaw clenched at the thought, a surge of jealousy he hadn’t expected twisting in his gut. He needed to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.

Logan found Kurt in the garden, perched on a stone bench, lost in thought. The air around him was peaceful, the soft sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the wind providing a calm backdrop to the scene. But Logan wasn’t here for calm.

"Kurt," Logan called, his voice cutting through the serenity like a blade.

Kurt looked up, his yellow eyes widening slightly as Logan approached, clearly sensing the tension rolling off him. "Logan," he greeted cautiously, his tail twitching nervously. "Is something wrong?"

Logan stopped a few feet away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and her," he said bluntly. "There somethin’ goin’ on there?"

Kurt’s brows furrowed in confusion, his tail curling around the leg of the bench as he tilted his head. "Her?" he echoed, trying to follow Logan’s line of thought. "Who are you talking about?"

Logan huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "The girl," he growled. "You’ve been talkin’ to her. Scott thinks she’s into you. Is that true?"

Kurt blinked, completely thrown off by the accusation. "Into me?" He shook his head quickly, standing up from the bench. "No, Logan, that’s not true. We’ve spoken, yes, but nothing like that. She’s... well, she seems reserved around everyone."

Logan’s jaw tightened. "So you’re tellin’ me you haven’t noticed her actin’ strange around you?"

Kurt smiled gently, trying to diffuse the situation. "Everyone acts strange around me at first, Logan. But no, I don’t believe she has feelings for me. I think you might be mistaken."

Logan let out a frustrated sigh, feeling no closer to an answer than when he’d started this ridiculous search. "Great," he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "First Scott, now you... I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on."

Kurt watched him for a moment, his expression softening with understanding. "Perhaps," he began carefully, "you’re looking for answers in the wrong place. If you want to know who she cares about... maybe you should ask Ororo."

“Why would I ask her?” Logan growled, more to himself than anyone else. “What’s she got to do with this?”

Kurt, ever patient, tilted his head and gave Logan a knowing smile. “Because she and Ororo are friends. I’ve seen them spend a lot of time together. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s her.”

Logan grunted, rolling his shoulders, his tension palpable. He didn’t want to involve Ororo—didn’t want to turn this into more of a thing than it already was. But if Kurt was right, and Ororo knew something… well, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Thanks,” Logan muttered, already turning to leave.

Kurt nodded, watching Logan go, but his yellow eyes were filled with something more than amusement—something that hinted at the truth Logan was too stubborn to see for himself just yet.

Logan found Ororo in the greenhouse, tending to a row of plants that thrived under her careful touch. The humid air clung to him as he stepped inside, the smell of earth and rain filling the space. Ororo didn’t look up at first, her focus on the delicate leaves of a blooming flower, but she knew he was there. She always did.

“Logan,” she greeted calmly, her voice like the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. “What brings you here?”

Logan wasted no time, his frustration still simmering just below the surface. “I need to ask you somethin’,” he said, his tone gruff as usual.

Ororo finally looked up, her serene expression unwavering. “Go ahead.”

He hesitated for a second, feeling foolish now that he was standing in front of her. Ororo wasn’t the kind of person you grilled for answers, but he was desperate. “You and her,” he started, his eyes narrowing. “You two are close. Has she… said anythin’ to you about someone she’s into?”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Why do you ask?”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He hated this dance, hated feeling like he was walking into a trap he couldn’t see. “Kurt said you’d know. I’m tryin’ to figure out if what I heard is true, that she’s got feelings for Scott.” The name came out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Ororo tilted her head, her expression softening. “Logan, what exactly are you trying to figure out?”

Logan scowled, feeling the question cut too close to something he hadn’t fully confronted. “I just… need to know if she’s into someone. That’s all.” His words were clipped, defensive.

Ororo’s eyes sparkled with quiet understanding. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched him with that unnerving calm that made him feel like she could see right through him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “Logan, if you’re so concerned about who she’s interested in, perhaps you should ask yourself why.”

Logan stiffened, his muscles coiled tight. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ororo’s smile softened, but she didn’t back down. “You’re chasing answers about her feelings, but I think the real question is about yours.”

He blinked, thrown off by her words, but before he could snap back with his usual gruffness, something clicked—something that made his heart tighten in his chest. Jealousy.

Was that what this was? All this running around, demanding to know who you were interested in, snapping at the thought of you liking someone else… it wasn’t about figuring out the truth. It was about him. It was about the way his heart twisted at the thought of you being with anyone but him. The way he couldn’t shake the anger, the gnawing insecurity, because deep down, he wanted to be the one you were looking at, thinking about.

Ororo watched the realization settle over him, her gaze steady but compassionate. “You’ve been chasing the wrong answers, Logan,” she said softly. “If you want to know how she feels, ask her. But first, figure out how you feel.”

Logan stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, the weight of her words sinking in. He didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. Instead, he gave a curt nod, turning on his heel and stalking out of the greenhouse, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions.

The rest of the day, Logan couldn’t get Ororo’s words out of his head. Jealousy. He wasn’t the type to get jealous. He’d lived too long and seen too much to get caught up in feelings like that. But damn it, whenever he thought about you with someone else—Scott, Kurt, anyone—it made his blood boil in a way he couldn’t explain.

By the time night fell Logan had had enough. He needed answers. He needed to know the truth, not just about you, but about himself.

With a deep breath, he made his way to your room, his pulse thrumming with a mix of frustration, confusion, and something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

When he knocked on your door, he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps inside. A moment later, you opened the door, looking surprised to see him standing there. The expression on your face quickly turned to confusion when you saw the intensity in his eyes.

“Logan? What’s going on?”

He didn’t waste any time. “We need to talk.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on the doorknob. “About what?”

Logan stepped closer, his voice low and rough. “About you. Who the hell you’re really into?”

Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your face. “W-what are you talking about? I already told you—”

Logan cut you off with a growl, his frustration boiling over. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve been runnin’ around all day trying to figure this out—askin’ Scott, Kurt, even Ororo. And you know what? None of them know a damn thing. So I’m done with the guessin’. You’re gonna tell me the truth. Right now.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure Logan could hear it. The weight of his words, the raw frustration in his voice, wrapped around your chest like a vise. This was it—the moment you’d been running from, the one that made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and terrified.

You couldn’t run now. 

You swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “Logan... I don’t like Scott. Or Kurt. That was just—I panicked,” you confessed, the lie sitting heavy between you both, a truth finally dragging itself into the light. 

Logan’s eyes, usually so unreadable and guarded, were stormy with confusion and something sharper, something closer to hurt. He stared at you for a moment, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. “Why did you lie?” His voice was rough, almost accusing. “If you hate me, then just admit it.”

The way he said it—the bitterness in his tone—cut through you like a knife. Hate him? The idea was ridiculous, absurd, and yet it was clear Logan had convinced himself of it as if you avoiding him, your awkwardness, could only be explained by disgust.

“I don’t hate you!” you blurted, more forcefully than you intended. Your voice cracked with the weight of your own emotions, and you immediately took a step back, trying to gather yourself, but Logan wasn’t letting you go that easily.

“Then why does your heart race every time you see me?” Logan pressed, his voice low but intense. He took a step toward you, the space between you growing smaller, the air thick with tension. “I must scare you, right? You must be terrified of me because you hate me.”

The words hit like a wave, your breath catching as his eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration, vulnerability, and anger swirling in his gaze. He was waiting for you to confirm it, to say what he thought was the truth—that you couldn’t stand to be around him.

Your throat tightened, your pulse hammering in your ears as you struggled to find the right words. How could you explain what you felt when even you didn’t fully understand it? The confusion, the fear of rejection, the way being near him made you feel so exposed like he could see through every wall you’d ever put up. 

“You don’t scare me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Logan, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice was still rough, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath—like he was holding on to the hope that maybe there was more to this than he thought.

“I don’t hate you,” you said again, your voice steadier this time, though your chest still felt tight. “I just... I didn’t know how to act around you. Because every time I see you, every time you’re near me, I—”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Logan didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, waiting, watching, almost daring you to finish.

“I feel something,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it scares me.”

Logan’s expression shifted, the anger fading as something else settled in—something that made your stomach twist in anticipation. His jaw clenched, his fists relaxing at his sides, and for a moment, he just looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time.

“What’re you sayin’?” he asked quietly, almost hesitant like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.

Your breath hitched as his question hung between you, the truth teetering on the edge of your tongue. You had been running from this moment for so long, hiding behind your awkwardness and your fear. But now? Now you had to say it.

“I’m saying...” you began, your heart pounding as the words finally came, “that I could never hate you because I don’t know how to handle…you.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away as the truth hit him. He took another step closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but not in the way you feared. It was grounding, steady, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

“I make your heart race because... you like me?” he asked, his voice low, the disbelief in it unmistakable.

You nodded, your chest tight with anticipation, your eyes locked on his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again, softer, more open than you’d ever seen it.

“All this time,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of something raw, something you weren’t used to seeing in him. “You’ve been drivin’ me crazy, and I thought—” He stopped himself, his lips curving into a small, rueful smile. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

You felt a wave of relief crash over you, the weight of your unspoken feelings finally lifting. “I couldn’t stand being around you,” you admitted with a nervous laugh, “because every time I was, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, like a quiet rumble from deep in his chest. He took another step closer, his hand reaching up, this time closing the distance and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was warm, his fingers rough but careful as they lingered there.

“Well, now I know why you kept avoiding me,” he muttered, his smirk softening into something more tender. “Guess I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you looked up at him, the tension between you shifting into something deeper, something that felt like it had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to come to light.

“So... what now?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with something unreadable, but his smile stayed, slow and easy. “Now?” he murmured, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Now…I would really like to kiss you.”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours for a heartbeat, waiting, giving you the chance to pull away—but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your heart racing as his lips finally pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment he thought he’d never have.

The kiss was gentle at first, cautious, but it didn’t take long for the heat between you to build, the months of longing and tension finally breaking through. When you pulled away, your breath shaky, Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Should’ve told me sooner,” he muttered, his voice low, teasing but soft.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “Yeah, well... better late than never, right?”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Right.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Summary: It can't be a coincidence anymore.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,411 words

Warnings: ANGST, emotional turmoil, panic and panic attacks, anxiety, drugs used for drugging, very brief mention of predatory behavior, author can't write call of duty missions for shit, withholding the truth, hints at betrayal, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, very much leaning into that AU now, brief mention of guns and bullets

A/N: Ummm...yeah. You'll see. Bit shorter than normal but my obsessive need for cliffhangers prevents me from shoving it all into one chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Her head is spinning. There’s a steady throbbing behind her eyes, her blood pumping in her ears. Her shoulder aches from the cold tile floor under her. She can’t quite bring herself to move yet, the deep ache in her bones still lingering. She pushes through the haze in her mind, trying to bring up the memories of what happened. 

Someone had entered her office. She hadn’t even had time to turn around when she was hit from behind. That explains the throbbing in the back of her head. Likely concussed, though it hadn’t been a hard hit. Not hard enough to do serious damage, not even hard enough to make her see stars. Just enough to incapacitate her so she couldn’t fight back. There had been a sting of a needle in her neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting, maybe a minute before she lost consciousness. 

Ketamine...maybe fentanyl. 

She pushes herself up to sit, blinking back the dizziness and the nausea. Whoever attacked her wanted her out of the way, incapacitated for long enough to do something. 

A horrifying thought flashes through her mind as she comes back to reality. She’s one of the few on base that knows you’re completely alone. She’s likely the only one who would care if you went missing. She tries to keep herself calm, tries to slow her breathing as she feels her pockets, pulling herself up onto her knees, gripping the side of her desk as she fights the nausea and pounding in her head that nearly blinds her. 

Her phone is gone. 

Her legs shake as she forces them under her, pulling herself up. She needs to get to the barracks, needs to check on you. She stumbles to the door, pushing it open as she tries to keep her breathing under control. You’re smart. You’re going to hide, or run, from any threat. You’ve learned your lesson from the last time. You won’t go easily again. 

The walk to the barracks feels like it takes forever as she half stumbles her way across the base, fighting the wind still whipping through the open areas between the buildings. Her head is throbbing, the haze of the drug still lingering. It’s the terror in her mind, the horrible thoughts of what might have happened keeping her moving forward. She only gets glances as she crosses to the 141’s barracks. None of them even think to ask her if she’s alright. 

There’s no help from the others. 

She pushes open the door to the barracks, blinking through the burning of the bright fluorescents. She feels for you, having to exist in such a bright, clinical space. 

Dread begins to fill her as she reaches your door, finding it open. The door jam is broken, the wood around the lock splintered. Your dresser had been pushed behind the door, but it hadn’t stopped whoever wanted to get in. The window is open, and she can only hope you crawled your way through to safety. She steps up to your desk, books and snacks in disarray, some having fallen to the floor. She swallows thickly as she stares down at the wood, her fingers shaking. 

Her phone is sitting on the desk. 

She picks it up, the screen flashing on. There’s a missed call from you. Whoever had broken in must have made it look like she was the one responsible. She goes through her contacts, finding your number before calling. She doesn’t have hope that you’ll answer, but she has to try for her own sanity. 

The phone doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail. 

She steps out of your door, going through every room she can in the barracks, shouting your name. She doesn't have hope, except maybe that you doubled back and barricaded yourself somewhere. It’s not likely you would answer to her anyway, if you thought she was the one behind all of this. 

She heads outside, trying to catch any lingering hint of your scent, but the wind has dispersed it completely. There’s soldiers milling around, likely on their afternoon breaks. She doesn't hesitate as she approaches them, asking every soldier she sees in the area if they’ve seen you. 

“I saw her.” One finally says. Allen, his patch reads. “Running towards the trees.” 

“Was anyone following her?” She asks. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. Didn’t stay long enough to see.” 

She feels the urge to punch him, to yell at him for not helping, but she knows they have strict orders to keep away from you. They might have not known any better, or wanted to risk a reprimanding if they disobeyed orders. 

She continues to take deep breaths as she glances towards the trees. It won’t do her much good to try to go looking by herself. You wouldn’t have followed the trail. You’re too smart for that. She’d need a whole army to search the base for you. 

Her hands shake as she searches through her contacts. She’s not expecting an answer. She’s probably busy with the 141 away on a mission. No one will know. No one will know until it’s too late. She’s not sure what to do. Would the commanders on base believe her? Would they organize a search based on her word alone? By then it might be too late. It might be too late now. 

“Laswell.” 

“Kate, Kate I can’t find her.” She gasps out, spinning around in the middle of the road, as if you might come popping out of thin air, or creeping out from behind a building. She’s panicking, speaking the words aloud feeling like an absolute truth, as if she’s speaking it into existence. 

“Who?” Kate asks, sounding confused. 

She chokes out your name, her hand pressed to her chest to try and calm the panic quickly rising in her. “She’s gone.” 

Kate takes a deep breath to keep her head clear and calm. It’s far too much of a coincidence to deny it now. The cameras, the sudden deployment, the call from Shepherd for the whole team, the discovery of the files. 

Now this. 

“Kate?” 

She’s never heard Christine so emotional, so uncomposed before. “I’m here.” She says, composing herself. One of them needs to be clear-headed and logical. “I’m going to contact command, alert base security. You look everywhere you think she might possibly be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Christine lets out a breath. “I can do that.” 

“I’ll call back as soon as I can.” She says. “If you find anything, I need to know immediately.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Kate knows she’s trying to calm herself, get her head on straight again. “Christine? We’ll find her. No matter what it takes.” 

“You don’t....you don’t think she’s...” She can’t manage to finish the sentence. 

“No.” Kate says, not even having to ask what she means. It’s not a lie, though. If the conspiracy that’s been brewing in her head is true, you’re more valuable to them alive. “If what I think is happening is actually happening, she has to be alive. She’s no use to anyone dead.” She says, speaking the thoughts aloud for the first time since the delivery of the cameras into her hands. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

Kate holds her phone in her hand, taking a breath. She’s not sure how it happened, how you managed to disappear out from under Christine’s watchful eye. Something must have happened that separated the two of you long enough for you to disappear. Christine wouldn’t just leave you like that unless it was something important, or if she sensed something wrong, something that might put you at risk. You wouldn’t have left the barracks on your own, not unless something forced the two of you apart. 

She should call them, make them aware. 

She can’t bring herself to. Not yet. She can’t distract them. The job comes first. She’s always hated those words in the context of the initiative. Why would they put an omega through this? What was the real reason? The idea of the initiative always left a bad taste in her mouth when she thought about it too much. She’ll know soon. She’ll get her answers as soon as her team finishes combing through those files. 

She won’t call them until they know for sure. Not until they’re positive, not until there’s proof. They’re not in a place they could easily leave, either.

Sometimes the greater good has to come first. 

Her hands are shaking as she dials the number for the base commander. They have an omega to find. 

Christine’s heart is pounding as she races around the base, checking everywhere she can think of. She’d gotten looks as she combed through the mess, wide eyed and nearly shaking with fear. Her scent must have been projecting, all the control she’d mastered slipping away. She’s never felt panic like this before, not even in the toughest situations with omegas. This is different though. You’re her only patient. She had been tasked with keeping watch over you, they had trusted her enough to take care of you in their absence again, even after everything had happened. 

Your mental state scared her. Seeing you like that wasn’t a surprise after everything you’ve gone through these last few weeks, but that doesn’t stop the worry, the concern as your doctor. Sure, whoever took you, if they took you, might want you alive...but can your mind keep itself alive for that long? 

She asks everyone she can in the mess, the kitchen staff and everyone sitting near the doors if they’ve seen you. 

No one. Not a single soul saw you. It was unlikely you’d run to the mess, but that would have been the logical move. Run where there’s a crowd, though if you thought they wouldn’t help you, you might have avoided it. 

She checks the med center next, combing every inch of it she can. She’s not sure you would have risked running there if you thought she was behind it. Did you see your assailant’s face? You must have, if they drugged you too. You wouldn’t go quietly, so they would have had to reveal themselves to you. 

You know it’s not her behind it. 

She tells herself that to make herself feel better. 

Would you think she was, even if evidence pointed to it? Would you think she would betray you like that? They would have taught you not to trust anyone, but why now? Why would she strike now when she’s been with you in your weakest moments over the last two weeks? There were plenty of times she could have done something, yet she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have. There was no amount of money in this world that would have convinced her to turn against you, betray you and your pack. 

She had been willing to fight tooth and nail to avoid sending those files to Shepherd if John hadn’t told her to do it. He trusted her. 

That trust will be broken now. 

She left you alone, and now you’re gone. 

Or dead. 

There would be no escaping their retribution. They’d hunt her down to the ends of the earth. Alex would never forgive her. Hell, he’d probably join them. 

She checks the gym, even though she doubts you’d run there of all places. She combs every corner she can, getting one of the soldiers to unlock the training rooms just in case, even though it was illogical to think you’d be able to get in with them locked. She can’t be too careful, though. Maybe they taught you how to pick locks. 

She even checks the pool, looking at every inch just to be sure. 

She’s not sure if it’s a relief she can’t find you compared to the alternative, or if it’s almost worse. At least if she found a body there would be closure. The panic could ease for a moment and she’d know. She’d be sure. 

She runs through the barracks once more, combing through every closet and toilet stall, but as expected there’s nothing there. Just your forced open door and the open window. Whatever happened, you did what you were supposed to. You called her and you ran. You learned your lesson, the lessons they’ve all taught you. You did your best, and that is enough, even if her darkest thoughts are true. 

You must have run for the trees. It’s the most logical place to run. There’s plenty of places to hide, lots of space to run and double back on your trail, to confuse whoever was following you until they gave up. 

Would they give up? Or was their motivations strong enough to keep them prowling, hunting every inch of the forest to look for you. 

What if they’re still out there looking for you? What if you’re still out there, afraid and alone. 

She hadn’t seen your phone in your room. She prays you grabbed it before you left. Maybe you’re out there trying to call Kate, trying to call anyone who might be able to help. She wishes you’d call her, but why would you if you think she’s still behind it? 

Whoever did this planned this out perfectly. 

It’s all premeditated. All of it. 

What if you’re out there distressing? 

She feels like vomiting, her stomach churning uncomfortably. You were already so worked up about your pack being gone, something like this might have sent you right over the edge. She curls her hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. She doesn’t know what to do. 

For the first time in a long time she doesn’t have a solution to a problem. 

She leans against the wall outside the barracks, taking deep breaths. She’s no good to anyone if she’s panicking. You need help. You’ll need her if they find you. She’ll be the only one that will be able to help you. She’s not even sure your pack knows yet. Could Kate tell them? It’s been weeks and there’s been no word. Kate hadn’t been able to give her anything as expected, only that she’d pass the word along once they had a moment. 

Had she been lying, or had they truly been off the grid completely? Has this deployment really been that serious? They had called in the whole pack. Or had that been premeditated too. Get you alone and wait for the perfect moment. It can’t be coincidence that they waited until you were distressed enough being separated from your pack for so long. 

None of it is a coincidence. 

Would Kate tell them this happened? Would she risk it now that your life is in danger?

Or is Kate in on this too? 

She shakes the thought from her head. She knows Kate. Kate had picked her specifically for this job. She spent weeks with Kate interviewing and being debriefed for this position. Kate wouldn’t do something like this, not with how close she is to John and the pack. They trust her and she knows them enough to pick an omega that fits in seamlessly with them. She wouldn’t betray them and you like this. 

Something is going on behind the scenes. Something has happened to cause all of this. It’s all related. It has to be. It’s all too convenient, all too orchestrated. It has to revolve around the cameras. There’s no other thing she can think of that might cause this series of events. 

Unless it goes even deeper than that. 

“Dr. Keller?” She looks up when she hears her name. 

“Yes?” She says, pushing herself to stand up straight as an officer approaches.  

“Lieutenant Colonel Woods, Base Commander.” The officer holds out his hand. 

She shakes it, her palms sweaty but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“We’re rounding up everyone who is still on base.” He says. It’s the weekend. A lot of them will have left. All the more easy to sneak you away. “We’ll search through every building and send out parties to comb through the forest.” 

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve checked everywhere I can think of. There’s no sign of her.”

“If she’s still on base, we’ll find her.” He says, far more confident than she feels. 

If you’re still on base. The words make her want to vomit. 

“The front gate guards are compiling a list of everyone who has come on base and left base within the last two hours.” He continues. “If someone took her, we’ll know.” 

“I’m worried about her.” She says, the only thing that’s coming to her mind. It’s true. She’s never been quite so invested in the wellbeing of a patient as she has you, but then again, she’s never been this involved in the life of a patient before. “A lot of things could go wrong quickly.” 

“We’ve got a lot of boots on the ground out there looking.” He says. He’s trying to be comforting. She knows this, but that stiff military mindset keeps it from sounding more than cordial and practiced. What if they’re all in on it? “We’ll find her, or we’ll get answers to what happened.” 

The wait is the worst part. She’s going crazy, waiting for any word. Anything that might hint at what’s happening. There’s been nothing yet, no sign of you, but it’s hardly been twenty minutes. She can’t stop the spiraling thoughts. She can’t take her own advice, apply her own knowledge and teachings. Not right now. Not while she’s bordering on a crisis. She needs to find you. She needs to know you’re alright. 

Don’t let them find a body. 

She’ll never live with herself. She left you alone. She let this happen. She was supposed to be watching you, taking care of you, and now you’re gone under her watch. 

They’ll never trust her again. 

Her phone ringing nearly has her jumping out of her skin. She fumbles for it in her pocket, her fingers trembling. Please let it be you. She lets out a breath of disappointment before answering. 

“Kate?” Her voice shakes. 

“Any news?” Kate asks. She sounds disheveled herself. 

“Nothing.” She swallows thickly. “They’re still looking.” 

Kate sighs. “I don’t think she’s on base.” 

Hearing it nearly makes her legs give out. She’s known that’s likely the case since she called Kate the first time, but hearing it out loud solidifies that as a fact. She’s been keeping a fool’s hope that you managed to hide somewhere, that you got somewhere safe, even if she knows better. 

“This goes a lot deeper than we all thought. It was never about the cameras or the initiative.” Kate continues. 

“The reports, the prying.” She says. “It wasn’t about tracking progress for the sake of progress.” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Sir.” A soldier approaches, saluting the Lieutenant Colonel. 

“We might have some news.” She says, putting her phone on speaker. She hopes it’s true. If they can get a name, then they’ll have an easier time finding you. 

“At ease.” Woods says. 

“We have the list of everyone who left base in the last two hours.” He says, handing over a tablet. “There’s only one.” 

“Colonel McKinney.” Woods says. 

“He left in his personal vehicle 50 minutes ago.” The guard says. 

“Give me every detail you can on that car.” Kate says. 

“It’s a blue Ford Fiesta, registration plate Papa Juliet 64, Hotel Tango November.” Woods says.

“I’ll get eyes on that car.” Kate says. 

“I’ll alert local police.” Woods says. 

“We will find her.” Kate says, and Christine knows she’s trying to reassure her. 

“Do they know?” She asks. 

“Not yet.” Kate says. “They’re not in a place where they can do anything about it, and the last thing they need is to get distracted.” 

“They're not going to like being kept in the dark on this for so long.” She says. 

“I know. But it’s for their own safety above all else.” 

And the greater good of the world, Christine knows, even if Kate doesn’t say it out loud. It’s always for the greater good. That’s why the job comes first, even if it’s at your detriment. She feels like screaming, like throwing her phone. 

It’s not fair. 

Her hands are still shaking as she ends the call with Kate, not feeling any more comforted than she had before. It’s possible Corporal McKinney was involved. It’s too coincidental that he left base within the time you went missing. Why would he take you, though? Was he involved in all of this too? She’s never heard you mention his name before, nor have you brought up any strange feelings about any of the soldiers on base. Omegas are good at reading others' energies. It’s a natural defense mechanism and with your pureblood status, it makes you all the more aware of things in your environment. 

Then again, you kept the cameras from all of them. What else have you been hiding? 

She pushes the thoughts away. Now is not the time for conspiracies she can’t get an answer to. They need to find you first and ensure you’re alright. That’s the most important thing. 

“Lieutenant Colonel!” A soldier says, approaching their makeshift headquarters. “We found something, sir.” 

“What did you find?” He says, standing up straight. 

“A bullet on the trail, sir.” He places the bullet in Woods’ hand. “About a quarter of a mile from the trailhead.” 

Christine feels like passing out. Her legs are wobbling, knees shaking as she stands there, staring at the bullet. She needs to sit down, she needs to breathe. 

Don’t let them find a body. Please don’t let them find a body. 

The tear that trails down her cheek is hot against her clammy skin. 

Kate sighs as she puts down the phone. She wants to put her head in her hands, scream, punch something, anything. She can’t, though, she’s doing double duty. She’s the only one she trusts to do both of these things. This pack is hers to watch over, hers to help, and that includes the entire pack. 

Not much can be done until Corporal McKinney and his car are found. There won’t be any leads until then, unless they come across something on base. She hates it, that she can’t do more. She knows if she tells John, they’ll abandon this mission and be on a flight home in a heartbeat. It won’t do anyone any good until they know more, until the 141 are in a safer position. 

She hates keeping it from them, but it’s for everyone’s safety. 

Especially if what she uncovered is true. 

She can hardly believe it herself. Her eyes keep flickering to the files her team had uncovered, the truth finally spilling out about everything. There is no initiative. There was never going to be an initiative. They were all pawns being placed for a move like this, for a situation that calls for such drastic measures. 

The last few hours have hardly felt real. 

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher 0-1 how copy?” John’s voice comes through the comms, almost startling her. 

She still has a job to do. 

“Loud and clear, Bravo 0-6.” She says, clearing her throat. 

“Kate, there’s nothing here.” 

Kate blinks at the screen, at the map that had been carefully laid out with exact points, confirmed visuals. “Come again?” She says, praying it was her overactive mind that misheard. 

“The warehouse is empty. There’s no sign of any missile having been here in the first place.” John says. 

What? Kate flips through files, scanning every bit of intel that had been given to her. 

They’re all pawns. 

There was no missile. There was no real intel. A red herring.

Separating the pack leaves members vulnerable. Take away the four and leave the omega alone and unprotected. Separate her from the one person left to keep watch over her, leave her vulnerable. 

It’s what they wanted all along. That was always the plan. 

“John, there’s...” She trails off as dots begin appearing on the map. She zooms in, her stomach dropping. “Four vehicles approaching your position.” 

“Friendly?” He asks, but she can hear the doubt in his voice. He knows they’re not. He’s done this enough times. 

“I don’t think they're meeting you for a picnic.” She says, trying to identify the vehicles. 

“We’ll dig in here. Keep them from getting in.” John says. 

“John...” Kate says. She should tell him. She needs to tell them before something goes wrong. If this was all a trap, then things will go wrong, yet she can’t bring herself to say it. Not yet. “Don’t come out of there in a body bag.” 

“Don’t give up hope on us yet.” He says before the line goes dead. 

Kate lets out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. It’s going to be a long next few hours. 

Your head is pounding. There’s a throbbing behind your eyes beating in time with your heart. It hurts, a quiet groan leaving your lips. The world is spinning and you haven’t even opened your eyes. Your entire body feels like it’s twisting and turning, your organs wringing themselves like a washcloth. You’re going to be sick, but you can’t even manage to lift your head. 

Everything feels heavy. Nothing is moving despite your brain telling it to. There’s a deep ache in your muscles and joints like you’ve been immobile for far too long and need to stretch. Your limbs try to move, yet nothing happens except a sharp pain in your left calf. You let out another groan, fingers curling at the sharp pain that radiates up through your leg to your hip. The throbbing behind your eyes intensifies as your head is moved, tilting up before falling backwards weakly.  

“Easy.” A voice coos at you, easing your head back straight. It flops to the side, none of your muscles coordinating like they should. “...know...dose...twice.” 

The words float in and out, muffled like you’re underwater and just barely bobbing above the surface. You do feel a bit like you’re underwater, trying to kick up to the surface of consciousness. Something is holding you under, keeping you from reaching that surface. 

There’s a hand on your face holding your head up as your muscles fight to activate enough to hold it up themselves. The hand is warm against your skin, rough and calloused. There’s two textures, skin and rough fabric against your face. Awareness begins to come back to you slowly, your mind clearing the fog the longer you’re awake. Your body hurts, muscles aching. You try to move your arms but you can't, something biting into the skin of your wrists as you turn them. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” The voice says, calloused fingers brushing your arm. 

You flinch at the touch, muscles contracting painfully before they relax. You let out another groan, your brows pinching as you try to get your eyes to open. The haze hasn’t entirely lifted from your brain yet as you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. It’s cold where you are, goosebumps forming on your skin. It’s uncomfortable, your body too exposed. You want a sweatshirt, a blanket, something to keep the cold away. Something tickles in the back of your brain as you begin to pick up scents, several all at once, meshed together. It’s overwhelming, too much information flooding your brain all at once. 

The motion is automatic and instinctual as you turn your face to press into the hand on your cheek. You inhale deeply, trying to block out the overwhelming wave of senses, trying to get a sense of who it is in front of you, who is with you in the room. 

Woody. Soft wood. Cedar? It smells like a candle your mother used to burn. 

Sweet? Something sweet. Chocolate? Richer. Dark chocolate. 

Memories begin to float back as you inhale the scent. You know that scent. You’ve smelled it before. Your frown deepens as you hold your face there, nose pressed against the palm as your mind sluggishly digs through your hazy memory banks. You can’t even remember where you are or how you got there. 

“Good girl.” 

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before. Somewhere in the back of your mind it triggers something, some faded memory shoved deep into the depths of your memory bank. You dig for it, mining your sluggish brain as you try to figure out who it is, why it’s all so familiar. 

The other part of your brain focuses on your body, waking your muscles back up. With it comes the pain, the achiness: the throbbing in your calf, the pulsing behind your eyes, the ache in your muscles and joints. There’s a light somewhere in front of you, bright and shining through your eyelids. You don’t want to open them. It feels wrong, the bright light right in your face. You don’t like it. 

You pull your face away from the hand, your head drooping forward slightly as the muscles in your neck finally begin to engage. The scent is wrong. It’s not the right kind of wood. There’s no damp earth after a spring rain, no scent of petrichor. The touch isn’t right. It’s not soft enough, not warm enough. 

It’s not your alpha. 

The tingling in the back of your brain intensifies as you shoot into hyper-awareness from your sluggish state. Your instincts are awake, suddenly overwhelmed by the explosion of scents and sounds. There’s voices all around, quiet and hushed, but they might as well be yelling in your ears. There’s so many scents blending together until you can’t tell one from the other. 

Except the one in front of you. 

Cedar. Dark Chocolate. 

Memories crawl forward from the recesses of your mind. Childhood. Texas. Summer heat. The charcoal in the barbeque. Cedar and chocolate always too close. You hated it. You’ve always hated that smell.

Your eyes force themselves open, eyelids peeling up like a damp window that’s been closed for a decade. The window had been hard to open, yet you managed it with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Your heart rate picks up at the thought, some fear you can’t quite conceptualize yet in your half-aware state burning in the back of your mind. You breathe heavily as you fight to get your eyes open, blinking against the obtrusive light. Fluorescent, too bright to be comfortable. 

White walls, bright lights. Boots on the floor. 

Your pack. 

Where is your pack? Where is your alpha? 

Where are you?

Finally your eyes open, squinting against the bright light. You can’t see anything, the light directly in your eyes. It burns, tears gathering on your lids as you fight against the oppressive, blinding sun being directed at you. 

Voices float in the background and suddenly the light is turned away. You blink away the bright spots left in your vision, a couple tears falling uncontrollably. Rough fingers wipe them off your cheeks almost tenderly, but not tender enough.

Rough fingers across your skin, gripping you tightly, anchoring you. A soft voice floats through the air, rough yet comforting with the soft words calming the panic in you.

It’s not right. 

Nothing is right. 

You’re breathing heavily as you finally get your eyes fully open, the muscles in your neck contracting as you slowly lift your head. There’s someone kneeling in front of you, arm draped across their knee. They’re like a shadow, hidden mostly from view as you blink clarity into your eyes. Your brows pinch into a frown again as you blink, your gaze focusing on the face in front of you. 

You know that face. 

“There she is.” 

You know that voice. 

It’s been years since you heard it last. Memories slam into you in an onslaught, memories from your childhood, back when things were fine, things were normal, things were as they should be. 

Family. Texas. Alphas.

Cedar and chocolate. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, blinking in shock. Your brows furrow in confusion, your still foggy brain trying to piece everything together. 

You know him. 

It’s been years but you’ll never forget. 

The light brown hair, bright blue eyes, dimples indenting with that too-friendly grin. 

Your mouth is dry, your tongue heavy as it opens, forming the name on your lips. The name. It comes out in a croak, barely audible and understandable, but laced with confusion and disbelief. 

“Phil?” 

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[retroaria]

⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[lowkeyren]

—childhood sweetheart!

in which : as kids, you gave him a lollipop to thank him for his help, though you had no idea your kind gesture would spark a blossoming friendship —that would soon evolve into something far sweeter than candy.

pairing : alhaitham x gn!reader

wc 3.6k, childhood friends to (implied) lovers, one bittersweet scene but it's 99% tooth rotting fluff, kaveh n sumeru gang cameo!!, art by @/anno_meiji on x. reblogs r much appreciated!!!

@tragedy-of-commons @iceunhie fellow pissoners that told me to @ them + special thanks to beloved @synqiri for giving me ideas when i wrote this, salutations.

the house of daena was quiet, the air thick with the comforting scent of old books and polished wood; soft chatters among akademiya students drifted through the air, a gentle hum that mingled with the rustling of pages as scholars immersed themselves in their studies. 

at a corner, you sat cross-legged, surrounded by volumes of scholarly tomes. yet, the real challenge before you  wasn’t the big words or thick pages —but a far more irritating one: your shoelaces.

no matter how many times you tried, the laces refused to cooperate. they twisted and knotted themselves in ways that made you feel as if they had a mind of their own. you tugged at them over and over again, your small hands growing clumsy with frustration, making your struggle feel even more monumental. 

you let out a small, exasperated sigh, your cheeks growing warm with the mounting irritation. who lets a five-year-old wear shoes with laces anyway?

a few feet away, sitting at a low table, was a boy a few years older than you, absorbed in a thick book that looked far too advanced for his age; the dense text and intricate diagrams didn’t seem to faze him at all. his expression remained one of calm detachment, his eyes moving over the pages meticulously. though even amidst his immersion in the book's complex diagrams and equations, your struggle still drew his attention.

with a sigh that sounded more out of obligation than concern, he set his book aside with precise care and approached you with a smooth, deliberate stride. his expression remained neutral, his eyes barely meeting yours as he knelt beside you.

“you’re having trouble with your laces,” he remarked, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

you looked up and nodded at the boy, relief evident in your eyes. “can you help me?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly with embarrassment.

without a word, he reached for your laces. you watched as he deftly untangled the mess you’d created, his movements precise and unhurried. with a few twists and loops, he had the laces neatly tied in no time. “there,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands off. 

“thank you for helping me... um—” 

“alhaitham,” the boy, who you now knew as alhaitham, spoke in a calm voice.

you smiled in return, relieved. “thank you, alhaitham.”

“it was nothing. i’m glad i could assist.” he said before glancing down at your shoelaces again, his tone as impersonal as ever. 

you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped lollipop, its cheerful wrapping seemed almost too vibrant for his reserved demeanour. nevertheless, you held it out to him, “i want to give you this,” you said earnestly. “as a small token of my appreciation!”

he glanced at the lollipop, then back at you. you simply tilted your head in response. after a brief moment, he accepted it with a slight nod. “thanks,” he said simply before pocketing the sweet.

you smiled, “i’m [name], by the way.”

“i’ll remember that,” he replied, his tone softening slightly. 

with that, you gathered your books, carefully stacking them in your arms as you rose to your feet. “i need to go now. see you around, alhaitham!” you grinned and gave a small wave before turning to leave, your footsteps growing faint as you walked away.

and though little-you didn’t know it at the time, that small act of kindness, wrapped in bright paper, would linger in his memory for years to come.

years passed. by now, it was clear that alhaitham was a prodigy, the sharpest of minds among those his age —a teenager admired by many, regardless of age. yet, such exceptional talent often attracts a level of jealousy that goes beyond mere admiration.

however, much like his aloof demeanour, he remained indifferent to the opinions and whispers of displeasure of others, even now, as he stood surrounded by students, their voices dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"so, alhaitham," one of them jeered, "being a genius must be lonely, huh? too smart to have any real friends?" the others snickered along, clearly revelling in his deliberate silence. they envied the recognition and success he had achieved —things they could only dream of, and that envy fueled their petty desire to bring him down, even if only for a fleeting moment.

enough was enough. 

“hey, give it a rest,” you interjected, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “oh, wait —it’s not like you have anything better to do than make fun of someone who’s actually achieved something, right?”

the laughter from the group began to die down as they turned their attention to you, the tension in the air thickening. 

you tilted your head in feigned curiosity. “or is it the only thing you’re good at?”

the student’s face twisted into a scowl, clearly caught off guard by your retort. after a moment of fumbling for words, he muttered defensively, “whatever. like you’re so perfect yourself.”

you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “seriously? that’s the best you’ve got?” 

you met their gazes with a defiant smirk, enjoying the way their bravado faltered under your words. “it’s one thing to have nothing between those ears of yours, but there’s no need to be a jerk about it.”

they hesitated for a moment, stung by your remarks and clearly feeling their egos take a hit, they found themselves at a loss for words. finally, one of them muttered something under his breath before they all turned and slunk away, embarrassed.

as the last of their footsteps faded, you turned back to alhaitham, who was watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. "you didn’t have to do that," he murmured. you shrugged, offering him a wry smile. "i know. but i wanted to.”

“besides, someone has to keep those idiots in check."

alhaitham regarded you for a moment longer before the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "thank you.” you caught the subtle shift in his expression, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. it was rare to see him react this way, and it made your small victory feel all the more rewarding.

you couldn’t help but grin. 

“—you smiled!”  giggling, you leaned in closer to him, as if sharing a secret. “i didn’t think i’d ever see that day.”

“no, i did not.” his expression snapped back to its usual deadpan, as if his momentary lapse had never happened.

“no? well, then you should smile more.” you slid into the chair next to him, 

“why?” 

you pulled out your book and opened it to the page marked by your bookmark. “you look good when you smile,” you said casually, your eyes still focused on the material in front of you as you unwrapped a candy and chewed on it, savouring the sweet taste.

alhaitham didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed intently on the pages in front of him. though when he briefly turned his head to the side, his stoic expression faltered.

a faint smile tugged at the edges of his lips; he angled the book slightly higher, hiding his expression from view, while the subtle curve of his lips remained just barely visible.

it was a fleeting moment —nearly imperceptible, but unmistakably there.

“happy birthday, [name]!” 

you clink your glass with dehya’s, the sound of the toast ringing out amidst the lively chatter. she grins and downs her drink in one swift motion, her laughter echoing as the others join in, raising their glasses to you. 

nilou approaches you with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “i have something for you,” she says, holding out a small, intricately wrapped box. you open it to find a delicate bracelet nestled inside. 

“i hope today brings you as much joy as you bring to us.” you smile and thank her as she helps you fasten the bracelet around your wrist. 

you glance over to where alhaitham is sitting, only to find him already looking at you; he gives you a slight nod before burying his face back into his book. though you notice that alhaitham's usual noise-cancelling headphones are conspicuously absent, as if choosing to be fully present, especially when you're near.

suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, you’re greeted with kaveh’s unmistakable grin, “surprise!” he exclaims with a flourish, his voice brimming with infectious enthusiasm. he extends a beautifully hand-carved, ornate wooden box to you, “go on, open it!” he urges, barely containing his excitement.

with a nod, you carefully lift the lid, revealing the contents inside. the box is lined with rich velvet, and nestled within is a tiny, intricately designed music box and a set of miniature sculptures —as expected, his craftsmanship is nothing short of impeccable. you thank him graciously and carefully set the box down on the table beside tighnari’s gift. 

as the evening unfolds, you notice alhaitham occasionally glancing up from his book, his gaze fixing on you, each glance subtly drawing your attention. his eyes, typically so absorbed in the pages, now linger on you with a soft intensity that speaks volumes.

it’s obvious that the night has come to an end when you glance to your side and can’t help but chuckle at the sight of kaveh, completely blackout drunk and slumped over the couch. 

“don’t worry, we’ll handle him,” cyno heads for the door after lifting kaveh over his shoulder with ease; he shares a knowing glance with tighnari. “enjoy the rest of your night!” with a final wave, they disappear out the door, leaving you and alhaitham alone in the cozy tranquillity of your home. 

“looks like it’s just us now,” you say, sinking onto the sofa beside him and stifling a yawn, the night clearly taking a toll on you.

“indeed,” alhaitham replies, his gaze softening as he looks over at you. he reaches behind him and holds his hand out towards you with his fist closed.

“here, a reward for your hard work,” he opens his palm to reveal a small piece of your favourite candy resting on it. “happy birthday, [name].”

the light from the candles flickers softly, casting a warm glow that dances across the room. it bathes the space in a gentle radiance, highlighting the perfect angles of his face and making him look all the more handsome.

alhaitham had never been a big fan of sweets. to him, they were a trivial indulgence, neither particularly enticing nor off-putting. 

but for you, he might learn to like it more. 

after all, if all it takes is a piece of candy to see your smile —sweeter than any treat known to mankind, then maybe there's a reason to enjoy them after all.

as you begin to nod off, he gently strokes your hair and carefully adjusts your position, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

with a soft sigh, he blows out the candles. 

perhaps rationality has its limits when it comes to matters of the heart, for he can’t help but feel that love, in all its irrationality, defies the logic he clings to so fiercely. “love” didn’t follow the neat, predictable patterns of reason —it was wild, unpredictable, and utterly beyond his control. 

yet, despite its chaos, or perhaps because of it, he was okay with it —he was okay with you.

“is it necessary for you to leave?” 

“sorry haitham, it's for my research. but i’ll be gone for just a few years, and we'll cross paths again before you know it.” 

just a few.. years? you must’ve really underestimated how long that’ll feel. he lets out a disapproving huff, his brows knitting together. “...where will you be going?”

“fontaine,” you replied, “the leylines there hold the key to my research, and it’s an opportunity i can’t pass up.” you hesitate for a moment before adding softly, “i wish you could come along… but with your duties as the acting grand sage, i understand that it’s not possible.”

“i suppose you’ve already made up your mind.”

you nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “i have. but i’ll make sure to write whenever i can!” he studies your face for a long moment, as if committing every detail to memory, afraid he’ll forget the moment you turn your back to him. 

“just... promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he finally said, his tone more tender compared to a moment ago. “and don’t lose yourself in your research.”

you reach out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i promise, haitham.” you open his palm and place a small candy in the centre before closing his fingers around it. “something to remember me by,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper as you look up at him.

his eyes trail your figure, his hands clutching the candy tightly, the wrapping paper crinkling in his fist as you start to walk away. midway, you pause, turning around to look at him once more, you flash him a warm smile before waving goodbye.

this time, unlike the first time you met, he returns the gesture with a wave of his own.

it’s unusual, uncharacteristic for alhaitham to lose his focus so easily. 

the subtle crease in his brow —a dead giveaway to anyone who knew him well; and being his roommate, kaveh noticed it first.

leaning against the table, he glanced at the open book, then back at alhaitham. "you know, that page won’t read itself," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

alhaitham didn’t bother looking up, his finger idly tracing the edge of the page. "i’m well aware." after a moment, he finally turned the page with a slight frown, his mind clearly not on the book.

cyno, sitting across from him, folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "you’ve been staring at that same paragraph for nearly an hour.” he remarks, his tone laced with amusement. tighnari raises his eyebrows, lightly swirling the drink in his cup, “it’s rare to see you this distracted. must be something—or someone—truly exceptional."

alhaitham finally looks up, meeting their gazes with a flat expression, “you all certainly have a lot of free time," he remarked dryly.

cyno shrugs, shaking his head. "you’re just making it too easy, alhaitham."

tighnari, however, leans forward slightly, his gaze softening with genuine concern despite the playful edge in his voice just a minute ago. “but seriously,” he adds, “it’s perfectly fine to admit you miss [name]. we all do, after all, it has been a year.”

alhaitham sighs heavily, closing the book with a soft thud. “i’m perfectly fine."

"sure you are," kaveh drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "it’s not like you’ve been more irritable than usual —or, i don’t know, distracted by a certain someone who’s not here."

for once, alhaitham doesn’t offer a retort. instead, he quietly unwraps a candy and slips it into his mouth, letting its sweet taste wash over him.

but that is all the answer they need. 

unbothered from the looks he receives from his friends, he signals the manager over, “boss, a box of macaroons to go, please.” 

later that night, alhaitham sits in his room —he absently reaches for the box of macaroons but his hand lands on the bright candy wrapper crumpled on the table, though it seems out of place amidst the quiet room, it remains a perfect, poignant reminder of you, in his heart.

the notion of your sweetness is tantalising, one that mingles with the lingering taste of the macaroons on his palate, making him yearn for the real experience, to discover if you, too, could leave such a lasting impression.

—and truth to be told, i really missed you too. there's so much more i want to share with you, so many things i’ve seen and felt that only you would truly understand. but lucky for us, i’ll be at l'encre des marées in the court of fontaine, for the next few days!  haitham, come visit me, will you?

alhaitham’s footsteps echo softly against the cobblestone street as he approaches the address you gave him.

a bookstore, huh. it seems fitting enough.

he folds your letter and slips it into the pocket of his coat; the gentle chime of the bell above the door announces his arrival. the warm, ambient light of the store envelops him —a voice rings out, welcoming him, but he pays it no mind.

he moves silently between the tall bookshelves, his gaze sweeping over the interior, searching for you within the labyrinth of aisles. though with no sign of you in sight, a faint crease forms between his brows, a subtle yet telling sign of his disappointment.

he comes to a stop in front of one of the shelves, the familiar scent of paper and ink wafting around him. might as well get something, he thinks. his hand hovers over the spines, his fingers brushing lightly against them; the choice is almost arbitrary, driven more by habit than intent. 

the title barely registers in his mind as he turns away from the shelf. with the book in hand, he makes his way towards the counter. he places the book down with a soft thud, and lets his mind drift to you —your latest letter, the anticipation of seeing you here, the subtle disappointment of your absence; he imagines the sound of your voice, the way you might have greeted him had you been there, the little gestures that are make you, so distinctly, you. 

the cashier’s voice pulls him back to the present. “thank you for your patronage!” the words are accompanied by the soft rustling of paper as the bag is handed over to him. he reaches out to take it, but just as he’s about to withdraw his hand, something else is pressed into his palm —a small lollipop.

he blinks, momentarily caught off guard. what? is this a… fontaine custom? he turns the lollipop over in his hand, the cashier’s voice continues, cheerful and slightly sing-song. “don’t forget to visit us again—”

or is he losing his mind? because the sound of your voice, so clear and familiar, “—alhaitham.” echoes his name as if you were standing right infront of him.

his eyes snap up, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looks at the cashier. and there you are, behind the counter, your gaze meeting his with a familiar warmth. he finds himself staring at you, the very person he had been hoping to see; you smile at him, the same smile he had imagined countless times... and his heart still skips a beat.

“life here in fontaine has been quite a journey.” you stroll side by side, alhaitham listens quietly, absorbing every detail as you recount your journey. your research, originally projected to take more time, has progressed exceptionally well; the results are promising, and you’re now ahead of schedule, which means that you’ll be back in sumeru in less than a week’s time (much to his pleasure).

as you both turn a corner, you suddenly stop and turn to face him. “i’ve been doing all the talking so far,” you smile up at him, “what about you?”

“nothing much, things have been…” he begins, pausing as he searches for the right words. he glances around, just as street lamps flicker to life before continuing, “...rather routine.”

(he’s not lying, no, never to you. “routine” as in routinely thinking about you nonstop —yes, that’s the underlying meaning, though his outward implication is quite… mundane.)

though what you didn’t quite expect next was for alhaitham to extend his hand towards you, his pinky raised in a gesture like an earnest request for a pinky promise. dumbfounded, you chuckle softly, “what’s this for?” 

without waiting for an answer, you decide to indulge him, linking your pinky with his. as your thumbs briefly touch, you catch the look in his eyes —serious, yet with a softness that makes your heart skip. “a promise that i’ll be by your side as long as sugar tastes sweet,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

he gently turns his hand downward, his fingers sliding smoothly between yours, interlocking them in a firm yet tender grip. slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of it. “so, come back with me, [name].”

his thumb continues to trace lazy circles on your skin, drawing you closer. leaning in, his breath is warm against your cheek, the space between you vanishes as he tilts his head slightly, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, close enough that you can almost taste the promise in his words. 

his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up. you catch his gaze and a small smile starts to form, “you don’t have to ask me twice.”

your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush softly against yours —and he tastes the first bite of a sun-warmed strawberry, a burst of sweetness that lingers on his lips, leaving him craving more. utterly intoxicating, like the scent of honey carried on a warm breeze, filling the air with a fragrance that makes him close his eyes and breathe deeply, savouring the moment.

you taste just like summer —vivid, unforgettable, and leaving him yearning for those endless days and nights, where his world is alive with sparking memories he clings to as the seasons change; so much so that even when autumn's chill begins to settle, he can't help but reach out for the warmth that only your presence can bring.

but most importantly,

you taste unbelievably sweet.

good question google

MASTERLIST.

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Masterlist

Summary: Simon's rapidly growing obsession with you comes to a halt.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, cursing, slight nsfw

The drive back to Simon's house was quiet and dark. Price had turned on the radio, letting classic rock play quietly in the background. He tapped the steering wheel every so often, humming to whatever lyrics he could remember.

Simon sat in the passenger seat, staring at the cars ahead, occasionally glancing at the signs that whizzed by the truck. Each sign that brought him closer to home made him ache. He thought about his bed. He thought about Riley. And, of course, he thought about you. He knew you most likely wouldn't be there - it was after midnight. But he liked to imagine that you'd be waiting there, sitting on his couch with your book and mug of tea, Riley settled next to you, ready to greet him with your smile - the smile that he'd been thinking about in every stolen moment during the mission.

"Alright there, Simon?" Price cut through the silence, dragging Simon back to earth.

He cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Jus' ready to be back."

Price scoffed. He knew Simon didn't consider his house a home. If anything, it was a safe house between missions. "I'm sure Riley will be happy to see you."

"We'll see about that." Simon said with a chuckle. "This dog-sitter might've stolen her from me."

"Nah, she's yours. Been with 'er through it all." Price said as he turned into Simon's neighborhood. "I'm sure she enjoyed the company, though."

Simon grunted. "Seems like it." He said, remembering the picture you had sent him; the way Riley had cozied up to you, the way she seemed so docile and calm in your presence. He imagined you running your fingers through her fur, the perfect ratio of scratching to gentle pets. He wondered what it would feel like on his scalp...

A shiver ran down his spine. How does one become jealous of their own damn dog? It was ridiculous.

"Speaking of the dog-sitter..." Price said, "Johnny mentioned she's a real-"

"Whatever Johnny told you, you can disregard." Simon grumbled. "I told him not to worry 'bout it."

Price chuckled, which made Simon burn with frustration. "Touchy subject, eh?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He replied bitterly. Quite frankly, he didn't like the picture Soap had managed to paint of him. His entire team thought he was whipped by someone he had barely known. Despite it being entirely true, it was the complete opposite of the image he had built of himself - and he had a reputation to keep.

"Right." Price nodded. Simon could tell he didn't believe him, but as long as he didn't try to pester him anymore about it, Simon would take it as a win.

Price pulled into the driveway, and Simon immediately unbuckled. He reached into the back and grabbed his duffel bag, then yanked his door open and got out.

"Y' know this isn't over." Price said, right before Simon could close the door. "We most likely 'ave a week 'fore we get sent out again. Just don't get too comfortable 'ere."

"Never do." Simon replied, shouldering his bag. "I'll wait for your call."

Price nodded, sending Simon off with a wave. He watched as he closed the passenger door and walked up the path to his house, before pulling out of the driveway and heading towards his own home.

Simon sighed as he fished his keys from his pocket. He heard Riley barking on the other side of the door, and a small smile formed on his face. When he pushed it open, she immediately jumped on him, whining and sniffing him all over. He knew she could smell the others on him, and probably wondered why he didn't bring her this time.

"Hey, girl..." he said, yanking his balaclava off and kneeling down to ruffle her fur. "Sorry I's gone so long. Miss me?"

She stood her front paws on his knees and licked his face, still whining and swinging her tail rapidly.

"Yeah, missed you too." He chuckled. "D'ya have fun? Did she treat you right?"

Riley dropped down to the floor as Simon stood. She turned towards his duffel bag and began sniffing, eyes focused on the fabric as she took in all the new and familiar scents.

Simon sighed. "'Bout time for a proper cuppa." He said, making his way into the kitchen. Despite it nearing one in the morning, it would be a while before he was decompressed enough to fall asleep.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug, ignoring the way his back popped. When he placed the mug down and reached for a teabag, he saw a note on the counter. With a furrowed brow, he picked it up and read it.

Hello Simon!

Hope your deployment was fun good! Riley and I had a blast! She learned how to play dead - if you want to try it, just make sure to give her a biscuit for it (she's only had one today, and she was a bit bitter that I left before giving her a second one). Also, she's had her medicine for the day. I gave her last dose around 9 pm.

Can't wait to spend more time with her, but I'm sure she's happy to see her dad! Let me know when you need me next!

Have a nice evening!

P.S. I had to use your washing machine, I hope that was alright. I got a bit muddy trying to teach her the new trick.

He stared at the note for a good amount of time. His eyes wandered over your meticulously neat handwriting. He noticed how often you liked to use exclamation points - the same way you did in your texts and emails. It made him annoyed - but not with you. He was annoyed that he found it... adorable. He shouldn't. You were too bright and happy; your personality should burn him, not warm him up.

He tried to brush it off, blaming his obervant behaviour on the recent mission. Old habits die hard, he lied to himself.

"Riley, c'mere."

Upon hearing her name, Riley meandered into the kitchen and stopped in front of Simon. She sat on her hind legs and looked at him expectantly.

He looked back at her - he felt a bit silly, commanding a retired veteran dog to do simple party tricks. But, it sounded like you put a lot of effort into teaching her this - not to mention, you had somehow dirtied your clothes over it - so he decided to entertain the idea.

"Play dead." He said firmly.

Riley immediately flopped down onto her back, sticking her paws into the air. She even let her tongue hang out of her mouth to really sell the image.

He felt an immediate rush of pride. "Atta girl..." he praised, kneeling down and patting her affectionately. Despite all the annoyance he felt a moment ago, Simon couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

She twisted and sat up, snuffling and groaning as he rubbed her fur. She barked once, sharp and demanding.

"Yeah, yeah- suppose you deserve a biscuit, huh?" He stood up and grabbed the box of peanut butter and bacon treats, fishing one out and tossing it to Riley. She caught it perfectly, crunching it with an open mouth and licking her lips afterwards.

He watched her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest. Sure, tricks were dumb, something only glorified house pets did for small rewards. But he was impressed that Riley had so effortlessly followed a new command, especially after being out of work for so long. And he was warmed by the fact that, not only did you watch her, but you engaged with her. He was confident he'd found the perfect pet-sitter.

After starting a load of laundry, Simon had taken a cold shower. He scrubbed his eyeblack off with nothing but his hands and the generic body wash from the corner store. He slathered some of his 3-in-one hair gel into his scalp, giving it no more than seven scrubs before rinsing it out. He stood there for a while, letting the water beat against his sore back as the details of the previous mission swarmed throughout his head. He picked apart what he could have done better, what had nearly gotten him killed, and what had probably saved his life.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the tub; there was a cluster of travel-sized bottles, labeled "face wash", "body butter", and so forth. He let himself imagine - who was he kidding, he had no control over his thoughts when it came to you - your body, standing under the stream of the shower. You probably liked hot showers, didn't you? You most likely stayed in there for an hour, going through your meticulous routine, lathering yourself in scented soaps and creams... you'd be appalled if you had seen the three-minute showers he takes, wouldn't you? Maybe you would pull him into your routine, once Simon did eventually get the balls to ask you out, despite how much the thought of being romantic with someone made him scoff. He'd let you wash his face, or shave his balls, or do whatever it is you would do to him.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance, realizing he was holding one of the bottles labeled "conditioner". His thumb was on the edge of the cap, ready to flip it open and take a whiff of the scent - but he quickly stopped himself. He put the bottle back with the rest, then splashed cold water over his face. Quit being a fuckin' creep... he thought.

After turning the shower off and drying himself with a towel, he went into his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He made his way back into the basement, patting Riley on the back as he passed her by the door. He pulled his laundry out and placed it on top of the washing machine, and opened the dryer. Just as he was getting ready to toss his clothes in, he noticed something hiding in the back of the barrel of the machine.

He reached in and pulled it out - it was your flannel. The same green-and-grey one you'd been wearing during your interview.

He paused for a moment, posture rigid as he held the fabric in the air. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It was just a flannel... but it was your flannel. He fought with his muscles, resisting the urge to bring it closer and inhale the scent - he tried to reason with himself. Maybe she used my soap, and it would just smell like my detergent. Nothin' special.

He dropped it on top of the dryer, still wrinkly and warm - but, strangely, that felt too rude. It's a fucking piece of clothing, for Christ's sake... he thought. Not her dead nan. He then attempted to hang it on the rack, but that felt too formal. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with irritation. How something so insignificant was causing him so much turmoil was beyond him.

He ended up bringing it back upstairs. Riley sniffed the fabric as he passed her - she thumped her tail eagerly on the floor as she smelled your scent. Once again, Simon was jealous of the dog being able to act so carefree with you - he knew for sure that if he tried sniffing your flannel, he would be a certified creep. Or, worse yet, he might not care, and wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed it over the back of the couch, planning on forgetting you had ever even worn it. He dropped himself onto the cuhions with a groan. Riley immediately took her place in her bed, just a few feet away from him. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the telly, flicking through the channels until he found some action/drama that caught his interest. He watched it boredly, drowning himself and his thoughts in the drone of the movie.

Suddenly, Riley barked. Simon looked at her - his gaze was met with hers, mouth opening and tail thwapping against the wall.

"Hmm?"

She let out an impatient, garbled sound. She lowered her head to the edge of her bed, still looking at Simon.

He shrugged internally and looked back at the screen. He settled further into the cushions and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about maybe drifting off then and there - the din of the telly might help keep the nightmares at bay...

Riley barked again, making Simon jolt. He snapped his head towards her - she was standing at the foot of the couch, ears back and panting.

"Wha' d'you want?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

She barked again, shifting her weight from one paw to the other.

"Ya need to go out?" He asked. He stood from his seat, only for Riley to scamper back to her bed and plop down on it. She looked at him expectantly.

Simon huffed. "'M not following." He dropped down to the sofa again. Riley groaned, making a scene of dragging herself out of the bed again and walking over to Simon.

"Now, don't you go 'n start aga-"

She cut him off with a shrill yap.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew it couldn't be time for her medication - you had just given her some at nine. But he was entirely stumped on what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually, after she'd had dinner... did she want to play? But... she was acting like she wanted to go to bed.

"What are you on 'bout?" He asked, leaning down to ruffle her fur. She dodged his hand and backed up a bit, yowling out a frustrated sound.

He scoffed. "Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Only one way to fix this, he thought, as he tapped through his contacts, until he landed on yours.

He stared at the picture for a moment, familiarizing himself with the details he had spent so long ogling at: your smile, your damp hair, the curve of your cheekbones, the way you marked your spot in your book with your fingers-

Riley barked again, making Simon scowl.

"A'right- just hush." He ordered, sending her a stern glance as she shuffled back to her bed. He started the call - he felt unusually nervous, his gut twisting as he listened to each ring on the line. Maybe he really was whipped, he thought.

Eventually, the call picked up. His shoulders tensed as he heard shuffling on the other end of the line.

"... m... hello?"

Fuck. You sounded tired- no, you sounded like you were still asleep. He quickly pulled the phone away and checked the time; it was nearly two in the morning. Of course you'd been asleep.

"Uh... hey." He said, mentally cursing himself. "Shit, I, uh... didn't even consider you might be asleep."

"No..." You mumbled - were you even awake at all? "No, iz fine... yeah..."

Simon waited a moment, expecting you to say something else - but you didn't. Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of your breathing again.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Up... 'm up... what's up?"

Simon shifted in his seat, slightly ashamed that he hadn't put two and two together and ended up calling you so late. "Right- jus' a quick-"

Riley barked again, staring at Simon impatiently.

Simon covered the speaker to his phone and sent her a harsh glare. "Oi! 'M workin' on it, hush!"

Your sleepy giggle wafted through the phone and into Simon's ear. "Sweet baby..."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed nervously. She means the dog, the fucking dog, you idiot.

"Uh, sorry- jus' got a question for ya."

"Hmm?"

"Well- she's acting a bit funny," he stared at Riley and held a cautioning hand up as she shifted her weight and whined, "she's runnin' around and yellin' at me. Keeps gettin' in 'er bed, then comin' back like- like she wants somethin'. I have no bloody idea. Just wonderin' if she was doin' this with you."

"Oh, yeah..." Simon could hear your smile through the phone, and he desperately tried to push the image of your tired face from his mind. "She wants her blanket."

Simon paused. "She- she's got her blanket."

"No- she wants you to tuck her in."

"She wha' now?"

You laughed again. "You need to tuck her in her bed. She's right under the air vent and she gets cold."

He looked back at Riley. She was now sitting down, mouth closed, as if agreeing with what you said. He scoffed, rising from the couch and shuffling towards her. She slowly thumped her tail as he approached.

"Never 'eard of a dog gettin' tucked in..." he grumbled. He grabbed the felt blanket behind her, swaddling it around her body. She groaned, slowly blinking at him in an appreciative manner.

"Ya spoiled, you hear me?" He said quietly, tucking the blanket in between her and the cushion of the bed. She sighed happily, completely unaware that he was insulting her. She licked his cheek when he bent down close enough, and he grumbled and wiped the spittle away.

You giggled in his ear - Christ, you've got to stop doing that, do you have any idea what it does to him? - as he sat back down on the sofa. "All better?" You asked.

"Seems t' be-" he replied, watching Riley as she settled into her cocoon, "ya turnin' her into a princess."

"Well, she is one." You quickly replied - Simon could hear you stretching your limbs, followed by a long exhale.

He wanted to talk to you all night. Hearing you prattle on was like a balm to his jagged mind. But he knew he couldn't. You were half asleep, after all.

"Well, tha's all I needed- oh, and you, uh..." he grabbed your flannel off the back of the sofa. "Y' left your flannel here."

"I did?"

"Yeah. The green one."

"Oh, bullocks, I knew I-"

"Who are you talking to at this hour?"

Simon felt his heart stop when he heard the other voice. It had hit him like a train, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His brain went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenario. Break in? Crazy stalker? Murderous ex? "Y' aright, love?"

"Simon." You said, and he couldn't tell if you were talking to him or someone else. Were you trying to warn him? To ask for help?

"Talk to me."

"Who the bloody hell is Simon?"

"My client, ya git."

"Oh- sorry love-" Simon heard more shuffling, then a kiss, followed by a grunt from you. He let himself linger in the confusion of what was going on - but, in the back of his mind, he understood it completely.

"Got me right in my bloody eye-"

"Oh, hush."

"Left your flannel at his house."

"My green one?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were using the grey one!"

"Well, I was, Tyler, and then I wanted the green one!"

"That's it - I'm stealin' all ya knickers tomorrow."

You laughed again - this time. The sound nearly shattered Simon. He felt like it was wrong to hear you laugh so sweetly.

"Well, uh-" he was speaking before he even realized it. "You can pick it up- or I'll drop it off- or, uh, I can drop it- I mean, I'll-"

"You can shove it in the closet until next time, if that's alright?" You said, yawning shortly after.

Simon paused. He needed to get it together. "Yea, that'll work. I'll let you go then - sorry to call so late."

"It's fine, really. But let me know when you'll need me again, ok?"

"'Course I will. I'll send you an email, as usual."

You scoffed. "I know you said we should only text for emergencies, but you can text me if it's something small, Simon."

"Right, will do. I'll text you."

"Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. You should sleep. I'll talk later."

"Ok. Goodnight, Simon."

"G'bye."

He ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, until your contact photo faded away. He leaned his head back and sighed. His thoughts suddenly came rushing back - except this time, they were about you. How he should have expected you to have a partner. How could you not? You were so bright and bubbly, of course you'd be snatched up. He felt stupid for thinking you'd be single. Maybe this whole idea of you falling for him was stupid. Maybe this was better - he was saved from rejection, even if this situation stung painfully within his chest.

Whatever. Hopefully, your personality would finally drive him over the edge of annoyance and anger, and you'd be more of a nuisance to him. That'd be the easiest way you could let him down.

He looked at the flannel in his lap. It's not even hers. He thought. He crumpled the fabric into his hand and flung it behind him.

Riley's head snapped up at the movement, and she floundered out of her bed, chasing after the flannel.

"Riley, no- don't-" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard her scuffling across the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her come trotting back, before she stopped at the edge of the couch.

She whined and tilted her head. Simon opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not even hers, ya ninny." He said. He looked away and turned up the telly, hoping that everything in his head would just disappear into the back of his mind.

Riley stepped around Simon's feet as she carried the flannel in her mouth. She then hopped onto the couch and settled next to Simon, depositing the (now damp) clothing onto his lap. He grunted as she laid her head down on his leg, whining and flattening her ears. She looked up at him with curious eyes, slowly thumping her tail on the cushion.

He exhaled through his nose. He stared at the flannel, then back at Riley. "Ya really like her, eh?"

She licked her lips and blinked, sighing through her nose.

He chuckled, patting her side and looking at the ceiling. "I know. I do too." He closed his eyes.

"We'll be alright, girl."

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon

[hjpsdiary]

slytherin boy's headcons (them as ur bf <3)

theodore nott as your boyfriend :

• he’s the definition of quiet but observant; he notices every little thing about you, from your favorite snacks to how you fidget when nervous.

• doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s meaningful—his compliments feel rare and precious.

• surprisingly affectionate in private; he’ll always find excuses to brush his fingers against yours or pull you close when no one’s looking.

• reads a lot and will casually leave books he thinks you’d like in your bag or on your desk.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it—he’ll silently step in when someone’s bothering you or shoot a glare that makes them back off immediately.

• has a sarcastic sense of humor that comes out more as he gets comfortable with you; you’re one of the few people who ever see him smile.

• remembers everything you say, even the small things, and will surprise you by acting on it weeks later.

• not big on grand romantic gestures but makes up for it with small, thoughtful actions, like brewing your favorite tea or saving you a seat in class.

• loves stargazing; it’s one of the rare times he really opens up, sharing his thoughts and dreams while lying next to you under the stars.

• isn’t the best with words when expressing feelings but tries to write them down for you in short, heartfelt notes.

• values trust above all else; if you’re patient with him, he’ll let his walls down completely and be endlessly loyal.

• his love language is acts of service—he’ll carry your books, fix your broken quill, or help you study without you even asking.

• secretly adores when you wear something of his, like a sweater or scarf, and won’t say it outright but will be internally smug all day.

• has a soft, calming presence that makes you feel safe and at ease no matter what’s going on around you.

• he’s not perfect, sometimes retreating into himself when overwhelmed, but he’ll always come back to you, knowing you’re his anchor.

mattheo riddle as your boyfriend :

• the ultimate bad boy with a soft spot only for you; he’s tough around others but absolutely melts when it comes to you.

• constantly teases you but gets genuinely offended if you don’t fire back—he loves the banter.

• incredibly protective to the point where he’ll square up with anyone who even looks at you the wrong way.

• thrives on physical touch—his arm is always slung around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers intertwined with yours.

• has a devilish grin that he only uses to fluster you because he knows it works every single time.

• somehow knows exactly where you are at all times, and not in a creepy way—just always shows up when you need him.

• calls you ridiculous nicknames like “princess,” “trouble,” or “love,” depending on his mood.

• super possessive but not in a toxic way—he just loves reminding people that you’re his.

• absolutely hates when you’re upset with him and will go out of his way to apologize, even if it means swallowing his pride.

• smokes casually and offers you his jacket when it’s cold, the scent of him lingering on it for hours after.

• loves pulling you into trouble with him, whether it’s sneaking out after curfew or pranking someone, but always makes sure you’re safe.

• surprisingly intellectual—he can talk about dark magic theories for hours and gets a kick out of teaching you forbidden spells.

• his temper can flare up, especially when someone crosses you, but he always calms down when you’re around.

• absolutely adores seeing you in his clothes; he’ll smirk and say, “Looks better on you, anyway.”

• deeply loyal—once you have his heart, there’s no getting rid of him, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

• loves late-night conversations, where he gets a little vulnerable and tells you about his past and his fears.

• has a soft side he rarely shows, but when he does, it’s for you—whether it’s stroking your hair when you’re stressed or mumbling “I love you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

• he’s chaos personified, but somehow, with you, he feels like he’s finally found a bit of peace.

lorenzo birkshire as your boyfriend:

• he’s the smooth talker who flirts like it’s second nature, but with you, it’s genuine—he means every word.

• loves to make you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to crack jokes, pull silly faces, or do over-the-top impressions just to see you smile.

• low-key a hopeless romantic; he’ll surprise you with little handwritten notes, flowers he “found,” or surprise dates in secret spots.

• absolutely loves PDA—he’s the type to kiss your cheek in front of everyone or hold your hand just to let people know you’re his.

• he’s fiercely loyal, and anyone who tries to mess with you instantly regrets it; he’ll defend you without hesitation.

• the type to whisper in your ear during class, making you both laugh quietly, even if it earns him a detention.

• incredibly charming but gets adorably flustered when you flirt back or catch him off guard.

• loves spoiling you in small ways—buying you your favorite sweets, carrying your bag, or sneaking you an extra butterbeer during Hogsmeade trips.

• surprisingly good at comforting you when you’re upset; he’ll listen, wrap you in a warm hug, and crack just the right joke to lighten the mood.

• lives for the banter between you two; he thinks it’s hilarious when you try to outwit him, even if you win.

• would give you his scarf or cloak without hesitation if you were cold and wouldn’t stop teasing you about looking “adorable” in it.

• the type to plan spontaneous adventures, dragging you out of bed to sneak around the castle or explore forbidden areas.

• he’s a mix of chaotic energy and soft affection, always knowing when to be playful and when to be serious.

• low-key brags about you to his friends but pretends he’s “too cool” to care when they tease him about how smitten he is.

• loves running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, especially when you’re sitting close or leaning against him.

• insists on being your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up before exams, Quidditch matches, or even small challenges.

• gets jealous easily but tries to play it off—he’s terrible at hiding it, though, and ends up pouting until you reassure him.

• he’s the kind of boyfriend who’s both your partner in crime and your safe place, balancing wild fun with genuine love.

draco malfoy as your boyfreind:

• starts off guarded, but once he lets his walls down, he’s completely devoted to you.

• the type to act all cool and aloof in public but secretly loves holding your hand or brushing his fingers against yours.

• buys you extravagant gifts, not because he’s trying to show off, but because it’s how he expresses his love—jewelry, rare books, or even something sentimental he knows you’ll cherish.

• incredibly protective; he’d go out of his way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, whether that means intimidating someone who’s bothering you or walking you to every class.

• struggles to express his emotions verbally but makes up for it through his actions—he’ll always be there when you need him, no questions asked.

• low-key thrives on your praise; hearing you say you’re proud of him or appreciate him makes him feel on top of the world.

• gets jealous easily and tries to play it cool, but his little snarky comments give him away every time.

• loves spoiling you in subtle ways, like slipping your favorite dessert onto your plate at dinner or reserving the best spot in the library for you.

• softens dramatically when he’s with you; he goes from sharp sarcasm to quiet vulnerability in your presence.

• late-night talks are where he truly opens up, sharing his fears, insecurities, and dreams he’s too afraid to admit to anyone else.

• secretly loves when you mess with his perfectly styled hair, even though he’ll complain about it every time.

• will drape his scarf or coat around your shoulders if you’re cold, muttering something about how he “can’t have you freezing to death.”

• loves hearing you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to say something witty just to see you smile, even if it’s at his expense.

• incredibly attentive to your needs—he notices when you’re tired, stressed, or upset, and does everything he can to help.

• he’s not big on public displays of affection but will always find little ways to show you’re his, like resting his hand on your lower back or standing close enough for your shoulders to touch.

• gets flustered when you compliment him, especially if you call him handsome or clever—he’ll roll his eyes, but his pink cheeks give him away.

• he’s not perfect and sometimes lashes out when he’s stressed, but he’s quick to apologize and make it up to you.

• when he says he loves you, it’s rare but deeply meaningful—you can tell he means it with everything he has.

• despite his flaws, he’s fiercely loyal, endlessly protective, and wholly yours, doing everything he can to make you feel loved.

blaise zabini as your boyfriend:

• effortlessly smooth and confident, he doesn’t even need to try to charm you—it’s just who he is.

• the king of subtle but meaningful gestures, like holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, or placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd.

• loves to spoil you, but in a classy, understated way—think fine chocolate, rare books, or spontaneous weekend getaways.

• very private about your relationship; he keeps most of his affection behind closed doors but isn’t shy about letting people know you’re his.

• gives the best advice; he’s incredibly perceptive and always knows the right thing to say when you’re stressed or upset.

• he’s not big on loud, over-the-top displays of affection, but his actions always show how much he cares—he’s the type to quietly take care of things before you even ask.

• loves watching you talk about something you’re passionate about; he’ll rest his chin in his hand and just admire you with a soft smile.

• has a wicked sense of humor and loves teasing you, but it’s always playful and never hurtful—he secretly loves when you tease him back.

• he’s the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but you’re the only one who can fluster him when you catch him off guard with affection or a well-timed compliment.

• ridiculously good at remembering details about you, like your favorite drink, your childhood stories, or even the exact shade of your favorite lipstick.

• loves to keep you close—whether it’s casually draping an arm over your shoulder or pulling you into his lap when you’re alone together.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it; one look from him is enough to make anyone second-guess bothering you.

• will casually drop compliments about you in conversations with his friends, but if they tease him about being soft, he just smirks and doesn’t deny it.

• he’s a fantastic listener and always makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the room when you’re talking to him.

• takes immense pride in how you carry yourself and always reminds you of how incredible you are, even if you don’t see it yourself.

• adores dressing up for dates with you and insists on coordinating outfits so you both look effortlessly elegant together.

• late nights with him often involve deep conversations, a bottle of wine, and a lot of soft touches as he shares pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else.

• has a surprisingly tender side—he’ll hold you close when you’re feeling down, whispering reassurances that everything will be okay.

• he’s all about balance: the perfect mix of suave, playful, and deeply caring, making you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

[vigilante-3073]

Mouse

Rosalie Hale x Emmett Cullen x Female Vampire Reader

Summary: Bella observes the relationship between Rosalie, Emmett and Y/N.

TW: Throuple, vampire mates, mentions of death and torture.

In the time that Bella had spent as a human while dating Edward, she learned very little about the young vampire who Rosalie and Emmett shared as a mate. Y/N was quiet and reserved, which made her stand out in the relationship with her mates.

Rosalie had an anger that burned like the hottest flame and Emmett was always the loudest one in the room. Someone so calm and soft-spoken didn't seem to fit into their relationship dynamic.

Y/N almost seemed to get lost behind their big personalities, but they always saw her in a way that others didn't. Rosalie and Emmett always had some innate ability to sense their mate in every situation. They gravitated towards each other like magnets and could always be found together.

One thing Bella had come to notice about Y/N is that her love language was physical touch. Y/N was always touching one or both of her mates in some way. Bella was almost alarmed to see how different Rosalie could be when she was interacting with her young mate.

Rosalie tended to be a bit more protective than affectionate towards Y/N when Bella had first come around, but after some time she gradually started to see Rosalie soften.

Bella would always remember the day she saw them all together for the first time. She had walked into the living room with Edward only to find Y/N sitting sideways on the couch with her back leaned against Emmett's side and his arm wrapped around her body, a baseball game playing on the television. Rosalie sat next to Y/N with her mate's legs draped across her lap while she flipped through a magazine. The sight caught Bella off-guard, but then she started to notice it more and more.

On another day, Y/N was walking through the woods after a hunt with Emmett's arm wrapped around her waist and his hand slipped into the back pocket of her jeans. Her other hand was holding onto Rosalie's as they talked about whatever came to mind.

The day after that Bella saw Y/N sitting on Emmett's lap while she talked to Rosalie about a book that she had just finished. The blonde listened to her intently with a soft smile on her face as Emmett brushed his thumbs back and forth over her hip bones.

At first glance, they seemed like they would never fit together in a million years, but Bella had never seen a closer relationship in her lifetime. There was some unexpected gravitational pull that kept them orbiting around eachother. Y/N grounded the pair in a way that was necessary when they got riled up, bringing everything back into focus.

...

Bella learned that Y/N's human life had ended tragically like many of her family members. She wouldn't talk about it, but Edward knew about what she had endured.

He told Bella that he could feel it when her mind drifted to those memories. The first time it happened, he had frozen in his tracks and his body locked up in a way that he had never experienced before.

Y/N had been walking home after a closing shift at the diner she was working at. A car pulled up beside her and a man offered to drive her home, he pulled a gun on her when she refused. Y/N got into the car and it was definitely a decision that she would regret for the entirety of her human life.

Edward had never known someone who had experienced as much suffering as Y/N had. The man kept her chained up in his basement for weeks, he beat her, starved her, cut her, burned her and forced her to endure many other kinds of torture while under his imprisonment.

Y/N barely managed to escape with her life, her bones were broken and the blood loss had made her weak. She ran from the house until her body collapsed into unconsciousness. Y/N thought that she would die in her place on the damp grass, she could feel herself fading away and she decided that it wasn't the worst place to die.

Someone had found her in the morning and called the authorities, she was taken to the hospital and she would have died from her injuries if Carlisle hadn't been working that day. It took almost a week for her body to put itself back together after she had died.

Y/N's death was traumatic and she was never the same after she had reanimated. Y/N was quiet and reserved, slipping back into those dreadful memories.

She was terrified every day, especially around the men in the house and no one could question her reasons. She gradually formed a friendship with Rosalie, bonding over their shared trauma and Y/N slowly began to come out of her shell a bit.

No one could pinpoint when exactly Y/N and Rosalie's relationship had changed into a romantic one, but it had. Rosalie was Y/N's protector and they hardly ever spent any time apart.

Carlisle felt relieved to see the girls finding something in their lives that was worth carrying on for. They had both been through so much and their willingness to create a relationship let him know that they were adjusting to this new life.

Y/N and Rosalie spent every possible moment together and when Rosalie found Emmett, he was brought into their dynamic seamlessly. If anyone chose to question their relationship, Rosalie would be on them in a second.

Rosalie had a ferocious love that no one could ever mess with. She allowed herself to be used and walked over in her human life, the loss of that life made her stronger and showed her that nothing lasts forever.

Their relationship had endured years of traumatic experiences and bloodshed, built on the back of a curse that provided eternal life.

...

Hearing about their relationship from Edward's point of view gave Bella a better understanding of who they were to each other. Though no recognition could be given to their union at the time, they were all married to each other. It didn't matter to them that it wasn't legal, they knew that their bond ran deeper than any laws ever could.

Bella respected the love that they all had for each other, it was fierce and strong like nothing she had ever seen before. It made her look at the other relationships that had blossomed within the Cullen family and she quickly found that none of them were the same.

They may have had similar values, but their dynamics were all vastly different. Her own relationship with Edward was romantic, tumultuous and tragic. There would always be parts of their lives that would never be possible if they stayed together.

Edward had lived for many years before he met her, forming relationships and losing people that Bella would never know. Bella would likely never know who he was before he died, time changes so much and it would likely be impossible for him to remember now.

If Bella transformed into a vampire to stay at Edward's side, she would lose whatever future she could have had as a human. She would never be able to have children or grow old with her friends or family. Eveyone would die around her and she would remain unchanged with Edward and his family as her only solace in a changing world.

Her fascination with Y/N's relationship had served to put things in perspective for her regarding what she could gain and lose in this life. None of the Cullen children had a choice in whether or not they pursued this life. Bella seemed to have tunnel vision on the topic, always worrying about how much time she was wasting.

Every day that passed made her feel physically older, every scrape or bruise on her skin made her feel like her body would just crumble underneath her. Bella knew that her worries were nothing that a teenager should be concerned about, but she had seen what a future could look like.

Bella was staring down the finish line of a marathon that she had been treating as a sprint. She didn't have to rush, she didn't have to make a choice now.

Y/N, Rosalie and Emmett never would have found each other if it hadn't been for the horrific way that their human lives happened to end.

Bella felt like she could finally understand that this choice shouldn't be rushed, it needed to be carefully considered. Bella didn't need to push the envelope and choose a tragic end for herself when she had the luxury of time.

She would become a vampire, but she could definitely choose to enjoy her life as a human for a while.

[tf2heritageposts]

tips for runaways of abusive families

from one who did that

note: this assumes you are 18+ or will be 18+ upon escaping, and also american, sorry

BEFORE YOU LEAVE:

get your insurance information, ESPECIALLY YOUR HEALTH INSURANCE. you can use it until you're 26

have your ssn memorized

make sure you have a decent amount of money saved up, dependent on your situation

have your method of transportation figured out beforehand. are you leaving the city? state? general area? country? get it planned out

if you are planning on taking your pet with you, make sure you have food stocked up with you and bottles of water. i would also reccomend bringing a 1ml kids syringe if you have the type of pet that will stop eating/drinking in stress situations. also bring a form of cover like an extra shirt or towel if it is an easily stressed pet. also make sure you have a carrier, and if you're going on a plane, make sure it is up to the standard of your plane, as well as making s ure your type of pet is allowed on the plane, especially if its an "exotic" pet, aka anything thats not a cat or dog

i also may recommend stocking up some food but depending on your situation this may not be needed

stock up on any medications you may have/need

don't give your family any form of information they could use to track you down in the future, especially if theyre the crazier types

make sure to change your passwords on any technology you may be leaving form and log out completely on them. make sure you have no files they could use to find you

DURING:

leave at a time where you're 100% sure nobody will catch you. if you have a family member that comes home late from work, know when they'll be back and asleep

turn off ANY location services you have after you're already away from the house, even if it alarms them. you don't want them to figire out where you are

wear a jacket with pockets, especially deep ones

make sure you have your wallet, forms of id, etc

get ready to run as fast as you can

if you're leaving the state, especially via plane, DO NOT IMMEDIATLY GO TO THE AIRPORT, THEY WILL CHECK THERE FIRST! go to a hotel and spend 1-3 days there while they exhaust their time and figure you already left. THEN you can go

stay calm while you're in the process of leaving. the moment you hit the air, they legally can't do anything

keep any critter you have calm, especially if they can suffer health problems from stress

have your hotels booked in advance

AFTER:

dont give your family your address if they try to talk to you

if you can really, cut them off entirely. chances are theyre not gonna change

get an air mattress as soon as you can, we used doordash for one

figure out how you will be paying finances. if you're living with someone, great, if not, you may have to post donation posts on social media until you can get a job

be happy you escaped, good job! most people won't be able to do this so im proud you were

[authorhjk1]

[JUX-794] Mischievous teacher Kang Seulgi, after school gangbang! Lots of cream pies!

(Kang Seulgi X Male Students feat. TripleS Kotone)

The first snow of December falls steadily outside the frosted windows, quieting the world in a blanket of white. The heater hums faintly in the corner, but it’s losing its battle against the cold. Students shuffle into the room slowly, hands buried in their jacket pockets, faces flushed from the biting air. The class feels sleepy and subdued. Except for the back row.

Kang Seulgi enters with her usual composure, the click of her brown heels sharp against the silence. She sets a neat stack of books on the desk, brushing a strand of her orange hair behind her ear before peeling off her coat. Beneath it, she’s dressed with deliberate precision: a silky brown blouse that clings just enough and tight brown leather shorts that cut high on her smooth, bare thighs.

The contrast is striking. Warm layers on everyone else, while she stands there as though immune to the cold. Her round glasses frame her sharp gaze as she finally looks up.

“Good morning."

Seulgi says softly, her voice cutting through the muted hush.

“We’re continuing with evolution today. Open your books to page 54.”

The students comply, the sound of pages turning filling the room. But the boys in the back; Jaehyun, Minho, Jiho, Hyunwoo, and Seungmin; sit still and quiet, their jackets loose, ties undone. Their books remain closed, pens idle. They’ve made no effort to look interested, but Seulgi doesn’t acknowledge them.

She turns her back to the class and begins writing in large, fluid letters on the whiteboard: Natural Selection. Adaptation. Competition.

“In biology,"

She talks, evenly underlining the word Adaptation.

“natural selection determines who thrives and who doesn’t. It isn’t always the strongest who survive. It’s those who know how to adapt.”

Her voice is calm, almost melodic, but the rhythm of her movements is deliberate. She stretches slightly to underline a point, her blouse dipping faintly at the back. The motion feels natural, unremarkable to most. But she knows the back row is watching. She finishes writing and caps the marker with a snap.

“Now, let’s start with a quick recap.”

The minutes tick by slowly as Seulgi explains the core principles of evolution. The heater hums louder, groaning as though in complaint, but the room remains cold. Some students yawn quietly, their pens moving lazily over their notebooks.

Seulgi leans back against the edge of her desk, resting one hand beside her as she crosses her legs slowly at the knee. The motion is smooth, deliberate, and reveals the full length of her bare, toned thighs. The leather of her shorts catches the soft light filtering through the window, dark and sleek against her skin.

Her other hand adjusts the glasses on her nose as she continues.

“The environment decides which traits are an advantage. For instance, animals in cold climates adapt by growing thicker coats or conserving energy.”

A pause.

“In this case,"

She adds, her tone soft but edged.

“you could say survival is about knowing how to endure... or how to stand out.”

The words seem to settle heavily in the air. From the back, Jaehyun shifts faintly in his seat, dragging a boot noisily against the floor before stopping. Minho runs his fingers absently through his hair, though his gaze hasn’t moved from the front of the room. Hyunwoo’s pen is still, the cap flicked on and off in slow rhythm.

Seulgi knows what she's been doing to them for the last couple weeks. But she doesn't even grant the five of them a glance. She focuses instead on a stack of papers, as if oblivious to the tension.

Halfway through the lesson, Seulgi moves to the board again. She uncaps the marker, poised to add another word to her now pretty large collection of keywords: Selection.

The marker slips suddenly from her fingers, tumbling noisily to the floor.

“Oh."

She murmurs softly, pretending to be surprised.

Without hesitation, she bends at the waist to retrieve it. The movement is deliberate yet measured. Her blouse stretching faintly as she leans forward, the hem of her dark leather shorts lifting just enough to reveal the perfect shape of her bare thighs. For a second, just a second, there’s a faint glimpse of lace peeking above the line of her shorts. Black lace. That seems to hug her thighs perfectly underneath her shorts. The shape of her perfect ass makes the experience even more rewarding.

The silence that follows is deafening.

From the back, someone’s chair creaks faintly. Jaehyun sits perfectly still, his eyes fixed firmly on the edge of his desk. Minho stares straight ahead, though the faintest movement in his jaw betrays him. Jiho’s fingers pause mid-tap on his notebook, the rhythm forgotten.

Seulgi straightens slowly, marker in hand, and brushes a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her face remains perfectly neutral, as though nothing happened at all.

“Let’s continue."

She says smoothly, turning back to the board.

Toward the end of class, the lesson turns to competition as a key driver of natural selection.

“Competition isn’t always obvious."

Seulgi explains, sitting on the edge of her desk once again. This time, her posture is looser, more relaxed. One heel dangling lazily from her foot as her legs cross. The motion draws subtle attention to the clean line of her thighs, their smoothness standing out in stark contrast to the winter cold everyone else seems to be hiding from. She taps a finger lightly against the edge of the desk, as though in thought.

“Sometimes, survival depends on subtle advantages. A trait that sets one apart from the rest, even if no one notices it at first.”

She allows the words to hang for a moment, brushing her fingers idly along the hem of her blouse. She only barely moves her collar a little to the side. Just the slightest hint of her tits reveal the lack of a bra.

“Nature rewards the clever, the resilient, and those who can endure.”

From the back row, Jaehyun’s pencil rolls off his desk. He doesn’t pick it up right away. Hyunwoo exhales through his nose, sitting back with an expression carefully blank. Minho slouches lower in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he looks out the window.

After an otherwise uneventful rest of the class, the shrill ring of the bell cuts through the stillness, breaking the calm atmosphere in an instant. Students jolt upright, snapping their books shut and packing up quickly. Seulgi uncrosses her legs slowly, sliding off the edge of her desk as she gathers her papers.

“Read pages 54 to 60 for homework. We’ll continue on Monday.”

The class empties slowly, students trudging toward the door. The back row lingers longer, as always. Jaehyun is the last to stand, slinging his bag over one shoulder and pausing just long enough to glance back at the desk. His expression gives nothing away.

When the door finally clicks shut, Seulgi exhales softly. She sets her papers neatly in a folder and picks up the red marker, turning it over in her fingers with a faint smile. They're close to breaking already.

The lunch bell echoes through the school, signaling a rare pocket of freedom for the students. The once-quiet halls turn chaotic as voices bounce off the walls, lockers slam shut, and footsteps patter quickly toward the cafeteria. The winter wind howls faintly outside, making the warmth of the building feel like a reluctant escape from the cold.

In the middle of it all, Seulgi walks with slow, deliberate steps.

Her outfit today is different from last week. Still professional but tailored to perfection. She wears a crisp, white blouse with the sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. A slim black pinstripe vest hugs her torso, cinched with small silver buckles at her sides. Her short pleated skirt, just daring enough, grazes the tops of her bare thighs, leaving smooth skin visible with every stride. A loose black tie drapes over her blouse, and her tall black boots add a confident edge to the look. Her hair is sleek and straight today, cascading past her shoulders like liquid ink. The glasses perched on her nose frame her face, lending her the illusion of untouchable composure.

The sound of her boots clicks with every step as she makes her way toward the teacher's restroom, moving through the chaos with unbothered grace.

Near the far end of the hallway, the same five boys hang around the lockers like they own the place. Their jackets hang open over their uniforms, ties barely in place, looking perfectly disheveled in a way that only makes them stand out more.

As Seulgi rounds the corner, the sound of her heels cuts through the din of students moving past.

“Shit. There she is again."

Minho mutters under his breath, nudging Jaehyun with his elbow.

Jaehyun tilts his head back against the lockers, his lips twitching into a faint smirk as his eyes follow Seulgi.

“She’s been looking good lately.”

“Looking good?”

Jiho scoffs, his gaze shamelessly trailing up her legs. The short skirt shows off just enough to hint at her plump cheeks.

"That girl has cake.”

He feels Minho's elbow in his ribs a second later.

Hyunwoo snorts, biting back a laugh.

“No wonder she wears skirts like that. She knows what she’s doing.”

Seungmin shakes his head faintly, though his expression mirrors theirs.

“Teachers aren’t supposed to look like that, man.”

Jaehyun chuckles lowly, finally dragging his eyes away as Seulgi disappears down the hall.

“Doesn’t seem like she cares what’s ‘supposed to’ happen.”

Their laughter blends into the noise of the hallway, but Seulgi doesn’t acknowledge them. She doesn’t turn her head, doesn’t falter in her stride. She hears them though. She always hears them.

And maybe that’s part of why she does it.

The teacher's restroom is quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the hallway outside. The heavy door clicks shut behind her, sealing Seulgi into stillness. She exhales softly, setting her bag down on the sink as she steps toward the mirror.

The reflection staring back at her is calculated: the perfect balance between sharp professionalism and something far less innocent. The white blouse clings perfectly under the vest, the short skirt flaring just enough to draw attention to the smooth, bare skin of her thighs. Her tie hangs loosely over her chest, like a deliberate afterthought, while her straight hair frames her face in soft contrast to the sharpness of her outfit.

Seulgi’s fingers brush the hem of her skirt lightly, smoothing the fabric down as she studies herself.

“That girl has cake.”

The words echo faintly in her mind. She should be disgusted. She should be offended. But instead, her lips curve into the faintest, most secretive of smiles.

She doesn’t understand why she feels this way. Why the thrill of being noticed has started to creep under her skin like an addiction. It’s not the boys themselves. She knows what kind of attention they’re giving her. It’s rude, thoughtless, the kind of thing she would’ve shut down immediately if they said it to her face.

And yet...

Her fingers tighten faintly against the edge of the sink as she leans forward, letting her gaze drift over her reflection.

It’s the power she likes. The quiet control.

Outside, the world sees a perfect teacher. A young professional with sharp glasses and flawless composure. But here, now, with the door shut and the mirror reflecting every inch of her body, she can admit the truth: she enjoys the attention. She enjoys being seen.

What’s wrong with me?

She doesn’t have an answer.

When Seulgi leaves the bathroom, the hallway has quieted. Most students have already gathered in the cafeteria, leaving only a handful lingering by their lockers or walking toward the stairs.

The boys are gone, though their presence still feels like a shadow in the back of her mind. Seulgi adjusts her tie, brushing it against the edge of her blouse as she walks. The sound of her boots echoes faintly in the empty corridor.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter.

They’re just kids. Troublemakers.

But as she steps into the faculty lounge, greeted by the hum of conversation between colleagues, the secret thrill still lingers under her skin.

Let them look. Let them talk.

Her expression remains neutral, calm, untouchable.

No one would ever know.

The classroom hums with faint energy, though no one is talking. Outside, snow continues to fall in quiet sheets, blurring the window panes with thin streaks of white. The heater groans in the corner, the weak warmth unable to compete with the sharp winter chill seeping through the walls.

Seulgi stands in front of the whiteboard, her marker gliding across its surface in smooth, deliberate strokes. The words Evolutionary Strategies are written in clean, confident lettering, underlined twice with a sharp flick of her wrist. She’s wearing a burgundy fitted dress today, cinched perfectly at the waist to show off her shape. The short hem sits daringly high on her thighs, her legs bare and smooth beneath the fluorescent lights. Her lace-up black heels climb elegantly up to her knees, the ribbons hugging her skin like intricate vines. Combined with the soft, sheer sleeves of her dress and her perfectly straightened hair, Seulgi looks like something out of place in the winter-drab classroom. More like a model in a magazine than a teacher lecturing on biology.

She caps the marker with a soft snap, turning back to face the room. Her gaze sweeps over the students, who sit slumped at their desks. Most look half-asleep, their notebooks open but empty. The back row remain sprawled casually in their seats, arms folded, their books closed like accessories instead of tools for learning.

“For the next part of today’s class,"

She begins, leaning back lightly against the edge of her desk.

“I want you to work individually.”

She pauses, letting the faint murmur of discontent die before continuing.

“Turn to page 67 in your textbooks."

Seulgi crosses her arms loosely over her chest. The action draws subtle attention to the curve of her waist, though she doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.

“I want you to summarize three key strategies that species use to survive: mimicry, camouflage, and dominance.”

The faint groans of protest begin to rise, but Seulgi taps the cap of the marker against the edge of the desk. An unspoken signal to get moving.

“You have fifteen minutes. Use your time wisely.”

As pages start flipping and pens begin scratching across notebooks, Seulgi pushes herself off the desk and begins walking between the rows. Her heels click faintly against the floor with each step, the sound soft yet deliberate. Her gaze moves over the students, her expression calm but observant as she scans their work. Most of them avoid her eyes, their focus on their textbooks, but the back row is different.

The five boys haven’t opened their books.

Seulgi stops behind Seungmin’s desk first. His posture is as lazy as ever, arms folded tightly over his chest as he stares blankly at the textbook he hasn’t touched.

“Seungmin."

She says quietly, leaning just slightly over his shoulder.

“You’re not even pretending to work today.”

Her voice is light, teasing almost, but the proximity of her presence makes him shift slightly in his seat. Her hand grazes the back of his chair as she steps closer, her fingers brushing the cool metal.

“I’d start writing. Unless you want to stay behind after class.”

Seungmin clears his throat faintly, finally picking up his pen as she steps away.

Next, Seulgi moves toward Jaehyun’s desk. He’s leaning back casually in his chair, arms draped loosely over the backrest, his expression blank but his eyes sharp as they flick toward her. His textbook is open, but the pages are untouched.

Seulgi pauses beside him, her heels coming to a quiet stop.

“You look very focused, Jaehyun."

She says, her tone neutral but edged with faint amusement.

Without waiting for a response, she leans over slightly to glance at his desk, one hand resting lightly on the edge for balance. Her posture is calm, unbothered. But her proximity doesn’t go unnoticed.

Her hand shifts, and for the briefest second, her fingertips brush against Jaehyun’s shoulder as she straightens. The touch is featherlight, gone almost as soon as it happens, but Jaehyun freezes. His lazy slouch interrupted as he tenses faintly.

“Keep it up."

Seulgi murmurs softly, as though offering praise.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. His eyes linger on the hem of her dress for half a second before darting back to his desk, his hand moving to his pen as though trying to regain his focus.

Seulgi’s heels click softly as she walks away.

Minho is next. He’s slouched deep in his seat, his long legs stretched lazily under the desk. His pen twirls between his fingers, though he hasn’t written a word.

Seulgi stops beside him, tilting her head faintly. “Is that worksheet just for decoration, Minho?”

Minho looks up, his gaze flicking lazily to her.

“I’m still thinking."

He mutters, though the faint grin on his lips suggests otherwise.

Seulgi raises an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward so her fingers rest on the edge of his desk. Her hair falls softly over her shoulder, close enough for Minho to notice the faint scent of her perfume. Light, clean, and distinctly feminine.

“Well, don’t take too long. Time’s running out.”

Her voice is calm, but as she straightens, she lets her gaze linger for just a moment. Her expression unreadable, her posture poised.

Minho stares back, his casual grin faltering just slightly as his hand fumbles with the pen.

The sharp ring of the bell cuts through the quiet. Students jerk upright, grabbing their books and bags with hurried movements.

“Finish what you didn’t complete at home."

Seulgi calls as they begin filing out.

“I’ll be collecting it next time.”

The back row lingers as always. Jaehyun is the last to stand, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves toward the door. His gaze flicks toward the desk where Seulgi still sits, though he says nothing as he walks past.

When the room finally empties, the faintest smile is tugging at her lips as she leans back on her hands. She tilts her head back slightly, staring up at the ceiling as she exhales a slow, measured breath. The tension she’s been holding begins to unravel, piece by piece.

Her gaze lowers toward the rows of empty desks, lingering on the seats at the back of the room. Jaehyun. Minho. Jiho. Hyunwoo. Seungmin. Their presence lingers even now, like shadows etched into the fabric of the space. She can still feel the weight of their eyes on her. The stolen glances, the way they’d shifted under her touch.

What are you doing?

The question rises again, unbidden and sharp, but Seulgi shoves it down. She straightens her posture, sliding off the desk slowly. Her heels hit the floor with a soft click, grounding her. The sound feels louder now in the empty room, almost deafening.

She paces toward the whiteboard and begins wiping it clean, her movements slow and methodical. The words she wrote earlier: Mimicry, Camouflage, Dominance, disappear under her hand, as though erasing the evidence of the hour that just passed. And yet, she can’t erase the way her heart still beats just a little too fast.

Seulgi pauses midway through cleaning the board, her hand resting loosely against the marker tray. Her reflection stares back at her faintly from the glass window of the board. Unruffled, poised, perfectly composed. But behind the carefully crafted exterior, there’s something else.

A spark of something dangerous.

Seulgi swallows hard, her fingers tightening faintly around the eraser. She’s not stupid. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Walking that invisible line, teasing just enough to make them look. To make them react. She feels it every time she leans too close, every time her fingers brush against a desk or a shoulder. The thrill hums beneath her skin like a current she can’t shut off.

It isn’t about the boys. It never was.

It’s about the power.

That quiet, intoxicating control she has over the room. Over them.

But what scares her most is how much she enjoys it.

Seulgi turns away from the board and walks toward the window, the tall glass panes fogged faintly at the edges from the cold outside. Her heels echo softly across the floor, every step precise and deliberate. She stops in front of the window, her arms crossing loosely over her chest as she gazes out at the snow-covered courtyard below.

Her reflection stares back at her, sharper now in the cold light. The burgundy dress clings to her figure, the rich fabric catching the dull glow from the overcast sky. The ribbons of her lace-up heels crisscross like ink against her bare skin, accentuating every curve of her calves.

For a brief moment, she wonders what she looks like through their eyes.

Is she still their teacher? The composed, untouchable figure standing at the front of the room? Or is she something else entirely?

Her lips press into a thin line, her breath fogging faintly against the glass.

Why does it feel so good to be seen?

Seulgi doesn’t have an answer. All she knows is that it’s a feeling she can’t shake. The same feeling that leaves her lingering in the empty classroom long after the bell has rung.

She raises a hand absently, brushing her hair back over her shoulder as she leans her forehead lightly against the cold window.

After a moment, Seulgi turns back toward the room. Her gaze drifts toward the back row of desks, where Jaehyun had been sitting just minutes earlier. The desk is empty now, the chair pushed back slightly as though he’d left in a hurry.

She steps towards it slowly, the sound of her heels muffled against the tiled floor. She doesn’t know why she’s walking there. She tells herself she’s simply tidying up, ensuring everything is in its place.

But when she stops in front of Jaehyun’s desk, she hesitates.

Her fingertips trail faintly along the edge of the desk as though testing something invisible.

A sharp knock at the door startles her, and Seulgi pulls her hand back quickly, her heart leaping in her chest. The door creaks open, and one of her colleagues, Mr. Kim from the science department, peeks inside.

“Seulgi-ssi? You’re still here?”

She clears her throat softly, forcing a calm smile onto her face as she turns to face him.

“Just wrapping up."

Mr. Kim nods, glancing once at the empty desks before pulling the door fully open.

“Don’t stay too long. It’s freezing out there.”

“I won’t."

As the door closes again, sealing her back into the empty room, Seulgi exhales. The faint smile fades from her lips as she adjusts the hem of her dress absentmindedly, smoothing it down before turning back toward the front of the room.

She gathers her books and her bag, her movements mechanical as she stacks everything neatly on the desk. But as she prepares to leave, she pauses, glancing once more at the back row of seats.

The thrill still lingers under her skin, warm and unsettling. Seulgi shakes her head faintly, forcing herself to move toward the door.

It’s nothing, she tells herself. Just a game.

But as she steps out into the empty hallway, the echo of her heels against the floor sounds louder than before, as though the classroom hasn’t let her go just yet.

The bell rings, loud and sharp, breaking through the tension that has been lingering in the air for the past hour.

Seulgi sets down her marker and steps back from the whiteboard, brushing faint dust from her yellow plaid blazer. Her skirt, just short enough to skim her thighs, shifts as she walks toward her desk. She doesn’t miss the way the back row lingers. How Jaehyun leans back in his chair lazily, his sharp eyes flicking up from his notebook to follow her movements. How Minho mutters something under his breath to Jiho, earning a faint smirk.

She can feel it. The way their gazes have changed. It’s heavier now. Deliberate. Not the usual distracted glances or harmless stares.

It makes the room feel smaller somehow, the air more stifling.

“Make sure to finish your notes."

Seulgi says, her voice even but faintly clipped as she gathers her papers.

"We’ll review them tomorrow.”

Chairs scrape against the floor as students rise and shuffle toward the door, but the back row takes their time. Jaehyun is the last to move, pushing his chair back slowly, his gaze lingering just a moment too long as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

“See you next time, Miss Kang."

Seulgi pretends not to notice the flicker of amusement in his voice, the faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She watches as the five of them finally saunter out of the room, their voices low as they talk amongst themselves.

She exhales softly once the door clicks shut, the tension dissolving into the quiet. But the feeling doesn’t leave her.

What’s gotten into them?

The five of them crowd into an empty corner near the vending machines during the break, their voices low but animated.

“That outfit though."

Jiho mutters with a grin, shaking his head as he cracks open a can of soda.

“See through? She knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s not just the clothes."

Minho replies, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“She’s been teasing us for weeks. You think she doesn’t notice the way we look at her?”

Jaehyun tilts his head, his sharp gaze narrowing thoughtfully.

“Maybe she does. Or maybe she’s just playing around, seeing how far she can push us.”

Hyunwoo finally speaks up, his voice quiet but firm.

"She doesn’t take us seriously. We’re just kids to her.”

The group falls silent for a beat, the words settling uncomfortably.

Jiho scoffs, kicking lightly at the base of the vending machine.

"Well, she’s wrong. We’re not kids.”

“We should let her know that."

Jaehyun says evenly, pushing off the wall with a faint smirk.

“If she’s going to tease us, maybe it’s time we tease her back.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow.

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

Jaehyun shrugs, his expression unreadable. “You’ll see. Let’s see how she handles it when the roles are reversed.”

The next class is about to start, and the hallway is a flurry of movement. Students hurrying to their lockers, friends laughing as they weave through the crowd. The noise is chaotic, echoing off the linoleum floors and concrete walls.

Seulgi steps out of the staff room, clutching her binder against her chest as she navigates the crowd. Her heels click softly against the tile, her yellow plaid skirt and blazer standing out like a burst of color against the sea of navy uniforms. Beneath the blazer, her sheer black top hints at the faint curve of her chest, the pattern subtle yet noticeable when it catches the light.

She walks with her usual confidence, though the events of the last class still cling to her mind.

They’re acting differently.

As Seulgi rounds the corner, she almost collides with someone.

“Careful, Miss Kang.”

Jaehyun’s voice cuts through the hallway noise. He’s standing just ahead with the rest of the boys. Minho leaning casually against the lockers, Jiho with his hands shoved into his pockets, Hyunwoo and Seungmin flanking Jaehyun on either side.

The five of them seem to take up more space than they should, their postures loose but deliberate, their gazes fixed on her in a way that makes Seulgi pause.

“Excuse me."

She says smoothly, stepping aside to move past them.

But Jaehyun shifts slightly, his shoulder brushing hers as she passes. It’s subtle, barely enough to notice, but deliberate all the same.

“Heading to the next class?”

Minho asks, his voice low but edged with something faintly mocking.

“Or were you looking for us?”

Seulgi stops mid-step, turning just slightly to face them.

"Watch your tone."

She says quietly, though the calm edge in her voice feels thinner than usual.

Jiho grins.

“Relax, Miss Kang. We’re just saying hello.”

Seulgi narrows her gaze, straightening her posture.

“Then say it properly.”

Hyunwoo chuckles under his breath, earning a glance from Minho, who tilts his head.

“Sure. Hello, Miss Kang. You look... nice today.”

There’s something in the way he says it, casual, almost playful, that makes Seulgi’s breath hitch. For the first time, she feels like they’re seeing her differently. Like they aren’t backing down.

“Thank you."

Her fingers tighten slightly around her binder.

The boys exchange glances, faint smirks playing across their lips. Jaehyun takes one step closer. Not enough to invade her space, but enough to make her notice.

“See you around."

He says softly, his eyes holding hers for a second longer than necessary before he turns to walk away.

One by one, the others follow, their presence lingering even after they disappear into the next corridor.

Seulgi watches them go, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She doesn’t move immediately, standing frozen in the emptying hallway as the noise fades into background static.

What just happened?

They’ve never spoken to her like that before. Never looked at her like that before.

The balance feels like it’s shifting, and for the first time, Seulgi doesn’t know how to respond.

The sound of pens scratching across paper fills the classroom, punctuated by the occasional shuffle of notebooks and the faint hum of the heater. Outside, the snow has slowed, leaving the school grounds dusted in white.

Seulgi sits at her desk at the front of the room, her hands folded neatly over a stack of papers she’s been pretending to review for the past ten minutes. Her gaze drifts occasionally toward the whiteboard, where the topic of today’s biology lesson "Ecosystem Relationships" is written in her neat handwriting.

The students are working on a group assignment, their voices low as they discuss food chains and predator-prey dynamics. Normally, this would be her favorite part of the day, watching her students engage with the material she loves, feeling the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

But today, her mind is elsewhere.

She can still feel the way they’d looked at her in the hallway earlier. The quiet confidence in their voices, the deliberate way they’d blocked her path without outright disrespecting her. Minho’s low comment, “You look nice today” echoes faintly in her ears, making her shift uncomfortably in her chair.

It’s not the words that unsettled her. It’s the way they’d said them. The way they’d looked at her.

Seulgi exhales softly, her fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. She tells herself it’s nothing. That they’re just boys being boys, testing boundaries the way teenagers always do.

But deep down, she knows it’s more than that.

They’re not backing down anymore.

Seulgi stands, smoothing the hem of her yellow plaid blazer as she walks toward the middle of the room. The students quiet slightly as she approaches, their heads bent over their worksheets.

“How’s it going?"

She asks a pair of girls near the front. Her voice is calm, composed, the perfect balance of authority and approachability.

“Good, we’re almost done.”

Seulgi nods, offering a faint smile before moving to the next group. She forces herself to focus on the present, pushing the earlier encounter to the back of her mind. But no matter how much she tries, the unease lingers, a faint, persistent hum under her skin.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of the period, Seulgi dismisses the class with her usual calm professionalism. But as the students file out, she can’t shake the tension that’s been building since the morning.

Later that afternoon, Seulgi sits across from the vice principal in the quiet staff room. The heater hums faintly in the corner, the warmth doing little to ease the tension in her chest.

“We need someone to oversee detention for the rest of December."

Seulgi blinks, caught off guard.

“Detention?”

“Yes."

He replies, sliding a clipboard toward her.

“Friday afternoons. It won’t take much time, just supervising a few students who need… extra guidance.”

She hesitates for a moment, her mind flickering back to the five boys from earlier. But she quickly shakes the thought away.

“Sure."

Seilgi offers a polite smile as she picks up the pen. “I can handle it.”

“Great."

The vice principal stands up as she signs her name.

“I’ll send you the list of students later today.”

The sun hangs low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the snow-dusted grounds. Seulgi steps outside into the biting winter air, her heels crunching softly against the icy pavement as she makes her way toward the parking lot.

She’s exhausted. More from the weight of her thoughts than the day’s workload. The encounter in the hallway earlier still lingers in her mind, mingling uneasily with the memory of their stares during class.

As she nears her car, the faint sound of laughter catches her attention. She turns instinctively, her eyes drawn toward the football court at the edge of the school grounds.

They’re there.

Jaehyun leans casually against the goalpost, his posture relaxed but deliberate. Minho and Jiho are tossing a football back and forth, their movements lazy and unhurried, while Hyunwoo and Seungmin sit on the bleachers, their voices low as they chat.

Seulgi pauses, her breath catching faintly. She should keep walking, pretend she hasn’t noticed them. But her feet hesitate, her body caught between the familiar thrill of their attention and the quiet unease that has been growing all day.

It’s Jaehyun who notices her first. He straightens slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto hers across the distance. A faint smile tugs at his lips. Not mocking, but knowing.

“Miss Kang!”

Jiho calls, waving her over.

“Taking the long way home?”

Seulgi forces a smile, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag as she steps closer. “Shouldn’t you all be heading home?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Minho counters, his tone light but edged with something faintly playful.

She narrows her eyes slightly, though the faint warmth rising in her chest betrays her.

“I could say the same to you.”

Hyunwoo chuckles softly from the bleachers.

“It’s more fun out here.”

“Yeah."

Seungmin adds, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Don’t tell me you’ve never stayed late to enjoy the quiet.”

Seulgi hesitates, the words catching her off guard.

“That’s not the point.”

Minho tosses the football once more to Jiho before stepping closer, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets.

“Relax, Miss Kang. We’re not causing trouble.”

Jaehyun pushes off the goalpost, his gaze steady as he approaches.

“It’s nice to see you outside the classroom for once."

“Is it?”

Seulgi raises an eyebrow.

Jaehyun nods, his faint smirk deepening.

"You look different out here.”

The words make her breath hitch faintly, though she quickly hides it behind a polite smile.

“I’m the same person, Jaehyun. You’re just imagining things.”

“Maybe."

His tone is unreadable.

The others chuckle softly, their laughter blending into the cold air as Seulgi adjusts her bag and takes a step back.

“You should all head home."

She says firmly, though her voice feels thinner than usual.

“We will. After you.”

Jiho grins at her.

Seulgi doesn’t respond. She turns and walks toward her car, her pulse thrumming under her skin as their voices fade behind her. But as she reaches the driver’s seat, she glances back over her shoulder.

They’re still there, watching her.

And for the first time, Seulgi wonders if she’s the one being teased.

The lunchroom hums with casual chatter and the faint clatter of cutlery against plates. Kang Seulgi sits at a long table near the window, her black off-shoulder dress a striking contrast against the muted winter light streaming in. The fabric hugs her curves just enough to be flattering but not inappropriate, and the gold buttons glint softly under the fluorescent lighting.

She picks at her salad absentmindedly, half-listening to the conversation around her. A few of her colleagues are discussing an upcoming school event, their voices pleasant but not enough to hold her attention. Her mind keeps drifting. To the way the boys had looked at her yesterday. To the way they talked with her, that still echoes faintly in her ears.

It’s not like her to get distracted. But there’s something about the way they’ve started acting lately. More deliberate, more... aware.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a burst of laughter from the hallway just outside the lunchroom. She glances up instinctively, her fork pausing mid-air as the sound grows louder.

And then she sees them.

The five of them walk past the open door in a loose, confident group, their voices carrying easily into the room. Jaehyun is in the lead, his broad shoulders squared and his sharp profile catching the light. Minho walks beside him, gesturing animatedly with his hands, while Jiho trails just behind, grinning at something Hyunwoo has said. Seungmin brings up the rear, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they flick toward the lunchroom for a brief second.

“She’s so hot."

Jiho mutters, loud enough for Seulgi to hear.

“Those legs."

Minho adds, his voice laced with admiration. “Seriously, who wears a dress like that to school?”

Jaehyun chuckles softly.

“Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

The words send a jolt through Seulgi’s chest. Her first instinct is to brush it off as harmless banter, the kind of talk teenage boys engage in without thinking. But something about their tone, the quiet confidence, the deliberate volume, makes her pause.

She sets her fork down carefully, her gaze following them as they disappear around the corner.

Her thoughts twist uncomfortably. For the first time, she doesn’t just think about their words or their looks. She thinks about them.

The way Jaehyun’s shoulders fill out his uniform blazer. The faint definition of Minho’s forearms when he rolls up his sleeves. How Hyunwoo’s quiet confidence seems to anchor the group, or the way Jiho’s smirk carries just enough charm to disarm anyone. Even Seungmin, the quietest of them, moves with an ease that feels deliberate.

They’re taller than her. All of them. Broader, stronger. It’s not something she’s ever let herself notice before.

But now that she’s thinking about it, she can’t stop.

It happens later that afternoon, just as the final bell rings. Seulgi is walking toward the staff room when she catches the faint scent of cigarette smoke drifting through the open hallway window.

She pauses, her brow furrowing as she follows the smell toward the back of the building. The small, secluded courtyard is barely used during school hours, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot the culprits.

There they are, huddled in a loose circle near the fence. Jiho is holding a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the cold air, while Minho leans against the fence with his hands in his pockets.

Seulgi feels a surge of irritation, though she isn’t sure if it’s because of their blatant disregard for school rules or the faint thrill she feels at catching them in the act.

“Seriously?"

She steps into the courtyard. Her voice cuts through the air like a whip, and all five heads snap toward her.

Minho straightens immediately, his hand going to the back of his neck as he glances at Jaehyun, who doesn’t move. Jiho, ever the bold one, smirks faintly and stubs out the cigarette against the ground.

“Miss Kang."

Jaehyun says smoothly, his tone calm but edged with faint amusement.

"Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly."

She replies, crossing her arms. Her gaze sweeps over them, her voice firm.

“Smoking on school grounds is against the rules. You know that.”

Hyunwoo shrugs, his posture unbothered.

“It’s just one cigarette.”

“One is enough."

She snaps, her frustration flaring.

“Detention. Three weeks. Every Friday after school.”

Jiho whistles low under his breath, but Minho elbows him sharply before he can say anything.

“Understood."

Jaehyun's tone is unreadable.

“Good."

Seulgi turns on her heel. But as she walks away, she can feel their eyes on her back, heavy and deliberate. Although, it's not really her back they are staring at, is it? She can almost sense how they're lifting the hem of her dress in their heads. How they're imagining what she's hiding underneath.

The first detention session begins later that afternoon. The classroom is cold and quiet, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the rows of desks. Seulgi sits at the teacher’s desk, her legs crossed as she reviews papers, doing her best to ignore the faint tension that hums in the air.

There are a few other students in the room. Three girls from another class and two boys from the football team. They’re seated at the front, diligently working on their assignments.

But it’s the boys in the back that have her attention.

Jaehyun, Minho, Jiho, Hyunwoo, and Seungmin are spread out across the last two rows, their postures relaxed but their gazes anything but. Seulgi doesn’t look at them directly, but she can feel it. Their eyes. Their focus. It isn’t like before. They aren’t just looking.

They’re observing.

Testing.

She shifts slightly in her seat, adjusting the hem of her dress as she pretends to focus on her work. But every movement feels amplified under their scrutiny, every click of her pen or shuffle of paper resonating louder than it should.

When the clock finally ticks past five, Seulgi stands and dismisses the group with a curt nod. The other students leave quickly, eager to escape the monotony of detention.

But the five of them take their time.

Jaehyun is the last to leave, his hand lingering on the doorframe as he turns back to glance at her. “See you next week, Miss Kang."

He says softly, his voice low enough that it feels like a promise.

Seulgi exhales slowly once the door clicks shut. She sinks into her chair, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as she stares at the empty room.

For the first time, doubt creeps in.

You’ve teased them too much.

She knows it now. Knows that this isn’t just harmless fun anymore. They’ve crossed some invisible line, and she can feel the boundary between them beginning to blur.

And the scariest part is that she doesn’t know if she wants to stop it.

The bottle of red wine sits open on the coffee table, its deep, ruby liquid glinting faintly under the warm light of the living room. Seulgi is curled up on her couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she stares at the glass in her hand. The rich scent of the wine mingles with the faint chill in the air, but it does little to ease the knot in her chest.

She takes a slow sip, the warmth spreading down her throat and settling heavily in her stomach. Normally, this is her favorite way to unwind. A quiet evening at home, soft music playing in the background, a glass of something indulgent in her hand.

But tonight, the quiet feels oppressive. Her mind won’t stop racing.

The events of the day replay over and over again. Their voices in the hallway, the way they’d looked at her during detention, Jaehyun’s soft “See you next week” that had lingered in the air like smoke.

Seulgi presses her lips together, swirling the wine in her glass as she leans back against the cushions. For weeks now, she’d told herself it was harmless. The teasing, the outfits, the occasional comment that danced dangerously close to the line. It was all just a game.

But now, sitting alone in the dim light of her apartment, she knows it’s more than that.

They’ve crossed the line.

And so has she.

Seulgi closes her eyes, tilting her head back against the couch as the memories come rushing in.

The first time she’d worn something a little too tight to class, just to see if they’d notice. The way Jaehyun’s gaze had lingered a second too long, or how Jiho had muttered something under his breath that made Minho smirk.

The deliberate way she’d dropped her pen that day, bending over just enough to feel their eyes on her. The thrill that had sparked under her skin, the quiet satisfaction of knowing she could command their attention without saying a word.

She’d told herself it was nothing. That she was in control.

But today, in that cold detention room, she hadn’t felt in control at all.

What happens now?

Seulgi takes another sip of wine, her thoughts spiraling as she stares into the dark liquid. She knows she could stop this, could pull back, enforce stricter boundaries, shut down any future interactions before they cross into dangerous territory.

But deep down, she wonders if it’s already too late.

And the scariest part is the question she can’t bring herself to answer: What if I don’t want to stop?

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass as she thinks about them. How confident they’ve become, how deliberate their words and actions feel now.

How far would they take it if I let them?

The thought sends a shiver down her spine, and she can’t tell if it’s fear or something else entirely.

Meanwhile, in a house on the other side of town, Jiho lounges on his bed, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees. The glow of the screen casts sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

His cursor his hovering over the actress's picture. His favorite. She's already appeared in so many videos, he'd never be able to watch all of them.

As he unbuttons his pants, he clicks on her name underneath the picture.

Kamimoto Kotone

Scrolling through her videos, Jiho takes out his cock. He doesn't have anything specific in mind. And yet, the cursor comes to a hold over a video he has watched a couple of times already. The thumbnail alone makes him rock hard. He clicks on it, closes the annoying pop up ads, skips forward until he can be sure there is on annoying build up and then leans back.

Perfect timing.

Kotone is kneeling on the floor, her black top and short skirt from the thumbnail already missing. She's holding a cock in each hand, stroking them, while someone else is fucking her face.

The theme is obvious. School. Teacher. Students. Gangbang.

Once the guy inside her mouth can't hold it in anymore, he pulls out and cums all over Kotone's face. Her glasses are covered in his cum, some of it hit her cheeks and mouth as well. She makes a show out of licking her lips, while staring into the camera.

With his left hand, Jiho skips ahead a little.

Now Kotone is getting fucked by someone in a locker room. She's bent over the bench while one guy fucks her from behind and another shoves his cock into her mouth. Her muffled moans echo through the room as the guys pick up the pace. Her hair is all messed up, spit is falling out of her mouth. Kotone ruins the bench underneath her when the guy inside her pussy makes her squirt. Her juices ruin the wooden bench and the floor underneath it, leaving her a shaking mess. It doesn't stop her two students from using her. Soon, both of them groan and Kotone freezes as they both thrust as deep into her as possible and unload at the same time.

Jiho skips ahead again. Already feeling his orgasm building. Seeing Kotone act like a slutty teacher is turning him on more than ever before.

Now, Kotone gets fucked by two guys at once. They're bouncing her on their cocks. One in her ass, one in her pussy. Her cries for more echo through the classroom. Around them are standing even more students. All of them naked from the waist down, ready to have a go at her as well.

After the two guys cream pie both of her holes, another guy lies on the floor, making Kotone straddle and ride him. Three other guys step forward, shoving their cocks into her face. Kotone does her best to give them all equal attention, while bouncing on her other student's dick.

Jiho groans as his orgasm is only seconds away.

He watches how the scene is coming to and end. The ten guys that were using Kotone are now standing in a circle around her. She does her best to make them all cum. It doesn't take long. Soon, Kotone gets hit with one load after another. Cum starts to coat her whole face. Glasses, forehead, hair, cheeks, nose, lips, her open mouth. She takes it all with pride.

Jiho leans back against the headboard, exhausted. His dumb smirk widening faintly as he imagines another face in place of the Kotone's.

Miss Kang.

The thought sends a flicker of heat through him, and he can’t help but replay the events of the day in his still numb mind. The way she’d caught them smoking, her voice sharp but faltering slightly at the edges. The faint flush in her cheeks during detention, the way her eyes had darted toward them even when she tried to pretend she wasn’t looking.

“She likes it."

He mutters under his breath, his voice low and amused.

"She’s been teasing us for weeks. No way she’s not into it.”

He watches the video transitioning to the next scene. Kotone is teaching a class and everything seems normal. But there's that one student in the back. A remote control in his hand. Kotone starts to react to what probably is a vibrator. Her voice becomes higher as she talks. She rubs her thighs together right in front of the class. Moans start to escape her mouth.

A knock at the door startles him, and Jiho quickly slams the laptop shut and covers himself with his sheets, his heart pounding as his younger brother pokes his head inside.

“Dinner’s ready."

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute."

As the door closes, Jiho exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. The movie might have been a fantasy, but the thought of Miss Kang feels far more real.

The vibrator at the end gave him and idea. An idea, none of the boys will hate. An idea which will make Miss Kang act like a Japanese porn star.

Seulgi sets her empty glass on the table, the wine leaving a faint warmth in her cheeks. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stares at the darkened window.

She knows they won’t stop. Not now.

And the truth is, she doesn’t want them to.

But as the weight of her actions settles heavily on her shoulders, another thought begins to take shape, a quiet, nagging fear that whispers in the back of her mind.

What happens when they want more than just a game?

The Winter Festival is in full swing, the usual hum of the school replaced by bursts of laughter, applause from the gym, and the faint buzz of conversation that drifts through the hallways. Parents stroll through the classrooms, admiring student projects, while clusters of students hang out near the vending machines and auditorium.

Seulgi moves quietly through the chaos, her black off-shoulder dress a striking silhouette against the pale winter light streaming through the windows. She had thrown it on in a rush that morning, her mind still hazy from the wine she’d indulged in the night before.

Now, as she glances at her reflection in the glass display case by the art room, she feels a pang of unease. The dress had seemed appropriate yesterday. Daring but still professional. But today, with the same outfit, she feels like an unspoken secret is written all over her.

They’re going to notice.

She takes a steadying breath, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she makes her way toward the science wing.

Near the far end of the hallway, where the crowd thins, leaving only the faint echo of distant voices, Seulgi pauses just outside an empty classroom, drawn by the familiar sound of low laughter and murmured conversation.

Inside, the boys’ voices are clear enough to stop her in her tracks.

“So, we’re really doing this?”

Jiho asks, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

“Of course we are."

Minho replies, leaning against a desk.

“You’ve seen the way she looks at us. She’s practically begging for it.”

Hyunwoo chuckles softly.

“Think she’d actually let us?”

“She will. It’s just a matter of time.”

Seulgi feels her breath catch, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. She shouldn’t be listening, she knows that. But her feet stay rooted to the floor as their words continue.

“What about the stuff we talked about?”

Jiho asks, his voice lowering slightly.

“We can use the pins from my place.”

Minho says casually.

“Already took two yesterday. And that thing you asked for, Jiho, it should arrive by tomorrow.”

“Perfect. Anything else?”

Jaehyun asks, a smile on his face.

“Working on it."

Jiho adds with a smirk in his voice.

“Thought we’d keep it simple at first. She’s got to ease into it, right?”

"Right."

Minho agrees.

"This won't be a one time thing."

Laughter ripples through the room, quiet and restrained but heavy with meaning.

Seulgi’s cheeks flush, a wave of heat rushing to her face as she realizes exactly what they’re talking about. Her mind races, a chaotic mix of indignation, disbelief, and something darker, something she refuses to name.

She should step in, say something, confront them. But her body betrays her, frozen in place as their words continue to echo in her ears.

The hallway near the vending machines is quieter now, the distant hum of the festival fading into the background. Seulgi stands in front of the machine, her arms wrapped around herself as she debates whether to grab a drink.

Despite the heat inside the building, she feels cold.

It’s not just the winter air, it’s mainly something else entirely. The weight of their conversation lingers in her mind, the deliberate confidence in their voices, the casual way they’d spoken about her as though their plans were already set in motion.

Her fingers tighten slightly around her arms, her body tense as she tries to shake off the feeling. But the sound of footsteps makes her pause.

They’re here.

Jaehyun is the first to appear, his blazer unbuttoned, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Minho and Jiho follow close behind, their postures loose and unbothered, while Hyunwoo and Seungmin linger at the back, their quiet presence filling the space with an unspoken tension.

“Miss Kang."

Jaehyun says, his voice smooth as he stops a few steps away.

She forces a smile, her arms still wrapped around herself as she replies.

“Enjoying the festival?”

“Not really our thing."

Minho says with a faint smirk.

“But you seem to be having fun.”

“You look... comfortable."

Jiho adds, his gaze flicking briefly to her dress.

“Same outfit as yesterday?”

The comment lands harder than she expects, a faint flush creeping up her neck as she straightens her posture.

“I was in a rush this morning. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Looks good."

Jaehyun says, his tone low but clear.

“Better the second time.”

The words send a faint shiver down her spine, though she quickly hides it behind a calm expression.

“You seem cold."

Hyunwoo says suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

Before she can respond, Minho steps forward, pulling off his blazer in one smooth motion. He drapes it over her shoulders, his hands brushing lightly against her bare skin as he adjusts the fabric.

The touch is slow. Too slow. His fingers linger just long enough to send a ripple of warmth through her body, his presence behind her impossibly close.

“There."

He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Better?”

Seulgi swallows hard, her breath catching as she steps away, her fingers brushing against the lapels of the blazer.

“Thank you."

She says stiffly, her voice tight.

Minho steps back, his faint smirk mirrored by the others as they exchange glances. But none of them say anything more.

“See you around, Miss Kang."

Jaehyun's tone is dangerously calm as he turns to leave.

The others follow, their footsteps fading down the hallway until all that’s left is the quiet hum of the vending machine.

Seulgi exhales slowly, her hands tightening around the edges of the blazer. For the first time, she feels like the ground beneath her is slipping.

They’re not just playing anymore.

And deep down, she wonders if she ever had control to begin with.

The biology classroom feels colder than usual. Seulgi stands at the front, her brown silk blouse and matching leather shorts perfectly tailored, but offering little comfort against the quiet chill that has settled over the room.

It’s not just the temperature. It’s them.

For the entire week, Jaehyun, Minho, Jiho, Hyunwoo, and Seungmin have been a shadow of themselves. They’ve sat in the back row as always, their postures relaxed, their expressions unreadable. But the glances, the teasing smirks, the quiet confidence that once left her unsteady - they’re gone.

Seulgi’s voice carries through the room as she explains the day’s lesson on genetic inheritance, but her mind drifts, her focus splintering with every passing moment. She catches herself glancing toward the back row, searching for something, anything, but they don’t even look up.

At first, she’d felt relieved.

The weight of their attention had always been intense, pressing down on her in ways she couldn’t fully explain. She told herself this silence was a blessing, a return to normalcy.

But as the week dragged on, the relief turned into something else.

Now, standing at the front of the room, her hands lightly gripping the edge of her desk, all she can feel is disappointment.

Why aren’t they looking at me?

The thought rises unbidden, and she immediately tries to push it away. But it clings stubbornly to the edges of her mind, a quiet ache that she can’t seem to shake.

Her gaze flicks to Jaehyun for a brief moment. He’s leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his notebook as though she isn’t even there. Minho, sitting beside him, rests his chin on his hand, his expression neutral.

You wanted this, she tells herself, gripping the edge of the desk tighter. You wanted them to stop.

But deep down, she knows it isn’t true.

Her thoughts drift to last week. To the vending machine, to Minho’s quiet comment about her dress and the way he’d draped his blazer over her shoulders.

Her fingers move almost instinctively, brushing lightly against her shoulders,which are covered by the silk, as the memory unfolds in her mind.

He’d stood so close, his hands lingering just a second too long, the warmth of his touch seeping into her skin. It had been fleeting, barely enough to register. And yet, the thought of it now sends a faint shiver through her body, her skin prickling with the memory of his fingers.

Seulgi’s hand drops quickly, her cheeks flushing as she forces herself to focus on the lesson. But her thoughts betray her, spiraling into dangerous territory.

What would it feel like if it wasn’t just him?

The question twists in her mind, unspoken but heavy. Her imagination betrays her, conjuring images of their hands - strong, confident, deliberate - brushing against her skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

She shakes her head slightly, trying to dispel the thought, but the faint tingle it leaves behind lingers stubbornly.

The bell rings, snapping her out of her thoughts. Seulgi straightens, her professional mask slipping back into place as she watches the students file out of the room.

“Leave your worksheets on your desks. I’ll collect them after class.”

The chatter fades as the last student leaves, the room falling into a quiet stillness. Seulgi exhales softly, walking between the rows of desks to collect the papers.

She starts with the back row, her eyes flicking briefly to Jaehyun’s neat handwriting as she picks up his worksheet. She lingers for a moment, her fingers brushing against the edge of the desk before moving to the next.

The classroom feels emptier than usual, the silence pressing down on her as she makes her way back to the front. But as she approaches her desk, something catches her eye.

A small box sits neatly on the corner of her desk, its metallic gold wrapping paper shimmering faintly under the fluorescent lights.

Seulgi freezes, her heart skipping a beat as she stares at it. Her fingers hover hesitantly over the ribbon, her pulse quickening as she glances toward the door. The hallway is empty, the faint sound of students laughing and talking in the distance the only sign of life.

Her hands tremble slightly as she unties the bow, the soft whisper of the ribbon echoing in the quiet room. She lifts the lid carefully, her breath catching as she takes in the contents.

Nestled in a bed of tissue paper is a set of black lace lingerie, delicate and intricate, the fabric soft against her fingertips. Beside it, a small, sleek vibrator glints faintly, its design both subtle and unmistakable. But what sends her pulse racing is the folded piece of paper tucked beneath it all.

Her fingers fumble slightly as she unfolds the note, her eyes scanning the words written in neat, confident handwriting:

“I hope you enjoy yourself during detention today.”

Seulgi’s breath hitches, her chest tightening as she rereads the note. Her thoughts spiral in a chaotic mix of disbelief, indignation, and something darker, something primal. Something she shouldn't be feeling.

She knows who left this. She knows.

But the thought of confronting them, of walking into detention later that day with this knowledge, sends a shiver through her body that she can’t ignore.

For a long moment, she just stands there, her hands gripping the edges of the box as the weight of the situation settles over her.

She should feel angry. Outraged. But all she feels is the faint hum of adrenaline coursing through her veins, her body tingling with a nervous energy she can’t shake.

As much as she tries to deny it, the thought of them, their deliberate confidence, their quiet boldness, sends a thrill through her that leaves her breathless.

Seulgi closes the box carefully, her movements deliberate as she ties the ribbon back into place. She picks it up, cradling it against her chest as she steps toward the door.

Her heels click softly against the floor as she walks down the hallway, the weight of the small box a constant reminder of what’s waiting for her later.

How far will they take this?

The question lingers in her mind, heavy and unanswerable, as she disappears into the crowd.

The teacher’s bathroom is quiet, the muffled hum of the school day fading into the background as Seulgi locks the door behind her. The latch clicks into place, the sound sharp and final in the otherwise silent space.

She leans against the door for a moment, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths as she stares at the small gold box in her hands. The wrapping paper is slightly crinkled from where she had gripped it too tightly earlier, but the red bow remains intact, its bright color a stark contrast against the polished white tiles of the bathroom.

Her reflection in the mirror catches her attention, and she steps forward, setting the box on the sink as she studies herself.

The blouse and shorts she’d worn all day fit her perfectly, the soft fabric hugging her curves in a way that feels both natural and deliberate. But now, as she looks at herself under the harsh fluorescent lights, she feels a flicker of doubt.

What are you doing?

Her fingers tighten around the edge of the sink as the question echoes in her mind. For weeks, she’d played this game, pushing boundaries, testing limits, both theirs and her own. She told herself it was harmless, just a bit of fun to break up the monotony of her days.

But it hasn’t felt harmless in a long time.

The note from earlier flashes in her mind:

“I hope you enjoy yourself during detention today.”

The boldness of it, the confidence, had sent a rush of heat through her chest that she couldn’t ignore. They weren’t just playing anymore. They were testing her, pushing her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

And the scariest part is that she doesn’t want to stop them.

Seulgi’s hands tremble slightly as she opens the box again, her breath catching as the contents are revealed. The black lace lingerie glints softly under the light, its delicate fabric both alluring and intimidating. She brushes her fingers against the lace, the softness of it sending a shiver through her skin.

"This isn’t you."

She thinks, her reflection staring back at her with wide, uncertain eyes.

"You’re their teacher. You’re supposed to be in control."

But control is the last thing she feels right now.

For a long moment, Seulgi just stands there, her thoughts spinning in chaotic circles as she stares at the lingerie. She knows she could leave it in the box, walk into detention as if nothing has changed, and draw a firm line between them.

But another thought creeps in, quieter but no less powerful.

What if you don’t want to draw that line?

Her cheeks flush as the thought takes hold, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric. The memory of Minho’s touch rises unbidden in her mind. The way his hands had lingered on her shoulders, warm and deliberate. She imagines what it would feel like if the others touched her the same way, their hands exploring, testing, leaving trails of heat across her skin.

Her body tingles at the thought, a faint ache settling low in her stomach as she closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, her reflection looks different. Her uncertainty is still there, but beneath it is something else. Something curious, daring, almost reckless.

Slowly, she reaches for the lingerie, her hands steadying as she lifts it out of the box. The delicate lace feels cool against her palms, its intricate design both beautiful and suggestive.

Seulgi hesitates for a moment, glancing towards the locked door as if expecting someone to knock. But the hallway remains silent, the school almost empty save for the few students in detention.

Taking a deep breath, she begins to undress.

The brown blouse is the first to go, the soft fabric sliding over her head and leaving her upper body bare. She folds it carefully, setting it on the counter before she starts to wiggle out of her tight shorts. They fall to the floor in a soft heap, and she steps out of them, her bare legs feeling exposed under the bright lights.

Her plain white panties are the only thing that is covering parts of her body now. Seulgi hooks her fingers into the waistband and slowly pulls them down. Minho's touch suddenly reenters her mind. And as she steps out of her underwear, she can't help but imagine how it must feel like. How good it must feel to have that boys hand travel up her thigh, brushing against her folds...

Seulgi manages to snap out of it. She only has a couple of minutes, before the two hours of detention begin.

She reaches for the vibrator inside the box, but hesitates before picking it up. The sexy lingerie is one thing. But this toy is on a different level. The black lace would already break so many rules, so many boundaries. But the vibrator would make it even worse. If she took it, she'd give up herself. She'd basically offer herself to them. Not just crossing a line in terms of touching, but in terms of something purely sexual. Something that she won't be able to take back as soon as she accepts the complete gift.

Her fingers close around the vibrator. She feels an exciting tingle inside her core as she feels the smooth plastic surface.

Is she really going to give herself to them?

She glances at the note. She rereads it again, the confidence in their words still overpowering her. She can almost see their smug grins, their knowing smiles. Almost as if they always knew it would end like this. Even before she knew herself.

Seulgi sighs as pushes the small object against her folds, the string wrapped around a finger. She isn't completely aroused yet, but there is a certain wetness there. It makes it slightly easier to push the plastic inside of her. Seulgi's breath hitched as she feels it parting her walls. For some reason, she expects it to go off as soon as it's fully inside. But there's nothing. No vibration. Not yet. How would they know anyway?

After making sure the vibrator is in place and the string is there, Seulgi reaches for the black lingerie.

She lifts the lace top over her head, the fabric fitting snugly against her skin. The matching bottoms follow, the high-cut design accentuating the curves of her hips. When she looks at herself in the mirror again, her breath catches.

The lingerie transforms her. The delicate black lace clings to her body in all the right places, the soft fabric highlighting the lines of her figure while leaving just enough to the imagination.

For a moment, she doesn’t recognize herself.

Seulgi quickly puts her blouse and shorts back on, the familiar fabrics a stark contrast to the lingerie hidden beneath. But as she smooths out her blouse and adjusts the collar, she can’t shake the feeling that everything is different now.

She looks at her reflection one last time, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the sink. Her heart is racing, her body warm despite the faint chill in the air.

You’ve crossed the line, she thinks, picking up the now-empty box and tucking it into her bag.

But as she steps out of the bathroom and heads toward the detention room, she knows there’s no going back now.

Seulgi didn't dare to look at the five boys as she stepped into the room. The black lace seemed to cling onto her skin. She felt like it got warmer withe every step she took. But when she sat down behind her desk, she realized that they weren't even looking at her. None of them even glanced in her direction. They were all focused on their work.

Just like right now. One whole hour later.

Seulgi can the feel the frustration burning up inside of her. The invisible weight she felt before is now replaced with disappointment.

Did they get cold feet? Surely not. They're way too bold for that.

Did they lose interest? Seulgi shifts uncomfortably in her chair, slowly crossing her legs. Maybe.

She feels the vibrator slightly shift inside of her after her movements. She can't believe this. They are all ignoring her. All five of them.

By now, Seulgi's earlier worries and insecurity have already vanished. She can only feel anticipation and longing. Now that they're not doing it, she is desperate for it.

And she doesn't even notice that she keeps staring at the five of them. Jaehyun seems lost in his work, his pen not coming to a hold even once. Hyunwoo has leaned closer to Minho as if he is explaining something to him.

"No talking, Hyunwoo."

Those are the words that were supposed to leave her lips. But as Seulgi opens her mouth, she feels an unfamiliar vibration rush through her body. The sigh that leaves her lips instead is a mix of pleasure and relief. The vibrator starts to buzz inside of her, just quiet enough so the three girls in the front row can't hear it.

The lowest setting doesn't do much for Seulgi. But the fact that they didn't forget about her already sends a shiver up her spine. She's already aching for their undivided attention.

But when she looks at the five boys again, she realizes that they're still not looking at her. She can't even tell who the person with the remote is. By now, she's already missing the pressure she felt when they looked at her during class. How she could feel their eyes on her ass whenever she wore a tight dress. But now, as she does her best to keep calm, even with a vibrator inside her snatch, they don't even give her a glance.

Seulgi folds her hands on the table, her fingers intertwined as the vibrator takes it up a notch. Still not enough to make her moan, but it definitely relaxes her. She can feel the tension slowly leave her body. Although they're aren't looking at her, she knows they're still interested.

But as detention continues, Seulgi soon faces a new problem. After one of the boys added another level to the vibrator, she's now struggling to hold it in. Her hands, which were lying on the desk mere minutes ago, are now gripping the its edge. She doesn't dare to move otherwise, afraid that the stimulation might cause her to moan.

When the vibrations began, Seulgi started to relax, but as they ramp up, her body tenses again. The vibrator reaches another level and she is now holding onto her dignity. Jolts of pleasure rush through her body, her breath quickening. She's curling her toes, trying to release her arousal in a way that doesn't include moaning or a shaking body. Her breath hitches as she realizes that she's on the highest level. And that it's only a matter of minutes, until this level finishes her off.

Seulgi sits on her chair like a statue, her lips quivering as she does her best to hold it together. Another minute of intense vibrations passes, almost leaving her breathless. She keeps her eyes locked on the last row, still trying to determine which if the boys is holding onto the remote. But she can't see anything, there are no signs at all.

An accidental moan leaves her lips. A wave of panic washes through her. Seulgi couldn't live with herself if the 12 students in front of her heard her moan. She presses her lips together and glances at the clock on the wall. 50 more minutes. Will she be able to fight of the slowly building orgasm for that long?

She can already feel herself shifting in her chair. Her legs are rubbing together, just to have slightly more friction. Seulgi can tell she is close. Too close. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't stop it now. She couldn't walk out into the hall and she wouldn't be able to keep silent in here. While her arousal keeps rising, so does her panic. She is afraid that someone will find out what she's been doing these past weeks. She tries to stop herself from going any further. But as she is at the brink of her orgasm, Seulgi realizes something. And she's realizing it way too late.

She doesn't have control anymore. None at all. She doesn't have control over her own body, not even her emotions. By now, the five boys are in control. They can now do whatever they want. They could make her cum right now. In front of the other students. Or worse, not make her cum. They could leave her hanging. Right on the edge of her orgasm.

Seulgi's legs start to shake a little as the waves of pleasure rush through her. She knows it's only a matter of seconds now.

A gasp escapes Seulgi's lips as the vibrator suddenly falls silent. It's off. It's not doing anything anymore. Through the fog of her pre orgasmic state, Seulgi realizes what just happened. Only a couple of seconds longer and she would've climaxed on the spot. But now this uncontrolled heat rushes through her. This build up orgasm is trying to leave her body, but she is unable to let it go. The vibrator is her gate to pleasure and one of the boys just slammed it shut, right in front of her face.

Anger isn't the right word for it, but Seulgi feels something burn inside of her. Just a couple of seconds longer. It would've been a strong orgasm. Maybe because people would've watched her. But now, they denied her that. And she knows she can't just start playing with herself right here. She wishes she could, but she can't just stick her hand into her shorts and get herself off. But maybe the bathroom...

Just when she wonders if they would let her go or not, she feels the vibrations once more. It's the lowest setting, but it already makes her chest tremble. She can take it easily, but after one more minute, it reaches the next level.

Seulgi is just about to sink back into her chair as Minho suddenly raises his hands.

"Miss Kang, can you help me with this question please?"

He motions towards his worksheet.

Seulgi misses Jaehyun's knowing smile as she tries to stand up. Her legs are weaker than she thought they'd be. And the vibrating object inside of her doesn't make it any easier. With slow, shaky steps, she walks towards the back row.

She feels odd as she comes closer. The five of them must've noticed that she has the vibrator inside of her. It feels like Seulgi has submitted to them. She's basically at their mercy by now.

Standing behind Minho, she glances at all five of them, still trying to figure out who's controlling her. But she can't see a remote, or an open phone. Eventually, she leans down, trying to do her job as a teacher properly.

"What is your answer so far?"

She asks, after having read the question on the worksheet.

Minho shows it to her.

"Do you think I'm missing something? I listed the fish's teeth, predators and colours as part of their natural selection."

"If you..."

Seulgi's breath hitches when she feels a hand on her ass. She doesn't dare stand up straight. She knows it's no use. She can't tell who it is. And if she would look over her shoulder, the hand would already be gone. Instead, she closes her eyes. She can't believe she's letting this happen. She feels one of the boys letting his hand explore her butt.

"Miss Kang?"

Minho asks innocently as if unaware of what's going on.

"Well, if... if you look at the different fish's heads closer..."

She stops as she feels the hand on her ass squeezing one of her cheeks. It's not a gentle squeeze. It's hard and bold. As if the action is telling her, that she has no say about this at all. She doesn't stop it, she just reorganizes her thoughts, before speaking again.

"Some of them are shaped differently. So... So this could be a hint for what?"

As one of the boys keeps squeezing her ass, Seulgi suddenly feels the vibrator reach another level. It's only the second highest, but coupled with the hand on her butt, it feels way better than the first time. She barely notices how she is tightly gripping the edge of Minho's table.

"Is this about their speed?"

Minho still pretends like everything is normal.

"The one with the smaller and longer heads should be faster, right?"

"Ye...Yes. That's correct."

Seulgi lets out a quiet sigh, but Minho must've heard it.

"Thank you, Miss Kang. You're always so helpful."

She responds with another sigh as the vibrator reaches it's final level.

No. Not here.

It's the only thing on her mind. She tries to hold it together. Her thighs are rubbing against each other as she keeps leaning on his desk. The hand on her ass has disappeared by now and she'll never find out who it was.

It lasts only a couple of seconds and the level of the vibrator drops down again. It doesn't turn off, but it's at a lower level.

"Jesus."

Seulgi mumbles under her breath, trying to regain her composure. She wasn't as close to an orgasm, this time, but minute or two longer and she would've cum right there, standing behind them.

Accompanied by the low, steady buzzing inside of her, Seulgi slowly walks back towards her desk. She slides herself back onto the chair, instinctively crossing her legs. But only a moment later, she can feel how the vibrations inside her intensify. This time, it's not a slow build up. Within in a minute, she's reached the highest setting yet again. Seulgi has to bite her own fist to stop herself from moaning. The incoming orgasm feels stronger than the one before. She closes her eyes, knowing that, if she cums now, the whole room will hear her moan.

Instead, her upper body almost falls down onto the desk as the vibrations suddenly stop. She was almost there. So close. And now, her body starts at zero again.

Seulgi's mind start to get a little fuzzy. She looks at the five guys, hoping for only the slightest hint of a reaction. Her breath hitches when she sees Jiho bite his own fist, looking down as if he is concentrating on his work. But he suddenly looks up, shooting a wink at Seulgi's direction.

He saw her struggle. He saw her begging and trying to hide her orgasm at the same time.

A wave of shame hits Seulgi hard and she tries her best to keep her composure. But it isn't easy. Especially now that she knows that they're just acting. They're just teasing her. They know exactly what they're doing to her.

20 minutes. Seulgi had to endure 20 more minutes of this torture, until the bell finally rings for the last time this week. She can't even count how many orgasms the five of them ruined already. But Seulgi isn't seeing clearly anymore. Almost like a dream, she watches the other students pack their things and leave the room one by one. She's almost too far gone to say goodbye. She can almost feel her own mind break. This uncomfortable pleasure that is building up inside of her again and again makes her lose control. Her thighs have started to shake, she keeps on biting one of her pointer fingers, trying to stay quiet.

One of the boys has set the vibrations to a higher level now. Seulgi blushes in shame as she feels a soft trickle of her juices escape her shorts and slowly running down her thighs. She doesn't remember ever being this wet. She never squirted before and her previous partners usually had to use lube to not make the sex uncomfortable. But now, the lace panties feel like someone dropped a bucket of water on them.

Seulgi doesn't even realize that the five boys have stopped working and are just watching her. She's still wearing her glasses, but she can barely see. Her vision blurry as the vibrator reaches the second highest setting.

"Please..."

She manages to whisper, but her voice is too weak.

The guys stand up one by one and walk over to her. She soon feels a hand on her shoulder, then another on her thigh. Seulgi can't even look at them. Embarrassment and arousal clouding her vision. Her head rolls back, when the hand from her shoulder moves down to her chest. A squeeze is enough to make her moan. The hand on her thigh moves towards her core, brushing against her shorts in the process.

"Oh, my god!"

Seulgi moans when she feels even more hands on her. It feels so much better than she thought it would. They drive her towards the edge, towards the point of no return, and just keep her there. Their hands are not enough to free her body from this build up pleasure. If they'd only put on the highest level of the vibrator...

Eventually, someone seems to have mercy with her. Seulgi feels how the vibrations intensify. How her whole body reacts. Their touches and the vibrations send her over the edge in a matter of seconds. She loses her mind as she slowly glides off the chair. Her whole body is quivering and shaking as she reaches the floor. Her mouth is wide open, but not a single sound comes out of it.

When she comes back to her senses, Seulgi realizes the five boys are standing around her in a circle. She looks up at Jaehyun and watches with big eyes as he starts to take of his pants. One last time, some sort of hesitation builds up inside of her. For a moment, she thinks that she can still stop them. That she can still draw line right there.

But when his pants and underwear finally hit the floor, Seulgi has only eyes for one thing. She stares at his cock, which is just centimeters in front of her face.

"Why don't you have a taste, Miss Kang?"

She can hear his mocking tone, but in all honesty, Seulgi doesn't care anymore. The lack of attention from earlier made her crave it now. And there's no way she'd ever let them go.

She leans forward, her lips parting as she feels her students cock slide over her tongue and into her mouth. Seulgi hears the other guys work on their belts and hears their zippers opening as she takes more of Jaehyun's cock. She still can't believe she's doing this. Not with one of her students, but with five of them.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees two more dicks pointing at her. She reaches her hands out, her fingers slowly wrapping themselves around Seungmin's and Jiho's cocks. As Seulgi continues to suck on the dick in front of her, she starts to stroke the other guy's cocks, feeling them hardening inside her hands. Jaehyun seems to have already reached full hardness as a groan leaves his lips.

Seulgi makes sure she gets his cock as hard and as wet as possible, before she lets it escape her mouth with a loud pop. She slightly turns, wrapping her lips around Seungmin's cock. Her hand is now on Hyunwoo's dick and Jaehyun's wet one as well. As she starts to stroke them both, she can't help but glance at Hyunwoo. His cock already feels bigger than the other three she already tried. She didn't expect this from him, but the introverted boy has her drooling all over Seungmin's cock. The thought of him fucking her alone makes her wetter than before.

She bobs her head on Seungmin's cock a couple of times, anxious to finally have a taste of Hyunwoo's. When she does switch, she opens her mouth wide, welcoming his length. Her hands wrap around Seungmin and Minho. She closes her eyes, feeling how her mouth gets stretched out as she keeps taking more of him. Seulgi chokes as she tries to take all of it. A dumb smile plays around her lips when she feels him harden even more inside her mouth. She takes her sweet time with Hyunwoo's cock, making sure she coats every inch she can reach with her saliva.

Eventually, she feels an impatient Minho put his hand on the back of her head. She lets him guide her onto his own cock, her hands moving along as well. Her core starts to tingle in excitement as she wraps her fingers around Hyunwoo's drenched cock. Her other hand finds Jiho's cock, making sure she is making him fully hard.

Soon, she gets to him as well. Taking her time, she lets her tongue swirl around his tip whenever she pulls back, before taking most of his cock into her mouth.

"Damn, Miss Kang, I didn't think you'd be this good at sucking cock."

Jaehyun mocks her yet again as he watches her enjoy herself. But with a mouth full of cock, Seulgi can't answer.

Jiho reaches down and starts to undo the buttons of Seulgi's blouse. She feels excitement rush through her, slightly leaning into his touch. Another one of the boys puts his hand on her from the other side. The two of them soon pull the brown silk off her, leaving Seulgi in only the black lace top.

All their eyes are on her and Seulgi feels like she gets drunk on their attention. Shortly after she retreats from Jiho's cock, she wraps her lips around the cock nearest to her. She doesn't care who's it it as long as it's hard for her. Her thighs start quiver once more when the vibrator inside of her starts buzzing again. Two of their hands cup her breasts through the lace.

Seulgi's vision becomes blurry as the pleasure intensifies. She keeps moving around on her knees. One cock here, one cock there. She just takes whoever is closest to her at the moment. Her hands work two more cocks the entire time. She wants to make sure that no one gets left out.

Whenever she reaches Hyunwoo, she makes sure to make herself gag and choke on his cock. She is already in love with its length and girth, her pussy contracting around the vibrator whenever she just thinks of him fucking her.

As she sucks off Minho, Seulgi feels Jaehyun's hand on her ass, squeezing her cheeks through her shorts. The vibrations inside of her intensify as she moans around Minho's cock. Someone is pulling the straps of her bra off her shoulders, revealing her naked chest. As soon as the lace is gone, she feels two hands roaming her tits, playing with her mounds and slightly pinching her nipples.

"I love your cocks so much."

Seulgi can't help but moan when Seungmin forces her off Minho's cock, just so he can pull her head onto his own. She tightly wraps her lips around his length, greedily letting her tongue explore every inch. Seungmin groans in response, amazed by his teacher's cock sucking skills. He can't help but thrust forward, just so he can feel even more of her mouth.

Soon, Seulgi's blowbang has turned into a whole face fuck session. After Seungmin started to deliver a couple of thrusts into her mouth, Jaehyun took a fistful of her hair and forced his cock down her throat. Afterwards, the other boys took turns ruining her face, until Hyunwoo finally took a hold of Seulgi's head.

She's now staring up at his cock, in awe at how big and wet it is. She swallows hard, hoping he will go easy on her. At least at first. The vibrator inside of her basically urges her on to take him into her mouth. Her lips wrap around his shaft once more and her lips glide up and down her his length. Soon, he starts to thrust into her, making Seulgi's eyes roll to the back of her head. He forces her lips apart fully, saliva leaving her mouth in huge strings. They land on her bare tits, thighs and the floor making a mess of her whole body. She tries her best to take it all. To take is whole cock. But she struggles to fit all of it into her mouth. She can't quite reache the base, even while he thrusts into her again and again.

The vibrator keeps buzzing stronger and stronger as Hyunwoo fucks her face harder and harder. Seulgi feels like such a slut right now. Surrounded by five of her students, kneeling half naked on the floor. Their cocks all pointing at her while she's taking a thorough face fucking. She can't even bring herself two take care of two more with her hands. She has to put them on Hyunwoo's thighs to soften the blows a little. But it doesn't feel like it's helping much. Seulgi's jaw starts to hurt as the vibrator reaches the highest level. She shifts around on her knees, her mouth and throat getting stuffed again and again.

Seulgi finally cums for a second time today, almost passing out with Hyunwoo's dick in her mouth. She quivers and shakes on the floor as he slowly lets his cock leave her.

Seulgi gasps and coughs, strings of spit hanging from her chin.

"Let's get you up here."

Jiho and Jaehyun take a hold of Seulgi's shoulders and hips, while Minho pushes her books and her bag off the desk. They lift her up and put her down on the wooden surface. Her legs and her head are dangling off the edges. She feels Jaehyun open her shorts. The boys can already see her waisted lace panties, before her shorts are already gone. Jaehyun pulls them off of her and throws them behind him.

Seulgi can feel the blood rushing into her head and into her pussy. Soon, her panties are gone as well, revealing her glistening wet folds. Seungmin's mouth on Seulgi's tits make her arche her back a little and she stares up and Jiho, who's already standing in front of her face, his cock brushing against her lips. She opens her mouth, a silent invitation for him to use her mouth however he wants.

Seulgi feels someone's cock brush against her folds, making her squirm.

"What about the vibrator?"

Minho's question makes Seulgi's eyes grow wide. Surely they're going to take it out first, right?

"Fuck the vibrator."

Jaehyun says, before pushing his cock into Seulgi's pussy.

Jiho's dick almost falls out of her mouth as Seulgi cries out in pleasure. The vibrator and her student's cock turn her brain into a mess. She soon feels Seungmin's and Minho's mouths on her tits. Her hands hold onto the edge as she tries to keep some sort of sanity.

"Fuck, I didn't expect a teacher to have such a tight pussy."

Jaehyun's words make Seulgi even wetter, while he keeps thrusting into her snatch. She can feel his cock push the vibrator even deeper inside of her. It's position seems to send even stronger vibrations through her.

Seulgi opens her mouth to moan, when not just Jiho, but also Hyunwoo push their cocks past her lips. Suddenly the two of them are filling her mouth and she can barely breathe with so much cock inside of her. All five are using her at the same time. Hyunwoo and Jiho are fucking her upside down face, Seungmin and Minho suck on her tits and Jaehyun takes her pussy like he owns it. She feels his hands holding onto her thighs, while one of the boys on her tits lets a hand wander down her midriff, towards her pussy.

Seulgi can't even moan as the hand reaches her clit, her mouth is too full. She can only gag and choke. But the added sensation of someone rubbing her clit has her mind melting. All the attention, all the pleasure is way too much for Seulgi's body.

The two boys with their cocks in her mouth can basically see how her eyes break, how her mind simply shuts off. Seulgi drowns in a sea of pleasure and she might never make it to the surface. She feels her own spit running out of her mouth and slowly trailing down her face. She gets some of it into her eyes, some into her hair and the rest falls onto the floor beneath her. Her whole head is basically wet with saliva as the two boys keep fucking her face, both their cocks deep inside her mouth and throat.

A few minutes in and Seulgi has lost complete control over her body. She can't do anything against the pleasure they're making her feel. Her clit, her pussy, her tits, her mouth. It's all just too much. She is starting to have orgasms at random intervals, which are not triggered by one thing, but the overall experience. Seungmin and Minho take her hands and guide them towards their cocks. It takes her quite a while, until she's able to give them soft strokes. Her body doesn't listen to her anymore. Seulgi should be worried, but instead she's happy. The feeling of the five boys using, ruining, wrecking her body just surpasses anything she's ever felt before.

But suddenly, Seulgi's pleasure filled brain detects a flash of pain running through her system. One if the boy's mouths on her tits has been replaced with something else. A wooden clothespin. She arches her back off the desk in response, but the pain only seems to amplify her pleasure. Seulgi was never into anything related to pain. But as the second clothespin finds her other boob, she can't help but fall in love with it. Maybe it's just her mess of a brain that makes her think, or rather feel, like this. Either way, Seulgi's body experiences another wave of pleasure rushing through it's system as Seulgi climaxes once more.

"Fuck, Miss Kang. If you do that again, I'm gonna cum in your pussy."

Jaehyun's groaned words barely reach Seulgi's ears. But instead of being scared or worried, Seulgi can feel how her pussy instinctively tightens its walls around his cock.

"Your tits look amazing right now."

Seulgi can't tell who said that and she can't look at herself either. But the pins on her nipples keep increasing her pleasure in some twisted way. Her tits look slightly bigger, although that just might be an elusion.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum too."

Jiho groans as he feels his cock throbbing inside Seulgi's mouth.

But Seulgi is focused on Jaehyun's cock inside her pussy right now. She can feel him thrusting into her even harder, sometimes even hitting the vibrator that keeps on buzzing. His hands hold onto her thighs, his finger's digging into her flesh.

"Fuck!"

He shouts as he finally cums inside Seulgi.

She feels his cum filling her pussy, coating her walls and the vibrator with it. The warmth would make Seulgi smile, if it isn't for the two cocks that are still using her throat. Jaehyun leaves her pussy, but his cock is still hard. Seeing his teacher like this, taking his cum, enables him to go at least one more time. But it's Seungmin's turn now. Seulgi feels his cock rubbing against her folds, before he pushes into her cum filled pussy.

"So fucking wet."

He sighs, unable to keep quiet.

Seulgi feels pride swelling inside of her, but that just might be Jaehyun's cum, which is now getting pushed even deeper inside of her by Seungmin, who is fucking her just like Jaehyun did before him.

"Fuck, cuming!"

Jiho even surprises himself as he suddenly shoots his load down Seulgi's throat. She gags as if cum is filling her lungs. Hyunwoo can't help but groan as her throat massages his cock in the process.

Seulgi can't believe that two of her students just came inside of her. Her mouth and even her pussy. But how much it turns her on is even more worrying. She can almost feel how her body is already begging for more cum.

"Remember this?"

She can barely look up, her head pretty much fixed in place by Hyunwoo's huge cock, which is also blocking her sight. But she can see Jaehyun holding up a red marker. Her red marker. The read marker she used countless times to tease them. She let it drop, she even bit the cap once, or fixed it right between her cleavage after writing.

"Let's use this to keep count."

She watched how Jaehyun opens it and throws away the cap. The teacher inside of her wants to tell him to pick it up, but Hyunwoo's cock inside her only makes her gag a little.

"One cream pie..."

He almost seems to be talking to himself as he reaches for her left thigh. Seungmin stops for a moment, so Jaehyun can draw a line on Seulgi's thigh. He then moves the red marker closer to her face.

"And one throat pie."

Seulgi feels the marker on her throat. Another mark.

She sighs when she feels Hyunwoo's cock leaving her mouth. It feels so empty now, while Seungmin starts fucking her again. After Hyunwoo leaves her sight of view, Jiho appears. He is holding something, but she can't tell what it is. Until he places the ring in her mouth, forcing it wide open, and tying the band at the back of her head.

"Since you won't be doing much talking anyways. Might as well keep your mouth open for our cocks the whole time."

Seulgi can't answer, the big ring in her mouth making it impossible for her to speak. A moment later, she sees Minho stepping in front of her, pushing his hard cock past the ring and her lips. He quickly fills her mouth and once again, Seulgi gets spit roasted by two of her students.

But Jiho was right. Seulgi didn't need to speak while the five boys continued to fuck her. One of them was always inside her mouth and one in her pussy, while the other three made her jerk them off two at the time. Minutes were flying by and Seulgi felt like she had an orgasm during every single minute. When it was finally Hyunwoo's turn to fuck her, Seulgi was seriously worried if his cock was gonna fit. It'd be a shame to not be able to take it. But after some time, he finally managed to fuck her with most of his cock. And it felt way too good. She didn't need to talk to let them know how good. Her boy kept quivering and shaking, her eyes kept rolling to the back of her head, her tight walls kept squeezing their cocks.

"Fuck. This throat feels amazing."

Seulgi feels Seungmin's cock pulsating inside her mouth, right before he orgasms. He pulls out as he does so, most of his cum now running down her face. She feels it hitting her eyes, which are already red, thanks to her own spit.

"I bet her ass feels even better, once we stretch it out a little."

Seulgi is now paying attention. She never had anyone inside her ass before. To now have five boys, just waiting to put it in her butt, has her whole body tingling with worry and excitement.

"Why don't you get your knees, sexy?"

She shivers at their words, but she knows she won't be able to get up without help. Seulgi noticed how they stopped calling her Miss Kang. Not that it makes any difference now anyway.

Minho and Hyunwoo turn her onto her stomach and pull her legs towards her. Seulgi automatically gets on her knees, her head resting on her arms, which are lying on the desk.

She feels at least three hands roaming her ass and squeezing her cheeks. After a short while, someone places his tongue on her puckered whole, giving it slow swipes up and down. It already has her thighs shaking as Seulgi can only imagine how good it must feel like when a cock is inside her ass. When the tongue gets replaced with a bottle of lube, Seulgi shivers in excitement.

"Who wants to go first?"

Seulgi's cheeks turn pink. She's been fucked and used by these five boys for the last half hour and now she gets shy. They treat her like she's some sort of object. Just a set of holes to be used.

"Me."

Seulgi recognizes Jiho's voice. She braces herself as she feels his lubed up cock's tip resting against her hole. As he pushes it in, Seulgi's mind becomes all fuzzy. Her head suddenly feels too heavy. It just feels so good. She never expected it to feel this good. She never dared to try it. And now they are taking her ass like they own it.

"Damn she really is tight. So much better than her pussy."

Jiho's compliment makes Seulgi moan as he pushes deeper, until his hips meet her cheeks.

"That looks amazing."

That's Jaehyun.

"I can't just watch."

She hears him walk towards her head. When he appears, he lifts her head and pushes his cock through the ring into her mouth.

Just like before, Seulgi gets spit roasted again. But this time, they're using her ass, not her pussy. Her body gets rocked back and forth and now she feels a slight pull in her tits, whenever the clothespins brush over the desk's surface. Someone seems to run his hand along her back, taking in the smoothness of her skin. But all of that is insignificant, compared to the cock in her ass. It just makes her head spin with lust and arousal.

Unfortunately, only two of her holes are available in this position. That's why, after Jiho pulls out of her ass, the five of them lie Seulgi on her side, her ass slightly hanging over the edge. Jaehyun keeps fucking her mouth, one of her cheeks pressed against the wooden surface. Seungmin slowly pushes his cock into her ass, waiting until she got used to his cock. Hyunwoo is up next, ready to fuck her pussy again.

Seulgi feels like she loses her mind when the two cocks are buried inside both her holes. She never took two guys at once. Especially not someone as big as Hyunwoo. And now, the two of them seem to completely ruin her lower body as Hyunwoo lifts up one of Seulgi's legs and places her ankle on his shoulder. The screams she needs to let out get muffled by Jaehyun's cock down her throat. She feels Minho and Jiho guiding her hands to their cocks. She wants them to feel good too, she really does, but her body doesn't really work right now. It seems like she can barely do anything else on her own than just breath. She lazily strokes their dicks, while she's getting ruined by three more.

The walls between her pussy and her ass are so tight, the two boys inside both her holes can feel each other's cocks rubbing against each other. It makes them fuck her even faster, which drives Seulgi towards another orgasm. Her tight pussy can barely contract around Hyunwoo's huge cock as she cums.

After that orgasm washes through her, she feels slightly more focused. But she knows it won't last long. She barely notices how Jaehyun and Minho trade places. The later now sliding his cock in and out of her mouth at a steady pace, while Jaehyun relieves her of the clothespins one after the other. The pain that was there for so long is now gone, which makes Seulgi almost miss it. But even her mess of a brain knows that Jaehyun isn't doing this because he wants to stop the pain. He just has more stuff planned.

Moments later, Seulgi's hands are tied behind her back. Her chin is resting on the desk, until both the three boys inside of her pull out. It's the first time in a while that Seulgi isn't getting touched or fucked. She still feels the vibrator inside of her, but that's it. She is now feeling this unsettling emptiness. As if her body has gotten used to being filled completely. She can tell that her ass is now wide open, while her freshly fucked pussy must look like a mess.

Minho makes her lie on her back and pushes his cock inside her pussy once again. Jiho and Hyunwoo help her up and suddenly Seulgi is being carried, Minho's cock still inside of her. As they all step out of the classroom, Seulgi feels how she's slowly coming to her senses. But with every step Minho takes, her pussy slides up and down his cock, which still makes it hard to focus.

How is this gonna end?

Is her first and last proper thought. When they reach the cafeteria, Minho puts her down on one of the large tables. Jaehyun and Jiho disappear. While Seungmin takes the ring out of her mouth, Hyunwoo pushes Minho carefully out of the way.

"Sorry man. I've been holding it in the whole time. But I need to cum. Right now."

His words make Seulgi shiver, instinctively opening her legs a little further.

"A-Are you going to cum in me?"

Her voice sounds hoarse and rough.

All three of them ignore her.

And she's unable to ask another question, once Hyunwoo buries his cock deep inside her snatch. Deeper than before. So deep, he pushes the vibrator even further inside of her. She can feel it hit her cervix. Seulgi can't even worry about how she's going to get it out of her again, when Hyunwoo now properly starts to fuck her. The veins on his cock rub against her walls, which are almost stretched to the limit. She starts moaning immediately, loosing her mind yet again.

The only thing she can feel his Hyunwoo's cock, ruining her pussy as he uses her like a toy. Seungmin turns her head to the side. Kneeling on the bench at the table, he pushes his cock inside of her mouth. Minho focuses on her tits, sucking and licking them with occasional bite.

But soon, Hyunwoo has already reached his breaking point, just like said. He pushes his cock as deep as it can go inside Seulgi, before finally unloading inside of her. Her pussy quickly gets filled to the brim with his cum. She can feels its warmth rushing through her system.

When Jiho and Jaehyun return, Seungmin is having an orgasm as well. He dumps his load inside her mouth, making Seulgi taste it, before she swallows all of it.

Seulgi looks up at Jiho, who is holding a bottle of chocolate sauce. Before she can say anything, he pours all of it onto her body. Her tits, her midriff... All of it gets covered in the brown sauce. Then, Jaehyun puts the whipped cream he brought to her open mouth and fills her with pure sweetness.

And once again, the five boys start to use her body for their own pleasure. Minho and Jaehyun both put their cocks into Seulgi's whipped cream filled mouth. The mix of her body's warmth and the coldness of the cream makes it feel even better now. Jiho takes the whipped cream too and actually puts some of it right onto her folds. He pushes his cock inside her cum filled pussy, taking the whipped cream with him. Hyunwoo and Seungmin both lean over her and begin to lick her whole torso clean.

Seulgi quivers and shakes under all the sensations, which are all happening at the same time. The two boys that are using her mouth make it hard for her to breathe. She feels Hyunwoo's lips circling her tits, while Seungmin licks the chocolate sauce off her toned midriff. And Jiho uses her pussy whoever he wants, going slow or fast, hard or shallow, not caring what Seulgi herself would like.

It is all way too much for her. Once more, her brain turns off. Her body only responds to their will, while they share all of her holes.

"Oh, fuck."

Jaehyun groans after filling Seulgi's pussy with his cum again.

"How is she still so tight after we've cream pied her this often already?"

He adds another mark on her thigh. That's six.

While Minho uses Seulgi's throat, Hyunwoo starts to coat his cock with a thick layer of lube. The whipped cream and the chocolate sauce are completely gone already. But that doesn't make her holes any less addictive. Minho climaxes, shooting his load deep down Seulgi's throat.

Her eyes grow wide, when she feels Hyunwoo's cock against her add.

"Wait, you're too big. Way too big. I can't-"

She lets out a cry when Hyunwoo pushes his tip past the ring of muscles. He immediately makes her brain go numb with pleasure. His cock keeps on stretching out her ass, until he is around halfway inside of her. Seulgi breaths heavily, trying to get accustomed to having her ass filled to this extend. She knows she won't be able to sit for days.

Hyunwoo pulls slowly out of her ass and the pushes back inside. He starts to establish a rhythm, his cock ruining Seulgi's ass. The pleasure makes her go cross-eyed, her tongue slips out of her half open mouth.

The other four guys watch how Hyunwoo makes her fall apart in the middle of the cafeteria. Just hours ago, hundreds of students sat in this room. Now, the six of them are alone.

Eventually, Seungmin can't take it anymore. He took a break earlier, while the other four used Seulgi's body however they liked. But he's been jerking off since then. And seeing Seulgi fall apart right now makes him walk up to her. Just a second too late. He climaxes just when he reaches her face. His cum hits her eyes, her nose, her cheeks and her tongue, making a mess of her already ruined face.

"I can't watch anymore."

Jaehyun walks up to her too. He and Hyunwoo pick Seulgi up and carry her. Jaehyun lines up his cock with her pussy, before he and Hyunwoo slowly pull her down.

"Oh, god! It's so much!"

Seulgi cries, both her ass and her pussy completely full with cock. The two of them make her slide up and down on their cocks.

"I want some of that pussy too."

Jiho walks up to the three of them.

"Wait, I-"

He doesn't wait. Jaehyun and Hyunwoo stop for a second, enabling Jiho to push his cock into Seulgi's already filled pussy. The three of them completely melt her brain. The biggest inside her ass and tow inside her pussy. She's being split open and she can't believe she's still alive. She can't believe her body is able to take all of this. And she can't believe how good this feels.

"Let's fill her up completely."

Seungmin nudges Minho and the two of them climb onto the table Seulgi lied on mere minutes ago. They're all at the perfect hight. As they push their cocks past her lips, Seulgi realizes that all five of them are inside of her. She doesn't know how it's possible. But five or her students are sharing all three of her holes.

At this point, Seulgi doesn't even have orgasms one after another. She feels like she's trapped inside one huge orgasm. Her body can't keep up. She can't calm down. Wave after wave of pure pleasure washes through her body. Her pussy contracts around both cocks inside her. The world around her becomes distant. Her vision gets blurry. Eventually, her brain is unable to comprehend what's going on. The pleasure inside of her completely takes over. She doesn't feel anything else. She can't even moan. It takes too much energy for to be in a constant state of orgasm.

Seulgi realizes she must've past out. She opens her eyes. She's lying on top of a desk, the five boys are standing around her. She can't see the marks on her throat, but the ones on her thigh tell her that at least three of them cream pied her, after she lost her senses. She feels how someone's cum slowly leaks out of her gaping ass. Her whole body feels sore, used, broken.

Barely able to move her head, Seulgi looks around the room.

"No, wait."

Panic rises inside of her. But her voice is barely above a whisper.

"This is...This is...the principal's..."

She can't finish her sentence.

Once again, one of the boys shoves his cock into her mouth. Soon after, she feels the rest of her holes getting stuffed. While they use her again, her juices and sweat and their cum mix and start to stain the principal's desk. The five boys don't care and Seulgi can't stop them. Her eyes are only half open as he manages to glance at the clock, which is hanging on the wall. But she can't read it. It's as if she forgot how to tell time. The cocks inside of her seem to turn her into some brainless slut.

What Seulgi doesn't know is, that two hours have already passed, since the last bell of the day rang. It's 6:30 pm already. And the five boys don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

After using Seulgi as cum dump once again, they move her to the teacher's lounge. They can't help themselves, but have to fuck her right on the new teacher's desk. The new teacher is a cute, young woman, who teaches gym class. Jaehyun uses the jump rope, which was lying on her desk, to tie Seulgi's tits together in a painful way. First the clothespins, now this. Seulgi feels her tits being painfully squeezed by the rope, which will probably leave red marks by the end of the day.

Instead of going back to the classroom, they make Seulgi kneel right in the middle of the hallway afterwards. Just like the beginning, they form a circle around her and use her mouth one at a time. Her whole body is quickly covered in a thick layer of juices, sweat, saliva and cum. Everyone could walk into the school and see her like this. It's not like they're hiding in a classroom or something. But they're making her blow them all right here, in the hallway.

Eventually, the five of them do take Seulgi back to the classroom they had detention in. She can barely think on her own at this point. They have to tell her everything she has to do. After all of them use all her holes once again, they form a circle around her.

Jaehyun frees her of the jump rope. The red marks around her tits are clearly visible. Jiho puts the wooden clothespins back on her nipples, barely making Seulgi flinch. It's almost as if she's immune to anything but pleasure right now. And while she's just kneeling there, hands behind her back, she tries to rub her thighs together, hoping to not fall from this never ending high. Her tongue is hanging out of her mouth as if she is a dog in heat. Jaehyun somehow connects both ends of the jump rope with both clothespins.

"Open wide."

Seulgi obeys, opening her mouth fully. Jaehyun putts the middle of the jump in her mouth an she instinctively closes it again.

"Fuck, she looks like one of these Japanese porn stars right now."

Seulgi has to hold back the urge to lean towards one of the cocks pointing at her. She needs to feel them inside of her again. But the boys have other plans. Jiho and Seungmin snap a couple of pictures. And afterwards all five of them jerk off to the mess they've created.

Seulgi is kneeling on the floor. Naked, clothespins pinching her nipples, which are connected by a rope, that she's holding up with her teeth. Her whole body is covered in her own slick, her sweat, her saliva and the boy's cum. Her hair is a mess too, her eyes are red after getting hit by so much of her own saliva and cum. And even now, cum is leaking out of her ass and pussy. The tally marks on her throat are barely visible anymore. A number between 10 and 15. In contrast to that, her right thigh is completely covered. The number is bigger than the one on her throat.

The pure sight of their ruined Biology teacher eventually makes the boys cum one after another. First, it's Seungmin and Minho. Seungmin is standing on her right, his load hitting her cheek and her nose. Minho, right next to him, hits Seulgi directly in the eye, making it even worse. The other three cum soon after in quick succession. Jiho completely covers her left cheek. Hyunwoo paints her forehead and her hair from behind. And fianlly Jaehyun gives Seulgi's entire face on more layer of cum.

"I'm so fucked."

He groans, still finding it difficult to belive that they pulled all of this off.

"Same time next week?"

Jiho jokes, but he is visibly completely drained as well.

Man, I-"

Minho gets interrupted by the door being thrown open. All of them freeze. Seulgi's brain recovers in an instant and she's almost back to normal in a second. Who wouldn't turn sober, when one of the sudent's, who just used your body for hours without a break, mother stands in the door. Seulgi is very aware of the fact she is complete mess, kneeling inside a crcle of five of her students.

"Miss, Bae..."

--------------

Hi, everyone!

Please enjoy this nice Seulgi story. I apologize for the delay, but writing 19.6k words within a week isn't as easy as it sounds. I'm sure there is even more potential there, maybe even a full second chapter. I won't promise anything, but I did enjoy writing this a lot.

Stay healthy, everyone!

[reidmania]

love letters | s.reid

summary; when you miss spencer while he is away on a case, you re-read all the love letters he has written you over the course of your relationship

warnings; established relationships, mentions case but doesnt go into detail, fem reader, reader is not a coffee drinker, fluff fluff fluff

an; fic six!! this is just pure fluff tbh. also can we appreciate the colouring on this fic. ITS SO PERFECT PRETTU PERFECT.

You’re lying on the bed that feels too big without him, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a soft, worn piece of paper. The clock beside you reads 2:12 a.m., and you can’t shake the emptiness settling over you as you stare at the ceiling, too awake to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Spencer’s been away for three days now, and every hour without him feels like it stretches on and on, the silence heavier than you’d ever thought silence could be.

Your eyes drift back to the drawer beside your bed, a drawer he never opens, but where you keep something he would recognize instantly. Tucked away are letters, dozens of them, each one a quiet reminder of him. They’re notes, really—not grand declarations, not epic poems. Just little reminders he’s left you over time, slipped into coat pockets or left folded on your pillow. You hadn’t intended to save them all, but now, having them close is the only thing keeping you grounded while he’s away.

You open the drawer and pull out the little bundle tied with a piece of twine. Your heart swells as you untie it, gently unfolding the first note. It’s one of your favorites, written on a torn scrap of notebook paper, one corner crinkled from a drop of coffee. Spencer had left it on your kitchen counter before heading out to work, months ago.

“If I could leave you notes all over the world, I would. But for now, just look outside—it’s raining, and I know that makes you feel calm. I’ll be home before the storm’s over. – S”

You smile, remembering that day. You’d found the note just before noticing the rain falling in gentle streams outside your window, and you’d waited with a blanket by the window, watching the clouds until he came back, just like he’d promised. He always knew how to turn your little quirks into anchors.

Setting that note aside, you reach for another. This one’s written on the back of a receipt from the bookshop downtown. It’s short and scrawled in his neat handwriting.

“You pick up this book as if it’s a friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s beautiful to watch. Don’t forget to mark your place in the story—I want to hear what you think. – S”

You laugh to yourself, remembering how he’d tucked it into the back of the book after you bought it. He hadn’t let you see it until you found it yourself one night, and the memory of the way he’d watched you read that note makes your heart ache just a little more.

You lie back against the pillows, shifting so you’re curled around his side of the bed. It’s silly, maybe, reading these notes over and over. But as you go through them, each one reminds you how much he loves you, how he notices things about you that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. His love is a quiet kind, a series of small gestures and words, but somehow, it feels bigger than anything else you’ve known.

Another note catches your eye. This one’s on a tiny sticky note, a bright yellow square you’d found on your mirror one morning.

“You make coffee exactly how I like it, even when you don’t drink it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. I’m lucky. – S”

You can still remember the warmth of his hand over yours when he found you reading it, how he hadn’t needed to say anything else.

The letters become a timeline of your relationship, a way to measure time not by dates but by memories, by little notes that remind you of the person you are when you’re with him. Each one has a tiny piece of his heart tucked into it, a small reminder that he’s with you even when he’s halfway across the country.

You read through a few more, feeling your eyes grow heavy but not wanting to close them. There’s something grounding about seeing his words, knowing that he took the time to write these little messages just for you. In a way, it makes the ache of missing him almost bearable, makes you feel connected to him in a way that’s both heartbreaking and comforting.

You’ve just set down the last one, a note he left in the middle of a crossword puzzle—“How do you always know the words I can’t think of? I love you.”—when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s him.

You answer on the first ring, not even caring if he’ll be able to hear the lingering sleepiness in your voice. “Spencer?” you say, unable to help the warmth in your tone.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is soft, low, and there’s a hint of worry in it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence before you add, “I was reading some of your notes.”

The smile in his voice is unmistakable. “You kept those?”

“All of them.” You can practically feel his surprise through the line. “It helps. You know, with you being away.”

He hums softly, a sound you know means he’s thinking. “Do you have a favourite?”

There’s a hundred favourites, but you know the answer without hesitating. “The one on the mirror, about the coffee. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed something like that before.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but you know he’s smiling. “I think about those little things a lot,” he admits. “I keep thinking about how much I miss you. I know I’ll be back in a few days, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it was sooner.”

Your heart tightens, and you can’t help but imagine him sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, thinking of you just as much as you’re thinking of him. “I miss you, too,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

There’s another pause, the comforting kind, where neither of you needs to say anything. It’s enough just to be together, even like this.

“Do you want to hear about the case?” he asks gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll say no. You do, because it’s part of him, and you always want to know. So he tells you, his voice a familiar comfort in the dark, weaving through the details with that measured precision he’s so good at. You listen, nodding at the right places, even though he can’t see you, letting his words settle over you like a lullaby.

When he’s finished, there’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line. “Do you have any notes for me?” he asks, the hint of a tease in his voice.

“I could think of a few,” you say with a smile, glancing down at the scattered pages on your bed. “Maybe a sticky note on your phone: ‘Call your girlfriend as soon as the plane lands.’”

You can hear his smile widen. “I think I can manage that.” His voice softens, the words almost like a whisper. “I’ll keep leaving them, you know. Notes, I mean. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you ever need a reminder. That I love you. That I notice the little things. That I’ll be there, even if it takes a while.”

You’re quiet, just for a moment, because the words stick in your throat. He always knows how to get to the heart of things, how to make you feel so understood. “I don’t need a reminder for that,” you say. “But I’ll still read them every time I miss you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve written so many,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

You nod, letting your eyes close. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice like a gentle embrace over the line. “Sleep well.”

The call ends, but you hold the phone to your chest, listening to the quiet in your room. For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel lonely. Spencer may be miles away, but his words are here, resting against your heart, waiting for you in every corner of every room.

[sweetpupii]

oh, she does both and gets so mean with it too </3

thank god cait's uniform has pockets to hide the pink vibrator remote because she's planning on using it during the whole ceremony. yeah, yeah, guard the stage, look out for any suspicious people and whatever… she's far too focused on the way you fidget with the fabric of your uniform as you look around, squirming a little in a way that makes her look down to hold back a small giggle. not wanting to draw attention to herself.

sneaky little shit, got as far away from you as possible to not hear any complaints.

she just wasn't having it today. no amount of whining and puppy dog eyes you give could get her to back down. hopefully that'll teach you to stop getting on her last nerve at the most inopportune times.

keeping her in bed for longer than necessary because 'you were cold’ on a sunny and nowhere near cold morning, the little touches under her nightgown with those coy eyes that hid your true intentions ( or so you thought because she can read you like an open book by now ), the gentle kisses and bites on her neck that quickly turned heated and ended up with a couple hickeys that were a pain to cover before arriving at the gala. late.

we're you dumb or did you really think she'd be nice enough to wait until you guys got to her bedroom to turn on the vibrator?

either way, you might regret agreeing to her little idea.

more people are starting to arrive but her duty is to be there and intervene only if something bad happens so she can keep having fun while you pat down people to let them in with a forced, polite smile. you shift on your feet, pretending to adjust the holster at your thigh. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching, but caitlyn knows better.

her thumb grazes the remote in her pocket, toggling the setting up one notch higher. a quick glance in your direction tells her all she needs to know: the way your head dips slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as your hand briefly grips the table for balance. you recover quickly, but not before her eyes catch the faint tremble in your legs.

perfect.

when she finally makes her way over to you, the calm authority in her tone betrays none of her mischief. “I’ll be taking her to assist with another entrance.” she tells the nearby guard, who barely spares a glance before nodding in approval.

her hand is warm and steady on your lower back as she leads you away, her grip firm enough to keep you from protesting. not that you could form a coherent argument right now, not with your mind clouded by the relentless buzzing and caitlyn’s touch.

she is not taking you to the other entrance, she's obviously taking you backstage to an empty room.

immediately closing the door, leaning her body weight against it just in case, pulling out the remote from her pocket to turn it up. the buzzing in between your legs now louder and definitely more overwhelming.

“fuck, cait, I'm sorry—” the quiver in your voice, the way you had to lean onto the desk behind you to hold yourself up while your knees trembled and threatened to give up made something flutter in caitlyn's belly, damn.

“sorry?” she repeats, her tone silky but laced with mockery. she holds up the remote in one hand, her thumb hovering over the button as if she was hesitating. “darling, you’re always sorry. but somehow, you never learn.”

she presses the button, and the buzzing between your legs ramps up another level, sharp and insistent. your breath catches, and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. “cait—caitlyn, please,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, clear desperation.

“you had so much to say earlier this morning,” the enforcer pointed out with a soft laugh, taking a step closer. her free hand reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes. “is my name all you can manage to say now? how funny.”

your thighs clench together in a futile attempt to dull the vibration, but it only makes it worse. heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, as you bite your lip to muffle the whimper threatening to escape. she notices—of course, she does—and leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a rather sloppy kiss.

she wasn't supposed to kiss you, she never does when trying to teach a lesson but she couldn't resist this time... sigh.

“no need to hold back,” she murmurs against your lips, “we’re alone here.”

“i can't...” you manage, your voice breaking. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure inside you.

“yes, you can,” she says firmly, one hand brushes along your side, a grounding touch that only makes the intensity more acute. “you always can.”

she watches you intently, taking in every shudder, every gasp, every tremble of your legs as you struggle to stay upright. her chest swells with satisfaction at the sight of you, undone and helpless under her control.

when your legs finally give out, she catches you effortlessly; pulling you close, stroking your back to let you pant against her shoulder, trailing soft kisses down your jaw as she presses the button to turn the vibrator off…only to start it back at the lowest setting.

“don't look at me like that,” caitlyn whispers, a tiny ( cruel ) smile playing at her lips as she guides you down to the chair. “you already had your fun in the morning, am I not allowed to do the same?”

masterlist