#this is why he could never be a history teacher

[winniewritesstories]

Shifter | The (Mis)Adventures iii

Summary - Meg's father picks her up from school. Or does he? Set between 1x16 (Shadow) and 1x20 (Dead Man's Blood).

Pairings/characters - Meg Winchester (OC), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned).

Dean Winchester x little sister, Sam Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - some violence, swearing, John Winchester's A+ parenting

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 9,910 (I got a bit carried away...)

Notes - This is set between 1x16 and 1x20, with some canon divergence. Not proof read lmao

Credits - gif via @lower-the-volume

The Winchester's were settled - as settled as they ever were - in a small, nondescript town in the mid west, the same as hundreds of other towns they had stayed in or passed through over the years. Meg was even enrolled in elementary school.

After their father had finally turned up - and abruptly left again - Meg had felt uneasy, and the boys had too, though they wouldn't admit it, so they decided that sticking to one town for a while could be good for all of them.

Meg hadn't really been to school before. She was home-schooled, sort of, by her brothers and occasionally Uncle Bobby. They didn't follow a curriculum or do tests, but they spent a few hours each day going over all different subjects - numbers, reading, history, science - and Meg frequently had her head in a book. She hadn't expected to like school. While she most definitely did not like being separated from her brothers all day, she enjoyed the classroom and the playground, hanging out with kids her own age, using the multitude of crayons and pens and craft supplies, playing with footballs and bicycles.

What she had never imagined was that her father would pick her up from school. Mrs P. - that's what everyone called her - waved Meg over to the school gate where John Winchester stood waiting. Meg's eyes were wide as saucers when she saw him, half excitement, half trepidation.

"Daddy!" she cried nonetheless, throwing her small arms around him in a hug. He swung her off the ground and sat her on his hip, giving her hair an affectionate pat. "Bye Mrs P.!" Meg called as John walked towards the car. It was different from his truck, not as big or shiny. Maybe the truck was broken and Dean was fixing it. He was good like that. That must be why Dean wasn't here.

John opened the passenger side door and placed Meg on the seat. No car seat! "Dean says little kids have to have a car seat, Daddy," Meg said. John gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"I thought you were a big girl now?" he replied, switching on the ignition. Meg beamed.

"I am, Daddy. But Dean doesn't listen." she replied, fiddling with the various buttons. John pulled away from the school just as she found the radio.

________

Dean locked the Impala and meandered through a crowd of children and soccer moms to the school gate. Meg was usually waiting for him, stood patiently next to her teacher. She enjoyed school, but he had to admit it made him a little warm and fuzzy inside to know she missed him.

Today, however, Meg wasn't stood by the gate. Mrs P., the third grade teacher, was talking to a small group of moms, their children playing with each other nearby. Dean scanned the playground quickly, a small frown on his face, looking for two brown pigtails and dungarees. The playground was emptying now, children trailing out of the gate onto buses and into minivans, so it should've been easy to see her.

Dean caught Mrs P.'s eye, beckoning her over with a nod of his head.

"Hey, where's Meg?" he asked, cutting right to the point.

"Oh! Her father picked her up today." Mrs P. said with a smile. Dean's stomach dropped, twisting anxiously.

"What?" he asked, momentarily dumbfounded. "I mean... our father's out of state on business."

"Oh, well... he signed in at the front desk. Showed his ID and everything. John Winchester, Kansas, right?" Mrs P. asked, looking confused but not exactly concerned.

Dean, on the other hand, was extremely concerned. Dad wouldn't just show up and take Meg out of school, not without telling him, and he certainly wouldn't show his actual ID.

"He... he's not here." Dean said, through gritted teeth. "So who has my sister?" Dean tried his best to remain calm, not to let panic and fear overwhelm him.

"I can assure you, Dean, he is here. Reception checked his ID against our records."

"He isn't even listed as an authorised adult to pick her up!" he said, voice rising. "Sam and I filled in those damn forms ourselves. How the hell could you let an eight year old wonder out of school with a stranger?"

"Not a stranger, her father." Mrs P. replied, an edge to her voice. "You are more than welcome to check with the front desk if you have any concerns, but we do our due diligence before letting the children leave."

Dean's jaw was set as he turned on his heel, stalking back towards his car. He flipped his phone out, dialling his father's number. He wasn't expecting an answer, and indeed, John did not pick up. He tried Sam instead, hitting the gas and pulling away from the school.

"Sam, is Meg with you?" Dean asked, voice sharp.

"What?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone. "Of course not. You're picking her up."

"She's not here. They said... the teacher said Dad picked her up."

"Dad? Our dad?" Sam asked. "He's not even in the state is he? Why would he just show up and pick Meg up from school?"

"I don't know!" Dean shouted down the phone, no longer able to suppress the panic. "I mean - he wouldn't. You heard him the other week, he thinks it's too dangerous for us to be together anyway. No way he'd just show up unannounced and take Meg."

"What do we do, Dean?" Sam asked, urgency and fear in his voice.

"I'm on my way back to you. I've tried Dad but can't get him, you keep calling, texting, anything." With that, Dean hung up, speeding back towards the motel. He tried his dad again as he pulled in to the space outside their room.

"Dad?" he asked, shocked to the core he even picked up.

"Dean," his father's voice was flat, unimpressed. "I told you-"

"Have you got Meg?" Dean cut him off. They didn't have time for a lecture.

"What? Why would I have Meg?"

"The school said you picked her up. Showed your ID to reception. Is she with you?"

"No, Dean, of course she's not with me. Who the fuck has her? Why would they let her leave with a random-"

"I don't know! I don't know, Dad. But she - she's not here. She wasn't at school, she's not - fuck!" Dean cried down the phone, the fear now all-consuming. "What state are you in?"

"Just left Texas. Text me your address, I'm on my way." John replied, voice icy cold and tense. Then he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

Dean slammed the door of the motel room shut behind him.

"Dad's in Texas," he said by way of greeting to Sam, who had been pacing the motel room, cellphone in hand. Sam stopped pacing, face pale.

"Then... then who..?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped harshly. "I don't - fuck. How could I let this happen?"

"Dean, this isn't... you couldn't have known this would happen. I called Bobby, he's on his way. Figure... figured we'd need all the help we could get." Sam said, trying to comfort his brother, who felt everything, everywhere was his fault.

"Dad is too. Says he just left Texas."

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, unable or not bothered enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes, Sam, of course he's coming. His daughter is m-" Dean couldn't even say the word. Missing. His jaw was tense, breathing heavy. "He'll be here."

"So, what could've taken her? A shifter, maybe, if it looked like dad?" Sam questioned, reverting into problem-solving mode. "But then, what the hell would a shifter want with Meg? Or dad, for that matter?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. God, how many times had he said those words this last hour? So many unknowns - who had her? Was she hurt? Or worse, was she -

No. Dean couldn't go there. If he started thinking like that, starting spiralling and letting the fear control him, they might never get her back.

"Does the school have cameras?" Sam asked, opening his laptop. "We could look for camera flares." Dean nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.

This was a hunt. A case. He could do that. Work the case, find the monster, save the kid. It's what he does. What he's been doing most of his life. It's just a case.

________

It didn't take Meg long to figure out something was... wrong with her father. As if showing up to her school hadn't been strange enough, they then drove out of town, opposite direction to the motel the Winchester's had been staying in.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Meg piped up from the passenger seat. Dad hadn't even prompted her to put a seat belt on, but she'd done it anyway. Otherwise Dean would just lecture her.

"They're... they'll meet us there." John replied, eyes fixed on the road.

"Where?" Meg asked.

John's jaw tensed. Meg was used to that. She asked a lot of questions, and Dad rarely answered. Usually snapped at her to be quiet. Dean explained things, as best he could, in a way that she could understand, a way that wouldn't scare her too much. "Never mind where," John replied, as his cell began to ring. He flipped it open, eyes darting between the road and the screen. "Yeah? I've got her. Was almost too easy."

Meg listened to half the conversation, nervousness twisting in her belly. What did that mean? The voice on the end of the phone didn't sound like Sam or Dean, so who was he talking to?

Meg pressed herself closer to the door, trying to put some distance between herself and the person who looked like her father. She wanted her brothers.

John smirked into the phone. "Oh, they'll take the bait alright. She's a pretty little thing. They won't leave her behind."

Meg trembled in her seat. That didn't sound right. None of it felt right. The man looked like her father, had his voice, but... he wasn't. Something in the way he held himself, his manner of speaking. She realised with a jolt of dread and panic that this was not her father, no matter what her eyes were telling her.

She really, really wanted her brothers now.

________

Two days. It had been two days since Meg had been taken. Dean hadn't slept a wink, a combination of coffee, adrenaline, and fear keeping him up.

They had accessed the schools cameras, and indeed, it was a shifter, the eyes of not-John Winchester flaring silvery-grey. They'd even got the license plate of the car he was driving, but it was stolen a few states over and didn't lead anywhere solid. Bobby had arrived a few hours after Sam called him, helping the boys poke around the town, searching out spots where a shifter might lay low, to no avail. Further research turned up shifter-sounding cases in nearby towns, which Bobby had gone to check out, see if he could pick up a trail or find any clues.

Sam and Dean stayed in the town in case Meg showed up, following any lead they could. They expected something - a ransom call, negotiation, anything - and the lack of communication made Dean even more uneasy.

Sam had suggested calling the police, reporting her as a missing person, but Dean thought that would only make things worse. Especially if they saw the footage of John Winchester walking out the school gates with Meg on his hip. Last thing they needed was a manhunt for their father.

Dean hated the waiting. The research. They'd checked every warehouse, sewer, abandoned building in the town, twice, but it didn't feel like enough. None of it did. They were waiting on a call from Dad or Bobby, or one of their contacts to get back to them. Sam had rung the sheriff's office, security companies, anything he could think of, to see if any break ins or suspicious activity had been reported. Nothing.

All he could think of was how scared she must be. He had no idea what kind of conditions they were keeping her in - was she tied up? Was she being fed? - but the thought of a monster with their father's face holding her hostage somewhere.... Dean would never forgive himself for this. It was his job, to take care of his siblings. God, he should never have put her in school, never let her out of his sight for so long.

A harsh rap at the door startled Dean from his thoughts. He and Sam looked at each other briefly, before Dean unlocked it and opened it, revealing John Winchester.

He pushed into the room, not greeting either of his sons, slinging a duffel onto the floor. He headed for the fridge.

"What the hell happened?" he shouts, turning to face the boys, uncapping a bottle of beer. "You were supposed to look after her." Dean looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"I... I went to pick her up from school, and they said... they said that you had already collected her, said you showed your ID and everything, an-"

"Why the hell was she in school, Dean? You know how dangerous is can be-"

"It's just school, Dad!" Sam fired back. "We just wanted her to be a normal kid, for once in her life, school isn't supposed to be dangerous, or weird - it's where she should've been all along!"

"Oh, no, don't you lecture me about school, boy!" John shouted, old tensions and arguments coming to the surface. Dean was suffocating. "You can-"

"Alright, enough! Both of you!" Dean yelled, standing between them. "We don't have time for this, Meg needs us, so stow the crap, get over yourselves, and start thinking. Meg is relying on us." His voice trembled slightly over the last sentence. Dean had one priority right now. He had tunnel vision, focused only on the little girl who needed him to find her. The Winchester men stood silently for a tense moment, each wound like coiled springs. Dean took a steadying breath, trying to remain calm, collected. He turned to his father. "It’s a shifter. We went back and checked the camera’s outside the school, and the eyes flared. We encountered one a few months back in St. Louis." He began calmly. "Bobby is-"

"You called Bobby?" John snapped. Granted, the two men weren’t on good terms - Bobby had nearly pumped John full of buck shot last they’d seen each other - but the old man, grumpy as he could be, cared for Meg deeply.

"Yes, we called Bobby. He was closer than you, and we need all the help we can get." Dean said tightly. "I don’t care what you think of the man, he loves her, and he’s doing whatever he can to help." John clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. Dean took it as permission to continue. "Bobby’s checking out potential shifter activity in nearby towns. There’ve been reports of strange behaviour, people in two places at once, that kinda thing. Sam and I stayed in town in case…. In case she came back. Showed up. We’ve been scouting places shifters like to hide out." John nodded. Dean could see his brain working, forming potential plans, dismissing the ones that wouldn’t work, recalling everything he could about shifters.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and putting his bottle on the table. “That’s good. That's - it's a solid start. You got a map of this place?" Sam turned tightly, pulling out the map of the town they had found. It was covered in black and red marker, places circled and crossed out, anywhere the shifters could be keeping Meg. John leaned down, looking over the town, at the places Sam and Dean had already searched. "You checked this place?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a factory on the edge of the town.

"No, not yet." Dean said softly. Sam pulled out his computer, looking up the site.

"Okay... so it seems like it was abandoned a few years ago. An old steel mill. Seems pretty remote, could be worth searching it." Sam said, tapping away at the keyboard. "There's another empty factory, a processing plant, about... two miles further up. We could check 'em both?" John nodded stiffly.

"I'll take one, you two take the others. Where's the silver?"

"Dad, we'll be safer if we stick together. Splitting up-" Sam began

"We can cover more ground if we separate. It'll be quicker that way." John replied, his tone not leaving room for argument. But Sam pressed on.

"We have no idea how many there could be! You can't go on your own, Dad, it's-"

"Dammit, Sam, do as you're told!" John shouted, eyes blazing.

"We aren't kids anymore, Dad, you can't just give out orders like some goddamn drill sergeant!" Sam yelled back. Dean rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"For the love of God!" Dean shouted, stunning Sam and John into silence. He was breathing heavily. "Dad, you take the processing plant, Sam and me will check the steel mill. We'll split up if only so I don't have to listen to you two arguing. Meg is out there, alone, terrified, and you two can't grow up and get over yourselves for five goddamn minutes! Pull yourselves together!" Dean didn't raise his voice at his father often - scratch that, ever. But he was sick with worry and needed to find his little girl, and the arguing wasn't helping. He reached for the weapons duffle. "We got silver bullets and knives in here." He said, quieter now, loading the clip of his gun with silver bullets and tucking a blade into his belt. Sam and John readied their own weapons, the room heavy with a tense silence.

They left the motel rooms, driving to the abandoned industrial estate in their separate vehicles. The Impala turned off at the steel mill, John's truck carrying on to the processing plant. As Dean looked up at the factory, his stomach twisted, praying she'd be in there, that she was safe.

"Ready?" Sam asked, checking the magazine on his gun again and pulling out a flash light. Dean swallowed, nodding, as they headed into the mill.

________

Meg's body trembled, a combination of fear and cold. They'd arrived at some old factory or warehouse a while ago, not-John dragging her in by the rope he had tied around her wrists. He had put in her in a cage, slightly bigger than a dog crate, finally releasing her bruised wrists. She could stand up, but barely, and there was a bucket in the corner. She had a thread-bare blanket wrapped around her shoulders, though it did little to stave off the biting chill.

There were three men now, the man who wasn't her father, and two shorter, mousey looking men. Mostly they left her alone, drinking beer and playing cards. Sometimes the phone rang, and the took orders from someone - Meg assumed it was their boss, because they twitched every time it rang.

Meg had never known hunger or fear or cold like she did now. She kept hoping, praying, begging Sam and Dean to find her, believing in her brother's to rescue her. But every hour that passed made her worry more and more that they'd never find her, that she was stuck here forever with these monsters.

It was not-John who scared her the most. It was her father, but it wasn't. His face sometimes curled into this sickening smile, so un-Dad-like, and his laugh, which she rarely heard, was cruel and callous. His green eyes raked over her like she was a piece of meat; his entire demeanour made her skin crawl.

She realised she was crying again, tears snaking down her cheeks. She was surprised she had the energy left to cry. Meg licked at the tears as the trickled down her cheeks, the moisture - though salty - a small relief on her dry tongue. As her stomach growled at her in hunger, she wondered if she was going to die.

________

Dean kicked over an old barrel outside the steel mill, frustration and panic building to new heights.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "We'll find her. She'll be alright."

"Will we, Sam? Because we are running outta places to search in this godforsaken town, and anything could be happening to her right now." He snapped, fists clenched at his sides. Sam sighed, swallowing. Dean was right; they were running out of locations in the town where a shifter could keep a young girl. But he set his jaw, taking a deep breath.

"We're gonna find her," he said, with more conviction than he felt. Dean looked at him with uncertainty, but his phone rang before he could reply.

"Dad?" he asked, hope flickering to life in his stomach.

"She ain't here," John said gruffly over the phone. "But I got someone. Think he's working for the shifters."

"Stay put, we're on our way." Dean replied, snapping his phone shut. Sam looked at him questioningly.

Dean put his foot to the floor as they sped toward the processing plant, filling Sam in on the way. The Impala screeched to a stop next to John's truck, engine barely off before he was out the car and racing inside.

John had the guy tied to a chair in the middle of the abandoned factory. He'd tested him extensively; silver, holy water, salt. He was human.

"This him?" Dean asked, voice low and rough. John nodded.

"Yeah. Found evidence that a shifter was here, reckon this one knows something." John replied, keeping his voice even.

"Evidence? You find any evidence Meg was here?" Sam asked, hope lacing his voice.

"No," John admitted quietly. "But a shifter definitely shed its skin here. Whole mess of skin and crap back there." He jerked his head toward a back room, the walls painted with blood and gunk. God, he hated shifters.

Beside them, Dean's hands clenched and unclenched into fists, his breathing ragged and uneven. He approached the man, who at least had the decency to look ashamed and afraid.

"Where is she?" Dean asked, voice low with a barely contained rage.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout." the man said, though he avoided Dean's gaze. Dean hit him, the man's nose breaking with a crunch as Dean's fist connected. The man let out a shout, blood beginning to drip from his nose. John and Sam were by Dean's side in an instant, Sam's hand on Dean's arm.

"I said where is she?" Dean repeated, eyes simmering. He didn't have time to lose. The man spit blood onto the floor by Dean's feet.

"Fuck you," he snarled. So Dean hit him again. This time Sam pulled him away, forcing him to take several steps back.

"Dean, stop. Stop it. He's human." Sam said.

"And?" Dean asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the target. Sam was taken aback by Dean's callousness, the unnerving look in his eyes.

"I know you've been working with shifters. Where'd they go?" John asked calmly, pacing in front of the man.

"I already said, I don't know what you're on about." the man repeated, blood coating his teeth and dripping down his jaw. Dean tried to step toward him but Sam blocked him, hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Steve. It is Steve, isn't it?" John asked in that same, even tone. He didn't wait for a reply. "We can do this two ways. Either tell us who you've been working for, and where they went. Or I'll let my boy here beat it out of you." The man gulped. Dean liked the sound of the second option.

"I'm just a caretaker. Ain't seen nobody round these parts for years," Steve replied, avoiding eye contact with any of the Winchester's. John sighed, but Dean didn't wait for permission.

He launched himself at Steve, punching him so hard the chair fell backwards. Dean knelt on top of the man, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"You tell me where the hell they went right now, or so help me God." he snarled, twisting the shirt in his hands.

"God?" Steve asked, smiling. "What's God gonna do to those monsters?"

Dean hit him again, and again, breaking the chair Steve had been tied to. He dragged the man to his feet, throwing him against a nearby wall.

"My little girl is out there! You tell me what you know, or you can ask God himself what he does to monsters!" Dean shouted, forearm pressed to Steve's throat.

Behind them, Sam and John watched in silence. Sam looked briefly to John, wondering if they should stop Dean. John let the scene unfold. He'd never seen Dean so angry - so afraid. Something in John twisted when Dean called Meg his little girl. Guilt? Anger? Shame? All of them, he supposed.

And Dean was right. Meg was more his little girl than she ever was John's.

There was a pregnant pause, a brief moment of tension.

"There's a shipping yard, 'bout forty miles from here. That's where they were headed." Steve said quietly, the words slightly muffled by his split lip. Dean let the man go, turning on his heel and stalking toward the Impala.

"What do we do with this guy?" Sam asked, looking at Steve, who was slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to his face.

"Leave him," John said, picking up his weapons. "He ain't worth any more of our time."

Outside the processing plant, Dean was already in the Impala, engine revving.

"I'll follow you." John said as Sam slid in to the passenger seat. Dean nodded at his father, and the second Sam's door closed, the Impala's tyres screeching as they took off toward to the shipping yard.

________

Meg's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dimness of the room. She'd drifted off again, despite her efforts to stay awake. She didn't know what might happen to her if she slept.

Not-John had left a little while ago, leaving the other two men to guard her. The watched her with their beady eyes, shifting in their seats, their card game abandoned. The phone, which sat on the table between them, hadn't buzzed in several hours, and it made them nervous.

Meg stayed huddled in her corner, rocking slowly in an attempt to comfort herself. She hummed Hey, Jude, the song that Dean would sing when she had a nightmare or couldn't fall asleep. It was a little comforting, but it made her miss Dean even more. She wanted him to sing it to her, to hold her close and rock her gently, snuggled against him in the Impala or a rickety motel bed. She wanted to hear Sam typing away in the corner or the sound of the Impala's engine. She wanted her brothers.

She was crying again, wondering if she'd ever see them again, every hear Dean's terrible jokes or Sam's laugh. God, at this point, she even missed her dad, the small, soft smiles he reserved for her, the way he let her sit on his shoulders, the fact she could play any music she liked in his truck.

But the thought of her father was slightly tainted now, the memories of him combining with the sinister looks of the shifter, the way it had taken her and locked her up.

Distantly, there was a clang, metal hitting metal. Meg froze, ceasing the rocking and humming, her body stiff with fear. Was not-John back? Or worse, was it the leader, the one who phoned every few hours? The one who seemed to scare even her captors.

She pressed herself as far back as she could, sharp metal bars pressing into her back, the blanket wrapped tight around her as if it could shield her. Then there was a distant shout, and her two captors stood, reaching for their knives. Meg was paralysed with fear, her whole body shaking as she tried to stay quiet, stay hidden.

The door was kicked open, and Meg whimpered as a fight broke out, the shifters launching themselves toward the door. There were shouts, the sound of metal on metal, and a gun shot. Meg screamed, the sound reverberating around the small room.

Then the cage door was rattling as someone tried to open it, and Meg pressed her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Please, please, please, she whispered to herself. I don't want to die.

Someone's hands were on her and she screamed again, thrashing her arms and scrabbling backward, although there was nowhere else to go. Distantly, she could hear someone saying her name, calling her.

"Meg. Megsie, it's me, look at me. It's Sam." he repeated, trying to reach her, to soother her. She was trembling, eyes shut and hands over her ears, pressed against the back of the cage.

She opened her eyes, looking up at Sam. Sam.

Or was it? Not-John had looked like her dad, and then she ended up here. Maybe she wasn't safe after all.

"Get back!" she cried, putting her hands out in front of her to protect herself.

"Meg, baby, it's me, it's Sam." he said again, reaching out slowly, but she screamed once more and he pulled his hand back. Behind him, a body thudded to the floor, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. Her cheeks were sunken in, dark bags beneath her eyes. She was shaking like a leaf, so scared - of him.

"Go away! You're not him!" she shouted, pressing her eyes shut again, sobbing softly.

Dean knelt next to Sam, his heart breaking at the sight of his little girl, so exhausted and afraid.

"Megs," he called softly, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. "Meg, it's us. Look at me, it's us." She whimpered, opening her eyes, crying softly as she saw him. She wanted so desperately to believe him. It looked like Dean, it sounded like Dean... but so did the one with her father's face, the one who had taken her.

She shuddered, shaking her head. "You're monsters," she whispered. Dean's heart broke.

"No, sweetheart. It's us. Meg, Goose, please - it's me." Dean pleaded with her, worry etched into every line on his face, voice desperate. He reached a tentative hand out for her.

"Go away! Get back, you're not him!" She cried, shrinking back into the corner. Dean was beginning to panic now, desperate to hold her, make sure she was okay, but she was afraid of him. Of him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, taking the silver blade from his pocket. "Remember the St. Louis shifter? Remember how silver burned them?"

Meg's eyes were wide, locked on to the blade, but she nodded. She remembered St. Louis, the shifter who had taken Dean's form. Sam pressed the silver blade against his hand. It didn't burn. Then he did the same to Dean, and again, the silver didn't burn his skin.

It was them. They found her.

"Sammy?" she whispered. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby girl, it's us. It's us." Dean said softly, heart in his throat. They watched her with wide, cautious eyes as she looked between them, still trembling. She looked to Dean, his piercing green eyes glistening with fear and love and hope, then to Sam, whose wide puppy-eyed stare so often matched her own.

Her brothers. Her boys. They found her.

"De," she cried launching herself forward and into their arms. Dean gripped hold of her, pulling her firmly into his lap and cradling her close. Sam wrapped his arms around the pair of them, needing to hold his little sister close, desperate to keep her safe. Dean murmured softly against her hair, holding her so tightly and never intending to let go. She sobbed into her brother, face tucked tightly into his neck. Sam pressed a soft kiss to her head, a stray tear or two falling, his hand warm and steady on her back. She was safe.

Sam pulled away first, trying to assess Meg's body for injuries. She was scrawnier, her spine visible beneath the thin t-shirt. Her hair was matted, limbs dirty, but there were no obvious injuries, no blood. A small relief. He tried to coax her from Dean's neck, to check her face and neck for wounds, to ask if she was hurt, if she was okay, but she wouldn't move. Wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, too afraid to let him go ever again. And, from the look on Dean's face, the few tears he discreetly wiped away, Dean wouldn't be letting her go ever again, either.

Behind the trio, the door opened, and John walked in. His shoulders sagged in relief when he saw Meg, cradled safely in her brothers arms. But she stiffened and turned at the sound, and when she saw him her face twisted in panic.

"No!" Meg cried, trying to scramble away from him, the man with her father's face. He was back. "Go away!"

"Meg - hey, no, it's him, it's Dad," Dean said gently, holding her arms so she couldn't run. "It's okay. The shifter's dead. It's really Dad." But his words had no effect. All Meg could see was the man who'd taken her. She was shaking again, eyes wide with fear, fresh tears falling down her face.

"No, no, please," she begged. Sam took the silver blade, walking quickly over to John, whose face betrayed the pain of seeing his daughter fear him.

"Meg, hey - look. No burn, see?" he said, pressing the blade to John's skin. "He's human. Not a shifter." Sam reassured her, pocketing the blade and coming back to crouch next to her. She regarded John warily, pressing herself close to Dean, who had his arm securely around her waist.

"Hey, princess." John said softly, kneeling a few feet away so as not to scare her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." John didn't really know what he was apologising for. For the shifter taking his face? Or for not being there for her in the first place? He gave her a small, soft smile, trying to offer her some reassurance, some proof it was really him.

Meg sniffled, still pressed firmly against Dean, eyes flickering nervously over her father's face. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, turning to Dean with fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, clutching Dean's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I left school without you, without checking, I- I thought that - that..." She hiccuped as Dean shushed her gently.

"Hey, no, it's not your fault, Meg. It's okay - you thought it was Dad, you couldn't have known. It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean said, cupping her cheek with his free hand and wiping away some stray tears. Seeing her like this, apologising for it... God, it broke his heart.

"C'mon," Sam said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get out of here. Get you to a hospital." Meg swallowed, wide eyes flicking between her family.

"No hospital," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Please." Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean ran his eyes over her body, no clear wounds or serious concerns evident, but God knows he'd feel better having her checked out properly. But how would they explain this to a doctor? To the CPS? He held her hands gently.

"We'll take you to the motel, check you over there. But if Sammy or I find anything that needs medical attention, we're taking you straight to a doctor. Capiche?" Dean said softly, toeing the line between doing what was best for her and not traumatising her further.

"Capiche." She echoed. When Dean stood up, she held out her arms, unwilling or perhaps unable to walk. Dean scooped her up wordlessly, glad to be able to hold her close still, and the trio headed for the door.

John hung back, unsure if he should go with them, not wanting to frighten his daughter more. He settled for trailing after them at a distance, close enough to still hear the soft, reassuring words Dean was murmuring to Meg, but far enough that Meg didn't feel threatened. Her green eyes still flicked over to him every few seconds, wary and distrusting, and it broke his heart.

Meg didn't let go of her brother, even when they got to the car. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers gripping the collar of his leather jacket tightly. When Dean opened the rear door to the Impala, she whimpered, pressing her face into Dean's neck.

"Okay, it's alright," he said softly. "We'll sit up front, okay? Sammy can drive. You wanna pick some music?"

John watched them carefully for a few more seconds, Dean lowering himself into the car and settling Meg onto his lap, Sam waiting until the were safely inside before getting in himself. John nodded to Sam, a silent meet you at the motel passing between them.

In the Impala, Dean put the heat on full blast, while Meg opened the glovebox and found the Beatles cassette. He smiled at her choice.

"This one?" he asked, popping it in and turning the volume up a fraction. She nodded, snuggling into him, his large leather jacket enveloping them both as Sam drove them back to the motel. The car ride was quiet, Dean humming along to the Beatles, stroking gentle, soothing circles on Meg's back absentmindedly.

They beat John to the motel, pulling in front of the door. Dean carried her in, settling on the bed with her, while Sam fetched the first aid kit and a bottle of water, which Meg gulped down quickly.

"Woah, easy tiger," Dean said, easing the bottle from her grasp. "You're gonna make yourself sick." God knows how long she'd been without water, or food, or anything. He didn't want to think about that too much. Sam took Meg's hands in his gently, rolling up the sleeves. There were red marks on each wrist, bruises purpling underneath.

"Did... did they tie you up?" Sam asked quietly. Meg's lip quivered as she nodded.

"At the first place. Then they... they took me to the place with the cage." She whimpered, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Dean squeezed her reassuringly. "I... I really thought it was him."

"I know you did, Scout. I know." Sam said, wiping her wrists with antiseptic for good measure. "Can you stand up for me?"

Meg did, legs shaking, Dean holding her arms for support - physical and emotional. Sam checked her over, feeling for broken bones, cuts, anything. Mercifully, she was okay save the bruised wrists. Sure, she'd lost some weight, was exhausted and dirty, but physically, at least, she was unhurt. Mentally, on the other hand... Sam and Dean knew it would take her some time to understand what happened, to process the trauma.

"You're okay," Sam said, reassuring Meg, himself, and Dean. "Would you like a bath, hm? Get you warmed up and clean?" Meg whimpered, shaking her head and pressing herself back against Dean. He squeezed her arms reassuringly.

"It's okay. We'll stay with you, alright? We won't leave you on your own." He murmured. Just then the motel door opened slowly, John lingering in the doorway. Meg tensed up as she saw him, pressing herself further into Dean's embrace, eyes wide and wary.

"Hey, sweetheart," John said softly, taking a few cautious steps into the room so he could close the door. "I figured you'd be hungry so I picked up some food. Pancakes sound good?" He held up a bag of food, its warm, enticing scent wafting across the small space.

Meg turned in Dean's arms, pressing her face into his neck, body trembling. Dean swallowed, holding her close, glancing at John with a pained, almost guilty expression. John was hurt, face falling as she turned away from him.

"It's okay, sunshine," Dean said reassuringly. "It's Dad. I promise you, it's really him."

"Wanna take a bath," Meg said into Dean's neck. He looked up at Sam, then John.

"Okay, sweetie. We'll get you bathed. Then you put on your pyjama's and we'll eat, yeah?" Dean spoke softly, as if speaking to a frightened animal that might bolt at any second. Meg nodded, pulling herself back from his arms slightly.

Sam grabbed her duffle, rummaging around for some pyjama's, the soft, fluffy ones she liked, draping them over the heater so they'd be warm for her. Dean picked her up carefully, sitting with her on the closed toilet seat while he ran a hot bath. John stayed, frozen, just inside the door, unsure what he should do, unable to take his eyes off the little girl who feared him now.

"Dad," Sam calls quietly. "It'll be okay. She'll come round. She just... she just needs a minute." John swallowed thickly, nodding. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. God, what was he doing to his children? Sam clapped him on the shoulder, heading to the bathroom to be with Dean and Meg.

After a warm bath, the grime scrubbed from her body and her hair freshly washed, Meg pulled on the pyjama's Sam had set out for her, toasty warm from the heater. She held up a hairbrush wordlessly, silently asking one of her brother's to comb through the tangles. Sam took it, gently brushing through her damp hair, while Dean tidied the bathroom.

In the main room of the motel, John sat at the small table, bag of food in the middle, a beer in his hand. Meg stood in the doorway of the bathroom, eying him suspiciously, her toes curling anxiously into the carpet. When he noticed her, he gave her a soft smile, eyes kind.

It was her father, Meg realised suddenly. The shifter had never looked at her like that, its eyes had never been so gentle, never held anything except malice. She returned the smile with a small, hesitant one of her own, making her way slowly to the table.

"What kinda pancakes did ya get?" She asked softly.

"Chocolate chip, of course," John replied, pushing the bag towards the edge of the table. She gave him a bigger smile then, flashing the gap in her front teeth, taking another few steps towards him. He'd remembered her favourite food. Still, she waited for Sam to join them before she sat down, climbing into his lap.

He put his arm around her waist, holding her firmly on his knees so she wouldn't fall, as she began eating her pancakes, dribbling syrup down her chin. Sam ran his ringers through her unruly curls, slowing springing back to life as they dried. Dean joined them a minute later, relieved to see she was eating something, and that wasn't trembling in the presence of their father. Sam looked up at him, brows furrowed, taking in Dean's disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. Dean avoided eye contact at all costs, instead pulling up a seat next to them. John handed him a beer wordlessly as they exchanged looks.

They still had questions, still needed to figure out why the shifter had taken Meg in the first place. They watched her eat a moment longer as she shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth, clearly starving. Dean wiped her sticky chin with a napkin, smiling softly down at her.

"Don't eat too fast, Goose." he said. He looked at his father again, who nodded. "Megs... do you know why the shifter took you?"

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes going wide. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the cutlery down, folding her hands in her lap. She shook her head slowly.

"They didn't say why, but... but I think they wanted you guys to come." She began softly, twisting her fingers anxiously. "They said... it said you'd take the bait." Dean reached out a hand, holding her small ones in his own, trying to soothe her. She looked up at him, wide green eyes brimming with tears again. "I'm sorry I went with him - it. I'm sorry I left school, I-"

"Hey, hey, shh. Stop apologising, sweetheart. It's not your fault." Dean said softly, one hand on her face to wipe away the tears. "It's not. You thought it was Dad, you had no reason to think otherwise." He repeated his words from earlier. He didn't want her to distrust her father, their family. It wasn't like they could have the 'don't talk to strangers' lecture; she knew that, it had been ingrained in her for as long as she could remember.

"Meg," John spoked up next to then. Her eyes flickered over to him, momentarily betraying the fear she still held for her father's visage. "Were they all shifters? Or were any of them demons? Did you smell sulphur at all?"

"I think they were shifters. I don't know what sulphur smells like, but I don't think so." Meg said quietly.

"Rotten eggs. Sulphur smells like eggs." John prompted, but Meg shook her head again. "Did they mention demons at all, any demon?"

"Dad." Sam said, voice low in warning.

"I don't think so. There was... they spoke to someone on the phone a lot. But I don't know who."

"The demon? Did they use a name at all? Or a location?" John pressed further.

"Dad." Sam repeated, more forcefully. John glared at him momentarily. Meg gulped at the sight, the warmth in his eyes earlier - the look that had reminded her this was, in fact, her father - was gone, replaced with a cool anger.

"I don't - I don't know, Dad. I'm sorry, they didn't say anything about demons, I don't think. I'm sorry." Meg whispered tearfully, avoiding John's piercing gaze. Dean stroked his thumb over her shaking hands softly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean reassured her.

"Anything, Meg. Anything you can think of will help us." John said again, not seeing or perhaps not caring that his daughter was growing increasingly agitated.

"Enough." Dean snapped, only half turning his head to look at his father. He turned back to Meg, his gaze softening. "It's okay if you don't know anything. Don't worry about it now, you're safe." Meg nodded, looking down at her feet, swinging a foot off the floor. "Why don't you finish eating, hm? Then we can watch cartoons." She gave him a small smile, turning to her plate, but she didn't eat anymore, just pushed pieces of pancake around the plate.

"I need some air." John muttered, standing so abruptly that Meg flinched. He looked down, eyes betraying his guilt, but didn't say anything and left the room. Dean's jaw was set as he stood - slower than John did - and followed after him.

"Dad," Dean said, closing the motel room door softly so he wouldn't startle Meg. "You can't interrogate her like that. Not after what she's just been through."

"This is the demon's work, Dean. It knows I'm closing in on it." John snaps.

"Maybe so. But your daughter just got kidnapped by a bunch of shifters. Anything could have happened to her! And you want to question her? To- to find the demon?" Dean snaps back, trying to control his temper. He loved his father, he did, but sometimes his priorities were all wrong. Dean - his top priorities always have been, and always will be, his siblings.

"We have been hunting this thing for 20 years, Dean! I am this close to catching it, to getting revenge for your mother. That's what all this is about, Dean, I'm not gonna give up now." John fires back, breathing heavily.

"No one is asking you to give up, Dad, but for once will you just try and be a parent to that little girl? Not a hunter, not a - a drill sergeant. Just a dad." Dean snaps. John swallows, looking away from his eldest son. Dean's right, he knows that; he's never been a great father, always training his children, not raising them. Still, it hurts to hear Dean say it.

"Yesterday, you - you called Meg your little girl." John started softly.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that, I-"

"No, Dean, don't apologise. You're right. Shit, you've done more for her than I ever have. You've raised her, cared for her. Everything I should have done, should be doing - you do it. And you do it well. She - she's a wonderful kid, Dean." John looked at his son, pride in his eyes. Dean nodded, a small, fond smile on his face as he thought about her. "My point is, Dean, is that you look after this family. Better than anyone, better than I ever have. I know I'm never around much, I - I don't always put you guys first. But you do. You put this family first, you put your siblings first, always. Every time." Dean nodded, understanding what his father was trying to say - thank you for everything you do, I'm proud of you, I'm sorry - without actually saying it. John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Dean. For looking after them."

Back inside the motel, Meg was curled up on Sam's lap, trusty red checkered blanket it tow, her favourite plushie, Patch, gripped in one hand. Tom and Jerry played quietly, the lights of the TV illuminating their faces in the dim of the room.

Dean and John entered quietly, but the disruption still made Meg jump, head snapping towards the door. Sam held her closer, keeping her safe.

"Hey, princess," John said quietly, standing near the couch. "I - I gotta take off. It's not safe for any of us if I stick around too long."

"You're leaving?" Sam said in disbelief.

"Yes," John said sharply, eyes flickering back to Meg. "Your brothers are gonna take real good care of you, like always. They'll keep you safe, alright?" Meg nodded, looking up at him. John moved, as if to hug her or take her in his arms, but he settled for resting his hand against her head briefly. "I - I love you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I haven't been here."

Meg just nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. John nodded to each of his sons, picking his duffle off the floor. He looked at Dean once more.

"Watch out for your siblings." He said gruffly, before turning on his heel and walking out. The door shut behind him, the three siblings sitting silently for a moment. Dean looked at Meg, at the bags under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. How you feeling? You still hungry?" he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. She shook her head. "Okay. Good. Why don't we get you to bed?" Her eyes flickered across the room then back to Dean.

"Will you both stay with me?" she murmured. Dean smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, we will. You want Sammy to read you a story?" She nodded eagerly, holding her arms out to Dean. He swung her onto his hip hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her head. Sam rifled through his bag, looking for The Hobbit. He'd read it to her when he came back from Stanford, and now it was her favourite.

"Can we do a Meg sandwich?" she asks, eyes hopeful. Sam and Dean share a look; the Meg sandwich, as it became known, had started when the heating had packed up in a crappy motel in Chicago in the middle of winter. The Winchester siblings, left alone by their father, had piled into one bed for warmth, two-year-old Meg snuggled between her brothers. It fast became one of her favourite things in the world, even if it wasn't the most comfortable for the boys.

Any other time, under any other circumstances, they probably would've said no. But she'd been gone nearly three days, and they'd come so close to losing her... they couldn't refuse. They didn't want to refuse, both wanting to keep her close for a while, keep her safe.

"Sure thing," Dean said, sliding into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. Sam sat on her other side, book in hand, opening it to the first page. Meg lay snuggled against Dean's chest, but faced Sam. He cracked the spine on the well-worn copy of the Hobbit, clearing his throat.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" he asked theatrically. Meg giggled and nodded. "Very good. Let's begin. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole...."

Meg was asleep within three pages, using Dean's arm as a pillow, her small leg hooked over Sam's. He put the book down, moving some hair from her face, watching her sleep.

"You okay?" he asked Dean. He'd seen his brother's face earlier, his hair tousled where he ran his hands through it, his red eyes. Sam suspected it was a panic attack or something similar, though God knows Dean Winchester would never admit that.

"I'm fine," Dean said shortly, sighing as he looked down at the little girl in his arms. "I just... we came so close to losing her. So close. And I don't know what I would've done if - if-"

"I know," Sam cut him off, not wanting to dwell on that scenario. "But she's okay. She's safe now."

"We can't put her back in school. Not until this demon business is over and Dad's back. We can't take that chance."

"I agree. We'll just continue homeschooling her." Sam replied. Dean nodded. "You should get some rest too, Dean. You didn't sleep a wink the whole time she was missing." Dean shook his head stubbornly.

"Nah. I'll watch over her. She'll feel safer that way." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"No, I'll watch over you both. Get some sleep, you look like crap."

"Oh, thanks, man." Dean replied sarcastically. Sam's eyes rolled again.

"You know what I mean. Get some rest." Sam studied him for a moment, wondering if he'd refuse again. But he didn't; Dean nodded, eyes still fixed on Meg's sleeping form, sliding down to be more comfortable.

Sam watched Dean's eyes flutter close, saw his breathing even out. There weren't many times Sam felt like the oldest and most responsible one. But now, watching his siblings sleep, keeping them safe, he felt the profound sense of responsibility he wondered if Dean always felt. Eventually, Sam sunk back into the pillows too, his arm over Meg's waist, until he drifted off into sleep as well.

________

The Winchester's had left the following afternoon, all three of them wanting to put distance between themselves and the town. Meg had sat in the front of the Impala, nestled between her brothers, too afraid to be alone in the back.

A week later, a new town, a different motel room, Meg woke up alone.

"Dean?" she called out. "Sammy?" She looked around warily. She didn't like being alone anymore.

The key clicked in the lock of the door not a minute later, and her brothers walked in. She scrambled out of bed, backing into the corner.

"Is it definitely you?" she called shakily, unsure if it really was them or if it was monsters wearing their faces. Sam and Dean sighed, pulling out a silver blade. This happened every time one of them left her sight for more than a few minutes. Every time Dean went for food, or Sam to the library, she panicked they'd been swapped for a shifter. They were trying to be patient, of course they were, they knew what she had been through; but it was exhausting.

They each press the blade to their skin, and Meg visibly relaxes when there is no reaction.

"Come here," Dean says, beckoning her over to the small living area. He hoists her up, sitting her on his knee. "Sammy and I had to run a quick errand. It's gonna help you, though. Okay?" She nodded earnestly, looking between her brothers, then to the paper bag in Sam's hand. "Okay. We know you're scared, that you can't tell who's a shifter and who's human. And you know that silver burns shifters, right? Right. Well, this ring," he gestures to the ring that is always on his right hand. "This is silver. And Sammy, we got him a silver bracelet." Sam pulls a silver chain from the bag, as well as a small ring. "And this here, this is for you. A silver ring. So, if you're ever not sure whether someone's human or not, you simply shake their hand. And as long as me and Sammy have our silver on, you'll always know it's really us. Sound good?"

Meg nodded slowly, watching as Sam put his chain on, letting Dean wiggle the ring onto her finger. She fiddled with it, spinning it round, getting used to the feel of it. She leant her head back against Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her brother's had gone to all this effort just so she'd feel safe. Dean smiled at her.

"You don't have to thank us, sweetheart. We're gonna look after you. Always." Dean said softly, rubbing her arm soothingly. Sam smiled at her, too, taking her hand as she reached out for him. "We're gonna take a few days off, okay? No hunting this week. Anything you wanna do?"

Meg thought for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. "Hmmm.... Disney World?" Sam and Dean exchanged a nervous glance.

"Maybe not Disney World... we could find a carnival or something though." Dean said. Meg sighed softly. She really wanted to go to Disney.

"Okay. Can I ride the ghost train?" she asked. "Oh, and the dodgems. And can we get cotton candy? Or popcorn! I wonder if they sell candy apples?" Meg rambled on, her mood lifting, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Sam and Dean shared a smile, glad they could ease her worry, if only for a short while. She still didn't sleep well, waking up screaming most nights, insisting the kept a light on. She didn't like to be alone, or be too far from her brothers.

But this morning, she was excited about something. She was bouncing on Dean's knee, talking about food, mostly, but also about stuffed toys and games and fairground rides. Dean put a gentle hand on her head, trying to stop the bouncing.

"Easy, tiger." he said with a laugh. Then she asked the dreaded question.

"Can I choose the music in the car?" Dean sighed. So much for the house rules.

"Fine. Just this once." he said.

But he was lying. All three of them knew it. Meg Winchester could choose the music in the Impala whenever she damn well pleased. She was the only person in the world whom the house rules didn't apply to.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cakehole; Meg wins them both over with a gap-toothed smile and a glimmer in her eyes.

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆

this is very much not proofread lol

thx for reading! lmk if you'd like to join the tag list :)

@podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

[engrm]

"Hey Johnny? Do you think pigeons have feelings?"

🐝  *  ―  𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝒀 𝑹𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺. ( ACCEPTING. )

lips   almost   curl   into   a   grimace   at   the   question   as   his   mind   flips   and   flaps   with   a   ton   of   replies   he   could   eagerly   give   in   this   moment,   anything   that   would   make   vale   shut   the   fuck   up   with   the   midnight   ramblings   of   a   mad   person.   but   for   once,   johnny   doesn't   allow   the   displeasure   to   show   (   look   at   that,   he's   learning   self-control   !   )   on   his   face,   but   does   let   out   one   lingering,   dramatic   ass   sigh.   "   only   you   would   think   about   somethin'   so   fuckin'   useless.   "   arms   unfold   from   across   his   chest   and   the   engram-rocker   is   suddenly   standing   near   the   bookshelf,   metallic   digits   hovering   over   a   particular   datashard   that   vale   had   thrown   so   carelessly   to   the   side   after   finding   it   on   jig-jig   street,   assuming   it   to   be   another   nomad   recipe   randomly   discarded   in   the   oddest   of   places.

       "   those   feathered   fuckers   had   more   than   just   feelin's,   but   also   enough   damn   diseases   to   give   the   sewer   rats   a   run   for   their   money   on   who   could   nearly   wipe   out   night   city   the   fastest.   tough   call,   yeah,   just   wipin'   'em   outta   existence   like   that,   but..   "   he   suddenly   trails   off,   the   conversation   hitting   home   with   their   current   situation   and   another   sigh   fills   the   small   space   of   the   apartment.   the   fact   that   he   even   has   to   think   so   deeply   about   birds   makes   him   want   to   put   a   cig   out   using   the   moisture   from   his   fucking   eyeballs.   impossible,   he   knows,   yet   it   would   be   a   lot   less   irritating   than   the   topic   at   hand.   "   point   is,   it   doesn't   matter   whether   or   not   they   had   feelin's   because   they're   dead   and   gone.   a   fuckin'   shit-stain   on   the   timeline   like   the   rest   of   us.   "   johhny   snaps,   his   tone   holding   a   sharper   edge   than   usual.

[tea-cat-arts]

Wasn't he also canonically a straight A student though? And even back when he was 15, he was doing both his and Nie Huaisang's homework and receiving high scores + in his very first interaction with Lan Qiren, it's established he both knows all the cultivation stuff he's supposed to and processes it to a degree he's already trying to build off it and invent new methods.

Also, 5 paragraph essays every week? Idk if that's a cultural thing or if it's a general Ed vs advanced classes thing, but that just wasn't a thing where I went to highschool, so idk what you're talking about there. We more did 3 page research papers every month

Also, wwx was an artist even back when he was 15 (drawing/painting was confirmed, idk if flute playing was), so I'm still convinced he'd be vehemently against generative AI

To like a character means to accurately understand their flaws. Modern au Nie Huaisang would use chat gpt to write his essays for him, and I don't have to like that fact to know that it's true.

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Teacher's Always Right

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

Notes: Very self-indulgent of me as someone who teaches teenagers for a living and regularly gets questioned on my relationship status. They really do bully you (affectionately).

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You're in the middle of teaching your high schoolers about the fur trade in colonial Canada, mid-speech, arms spread wide as you gesture to your powerpoint when a teenage voice interrupts you.

"Miss, are you married?" It's David, sat at the back, legs stretched out as far as he can reach them. He's ironically enough wearing a Canucks jersey, specifically Number 43...a very, very familiar number to you. As is the question. In your years of teaching this isn't the first time you've been interrupted to be questioned on your relationship status, in fact it happens multiple times a year. Each set of students eager to know why you're a miss and if you'll be a mrs soon and are going to be leaving them to have a baby. When you were single, the questions were usually why?

"No." You've gotten rather good at deflecting or at least not letting slip the reality of your relationship, usually finding out you're not single is enough for them, but there's something about David's attitude that screams persistant curiosity. It makes you wonder why you bother teaching your subject at all when he's more curious about your love life than History itself

"Do you have boyfriend?"

"Yes, does this have anything to do with British colonisation or the fur trade or....?" You lean back on your desk, board pen landing gently on the surface, knowing that you're not going to be free of this conversation for at least another 2 minutes.

"What's your boyfriend do?" You breathe a deep sigh and look around the room, you don't want to get into who your boyfriend is. It's not like its a well known fact that you're dating the captain of the Vancouver Canucks and you try to keep it that way. Not because you're ashamed but because its your private life, school and home, those are as separate as you can make them. It would be impossible to do that if everyone was talking about your relationship, although you know eventually it'll become more public.

Stacy from one of the desk by the windows chimes in this time, curiosity peaked, dragging her away from her current hobby of staring out the window in boredom, "C'mon, miss, it can't be that bad? What? Is he like unemployed or something?" She says while chewing loudly on a wad of gum.

"Gum in the bin, Stacy." Her chewing stops and she slumps as she stomps her way to your classroom bin, spitting the gum in with a roll of her eyes.

"So? Is he unemployed?" You decide to answer the question, only because Stacy actually did what you said this time. You hated gum in the classroom, mostly because it always ended up on the bottom of your shoes and made them stick to the floor as you walked. You wouldn't mind it so much if they could all just throw it away normally.

"No. He's got a job, a good job." A really good job, a ridiculously good job actually. You didn't talk money with Quinn much, but the reality was that he made an amount in a year that you would never make in a life time as a teacher.

"Sooo???" David interjects, leaning forward now in his seat, clearly not happy enough to just know your boyfriend isn't some unemployed bum.

"He's a hockey player."

"Like beer league?"

"No. Like NHL." You watch your classes faces in what feels like slow motion, the series of disbelieving looks, wide eyes and raised eyebrows that are quickly followed by a chorus of objections and claims that you can't be telling the truth.

"Nah, no way! You're not here, teaching us, and dating a guy who makes millions, nah." It's actually frustrating, it shouldn't be. You've literally had students throw tables at you and yet, the idea that they think you are a liar is what makes you frustrated. Is it really that hard to believe that you enjoy your job and don't want to scrounge off of your pro-athlete boyfriend? Or that hard to believe that you managed to snag a pro-athlete in the first place?

"You don't believe me?"

"Nah, like if you are, he's gotta be in some really bad team in the US." You're already formulating a plan to prove to your students that you're not lying and not dating a shit NHL player. Sure, the plan involves a lot more work for you, but the idea is in your head and you can't help but think that it'll be worth it.

"He's a Canuck." You smirk a little, knowing the mention of the local team would get a response. Most of the kids you teach go to at least one game a year or watch it on TV. Some have even seen you at the games, but you always sit in the stands like a regular fan. Mostly because Quinn can't really talk to you anyway when he's locked into a game. You'd serve as more of a distraction if you sat front and centre every game.

"No, no way!" David stands, slamming his hands on his desk, "You're lying!" Half the class echo his claims that you must be lying and it makes you even more determined to prove them wrong. Do you really need to prove to a bunch of teenagers that you're dating an NHL player? No, do you want to? Absolutely.

"Fine, don't believe me, but i'm not lying. I'm dating a Vancouver Canuck."

It takes a little to get them all back on track with the lesson but you manage it. Although you're just as distracted. The moment the bell goes to signal lunch break and your classroom empties, you're on your phone calling your boyfriend, even though you know he's probably in the middle of practice.

He answers on the second ring, the sound of the rink in the background loud and clear as pucks hit the sideboards and skates scratch up the ice.

"Hey, baby, everything okay?" It's unusual for you to call him in the work day and you can hear the worry in his voice, even if he'll pretend he's not worried at seeing your name pop up when you should be working.

"Hey, I'm fine, don't worry...but...you know how you love me?" You fiddle with a little wooden bear that sits on your desk. Quinn bought you it after finding out your favourite animals were any type of bear, it's left ear is broken off and it's got a little bit of red paint where it fell on a floor one time, but you love it anyway.

"Uh huh?" The worry in his voice gives out to amusement at realising you're after something. On his end Quinn is stood at the bench watching the guys run drills, Tocc giving him a look as if to say 'hurry up'.

"And you know how you want to always make me happy?" He smiles at the faux innocent voice you put on, as if he'd deny you anything.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" There's zero hesitation, typical Quinn really, if you want something you've got it, if you need him to do something he's agreeing before all the terms are laid out. He's lucky you don't abuse that sort of power really, he'd spoil you completely if you let him.

"I need you to help me organise a school trip to see you guys practice and meet you all, so that I can prove to my students that I am actually dating an NHL player because they're calling me a liar and I will not be called a liar by teenagers who gaslight me all the time!" The faux innocent voice gives way to your rapid ramble, annoyance riding your tone as you pace across the front of your classroom.

You're greeted firstly by his loud and genuine laugh, so loud that it makes you pull the phone away from your ear. It takes a solid minute for Quinn to stop laughing, and he can see the looks he's getting from the ice, Brock throws him a questioning eyebrow raise, Petey perks his head up at the sound of his captain actually laughing that hard.

It's the dead silence on your end that makes him stop, "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes! They're telling me i'm lying and I will not be called a liar!"

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He runs a hand through his hair, before leaning against the side of the bench, "Your students don't believe you're dating a canuck, so you need me to help you organise a school trip-"

"For free!" You interrupt, knowing you won't get permission for a trip that costs the school anything more than a few buses and fuel costs, school funding being what it is.

"For free, to prove that you're dating me?" There are easier ways, Quinn thinks, to prove this. Like, him posting a picture of you together on the internet or him kissing you in front of the arena at a game, but it's kind of cute how much you're affronted by your students calling you a liar. It also sounds way more fun.

"Yup, is that...is that too much to ask? I'm being silly aren't I?" He hears it in your tone, the way you seem to start second guessing yourself, can hear you tapping a fingernail against your desk, probably messing with the little bear figurine he got you all those years ago.

"A little silly, but for you? I think I can pull some strings, honey."

You know Quinn will say yes to most things you ask, but you hadn't actually expected him to agree this time. It had felt too big, too much. Your normal requests were small, something like asking if he could get you a doughnut on his way home or could he put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"You serious?"

"Yeah, i'm serious." It takes a beat before your almost squealing in delight down the phone at him, the realisation that he's actually saying yes hitting and he can't help but laugh even as he pulls the phone away from his ear.

"I love you! Have I told you that today?" Your voice is sweet and happy, brighter than it was before. It makes him want to always say yes to you, the way you light up like a christmas tree.

"Mmm, not since 6am this morning."

"Well, I love you and you are the absolute best boyfriend I've ever had and I will never take you for granted."

He can see Tocc motioning him over, telling him without words that its time for the call to end and get back to being captain. Part of him just wants to keep talking with you, rare as it is to get to do during a working day, but he has responsibilities just like you do.

"I have to go, baby, I have practice...but we'll talk about this later, okay?"

He knows his evening is going to be spent planning out what you want this trip to look like before he goes away and tries to make it happen, but he doesn't mind. Anything to make his baby happy. Even if that is trying to prove a bunch of teenagers wrong.

Between the two of you it takes about 2 months to organise the trip. A lot of that time simply spent getting risk assessments done, approval from your administration sorted and organising parental consent. It also takes you getting the sports teacher on side because it was becoming difficult to find a justification as a History teacher for why you wanted to take kids to meet some hockey players. By the time you've organised it, most of your students have forgotten your claims. You have not forgotten their belief that you are a liar, however.

"I can't believe you managed to get us a trip to Rogers Arena! To meet the Canucks! Best teacher ever!" The hockey boys in your class are especially stoked, many of them playing in junior teams and following the Canucks closely as their team of choice. David is no exception to that rule, arriving to the school bus in so many bits of Vancouver merchandise that you're unsure how he's managing to walk weighed down as he is.

"I told you, my boyfriend plays for them." You remind him, ticking him off the register of kids and ushering him up into the bus.

"Miss, we all know that's not true." He turns to you just as he's about to dispear to find his seat. The scepticism written all over his face.

It makes you shake your head, waiting for the moment the puck drops.

The entire ride to the stadium features your students making fun of you for saying your boyfriend was a canuck, you let it slide simply because you're looking forward to seeing them eat their words. They think its funny right now, but you know you're getting the last and final laugh.

You're met at the entrance by, surprisingly, Tocc, who greets you with a warm hug, "Hey, how you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you for having us, Tocc." You like Tocc, he's a good coach and you like that he cares about how the guys are as people not just how they perform. You also can see how much Quinn appreciates him as coach, so you have a soft spot for the scary looking guy.

"No problem," You can feel the weight of 50 eyes on you, all varying shades of disbelief as they realise you seem a little too familiar when interacting with the Head Coach and its only the beginning. You can't help but smile simply because they're starting to realise that maybe they fucked up. Maybe their doubt was misplaced, maybe you actually were telling the truth all along.

"Are Quinn and the guys on the rink or in the locker room?"

"Rink, easier to fit all the kids, but we've got to get them booted up first." The famililarity with which you refer to Quinn and the guys, does not go past David and Stacy both of whom share a look that screams 'don't tell me that she actually knows them...'.

It takes a bit of time to get all 50 kids in skates, although at least 20 of them bring their own, as do you. You're not much of a skater, but dating Quinn meant you couldn't avoid him buying you a decent pair for family skate and the few times he manages to drag you on the ice each year.

You're about to put your own on when Quinn makes his way over to you clearly having just come off the ice, guards on his skates and hair messy from his helmet. He waves briefly at some of the kids before reaching you, taking your skates in hand without hesitation.

"Y'know I can do it myself, right?"

"When have I ever let you do your own skates? Besides, I thought you wanted the last laugh?" He nods his head in the direction of your students who stand gaping at the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks putting your foot in a skate and putting said skate between his thighs to help him tighten the laces with care. Not something one does for a strange teacher they don't know.

"I'm really enjoying myself already. The whole ride they were giving me all sorts of hell about it, and now I can see their little brains working hard to figure out if I was actually telling the truth or not."

You watch Quinn work, finishing tying off your first skate before reaching for the other, his hands are sure on your calf as he slips your foot into it. "The guys are looking forward to it, think this might be their favourite practice of the year. You might be their favourite WAG now."

"All I had to do was bring a bunch of teenagers to the rink to get them to love me?" Quinn stops mid lace pull, smirk firmly in place as he looks at you from underneath his eyelashes.

"Y'know they loved you already, right? Pretty sure Petey is your number one fan."

"That's because I bribe him with sweets." Specifically his favourite sour candy which makes his eyes water. The more sour the better.

Quinn huffs out a laugh, tying off your laces before patting your foot and setting it back on the ground. His hands reach out to help you to your feet and linger on yours a little longer than is strictly necessary.

"You ready for this?"

"Can't back out now, so I guess I have to be." There's a slight bubbling of nerves under your skin, the sense that your students might not think this is cool and instead think that you're undeserving of your relationship, but you shrug it off. After all, they're kids, their opinion on your relationship is genuinely not important.

"See you on the rink?"

"See you there." You watch him walk away and try to ignore the buzz of chatter you can hear from students, commenting on the fact that Quinn did your skates for you.

You get them registered, orderly and help them file onto the rink, the less sure of the bunch buddied up with someone who had more experience skating to avoid 50 kids bowling each other over on the ice. You did not want to deal with a pile of kids flat on the ice after knocking each other over, the paper work would be ridiculous.

You stand back and just watch. The clear awe on their faces as they step out onto the ice, the large rink impressive any day let alone for kids who had never stepped foot on a rink that size. It makes you smile, knowing you're contributing to their memories, providing something great even if it all started out of petty spite. Even if they don't believe you, you feel good knowing they're getting to enjoy this experience.

You skate nearer to the front, Brock and Petey giving you a bright smile and wave, a variety of nods of recognition from the others. Little things that once again tell your students you know these men better than they expected you to.

"Hey, guys. Welcome to Rogers Arena, it's great to have you here," Quinn starts the introduction, smoothly sliding forward on his skates and gesturing to the line of players as he proceeds to introduce each them by name and position, before finally getting to himself, "And i'm Quinn Hughes, Captain of the team,"

"And Norris trophy winner" You chime in, arms crossed as you watch your boyfriend do what he's best at. He's good with fans especially kids, even if he's terrible with the after game reporters.

He turns to you with a bright grin, "Hi, baby," You can see the twinkle in his eye as he drops the petname, you know he does it on purpose to get the reaction that he does from your students as a wave of muttering and murmuring goes through the little crowd.

"Hi, honey, thanks for having us." You throw it right back, more sickly sweet than you'd usually be, playing up to your little audience who practically gasp.

"Anything for my girl."

"No fucking way!" "What the hell?!" You watch each face drop, mouths open, eyes wide. Watch David as he swears loudly face aghast, almost horrified at the realisation that he might have been making fun of Quinn Hughes' girlfriend the entire time he'd been calling his teacher a liar.

"Language, David!" You tell him off even as you smirk, watching the murmurs die off as Quinn and Boeser talk the kids through skating techniques and how best to shoot the puck, the different techniques and ways to hit the puck with the stick. Half of it makes little sense to you but its nice to watch how the kids get engaged, how Quinn takes over a leadership and teaching role.

You mostly take a step back throughout, watching your students learn from Quinn and the guys, but every now and then Quinn finds you under the pretense of fixing your stance or giving you a tip or piece of advice.

Like now, as his hands reach out, fixing how you hold the hockey stick, foot kicking yours just slightly further apart to adjust your stance.

"So, think they believe you now?" You look over at your students, the joy they're having learning hockey from some of the best, but also at the looks they keep sending your way. You're certain they've learnt their lesson, the teacher is always right, at least when it comes to her own love life.

"I think I am offically the coolest teacher in school, so thanks for that." You reach up and kiss Quinn on the cheek, quick and chaste, nothing inappropriate considering you're both at work and surrounded by kids, but it's enough to make his cheeks flush red.

He rubs the back of his neck with that boyish smile of his and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, "Well, I couldn't have a bunch of teenagers calling my girlfriend a liar."

You're so stuck in the moment with him that you don't notice David and his friends until they're upon you and calling out to Quinn. The picture of respect when talking to who might just be their new favourite NHL star.

"Hey, Mr Hughes?" Conveniently half the kids surrounding you are the ones who claimed you must have been dating some beer league level player or some guy from the Chicago Blackhawks.

"You can call me Quinn, Mr Hughes is my dad. What's up, dude?"

"So when are we going to be calling teach Mrs Hughes?" It's your turn to flush, face warming harshly as Quinn's practically asked when he's proposing to you by a spotty 15 year old.

"David!" You might never be able to call your future child David at this rate, far too familiar with calling the name in admonishment. Definitely no David's in your future. Add that name to the list of names you can't use.

David looks at you with a wide grin, braces on full display. "What? I'm tryin' a help you get that bank!" It's actually mortifying, you thank your lucky stars that Quinn knows you're not actually after his money because if a 15 year old were to ruin your relationship you might actually become a super villain.

"I do not need a 15 year old wingman!"

"Baby, it's alright." Quinn wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side as if that will sooth the embarrassment of having a 15 year old try to help you get a rich husband, "Uh, to answer your question, it won't be too long now, bud."

"So, like 6 months? A year? Next week?"

"Oh my god..." You turn your face into Quinn's shoulder, your groan muffled by his jersey. You're certain you might actually pass away from embarrassment, even if deep down there's a little thrill in your stomach that Quinn basically just said he's going to propose to you sooner rather than later.

"I gotta keep it a secret, sorry, man! Gotta keep Mrs Hughes on her toes." Your toes curl at the way he calls you Mrs Hughes, a small smile on your face hidden by his jersey.

A little back and forth is exchanged before David and his friends decide their bored and skate off towards Boeser who's going over the finer points of 'get to the net' and 'just shoot the puck'.

You mumble into Quinn's shoulder as his hands run up and down your back in soothing strokes, "Are you really ganging up on me with a bunch of teenagers?"

"Hey, I just told you that I want to marry you and you're mad at me?" He's not serious though, grinning as pushes you back to look at him. It's adorable, the pout on your face as you glare up at him for making fun of you. Although, you're always adorable to him, so maybe he's biased,

"Correction, you told a 15 year old that you wanted to marry me."

"Okay, okay, I see the problem." He shakes his head solemnly, hands on your shoulders as he lowers his voice just a touch, "Baby, just so you know I want to marry you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" You watch as he stands, mouth agape at your casual response. You're sure he was expecting you to giggle or squeal, but you're determined to mess with him a little.

"That's...nice to know?" You grin at him even as internally you're screaming because your boyfriend wants to marry you and you definitely want to marry him.

"You're such a fucking nerd."

"You're dating a teacher, that's like my whole thing. I'm a professional nerd."

"Yeah... it's cute. It's why I want to marry you."

"Quinn!" You shove him away with a laugh. Maybe your students won't be embarrassing you anymore, but you think you might have a lifetime of Quinn doing it instead. Somehow that doesn't seem like the worst idea.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holiday request: single dad

Bruce admits that he is unsure of the seriousness of his relationship with Daniel Fenton. He had never meant to run into the man after the parent-teacher conference. Yes, his introduction had a breath of fresh air, but Bruce was not naive.

It may have all been a trick, and Fentong was merely waiting to try to get closer to him or his money later on. He has always been optimistic about the good in man's hearts, but Bruce is also familiar with the equal darkness there.

That's why spotting the man in a busy cafe was such a shock. Bruce had gone on a walk between meetings, wanting something sweet to tie him over for the follow-up one.

He walked into a random family-owned place with a spicy smell. Bruce had been browsing the menu when he heard the soft melody for Fairy Tale Ending by Dumpty Humpty. Looking around a pillar, he found Daniel Fenton bobbing his head to the music while tapping away on his old beat-up laptop.

The cashier sees him staring and smiles apologetically. "We don't usually have people here, so we let him play his music. If it bothers you, I can ask him to get his headphones on."

"Oh no. I actually like the band." He assures her, paying for his drink and dropping a ten in her tip jar. He glances at Fenton again, then points, "What is he drinking?"

"Gingerbread Latte and a chocolate croissant," She responds easily, and at that moment, Bruce knows she hasn't recognized him. Not that he expects everyone on the street to point him out in a crowd, but it does mean she won't take pictures of him.

She doesn't know the photos could get her some money from down-on-their-luck gossip rags. He considers Fenton a little longer before nodding at her. "Can I have a gingerbread Latte? The exact same as his."

"You got it."

Bruce doesn't know what urges him to approach Fenton with the two drinks- though the cashier giving him a wink might have clued him in and clears his throat just as Fenton gets to the chorus. Blue eyes blink up at him. "Oh, Mr. Wayne. Hi."

"Good afternoon," Bruce starts, which causes Fenton to snort. With good-natured humor, he grins up at Bruce, and Bruce feels his intrigue rise just a few notches higher.

"Good afternoon to you as well, milord." The man says, one hand over his chest, bending his neck a little in a mock bow. "Has thy golden carriage brought to thy to me?"

"Having a golden carriage is a privilege for only the Roayl family. My carriage is made of silver, I assure you." Bruce laughs, stepping closer. This is different from the cashier. Fenton knows who he is, but he simply doesn't care.

Bruce is merely Bruce to him instead of the wealthiest man in the city and the country. It's....well, it's liberating, like being reminded that there are good and wonderful things still left in life. If this is how Fenton makes him feel only after the second meeting, what else could Bruce experience if he formed a bond with him?

Fenton's eyes catch the extra drink Bruce holds, lighting up when the other man offers it to him. He accepts the cup, offering the chair opposite from him. When Brue sits down, he asks about what he was writing where. Fenton admits to being a fantasy novelist and moves the conversation to what they enjoy reading.

Bruce arrived late to his next meeting but felt lighter, and a phone number scribbled on the back of his hand just like when he was a teenager and traveling states away to attend Dumpty Humpty Concerts.

The rest, like they say, is history.

Danny had quickly become a part of his life. It was odd how giggly the other man made him feel. Danny was a good balance to Bruce's brooding. Ironically, while Bruce believed the best in humans, keeping a calm center persona, Danny was cynical and bubbly. He assumed people were terrible, but there was no reason to give them any mind, and he was unapologetic for being himself.

After their third date, Bruce has worked up the nerve to ask Danny to be his boyfriend, only to have the other man laugh. "I thought we were boyfriends?"

"I didn't want to assume."

"Well, aren't you a gentleman? Look at those soft hands. You've never seen a day of work. Gentle-handed man," Danny teased while watching the people around them. Bruce knew there wasn't any real danger, but Danny had a habit of watching their surroundings in public places.

He didn't like being caught unaware. Bruce thinks he's in love. The thing is, Bruce has thought that before, and every single time, his relationship had fallen through.

He had a hand in it, but that didn't mean his partners never broke his heart one way or another.

But this time, things would be different.

Dick had pointed it out when he ran into the two at the grocery store. Danny had invited him to help pick out dinner while Dani had been on an overnight field trip at the planetarium. His eldest had cornered him when he returned the next day, smiling widely.

"Danny seems excellent. He's like an undercover goth dating an undercover prep. You both are literally the opposite of each other and seem to like spending time around each other."

Bruce wasn't entirely sure whether it was a bad or good thing, but he was happy that his kids approved of him dating again. He did get a little nervous about Damian, only to find out his youngest had come to idolize Dani, and that only made him hope the relationship would work out even more.

He could see it now, Danny tapping away on his laptop while Dani painted next to him in the Wayne Manor yard- Both preferred to be in nature- on cozy weekends. His children crowding the breakfast table while Danny sang songs from bands he'd never heard.

Birthday candles are being blown out with the cheering family. Christmas mornings followed the candle lighting of Hanukkah on the previous eight nights. Graduation ceremonies that will bring Bruce to tears despite claiming he has trained too hard to do so. Boyfriends and girlfriends, the two could tag team into scaring while their children regretted ever bringing them over for an introduction.

Danny would be the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes before bed and the first thing he saw in the morning light.

Bruce wasn't sure how their relationship was going, but he hoped, oh, he hoped.

[leahwllmsn]

so high school

alexia putellas x reader

You know two things about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia Putellas is the school’s football captain and troublemaker. From showing up late to most of her classes, to getting caught smoking under the bleachers—usually when the name Alexia Putellas is mentioned, it’s not anything good.

That’s why the second thing you know about Alexia Putellas is that you have to stay far, far away from her.

You are the picture perfect high school student. Straight A’s, president of the student council, president of the debate team, all the teachers love you, and all the students envy you. That’s why you promised yourself that you’ll never associate yourself with someone like Alexia Putellas.

It worked out well for years. You’ve been in the same school ever since you were kids but you have never said as much as a ‘hello’ to the brunette.

You’re happy about that.

Staying as far away as possible from Alexia Putellas means you will never get in trouble.

So with the years of experience of avoiding Alexia Putellas, you don't know how you get to this point. Maybe the universe wants to teach you a lesson, maybe the universe just doesn't like you, or maybe you have simply run out of luck. Because one moment you're taking down notes and the next, your history teacher has paired you up with the person you swear you’ll never interact with.

When class is over and everyone rushes out, you go up to the teacher because this is unfair, Alexia Putellas isn’t even in class today. And when he answers your complaints with a shrug and a tone so final that you know he won’t change his mind, you know you’re screwed.

-

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither,” your best friend sighs, unwrapping her lunch. “Can’t believe Ona is sick today and I have to put up with your ass alone.”

You roll your eyes. You’re sitting at your usual table at the cafeteria, the spot where Ona usually sits empty. “You would be nicer to me if you knew what just happened to me.”

“Did you get detention?”

“As if,” you scoff. “Now that I think about it, this is worse.”

Aitana turns to look at you, eyebrow raising in question. “What could be worse than that in your standards?”

“This stupid history project.”

“You calling an assignment stupid? That’s a first.”

You let out a sigh, placing your head on the table. “It’s because I got paired up with Alexia Putellas.”

“No way.”

You don't have to look at Aitana to know that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You grunt in reply, your friends always seem to make fun of you every time you’re miserable about something.

“You know, y/n,” Aitana nudges you, causing you to lift your head. “She’s actually not that bad.”

You furrow your brows. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Obviously,” Aitana looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “She’s captain of the football team. I’m on the football team. Or did you forget?”

“Right,” you grimace as you remember that Alexia Putellas is Aitana’s captain. “Wait, but you’re actually friends with her outside of the field?” You shudder at the thought.

Aitana rolls her eyes. “You sound so dramatic right now.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re friends with Alexia Putellas.”

“Stop saying her name like that,” Aitana laughs. “Sure, she brings trouble wherever she goes, but she’s not as bad as people made her out to be. And she’s a fantastic footballer.”

“She’s bad news,” you cross your arms. “Do you remember that time when she showed up to school one morning with her face so bruised up, all we could see were bandages?”

“Yeah,” Aitana says casually, taking a bite out of her lunch. “She got into a fight with someone from the men’s team.”

“Exactly!” you slap Aitana’s arm repeatedly. “She started a fight with the captain of the football team. She’s insane.”

“Men’s football team,” Aitana corrects your statement. “And was it the captain? I swore I remember it being that good-for-nothing defender. Anyway, I’m sure she had her reasons.”

You shrug. “She’s still bad news.”

“And she’s also your history project partner,” Aitana grins at you. “I have her number if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you sigh, once again placing your head on the table. “I’ll go look for her after school.”

“Cheer up, grumpy. I have a feeling you’ll like her.”

You scoff. “I think you’re way off, but sure.”

-

tana: oni, first day without you here and y/n is a grumpy mess

y/n: I’m in pain. Stfu.

oni: what’d I miss

tana: y/n’s on her way to talk to alexia

oni: ????

y/n: It’s not what you think.

y/n: I have to talk to her about our history project.

oni: ...goodluck?

y/n: Thanks, I need it.

tana: vry dramatic

-

You have never imagined yourself to be where you are right now. Everyone knows that under the bleachers is the spot where people go when they want to do things that they don’t want the teachers to see—like smoking, or maybe making out with someone. Or other things, you don't really know, because you have never been here.

And you won’t ever step foot in here if it’s not because of Alexia Putellas.

The second you step under the bleachers, the faint smell of smoke wafts up your nose and you have to blink back a couple of times because it’s not as bright as you expected. You figure it’s probably because it’s going to rain soon.

As you takes more steps forward, you realize that no one was there and that maybe you should’ve accepted Aitana’s offer of Alexia Putellas’ number.

You sigh and pull out your phone from the pocket of your jeans. You’re about to press the call button on Aitana’s contact when a voice startles you.

“Looking for me?”

You turn around and standing in front of you is the person you’ve been looking for.

(And you don't know why but the sight of Alexia Putellas in her leather jacket and messy brown hair is making your heart beat faster than it should.)

“I am.” you reply, walking towards her.

“The y/n l/n is looking for me? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

(You hate the way Alexia Putellas’ smirk doesn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.)

“You weren’t in history class today,” you cross your arms. “Why?”

“So you’re worried about me.”

“Why would I be?” you narrow your eyes at the brunette. “We’re partners for a project.”

“Cool.”

You want to scream at how frustrated you are at this whole thing. Alexia Putellas doesn’t care about her grades, she has proven that many times when teachers have always used her as an example of having multiple failing grades. You wonder if they’d expel her if she isn’t the superstar captain of the women’s football team.

“Look,” you rub your temple. “I’m not thrilled about this either—”

“Who says I’m not thrilled?”

“You’re Alexia Putellas, I highly doubt you’d be thrilled about an assignment.”

“Maybe for once I’m thrilled because I have you as a partner.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “As I was saying, you probably don’t want to do this, right? Which is fine, because what I’ll do is that I’ll get it done and I’ll still put in your name.”

Alexia gives you a confused look. “So you’ll do all the work?”

“Exactly. We don’t have to interact at all, problem solved.”

“You don’t want to hang with me?” Alexia pouts. “I’m sad, y/n.”

And you’re starting to feel the heat rising to your cheeks—no, it's not because of the pout on Alexia Putellas’ face showing just how plump her lips are and it's definitely not because of the sudden thought that flashes in your mind about how those lips would feel on your own. No, you will argue that it's not because of all that. It’s because it has started raining and it’s making it even stuffier under the bleachers.

“I’m going to leave now,” you announce. “It was good to talk to you.”

When you walk past her, you don’t expect her to grab you by the wrist (and you don’t expect Alexia Putellas’ touch to be so gentle).

“Wait,” Alexia starts. “We’re partners, right? I should at least contribute to something.”

You look down at your wrist, still seeing Alexia’s hand around it. “Uhm, I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Alexia lets go of her hold (and you would be lying if you say you don't feel the slight disappointment creeping in). “It’s not because of that,” Alexia clarifies. “I just want to do it.”

You still look unconvinced and Alexia must’ve noticed too, because she rolls her eyes and murmurs, “Is my reputation really that bad that me wanting to participate in my own assignment is such a surprise?”

“Yes? It’s a two-month long project. Even I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”

Alexia ignores your answer and proceeds to pull out her phone. She unlocks it and hands it to you.

You look at her questioningly and Alexia sighs. “Put your number in.”

“My number?”

“How should we contact each other about the project?”

You stay quiet for a moment, taking in Alexia’s face. She looks determined and it’s weird to you because you figure she would just accept your offer of doing all the work for her. “You’re serious about this.”

“Just put your number and we’ll figure a schedule out.”

You’re still looking at Alexia skeptically but slowly reaches out to take the phone and put your number in nonetheless.

And when you see that her phone wallpaper is a picture of her smiling (adorably) at the camera next to her dog, you don’t think that’s how a troublemaker should look like. You wonder just how much you know about Alexia Putellas.

-

Their first meeting doesn’t go well—you expected this.

You agreed to meet at the library after school the next day and you have been sitting there, waiting for an hour until you decide to give up because stupid Alexia Putellas is nowhere to be found. You are so pissed.

You get up and slings your backpack over your shoulder. You make it to the parking lot and are about to unlock your car when you hear a voice call out to you.

“y/n!”

You don't have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to. It’s the same voice you heard yesterday under the bleachers (and the voice that somehow made it to your dream last night, but you will never admit this).

You ignore the calls and keep on walking. You’re a few steps away from your car when suddenly Alexia catches up to you and jumps in front of you, making you jump slightly and halting your steps.

“Hey.” Alexia says, trying to catch her breath.

You cross your arms, scowling at her. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Ten minutes is late, an hour just means you never wanted to come in the first place.”

Alexia winces. “I do want to come, I swear. I overslept.”

You look unamused. “It’s 3 p.m.”

“I know,” Alexia flashes a sheepish smile. “I decided to take a nap while I wait for your debate thing to end, but I overslept.”

And you would have never believed that excuse if it’s not for the groggy voice and the pillow face she’s wearing. So you just sigh and motion for her to follow you as you walk towards the bleachers because that’s the only place you could think of going since the library is closing soon.

-

“I really am sorry for making you wait.”

You’re sitting at the top of the bleachers, you at the tallest step with your laptop on your lap and Alexia looking up at you from one step below.

“It’s fine,” your replies were short. You’re still a little bit annoyed at the whole situation. If you could’ve picked a partner for history class, it would be Ona. Ona will never be late and Ona will never annoy you this much.

But the way that Alexia keeps on apologizing every few minutes and looking away with a pout on her face when you don't respond, you’re also sure that Ona will never make your heart flutter the way it does around Alexia Putellas—and you don’t want to think of what this could mean.

-

After an hour of sitting uncomfortably under the hot sun, you figure out another thing about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia Putellas is incredibly smart and you’re surprised at how eloquent she is when she lists down everything she knows about the history of Catalonia.

“You fail almost all your classes.” you speak up.

“Yes,” Alexia nods. “What does that have to do with anything I just said?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”

Alexia grins at her. “Do you like surprises, y/n?”

“Uhm, I guess.” you stare back at her confused.

Alexia hums. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep on surprising you.”

You don't respond because you don’t know how to. So you focus your attention back to your laptop and try your best to type something down in order to take your mind off how Alexia Putellas is doing something to you and you’re not sure if it's a good thing or not.

-

Your next meeting starts off well. Alexia is early, you walk into the library to find the brunette already there, her usual leather jacket folded on the chair next to her.

It’s a week after your first meeting and you will never admit it, but you have been looking forward to this day for the whole week.

(It’s because you just want to get this project done, you would convince yourself.)

(Not because in the classes you have with Alexia, she always sits at the back when you sit at the front, so you never really get to see her.)

(No, it’s not because of this.)

“Hi, boss,” Alexia smiles at you. “I didn’t oversleep today.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say, sitting down and opening your bag to take out your laptop.

“I know you’re proud of me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile on your lips. “Where do you even take your naps?”

“Under the bleachers.”

“Seriously?” you raise your eyebrows. “That must be uncomfortable.”

Alexia shrugs. “There’s a bed.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“There’s this small mattress. I don’t know who it belongs to or why it’s there, but it’s there.”

You nod, a confused expression still on your face. “I see.”

“I can take you there sometime.”

You don't know if Alexia meant it in a flirty way, but judging by the smirk on her face, she did. So you just roll your eyes and type in the password to your laptop. “You should take me out to dinner first.”

“Okay, I will.” Alexia says it so nonchalantly and you wonder if Alexia’s stomach is filling up with butterflies too.

-

It’s not until the third meeting that you start to text each other with stuff unrelated to the project.

ale: did u know that chipmunks have 4 toes on their back paws but 5 toes on their front ones

y/n: No?

ale: well now u do :-)

y/n: Did you know that you look like you’re part of the chipmunk family?

ale: ???

ale: heeey

y/n: What’s up?

ale: nothin, just thinking about u

y/n: Why

ale: just because

y/n: Are you expecting me to say that I’m thinking about you too?

ale: you are? :D

y/n: No.

ale: whatever ;(

y/n: Why was the chipmunk late for work?

ale: did I miss a conversation somewhere

y/n: Because traffic was nuts.

ale: …

ale: I love it

And it’s not until the fifth meeting that you realize another thing about Alexia Putellas, and that is: Alexia Putellas makes you smile a lot.

You wonder what people think about when the stupid smile on your face appears every time you receive a text from her. Even Ona and Aitana have been pestering you non-stop about it and you’re running out of excuses as to why with every notification you receive, your lips seem to curve upwards automatically.

ale: u look beautiful

y/n: ?

ale: just stating what I see

y/n: Smooth talker. You’re not even here.

ale: I am, on ur right

y/n: Oh wow.

y/n: Aren’t you always out smoking under the bleachers during lunch?

ale: you pay attention :D

You stop once you read Alexia’s text because you do pay attention.

Suddenly, you can’t count on your fingers anymore about how many things you know about Alexia Putellas.

Alexia has a ‘resting bitch face’, that's one of the reasons why people are scared of her. She never smiles when she walks down the hallway, her face barely shows any emotion.

Alexia likes to intimidate people, she does that when people stare at her too long and she glares at them in return. And when they scurry away, she would smile in amusement.

Alexia likes to get into trouble, it’s like she purposely wants to get into trouble with how she picks a fight with someone every week and how she always talks back to the teacher.

Alexia Putellas is exactly how people paint her out to be—a reckless troublemaker who doesn’t care about anything and is always angry at the world about something.

But at the same time, you know that's not everything about her.

You know that Alexia is ridiculously talented at football. You’ve come to their matches enough to figure out that every time she touches the ball, it’s magic. You were there in support of Aitana and Ona, obviously. Not Alexia. (But your YouTube history being full of Alexia’s games may be because you were interested in staring at her. Not that you would admit it).

You know that Alexia is warm and gentle and she has different types of smiles. Alexia has a small smile every time she locks eyes with you in the hallways. Alexia has that smile that reaches her eyes when she laughs at something you say even though you’re pretty sure it’s not even that funny. Alexia has a wistful smile every time the day ends and you leave in your car and she leaves in hers.

You know that Alexia taps her foot repeatedly when she’s focusing on doing something. You know that Alexia has the attention span of a five year old because every five minutes, she would whine about how she’s hungry or how she’s getting tired of the library.

You know that Alexia is funny and she makes you laugh so much that you have lost track on how many times the librarian has told you to keep it down.

You know that Alexia is sweet and charming and she says things that make you want to run home and hide because your cheeks would always redden up.

You know that you like seeing a smile on Alexia’s face a thousand times more than the scowl she’s known to have.

ale: hey? why are u spacing out

And even though you feel that you now know everything about Alexia, you realize that you still don't know one thing about her.

You don’t know why Alexia is so different when she’s around you.

-

You are a problem-solver. That is one of the reasons why you’re such a good student—once you encounter a problem, you immediately think of ways to figure it out and most of the time, it’ll only take you a couple of hours to do so.

And so, you are baffled at how you still can’t figure out the mystery of Alexia Putellas.

You’ve spent most of your time together wondering why Alexia seems to smile more when you’re there or why no one but you sees the sparkle in Alexia’s eyes that is brighter than any stars out there, but the answer seems to never come to you.

So when your project has finally ended and you would no longer have your weekly meetings at the library, you should’ve noticed the dejected look on Alexia’s face and that should’ve given you a clue to the answer you have been so desperately searching for.

But apparently you’re not that smart after all, because once your last meeting ends, you bid Alexia goodbye and go home to spend the rest of your day watching Netflix.

And when Alexia doesn’t text you at night like she usually would, you don't think much of it and let yourself sleep instead.

-

You don't see Alexia the following week. She’s not in the cafeteria, or in the hallways, or even in the classes you share once you look to the back of the classroom where she usually sits.

Alexia doesn’t text you either and you know you should’ve text her first, but you figure Alexia is just busy so you don’t reach out.

And when you don't see Alexia in school for another week but Aitana and Ona see her at practice, you realize that Alexia has been avoiding you.

-

You have never been good with feelings. Especially if it involves someone who you have swore you would stay far, far away from.

So you have been ignoring all these feelings inside of you, ignoring the way your heart speeds up at the mention of Alexia, ignoring how your dreams are now filled with Alexia’s sweet face.

But it’s reached a point where you can’t ignore it anymore because the ache in your heart after not having heard from Alexia in weeks was getting bigger and bigger.

It’s that yearning in your chest that causes you to walk to Alexia’s spot under the bleachers in hopes that she’s there. And when you see her leaning against a pole, one hand in the pocket of her leather jacket and the other holding a cigarette, you finally admit that you might be in love with Alexia Putellas.

“Hi.”

You could see Alexia slightly jump in surprise at your voice. She turns around and her eyes widen when they lock with yours.

“y/n.” Alexia says, her tone clearly showing that she’s not expecting to see you.

“Are you avoiding me?” you jump straight to the point.

“What? No. No?” Alexia stammers, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. “What makes you think so?”

You simply scoff and step closer to her. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I know, you have straight A’s.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you glare at her. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

When Alexia doesn’t reply, you add in a whisper, “I miss you.”

Alexia still isn’t replying, she just keeps on staring at you with a look that you can’t comprehend.

A second later, when Alexia reaches forward and pulls your face towards her and you can taste the smoke on Alexia’s lips, you realize that the answer you’ve been searching for seems to be simpler than you anticipated.

-

Now you don’t remember why you promised yourself to stay as far away as possible from Alexia. And you don't know how you could be happy about never having spoken to Alexia before.

Because with the way Alexia picks you up in the classes you don’t have together just to walk you to your next class and the way Alexia always waits up for your debate club to end before driving you home, you can list down a hundred more reasons why you should always stay near to Alexia.

Because Alexia feels like sunshine and Alexia makes you feel like you’re always walking on clouds.

Now when the name Alexia Putellas is mentioned, you knows it’s everything good in the world all at once.

[checosbluespring]

secrets we keep (pt1) → mv1

max verstappen x perez!fem reader

genre: one night stand, teammates sister, pregnancy

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight spit play, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, pls let me know if i am forgetting anything

word count: 3.1k

song: too sweet - hozier

sidenote: hi everyone! finally a new fic is here and it's a max one! this is going to be a two parter, so keep an eye out for the next one! please let me know if y'all have any ideas or requests for a fic (I write for all drivers), also not beta read. hope you all enjoy <3

♡♡♡♡

The roars of the crowd were loud as Max crossed the finish line, followed closely by Sergio. For a second there you had thought your brother would overtake the world champion, but nonetheless he fought hard and gave the team what they wanted, a 1-2 finish. 

It wasn’t often you got to go to your brother's races, maybe only a handful a year but you were lucky to be able to get the time off to join your niece and nephews for the Japanese Grand Prix. Sergio would topple over if he knew you had the hots for his teammate. Every time you have met with Max, it’s been very cordial. Polite hellos, asking how life in Mexico is, what you have been up to since he last saw you. 

A part of you wondered why he was so timid with you. Was it because of Sergio? Being the baby of the family left him feeling protective of you, but you don’t think that would affect how Max interacted with you. I mean you barely saw him. 

Watching the pair on the podium set tears in your eyes. You were extremely proud of your big brother and his teammate. 

Your dad absolutely adored max and had invited him to join us for a celebratory dinner after the race. Which to your surprise he happily accepted. 

You were staying at the same hotel that both the bulls were at, so reconnecting for dinner would not be difficult. After the race you decided to head back to freshen up and change your clothes into something a little more fancy. At the race you were wearing a white tennis skirt with a red bull polo tucked in. For dinner you decided to wear a  black  over the shoulder dress that fit you perfectly. Finally ready you walk down and see that only Max is waiting in the lobby. Your stomach turns at the thought of being alone with him.

Picking his head up from looking down at his phone he notices you walking toward him and waves shyly. “Hi y/n, looks like it’s only us ready” he said in a tiny voice. You are always so used to him being outspoken it kinda scares you a little. “hi maxie, you know how my family is with time management, they should be down here soon” you said with a laugh, not even acknowledging the nickname that slipped from your mouth. 

A sudden tinge of pink washes over Max’s cheeks and you feel heat radiating up your neck. Act cool, you keep telling yourself but you are so nervous. Max was all you ever wanted in a guy. Handsome, sweet, confident, the list could go on. You knew deep down though your worlds would never clash well. You lived in Mexico with your parents - working as a teacher. Max lived in Monaco and raced for one of the best teams in formula one history, surrounded by models throwing themselves at him. You couldn’t blame them, you would do the same, if you thought you ever had a chance. 

“No worries, I always have to wait for Checo to come to our team meetings” he laughed. “I bet, if there’s one thing my brother isn’t know for it’s being on time, thank you for coming to dinner with us though, we really appreciate it, I know my dad and brother do a lot”

With a smirk on his face something shifts “oh just your dad and brother, not you?”. You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, just as you are about to open your mouth to respond, tiny roars make notice in the room and you almost fall at your nephew running to you, so you could pick him up. Silently you thank your nephew for the interruption. 

Dinner goes smoothly. You sat at the opposite end of the table with the kids, while your brother, dad, and max were deep in conversation. You swore that Max kept looking at you though, sneaking glances. 

As the check gets situated, all of you make your way out onto the busy streets of Japan. You hear your brother speak up “Y/N are you gonna come get ice cream with us” and while you were deeply contemplating it, you decided to pass up the offer and head back to the hotel. 

“No I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel and pack, I want to take the kids to get breakfast tomorrow morning before we leave” you say.

“no puedes caminar solo es tarde en la noche” (you can't walk alone, it's late at night) your brother worries. 

“Sergio, I'm fine, it's not that far from the hotel, I'll grab a taxi” before he could protest, Max jumped in.

“I can take a taxi back with y/n, I'm super tired after the race, and I'll make sure she makes it to her hotel room” 

“Are you sure Max?” Sergio asks.

“Yes I'm sure, it was a lovely evening, thank you for inviting me” 

Your family bids their farewells and walks away, leaving just the two of you waiting for a taxi. As you guys are picked up, you both don't say a word in the car, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Max pays the driver and you thank him quietly. Making your way up to the floor where both of your rooms are, you stop at his first. “Thank you for bringing me back Max, I appreciate it” 

“Of course it's no problem, hey I'm actually not really that tired, do you wanna play Fifa or watch a movie?” he asks. Something deep down is telling you to decline. Spending time with him is just going to dig you deeper in a hole with how you feel about him, nonetheless, you can't let this opportunity go and accept this offer. 

Walking in you notice the room is ten times bigger than yours, with a balcony and jacuzzi tub in the middle of the bathroom. Max must notice your awe because he says “I don't know why they give us such big rooms, we are hardly ever even in here”

“Haha it's nice for Checo because the kids get to play around” 

“You are really close with them, aren't you?���

“They are practically my own, when their mom is out doing business I usually keep them, I also help homeschool them” 

“Well that's very sweet of you” he says while taking a seat on the bed, while motioning you to do the same.

“Do you want something to drink” he offers

“No I'm okay” you politely decline. You still can't believe this, you are in Max Verstappen's room all alone. 

“Okay let's put on a movie! What are you up for, should we do action” you sense a sudden shift in his mood, you can't quite place it, maybe excitement. You believe he can probably sense that you are nervous. The mention of action makes your ears perk up.“Can we please watch fast and the furious, I am on a mission to have all my friends watch it”

Max doesn't protest, just laughs quietly and nods, setting the movie in place. You make yourself comfortable and take off your big hoop earrings and heels- even though they werent big by any means they still hurt you. Once you are back in bed with him, you notice him looking at you.

“Is there something on my face?” You laugh

“No i just guess I never noticed how different but similar you look from checo”

“Really? How so?” You question

“Well for one, you are very pretty, but you have the same freckles that Checo does covering your cheeks and nose” Max’s comment has you feeling shy, you know you must be sporting a prominent blush across your face and neck. 

“well thank you Max, it's funny because growing up, i never had freckles, but i think being out in the sun for races and the kids karting tournaments have really brought them to surface” 

“That's interesting, I admire how close to your family you are, something I wish I had” he says so quietly you almost miss it. You don't know what possesses you to do this but you place your hand over his and say “you are always welcome in this family max, we all love you, and no matter where sergio goes next year- you will always be welcomed with open arms” 

He stares at you with a blank face- unable to tell what he's thinking you begin to think that was the wrong thing to say when suddenly he leans down a plants a gentle kiss over your lips. You gasp at the touch. Max pulls back with wide eyes and says “shit I shouldn't have done that, Checo will kill me if he found out”. Instead of agreeing with him, you keep your hand held tightly over his and whisper “he doesn't have to know”. That's all it seems to take for max to lean back in and start kissing you. 

You grab the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric in your hands. His palm cups your jaw, slowly deepening the kiss. Once his tongue makes his way in, you let out a quiet moan. 

Grabbing your hips, Max shifts your position so that you are laying on the bed while he towers over you. “You are so pretty y/n, been wanting to do this forever” he says while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. While you want to pour your heart out, your nerves stop you and all you can do is nod and say “want you so bad max”. 

He continues to kiss you, tracing his mouth up and down your neck and along the junction between your shoulder and neck placing feather-like kisses. There’s nothing more that you want then for him to leave a big bruise plastered for everyone to see but you knew that wasn’t possible. 

You grab his head and place your lips back on his. Moving his hand to your hair he grips it tightly, keeping you in his control. Slowly he rocks his hips down to meet yours, creating a union of moans to spill from the both of you. This must be the breaking point for max because he stops to take off his shirt and grabs your dress to do the same. Not before asking “is this okay”. 

“Of course it’s okay, I want all of you” you whisper out. His pants also come off in the process. Both of you left in your underwear. You could feel yourself soaked through your panties. Max moves his hand so that his thumb is slowly running along your slit through the fabric. A moan is pushed out of you with a quiet plea of more. 

Growing impatient you tug the straps of your bra down your shoulders exposing your breasts to him. This catches his attention because Max is on them immediately. Sucking and kissing them, basically worshiping them. “Fuck, these tits are perfect. They were practically popping out of your dress earlier, wanted to take you to the bathroom at the restaurant and just suck on them for hours” 

You would have never guessed Max to be into dirty talk but it’s a pleasant surprise. “I want you in me Max, please, I’ve been waiting for this” 

“How can I deny such a pretty girl? '' With that being said, Max gets up and walks to his bag to pull out what seems to be a condom. While he’s doing that, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and throw it somewhere in the room. Before he approaches the bed, Max takes his underwear off and you see his cock spring free. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight. He’s big, just like you thought he would be. Pale and veiny. Pink and wet at the tip.

You wanted him in you but not before you got a taste of him. You motion him up towards your mouth, so that his legs are on both sides of your shoulders. “I want to taste you, can I Max?” You said hoping your voice and eyes truly show the desire you have burning for him. 

“Go ahead sweetie, suck me off”

That’s all you needed to hear before taking the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking. Max groans at the sensation and places a hand behind your head for support. Popping yourself off the tip, you lick a long strip under his shaft, following the prominent vein that lies there. You place feather-like kisses on the head hoping to tease him. As you look up at him, you see his mouth slightly agape, eyes stuck on you. “Don't tease me baby, c'mon”.

You start to bob your head, up and down, making sure you move your tongue back and forth. You palm at his balls and hear a hiss, thinking he must be sensitive. 

“Fuck, you suck me off so good, this mouth was made for me, wasn't it y/n” 

You whimper at the words and try to push yourself further down his cock. Grabbing your head, he pulls you off and says “I need to get in you”. 

You nod your head fast and practically beg “please Max, please want you in me”.

As he positioned himself between your legs, he's looking directly at your core, you start to feel a bit insecure and try to close your legs, but he uses both his to keep them open. “You have such a pretty pussy, want to absolutely devour it” what he does next has you almost combust. He hovers his mouth over your core and lets a string of spit come done to coat you. Taking his index and middle finger he holds you open and lets another drop of spit fall on you. You are moaning so loud, you place your hand over your mouth to try and keep yourself quiet. 

Max places two fingers in you while simultaneously rubbing slow circles over your clit. You are desperate for him to get in you. “Max I'm good, you can get in me”.

That's all he needs to hear before he puts his condom on and sinks into you. The burn is unlike anything you have felt before. You were definitely not used to his size but the stretch was addicting. As he builds up pace, you place your hands over his back, your fingernails gripping onto his shoulders, it feels so so good. “Faster” you whisper. Max listens. You could already feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, what pushes you over the edge is Max’s dirty talk. “You wrap around me so good, best pussy I've ever had, what would people think if they saw my roommate's sister coming all over my cock” you can't respond, all you can do is moan.

Finally catching your breath you say “you feel so good Max, you are gonna make me cum” and you tuck your head into his neck licking a fat stripe near his Adams apple. “I'm gonna come too, come with me y/n”.

The next couple of minutes go by in a blur, you feel yourself clenching on his cock, cumming while he pumps in and out of you with his hand rubbing at your clit. He kisses you hard as he groans into your mouth. “Fuck that was good” he states and all you can do is nod. 

Max takes off his condom, and goes to the bathroom, returning in his underwear, with a warm washcloth. You feel embarrassed but you let him clean you up. You are left undressed so you ask if he could hand you your dress. The room is filled with an awkward tension. Max can tell because he lays down on the bed and pats it for you to lay with him. 

You feel like you should decline and be on your way, not wanting to overstay your welcome. But you genuinely don't think this will ever happen again and want to cherish what little time you have in the same proximity.  You lay with your head on his chest and his arm thrown over you with the tv playing in the background. Time passes quickly and within 30 minutes you hear soft snores coming out of max. You take this as your cue to leave. You slip yourself away and gather your belongings. Taking one last glance at him you smile and quietly make your way out of the room. 

You don't have a lot of time to reflect once you get back to your room because you have to shower, and pack for your flight in the morning. You don't know if you and Max will ever reconnect like that, but you are grateful for the time you shared. 

You don't see or hear from Max before you leave Japan, but maybe it's for the best. Your brother didn't expect anything and you are determined to keep it that way. 

The first couple of weeks back in Mexico were rough, slowly recovering from your trip. Around 6 weeks after being home and two more grand prix taking place, you feel sick, like a stomach bug has really knocked you down. It was so bad that you weren't able to go to the Miami gp like you wanted. 

Deciding it has been lingering for far too long you decide to go to the doctor. The first thing they ask you is if it's possible if you are pregnant. Your first thought is no, but you remember you and Max had hooked up around two months ago. You feel a pit in your stomach and your heart rate speeds up. You couldn't be right, he wore a condom, and you hadn't had sex for like a year prior to that. 

After you take your pee test, you have never been more scared or felt more alone. You want your mom here. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came in with a smile and sat down. “Congratulations y/n you are pregnant”. The world came to a stand still and all you can do is cry. 

Because how in the hell are you going to tell your brother you are pregnant with his teammate's baby. How are you going to tell Max that you are pregnant? 

Simple. You won't. 

[evilminji]

You ever fuck up so bad, you accidentally kidnap someone?

Imagine, if you will, the players of our scene. Young Justice. Perhaps the Teen Titans. It matters not, really, only that they are young. Too young, in fact, for the booze they have smuggled in, to celebrate still being ALIVE.

They didn't think they would be, approximately seven hours ago.

They didn't think ANYONE would be, by this time, seven hours later.

The world celebrates. Families hug, children cry and laugh, lovers desperately reunite. They did it. They saved the day. Survived.

With new wounds and some fresh new trauma to show for it, too. Perhaps... Perhaps it is that. And the looseness of alcohols effect on the tounge. Combined with their new closeness... that gets them talking. Sharing.

Talking of skills. Training. Histories normally not mentioned. Perhaps even bitching about this mentor or that old teacher, and OH, weren't they a NAG! "Fundamentals~!" The magic user mocks in drunkin parody of their old teacher. "it's all about the FUNDAMENTALS! Practice circles until you puke!"

But...

Oh? Oh DEAR~

Drunks have such POOR impulse control, don't they? The Speedster scoffs. He doesn't mean harm. Truely, he doesn't. But to him? It is a constant irritant against sore skin, that his team mates have access to such powerful and strange powers... yet choose not too study them at ALL! Ask questions. That they haven't considered the advancements humanity could make if they just TRIED.

Everything has an answer.

Just because you don't know what it IS yet, doesn't mean it doesn't EXSIST out there.

But this is an old argument. They ALSO a sore spot for the magic user and (by the many gods they know better then to swear by) they are SICK of it! You- *urk!* You think you can do BETTER? Explain it then, Mr. "Magic isn't real"!

And oh dear, oh dear~

The usual mitigator has already fallen asleep. Passed out, really, having amongst other things, texted their Ex and decided they NEEDED to dye their hair. Which leaves no one to stop what about to unfold. As the Speedster slams down his drink, his hyper accelerated metabolism leaving him, ironically, one of the LEAST drunk in the room.

But... sometimes all you NEED to royally fuck up?

Is to be just buzzed enough to ignore your better instincts.

And the argument kicks up. Again. Heats up. Again. But this time? Goes further. They are standing, yelling, in each other's faces. The Speedster certain they are just "making things up". The magic user hissing that the arcane is a field of STUDY. A SCIENCE and ART. Just because YOU don't-

But?

Well... One must ask. Have you ever FOUGHT a Speedster? Can you even conceive of what a pico-second FEELS like? What the Speedforce, once active, makes the world LOOK like? It is like statues. Silence. Calling a timeout on reality itself.

You can walk away.

No one can really stop you.

You can walk out the door, up the stairs, to your friends room, and grab books from their shelf. Sit and read them. ALL of them. The whole shelving unit. In the time it took a fraction of a second to pass. Then get up, put everything back, go back down stairs, search for supplies, find them, and return to your conversation. Having studied everything they have in the building.

And for them? It's like blinking. You just... have the supplies now. Air is displaced.

And you're ready to fuckin PROVE it.

You looked up all the symbols they used. So NOW? You can use nonsense. No chance that ANYTHING will happen, right? It's not "official magic"! He says, talking over a buzzed magic user. Who's staring at him blankly, mind churning as they try figure out why... why it sounds like he's saying he's about to do the One Thing they were... told.. to never...

Oh God.

WAIT!

DONT!

But it's too late. Our dear Speedster has made his "gibberish" circle. Chanted randomly strung together magically charged NONSENSE. Then? Let her rip! See? Nothing happ-

The world seems to suck in it's breath and wind up, as though preparing to PERSONALLY punish such hubris. The magic user us screaming. Back! Every GET BACK! Move, move, MOVE! Green hisses and crackles from the circle.

As.

Reality.

CRACKS.

!!!BOOM!!!

Glass shatters and electronics are beyond salvation. The couchs many dove behind are shredded, but hold. Sections of the ceiling and floor collapsing. The Radiation alarm deeper in the base kicks in with a clicking wail. There is SOMETHING casting a looming shadow... and it has a CROWN.

The air burns like arctic winter wind and ozone.

Before anyone can think of what to DO, a harsh golden light rips open reality and out steps most of JLA Dark. The are standing in front of the now completely trashed Zeta-tube. Which they could not USE. They do not look amused.

"What. Did you. DO!?" Snarls an exhausted John Constantine from the front of the line up, his normal rougish face is still half bruises and the cigarette he's holding looks like it's the only thing keeping him from strangling someone. "We could feel that from FUCKIN SPACE! We're you trying to blow up the PLANET?!"

"Good QUESTION!" snarls another voice, from the direction of where the circle should be "Here's another one! Where the HELL am I and who are you people?!"

Every spins to look.

There, floating above the green glowing circle, is a teen in a crown.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @dcxdpdabbles @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @nerdpoe

[666kuna]

Dilf! Sukuna

Dilf! Sukuna who kept a secret from his kid that he got a date with the kid’s teacher. Yuuji only found out about it when he was at a sleepover; when Megumi's dad, Toji asked him if he was excited to get Miss (y/n) as his new mommy.

"NO WAY? WHY DIDN'T DAD TELL ME?!"

"Kid, I thought you knew."

"NO I DIDN’T, ON SKIBBIDY I DIDN’T DO MEGUMI AND TSUMIKI KNOW TOO?!"

Yuuji immediately ran upstairs to interrogate the both of them after that.

Toji chuckled as he took out his phone to dial Sukuna's number. Sukuna on the other line could be heard chopping some things up.

"Hey, it's me, Toji. Just letting you know that your driver came by like 10 minutes ago with Yuuji."

"Yeah, I know. The notification popped up a while ago, I forgot to say but thanks for doing me this favour, Toji.”

"No problem, anything to help a desperate old man in love out." Toji teased the other before he burst into laughter.

Sukuna, on the other line, erupted into a flustered mess when he heard the most infuriating statement given by Toji knowing that he was more than right about what he just said. Sukuna IS OLD, Sukuna IS IN LOVE but he was just caught off guard by Toji's statement.

"YOU BASTARD!"

"Okay, I was joking, also just to let you know. I told Yuuji about your silly little date, old man and he seems okay with you dating his teacher. Just a little surprised that you didn't tell him."

"Well… I could tell that he was tired of me asking about her all the time."

"You're a freak, old man, has anyone ever told you that?"

"That's what your wife said too." Sukuna retorted before immediately hanging up, knowing that he was treading on a thin line for that response.

It was only after he hung up that a collection of thoughts seemed to surface on his mind. Sukuna has never been with another woman since the random woman he fooled around with that caused him to end up with Yuuji. He decided that he was going to leave his bad and reckless lifestyle to properly better himself just for his kid.

By the time he got Yuuji, he had already built up more than enough wealth to ensure that Yuuji would be able to live a more than comfortable life. Sukuna in his prime was a very controversial womanising celebrity chef, whose life was only surrounded with endless scandals and controversies. Although he has left it all behind, the guilt and regret ate him up on some nights. No woman would want to be with a man that had such a notorious history of cheating,’Rightfully so.’ he thought to himself. What if you found out something about him after the date? Silence rang through the whole house without Yuuji. With all the helpers already gone back into their rooms and only the sound of boiling and trickling water accompanying him, he realized that he didn’t want Yuuji to live a lonely life like him.

Art credits to @/woshihedawei on X

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Alpha - Logan Howlett x ftm!reader

A/N: Hi! Um, this is my first work within the fandom! This was written with X-Men Logan in mind. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N. This is so self-indulgent, so please be nice

Please make sure to read the tags carefully! They’re there for a reason

CW: Reader is a wolf mutant; Logan and Reader get off to a tense start; Reader is implied to be pre-op ftm, via the use of sports bras; implied wet dreams; use of the words slick and wet to describe Reader’s arousal; a/b/o dynamics? maybe?; misunderstandings; rough sex; pet play? (Reader is called pup); Reader is referred to as handsome; grinding; fingering; use of the word dick to describe Reader’s parts; overstimulation; no use of safe word; unprotected piv; multiple orgasms; implied aftercare

2493 words

The first thing you notice about Logan is his scent.

Not that you know it belongs to him. But it’s all you can smell as you talk to Jean. Thick and heady and strong. Musky like an animal and cloying like smoke.

Jean, of course, can tell you’re distracted. Instead of calling you out on it, she simply calls him in. Him and Scott enter at the same time, with an air of tension between them. Not that you care for long.

You’re too busy ogling the man in front of you. Rugged and handsome, more like a mountain man than a teacher.

Yet, that’s how Jean introduces him. Logan Howlett. History teacher.

You smile politely. You hold out your hand and try to not get too offended when he doesn’t shake it. You can tell he’s wary of you. Not that you could blame him.

You must be giving off a scent of your own, though you can’t smell it. But you can hear his inhale, feel the way his eyes watch you. You know he knows.

Especially when he straightens up. Lifting his chin and widening his stance. Establishing his dominance in a more subtle way than most other males. Perhaps he’s just that assured in his position.

Either way, you can feel your instincts itching at the back of your mind. The desire to submit. To recognize his authority. It pricks at you like a needle, but you brush it away. You’ve had enough of submitting to men like him. If he wants it, he’ll have to earn it.

Jean rests a hand on Logan’s arm, softly scolding him, probably for what he’s thinking. “Hey, be nice. They’re a wolf mutant.”

“A wolf mutant?” He looks unimpressed.

You stand your ground. Your nerves are starting to buzz from the force of his gaze. You hate stare downs, but you can’t lose this one.

“Yeah.” You answer him yourself. “That’s me.”

He scoffs and looks you up and down. “Yeah, whatever, bub. You ever even see a real wolf?”

You know what he’s doing and you hate it. But at least he’s not mistaking you for a girl and being all overly nice. You’d rather get his blunt side than his fake side.

“No. I’m a wolf mutant, not a real wolf.” You at least try to keep some of the sarcasm from your voice. Trying’s worth something, right?

Logan doesn’t look impressed. He crosses his arms, which prompts Scott to finally step in. “Welcome to Xavier’s Home for—“

“Thanks.” You interrupt him with a smile, but your gaze never leaves Logan’s.

Scott seems caught off guard. “Why… don’t I show you around…?”

Something in you relaxes at the thought of being away from such an intimidating man like Logan. You nod and accept his offer.

On your tour, your thoughts keep drifting back to Logan. Even away from him, your body sets on edge at the thought of him. He’s going to be trouble for you, you’re sure of it.

Most of the mutants at Xavier’s are surprisingly accepting of you. The adults, you mean. You don’t tell the kids.

Maybe it’s because you have Jean and Scott on your side, but most of the adults don’t bother you after learning your secret. Most of them find out when you come to training wearing a sports bra and baggy pants.

A few have questions. Most just leave you alone.

You’ve never been more grateful that Logan wasn’t around than during that particular training session.

The tension between the two of you has only gotten worse. You’re sticking by your defiance to his posturing, even at the expense of your pride. Your nerves hate it as well, practically screaming at you whenever Logan gets too close.

Part of you can’t figure it out. You’ve been around men like him before, but never with this reaction. The other part of you doesn’t care enough.

And yet, you care enough to be relieved that he doesn’t directly know your secret. It’s not a huge deal; you’re pretty sure Jean would’ve told him by now. But it’s still nice that he doesn’t know from you.

Until he does.

The whole day starts with you feeling off. You have one of those good dreams, and wake up in a puddle of your own slick. Definitely a damper to your morning.

Then they run out of your favorite breakfast food, some of your students are late to class, and it goes on and on.

By evening you are pissed. Not just at life but at yourself. Because the one thing you cannot get out of your mind is your dream.

You can remember strong arms. Growls of your name. A thick cock bullying its way between your legs. Delicious pleasure.

But you cannot remember the face. It eludes you all day. Stuck there at the back of your mind. On the tip of your tongue.

It’s not until Logan walks into your classroom after your last class that it hits you. With horrifying, picture perfect clarity.

Logan. It was Logan. You had a fucking wet dream about Logan.

Even worse? You’re not as opposed to the idea as you thought you’d be.

For a moment, you’re just staring at Logan. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, bub?”

“Uh, yeah.” You hastily gather up your things, hoping beyond hope that he can’t smell the slight arousal you feel.

You know it’s too late when you brush by him and he stiffens. You know he can smell you. It doesn’t help the problem.

“What—“

You make your exit. Very fast. Very undignifying. But he doesn’t follow, so you count it as a win.

Two things change. The first is that you start avoiding Logan as much as possible. The second…

Well, the second is that he features in every single one of your dirty fantasies. Every wet dream. Every random horny thought. All Logan.

And it is infuriating.

Logically, you know why. He’s the protector of the house. The ‘alpha’ of the pack, so to speak. Sooner or later your body would react to his presence. He’s strong, handsome, and gruff. Literally your type.

You still blame it on your biology and pretend you don’t think of him when you get off.

It works for a week. One week, that’s how long you get before Logan corners you in the Training Room.

The moment you smell his musky scent, you know you’re fucked. He smells like anger. And something more that you try really hard to not think about.

But this moment was to come eventually, so you gear yourself up and face him head on.

You know you’re a sight. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing a sports bra and pants. If he didn’t know before, he sure does now.

Logan stops a few feet away from you. He eyes you up and down, frowning slightly. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gruffly.

You cross your arms and wait for him to continue. Slivers of anxiety spiking through your body.

“Why? Why are you avoiding me?” Logan looks frustrated and it makes you want to cower. Shrink down and beg for his forgiveness.

You hated it. How dare he make you feel this way? All because you’re stuck with a fucking wolf mutation that makes you want to hide like a little puppy from him.

So you push against your instincts. Straighten yourself up. Meet his gaze full on. “What does it matter why?”

Logan blinks. As if he hadn’t been expecting your defiance. Then he rumbles out a growl. “You missed the team training session yesterday. How are we supposed to make sure you’re ready for missions if you don’t show up?”

It’s your turn to blink. To stare. To be confused. “What?”

He crosses his arms, unintentionally making his forearms stand out so perfectly. Not that you’re noticing, of course. Just another pesky side effect of his presence.

“You’re one of the most capable mutants here,” Logan says firmly. “So if you have an issue, let’s talk about it now.”

“Wait, you’re here about missions?”

He nods. Then frowns. “What else would I be here for?”

Suddenly you feel stupid. Absolutely stupid. “So… you’re not here about…” You gesture to your body.

His frown deepens. “What?”

“You know,” your anxiety feels like fire ants in your stomach. “The fact that my body is—“

“I could care less, bub,” he says bluntly. “It’s your body.”

You want to cry. You want to laugh. This whole time you’ve been stressing about Logan, and he hasn’t given a single fuck.

You relax. Your anxiety dissipating so fast it makes your head feel funny. That’s one of your problems solved.

And the other?

Well, it only gets worse.

It all comes to a head on a random Tuesday.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo are off on a mission. The students have all been dismissed from their classes. You’re in the Training Room, working out yet another filthy dream about Logan.

Your fantasies about him have gotten more intense now that you know he doesn’t care about the way your body is. It’s a major, major problem. You’ve started getting dehydrated from the amounts of slick you’re creating.

Which is why you’re in the Training Room instead of getting off. You’re lucky Jean and the Professor haven’t said anything yet, but sooner or later they’re gonna know.

You’re working through your third round of training dummies when a scent catches your attention. Musk and thick smoke. You stop immediately.

“Don’t mind me,” Logan says, a hint of amusement in his gruff tone. “I’m just here to train as well.”

Your hopes for training might as well be ashes in the wind. There is no way you are going to be able to focus on anything other than him.

“Wanna spar?” You ask, false cockiness in your voice.

Instantly your instincts are screaming at you. Challenging the alpha to a fight? You might as well give up your position in the school now. No one challenges an alpha to a fight without a cause behind them.

Excessive horniness apparently didn’t count to your wolf brain. But it did to you.

Logan eyes you. He seems tense; can he smell your light arousal in the air?

“Sure.” You find yourself both relaxing and tensing at his agreement.

You clear the floor and get into your positions. Your instincts start to settle, helping you focus. You take a breath, and move.

The sparring is brutal. Fun and exhilarating, but brutal.

One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re flat on your back. Logan pinning you down. One hand keeping your hands above your head, the other keeping your waist against the floor. His knee nudged between your legs.

You get wet ridiculously fast. You’re panting, gasping for breath, and you can smell your own arousal. You can feel the slick coating your thighs, soaking through your boxers.

You meet Logan’s gaze. Your wolf instincts are mostly quiet for once. Probably because he already has you pinned down. The only thought in your head?

Submit to him.

Logan’s pupils are blown. He’s panting too, and you know he can smell you.

“You into this sort of shit?” He asks, voice hoarse.

You can’t do much against the instincts of your brain. You let your head rest against the floor. “Into you, maybe.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Logan’s voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. The sound goes straight to your core.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls, “and it’ll never have happened.”

“I want this,” you say, a hint of a whimper in your voice. “Logan, I need—“

His mouth smashes against yours. It’s not pretty, it’s not delicate. He kisses you like he’s starving, ravaging your mouth. Nipping at your lips until the tang of blood fills your mouth.

It’s not pretty, but it makes you oh so wet.

You moan into his mouth, struggling against his hold on you. You want to rake your fingers through his hair, buck up against him, really just anything more than what he’s giving you now.

“Settle down, pup,” he growls.

Your body responds embarrassingly fast. You still, panting into his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, “please, Logan, I need you.”

He smirks. Nudges his knee against your crotch. Even the slight amount of friction feels like heaven and you chase it with a moan.

“Dumb little slut,” he mutters. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh, handsome?”

You just whine, too busy grinding against his knee to answer. You need more. You need more. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“Logan,” your voice breaks, “Please!”

“Please what?” His fingers ghost along the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me,” you whimper.

He smirks, his words dripping with condescension. “Good boy.”

You almost cum just from his words alone. And when his fingers dip under your waistband, sliding into your boxers to circle your dick?

Your vision blurs with pleasure, your body squirming underneath him. He doesn’t let up, just keeps rubbing his fingers against you. It’s torture, pure delicious torture.

“Logan!” You sob. “Too much!”

“Too much?” He mocks. “I can fucking smell you, pup. I can smell the amount of slick pouring out of you. It’s not ‘too much’ till I’ve drained every last drop of cum from your dick.”

As if to make his point, he stuffs two fingers inside you, stretching you out and making you sob. When you start to squirm, he shifts, letting go of your hands in favor of pinning down your waist. Keeping you firmly against the floor.

You burrow your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to keep from screaming as he curls his fingers against that one spot inside you.

It’s exquisite, mind-numbing, perfect.

He bullies his cock inside you after your third orgasm, stretching you out and making you babble mindlessly. You’re a mess on the floor; fucked out, sweaty, and coated in your own slick.

The sounds are obscene, and you hope to god no one outside the room can hear you.

You can barely feel your legs, lost to everything except the pleasure and the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. Over and over and over.

He cums once, and fucks it all back into you. It’s not until you’re literally drooling on the floor that he finally lets up, cumming inside you for the second time.

You whine softly as he pulls out, blearily cracking open your eyes.

“Hush, pup,” he soothes. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He lifts you into his arms and you nuzzle into his chest. Uncaring about how messy you are, or about the puddle of cum and slick left on the floor.

It’s just Logan for now, and you’re content with that.

[flowersdiceandlove]

hi @allpiesforourown I just saw your Winx Club fandom Binghe post and it made me think of an au. So, modern au, both Shen Yuan and Binghe are involved in multiple fandoms and are both legendary posters in each of them. The thing is...they hate each other. Their online fights go down in fandom history. The Epic Battles of Peerless Cucumber and the Heavenly Pillar. There are fan accounts and Youtube videos dedicated to explaining their messy fights. There's a whole wiki page about it. Binghe has the most unhinged takes and Shen Yuan drives himself mad trying to reasonably dismantle those takes and why they are stupid and what is wrong with you?!?! But, Binghe comes back with somehow solid sounding arguments? That are somehow so crazy and make you lose all sense of right and wrong and turn everything on their head that you actually are like "wait, this guy might be onto something" until you actually remember the context and go "this guy is batshit insane! lock him up!"

So, they go head to head. A lot. Across many fandoms because they actually have the same taste in media to the point that they feel they can't escape each other. Every time they enter a new fandom, they see the comments and posts in the online communities and are like "you got to be effing kidding me!! That guy is HERE too?!?!?!!" Binghe also posts the same type of scathing reviews that Peerless Cucumber is infamous for, which are good, except for the unhinged takes sprinkled in with the logical. And that's what drives Shen Yuan so crazy. Because this "Heavenly Pillar" is actually a good critic and able to comprehend complex themes that so many others miss or misunderstand. He also completely misconstrues stuff with his unhinged takes.

And Binghe, he's just gonna fight to the death to defend his blorbos and ships.

The thing is, Shen Yuan is Binghe's tutor or something irl and Bingbing's got the biggest crush on him. Obviously. And, they talk about shows and books sometimes, and have good, deep discussions about them, finding they have a lot of the same tastes. Shen Yuan will lend Binghe a book or recommend a show and vice versa. They have fun. They do not share their online handles. Shen Yuan does not want this sweet little white sheep he's been tutoring since middle school knowing about some of the stuff he reads and messing up his image (he has an irl reputation to uphold!), and Binghe doesn't want his crush to know exactly how crazy he is and about all the teacher/tutor x student stuff he posts about, thinking it will dash his chances with his precious, sweet Yuan-gege. He's in college now, he might finally have his chance! So, they keep their online lives separate from their irl ones, not just with each other, but with everyone in their lives. Best not to mix them.

And so, things continue until one day, Peerless Cucumber suddenly becomes the Heavenly Pillar's number one supporter. He's going back and ripping apart everyone who's calling the heavenly pillar a lunatic and to lock him up saying "you don't know what's been through! there could be reasons he's like this! and are those takes really that bad!?!?" (yes. they are) People are reeling at the 180 seeming overnight that came out of nowhere after years of rivalry and hate thrown between them. He's also backing the Heavenly Pillar's takes and headcanons up by saying "yeah, I can see how it could be viewed that way. Totally valid." and then presenting a bunch of canon moments and bts and creator interviews to support it. (It's still all totally insane. But now there's two of them) It makes people actually start to question their sanity because Peerless Cucumber is normally the voice of reason, so if he's agreeing with the Heavenly Pillar, then are they the ones that are actually crazy??

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is in his apartment, reading webnovels on his phone with his new boyfriend's head resting in his lap, idly petting his fluffy hair. Binghe's never been happier.

And, in case you were wondering, Binghe's Heavenly Pillar account has basically turned into a Peerless Cucumber Fan Account. He gushes in his replies to Peerless Cucumber, praising him, and saying how amazing his analysis' are. He'll also, in his own comments and posts, reference Peerless Cucumber posts constantly.

Yes, people are shipping them (they have for a long time, but now it's becoming a more widespread thing). Yes, they have wiki ship page. Yes, their ship name is PillarCum.

[agi-ppangx]

a face to remember (hwang hyunjin x gn!reader)

no warnings tbh, just fluff; 0.5k works, not proofread

author's note: um, hi ?? do you guys remember me ??🥸 this is the first thing ive written in the past few weeks so pls be nice, i know its not the best, but writer's block sucks so when i finally managed to put words into sentences im gonna post it and you cant stop me🙂‍↕️

“we finally got to talk to that old lady i told you about yesterday,” you said, pouring yourself some tea into the mug. you peeked at the screen and hyunjin smiled faintly at you, encouraging you to continue.

he was sitting at his desk, his phone leaning against the stack of books he kept there so that you could see him well. dim light in his room made him look so cosy, almost domestic, and it made your heart swell with love. “turns out she used to be a history teacher, so she told us about all of those cool stuff, like this one time-” you glanced at your phone screen again and noticed that hyunjin wasn’t looking at you anymore. he was holding a pencil, but you couldn’t see what he was doing. “hello? are you listening to me?” you pouted, but he only hummed, too immersed in whatever he was doing at that moment. “hey, if you don’t wanna talk i can just hang up,” you mumbled, hurt that your boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to you.

being away from your partner was hard – you missed hyunjin’s soft touch as he hugged you and played with your hair every night before you fell asleep and you missed making breakfast for him and kissing him goodbye when he went to work. your trip was only temporary, but it didn’t make things easier. those video calls were the only way for the two of you to not lose your minds completely, so seeing hyunjin busying himself with something as you talked about your day broke your heart. were you really that boring? 

“what? baby, no, don’t hang up,” hyunjin snapped his head up at your words. 

“then listen to me!” 

“i am listening to you, love.” 

“then what are you doing, huh?” you pointed at the bottom of the screen, right at the pencil in his hand. 

“i’m drawing you!” he responded with a mix of amusement and disbelief in his voice, picking up his sketchbook to show you the halfway done drawing. you recognized your face on the paper, letting about a little oh and blushing like crazy.

“why are you drawing me?” you mumbled in confusion as your whole face and neck turned cherry red. hyunjin giggled at your dumbfounded expression, putting the sketchbook down.

“i always draw you as we talk through the phone, you just never noticed. it helps me deal with the distance,” he confessed, letting out a loud sigh. “i miss you, y’know? so every time we talk i want to remember your face and that’s why i draw you.” you snorted at his words, your laugh echoing through the kitchen. 

“god, you’re so dramatic. i’ve been gone for two weeks and you’re acting as if you haven’t seen me in years.” 

hyunjin shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. “feels like years to me. but i mean it when i say i miss you. my bed feels empty without you in it.” 

you felt a pain in your chest at his words. “i know, baby, i miss you too. but i’ll be home soon and you won’t have to draw me anymore.” 

“i’ll do it anyway. i love you too much not to draw you," he beamed, making sure to capture the spark in your eyes on his drawing.

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

AO3: Linked Here :)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Scenes from the afternoon hookup replay in your mind over and over as you sit in the library at a battered old desk in the history section. All you can think about is Shoto’s mouth. And his hands. And his abs!! And his sweet face.

You twiddle your pen in your hand as you try to draft out an essay for class. Unfortunately, every time you try to jot down a few thoughts your mind goes blissfully blank and you remember the tender way he spoke to you.

"How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?"

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.”

“Find me later so we can discuss this.”

You look down at your watch excitedly – 7:55 PM. You eagerly wait for Shoto to appear so the two of you can talk and – with any luck – canoodle amongst the history textbooks. You sit patiently as the time ticks by.

Soon it’s 8:30 PM. You’re not worried, though. Shoto probably assumed you’d want to get some work done first.

9:15 PM rolls around and you start to get worried. You try to distract yourself with school work as doubt creeps into your mind.

10 PM – Shoto still hasn’t showed.

“Shit shit shit.” You check your phone again and again as you wade through the endless wave of homework your teachers have assigned. You keep losing yourself in a math problem or in a passage of your History textbook, only to remember with a jolt that you were expecting to see Shoto and the bastard hasn’t showed.

At 10:30 PM you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s almost past curfew. You pack up your things and prepare to head back to the dorms. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake.

You slide your books into your bag as a anxious thoughts dance through your mind like annoying fruit flies: Does Shoto regret your mid-afternoon hookup? Is he going to pretend it never happened? Did you push him too far? Does he think you’re a slut for stripping off your shirt and basically pressing his face into your naked breasts!? The synapses of your brain jump through dozens of equally horrid and embarrassing scenarios as you march back to your dorm room, blushing furiously with humiliation.

You run through the afternoon’s events in your head for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a clue as to why Shoto would have left you waiting alone in the library. Your cheeks burn hotter as you recall the gentle way Shoto had kissed your neck before leaning in to capture your lips in one of his first kisses. "How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?" You shiver as you think back to how gentle he was, how each caress felt so loving and intimate.

You shake your head to clear it. Shoto must have a valid excuse for not meeting you in the library as he had promised – no boy could kiss someone that intimately and then instantly cast her aside, right?

Before long, you’re walking through the doors of Class 1A’s dorm building. You shiver with discomfort as you recall how earlier that day you essentially scaled the side of a building for a boy. Does Shoto think you’re an absolute fool with the extremes you went to for a quick make out session? You hope not.

You walk up the stairs and past the common area. You see most of Class 1A studying quietly. Sero, Izuku, Kirishima and Ida sit around one of the kitchen tables reviewing their math homework while some of the girls compare English notes on the couch. To your relief, Shoto isn’t there. Mina waves to you enthusiastically, beckoning you to join her and YaMomo as they review the finer points of Hamlet. You politely decline and make a beeline for your room. You turn the key in the lock and it clicks – within moments, you are blessedly alone.

You toss your heavy book bag to the ground and prepare to wallow in self-pity. It’s 10:56pm and Shoto still hasn’t reached out to you. Your phone is vacant of text messages and your brain is absolutely fried from schoolwork.

You dim your room lights and switch on the favorite fairy lights for some peaceful ambiance. Time for some self-care, bitch! You think resolutely as you swap your uniform for your favorite pair of pajamas. You toss your phone to the floor with abandon and climb into your comfy bed. You breathe in deeply, allowing yourself to revel in the coziness of the dorm room.

You take out your five-minute bullet journal and write a quick list of things you're grateful for: 1. The opportunity to study at UA 2. Your lovely and encouraging friends and classmates 3. Your cozy room and the roof over your head 4. Shoto’s mouth 5. Shoto’s abs 6. Shoto’s goddamn hard AF dick

Um. No.

You snap the journal shut before you get too derailed.

You pull your comforter over your head and sit in silence for a moment. You’ve never been the kind of person to go completely boy-crazy. You always used to make fun of those girls who would go gaga over pretty boys and their texts and their kisses. But as you recall the searing way that Shoto kissed your lips earlier that day, you suddenly understand what all the boy-crazed girly hype was all about. Oh my god. You have a crush. A big sloppy embarrassing crush.

In the silence of your room, you suddenly here a buzzing noise coming from the general direction of your book bag. You struggle to disentangle yourself from your sheets and your journal goes flying. You ignore its crash landing as you slip from your bed and collect your phone from where it lays abandoned on the carpeted floor.

It’s Shoto.

Your heart skips.

Todoroki: Y/N. Are you awake?

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Did Shoto just send you his version of “U up?”

Y/N: Yes, I’m still up.

Todoroki: I know it’s late, but can I stop by?

You tense. Oh God – he’s going to come by to tell you that he’s not interested. He’s going to thank you for your time making out and say that you probably should avoid hooking up in the future because it’s a huge distraction. You’re sure that whatever he has to say is going to be negative and leave you feeling embarrassed. Why else would he have skipped out on your rendezvous in the library?

You take a deep breath. You have always been fairly practical with a mind for strategy, two qualities that had really set you apart when you had taken the UA entrance exams. You know that the best course of action here is to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later. Better to know how he feels about your hookup now

Your heart sinks as you type out:

Y/N: Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in. Try not to be seen by anyone.

Todoroki: Of course. See you shortly.

Your heart beats double time as you look down at yourself. Your pajama set consists of a silky blue top with matching shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. You chew on your thumb nervously – should you change into something more appropriate? No – Shoto has seen your boobs. A little bit of leg is not going to kill the half hot half cold hero in training.

You quickly remake your bed and kick your book bag beneath your desk so that the floor is clear. You plop down on your smooth comforter and wait, knotting your hands together as you anticipate Shoto’s arrival.

A few anxious minutes pass, and then you hear gentle footsteps pad down the hallway outside your door. The knob turns quietly, and in a moment Shoto Todoroki steps across your threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He reaches down to turn the lock with a gentle snap of his wrist.

You take him in – he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him dressed so casually before and you assume that these are what he wears as pajamas in the privacy of his own dorm room. His hair is tousled and damp from a recent shower, and the burned side of his face shines where he’s clearly applied some kind of scar cream or moisturizer. His outfit projects a comfy air, but his expression is dark and stormy. Your heartbeat quickens in fear – what could possibly have caused him to be in such a tempestuous mood? Was this about your kissing?

You bite at your lip with worry. But when your eyes lock, his expression softens. In two quick strides, he’s at the bed. He leans in close so that your noses almost touch.

“Hi.” He says softly, before dipping his mouth to meet yours. You blink in surprise as your mouths melt together. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss. Pleasure radiates up and down your spine as you kiss him back. He places both his palms on your hips and pulls you closer, letting out a small moan of satisfaction as he slides his tongue into your mouth. How silly you feel for thinking he didn’t want you like this!

After a few moments, you break apart.

“Hey there.” You whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful jaw. He leans in to kiss you again and you hold him in place. He stops and looks down at you inquisitively.

“I waited for you in the library, you didn’t show.” You say slowly, softly.

“My father decided to take me through some drills in one of the school’s gyms. I only finished a half hour ago.” His expression becomes dull as he speaks. “I’m sorry to leave you waiting. I wanted to see you - but I’m not allowed on my phone during training.”

Relief must have flooded your features, because he tilts his head to the side questioningly. You hold back a giggle – the way his head is tilted makes him look like a sweet dog asking its owner for a treat.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh and pull yourself further onto the bed, patting the spot next to you as an invitation. Shoto climbs up next to you, sinking into the deliciously soft fabric. His eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“This is so comfortable.” He says, pressing his palm into the plush fabric beneath him. You recall his sparse traditional bedroom and realize that he’s never laid on a proper puffy mattress before.

“Hold on – it gets better.” You say pushing him off the bed so you can pull down the covers. You slip beneath the comforter and gesture for him to rejoin you. He climbs in clumsily, unsure how to position himself within the sheets. You prop a pillow beneath his shoulders as he lays down on his side. You toss the comforter over the two of you and lay across from him, feet almost touching beneath the warm layers of bedding.

“Cozy?” You ask as Shoto settles into the bed.

“Yeah.” He says in quiet voice, propping himself up on an elbow. “I always thought beds like this were excessive but…maybe there’s some merit to this.” He eyes a blue Squirtle plush that sits next to you in the bed. “Can I…hold that?”

You grin, biting back a laugh as you reach over to grab the Pokémon plush. “This is Squirtle – he’s one of my favorite plushies.” You hold up the stuffed animal and wiggle it in front of Shoto’s eyes as if it’s dancing. “Squirtle, Squirtle” you say in a low tone, trying to emulate the television character’s voice the best you can.

Shoto gives you a weird look. “I don’t get it. Why are you just repeating its name in a strange voice?”

“Shoto…have you…have never seen Pokémon!?” You almost screech in disbelief, before throwing a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. You quickly remember that you are in the dorms and the walls aren’t super thick.

“No, I wasn’t allowed to watch television unless it was about Pro hero work.” Shoto says, a tinge of sadness flowing along with his words. “But it looks cute and round and I really just want to hold it and squish it?”

“Yeah, that’s the general reaction to plushies. Dude, we need to get you that whale pillow you liked on Pinterest. You need more cuteness in your life.”

“Well I have you, don’t I?” Shoto smiles softly. “You bring more than enough cute into my life.” He reaches out and grabs the plush from your hands and squishes it a bit. “But this is pretty nice, too.”

Your face grows hot at the compliment. Shoto tucks the Squirtle under his arm and shifts around in the sheets until he finds a comfortable position. He looks adorable and soft as he cradles the bright plush in his strong, muscular hands.

When he finally settles in, he looks up at you enquiringly. “What’s wrong?” He repeats, looping you both back to the conversation form earlier.

“So…” You sigh with embarrassment. “When you didn’t show up and I didn’t hear from you…” You pause and Shoto gives Squirtle a squeeze. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. Or at least that you didn’t want to make out with me again.”

“Oh.” Shoto wasn’t expecting this. “I thought I made it very clear how…enthusiastically…I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I didn’t realize I had left any room for you to question my attraction to you.”

“That’s nice to hear…but when you didn’t show at the library or send a text, I assumed the worst. My mind kind of went into full-blown panic mode. I thought maybe once you had time to reflect on our hookup, that you realized you didn’t like it or that you didn’t really like me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never felt that way before. Usually something like this wouldn’t bother me.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “But I think I really like you and want to be close to you, and the thought that you might not feel the same was tearing me apart for the last couple of hours.”

The words come tumbling from your mouth before you can stop and think them through. Why are you saying all of this!? Why does being around Shoto make you feel so comfortable and open to sharing? It’s so weird – and you’re absolutely sure he’s going to think you’re some kind of over sharing freak for telling him all of this.

Shoto looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking. “Something I have always admired about you is your ability to be straightforward about what you’re thinking and feeling. Most people aren’t like that, and I have a hard time navigating more subtle situations. Thank you for telling me exactly what you’re thinking – I value it so much.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving the bangs out of his bright eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I had abandoned you. I wanted to come to the library so badly. I want to kiss you so badly – it’s all I’ve been thinking about tonight.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Let me match your honesty with some of my own - my father is extremely strict. Ever since I was born, he’s pushed me to be better. To be stronger. He wants me to surpass him. He wants me to take All Might’s place as the number one hero.”

You gasp at this. Of course you knew that Todoroki was ambitious, but this…

“I don’t have any intentions of becoming harsh and cruel like my father. I’m not even sure if I want to go for the top spot on the hero charts.” He admits, almost bitterly. “That’s the path that my father has laid out for me. He’s obsessed with my training. With my ‘potential.’ But he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about how I feel. Excuse my language.” Shoto looks so sad, so despairing. He hugs the plush close, his chin tucked into his chest as he continues.

“I just want to help people and make them smile – just like All Might. But my old man just doesn’t seem to get that. Today, when he noticed how distracted I was… he didn’t ask if something was wrong. He just pushed me even harder.” Shoto avoids your gaze. “I think he purposefully pushed me to train into the night to keep me from meeting up with you. In his eyes…you’re a huge distraction for his prized creation.”

Suddenly you notice how exhausted Shoto looks – there are pale bags beneath his eyes. You scan his body and see light bruises beginning to form on the exposed skin of his arms. You wonder - just what kind of training has Endeavor been subjecting him to?

You had never guessed that behind Shoto’s calm and collected exterior, there is just a normal teenage boy trying desperately to please his father, while simultaneously trying to defy him. The whole relationship seems complicated and messy and you’re sure what Shoto is telling you is only the tip of a chaotic Todoroki family dynamic iceberg.

“Oh, Shoto.” You say softly. You scoot forward and wrap your arms around him. He freezes, unsure of what to do but nevertheless comforted by the sudden closeness. You reach behind him and card your fingers through his hair. You see goose bumps emerge across his skin, and realize that he likely hasn’t been touched this way before.

“Is it okay to touch you like this?” You whisper.

He breathes out a shaky “yes” as he moves to toss the Squirtle plush to the floor. Once his arms are free, he works to wrap them around you. He rests one strong hand on your back and slings the other around your delicate waist. He draws you close to him and holds you tightly as you continue to run your fingers softly through his two-toned hair.

He’s silent as he buries his head into your shoulder. There’s an emotion that’s radiating off of his body that you can’t quite place – sadness? Frustration? Maybe even relief? After a few moments of running your fingers through his hair and gently up and down his back, he finally starts to relax. The tense muscles in his shoulders loosen, and he seems to come back to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers, muffled as he turns his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not great at expressing my emotions. I can try to put it into words…I’m feeling so weighed down right now.”

“Because of your father’s expectations?” You prompt, running a light fingertip down his spine. He shivers a bit in response, but not in an unpleasant way.

“Sometimes I wonder if he sees me as a real person, as a son. Or am I just his big project?” Shoto wonders aloud, his voice a bit strained. You feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin beneath your jawline.

“Shoto...that sounds like a lot to carry. You’re just a high school student – your father shouldn’t be putting that kind of pressure on you. It’s not normal.” You tuck a lock of red hair behind his porcelain ear. “This situation sounds so complicated. It’s no wonder you feel so conflicted. I’m here any time you need a friendly ear to listen as you work through it.” You continue to caress him softly over his clothes. He begins to lean into your touch hungrily. “But right now – at this moment – you’re safe. In this room, in my arms, you don’t need to hold other people’s expectations of you in your heart. When you’re with me, I want you to feel that you can just be Shoto.”

You still your fingers as you let your words sink in. Shoto is radiating a deep sort of sadness that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking a tiny bit as he processes your words. After a few beats Shoto exhales deeply, his breath ruffles your hair. “I’m not used to talking about these things. Actually, I’m not really used to talking much at all. Or being touched.” You can feel the blush on his delicate cheeks warm the skin of your neck.

“I can tell.” You say before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he chuckles.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy to do these things with you – talking, touching…kissing.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder to look you square in the face. “There’s something about you…”

Suddenly, the room feels as if it’s charged with Denki’s electrification quirk as his bright mismatched eyes meet your own.

“I think I’d like to continue exploring this with you.” He says matter-of-factly, moving his legs to intertwine with yours.

“W-what does that mean?” Your breath catches in your throat as he dips forward to kiss down your neck.

“It means…I want to keep doing this. Kissing. Talking. I suppose I want to keep getting to know you like this? Intimately.” He places a soft kiss in the hollow behind your earlobe. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes.” You breathe, with zero hesitation. He smiles into your neck before running the edges of his teeth lightly across your smooth skin. You let out a soft moan in response.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out together.” He moves to kiss your cheek soundly before releasing you from his embrace. “But right now it’s well past midnight, and we both need our sleep if we’re going to continue to be top of our class alongside YaMomo and Ida. If we both let our grades slip, it might tip people off.” He moves to get off the bed.

“Hey – wait!” You grab his arm and pull him back under the covers. “I have no problem with you staying here for the night.”

“But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Shoto’s face reddens, but he lets himself be drawn back into your gentle embrace.

“Would it be anymore inappropriate than you making out with my tits?” Shoto’s face burns an even brighter red at this question, but he also looks quite pleased with himself (you assume he’s recalling the way he kissed down your breasts earlier that day as he smirks). “Sharing a bed should be perfectly responsible as long as we keep all of our clothes on. You said you want to explore? Well get over here and let’s figure out if you make a good big spoon.”

This earns one of those rare full smiles from Shoto – he practically glows. “Alright.”

He pulls himself close to you. You reach above your head and switch off the string lights that wind their way around your room, and the tiny dorm fills with darkness.

You turn to face the wall and scoot your body back until you feel Shoto’s solid warmth. He reaches around to pull you close until bodies are touching, flush together. You tuck yourself into Shoto’s warm, muscular body and sigh with contentment.

“So do I make a good big spoon?” He questions, tentatively nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, your hair smells like lavender.”

“We’ll need plenty of practice to truly ascertain the full range of your spooning abilities.” You say in a faux-academic voice, causing him to snort out a laugh. “But so far you’re doing great.”

You interlock your legs and pull his strong arms around you. You wiggle a bit as you try to find the comfiest spot in the mattress. You unintentionally grind a bit against Shoto and jolt when you feel something hard pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Sorry.” He mutters softly, embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll take care of that for you tomorrow.” You yawn as you close your eyes and settle in for a good night’s rest. You grin into the darkness as you feel Shoto’s dick get even harder as he mulls over your response, wondering at what you could possibly mean by “take care of that.”

You didn’t realize you were so tired. You’re dimly aware of Shoto’s breathing growing slow as he drifts off into a comfortable sleep. You smile softly to yourself as you slide further into his embrace. This poor, touch-starved boy has been through so many terrible things and your heart aches for him.

Even in sleep he’s tense, his jawline stiff and his muscles almost locked around you. But he’s warm and soft and smells like jasmine and mint tea. You hope that for the next few hours you can provide him with a safe harbor to rest and escape his troubles. You let your eyes flutter close and breathe in deeply, dreaming of Shoto’s sweet face as you fall gently into sleep’s embrace.

-------------------------------

Part 3

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

🔥 Link to My Master List 🔥

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 18: Once brothers, now Him

Ah, brotherly love. 55% love, 45% violence. History is full of examples of those bound by blood spilling that same blood.

Here is Finn:

Just about to graduate from university. Great grades, top of his social circle, off to a potentially great career, & noted ladies man.

Then there is his twin, Leon:

The only thing he does better than Finn at is academics. His lack of connection building meant that at best, he could go the professor/teacher route.

These brothers were both content with their lot in life....until the test results came in.

Finn had an incurable disease that also induced infertility. Finn would live a long life, but could never start a family of his own. Leon was devastated as well, but he shot down the idea of using his seed to father Finn's kids.

"Come on bro, we're twins, genetically any kids you have will be mine as well. I am not asking you to sleep with my future wife, just put it in a cup & walk away," Finn said.

"No, it would be hard to treat my kids like I am their uncle when I am their father. Imagine something bad happens & my parental instincts try to kick in. Or, when my kid accomplishes something & I want to celebrate with them. It's going to lead to awkward situations," Leon said in curt & said tone.

"Then just move far away, just until they turn 18, then we can readdress this," Finn said.

"Family gatherings," Leon asked.

"Don't come," Finn said.

Leon was dumbfounded. He wanted his own brother to destroy his own familial relationships because his sack can't finish the job.

This has always been an issue between the two. Leon has always sacrificed his well being for his brother's sake & never got so much as a thanks.

Leon got in Finn's face.

"Out of the question," Leon screamed.

Before they could further react to the situation, both brothers began to feel dizzy & moved closer to each other. But Finn was able to get out of the trance and put some distance between himself & Leon.

"There has to be another solution. I know I am asking a lot from you," Finn said.

"Like you always do," Leon retorted.

Finn squinted his eyes in frustration but decided to think about his next words. He wondered why Leon was pushing back on this. He doesn't really have to leave the family. He can just be the overly involved uncle. There is more to this.

"We are going to therapy," Finn said in an authoritative tone.

"Don't act like the boss man now. You may have the muscles, but I am still older," Leon said.

"By fifteen seconds. You can walk yourself there, or I can carry you. My third arm might be useless, but these two guns are still functional," Finn said.

"You wouldn't dare," Leon said.

Finn smiled.

Finn did in fact carry Leon to the university's mental health clinic. Leon regrets starting Finn on the gym bro path back in high school.

There was an opening from a last minute cancellation & the brothers met Dr. Krushnik.

Finn moved to talk first, but Leon just suddenly let it out. About how he sacrificed nearly everything for Finn growing up & gave up his social life for him as well in university. About how their parents always favored Finn. Like he didn't exist. Like his existence was just to back Finn up.

Finn was shocked & hurt, but he thought back to all the times. Better toys, better clothes, allowed to do sports. He even overheard how Leon gave up his spot in a fraternity so that Finn could get in. The party invites redirected to him.

Finn reached his hand out to grasp Leon's.

"I am so sorry," Finn said in a sorry tone.

Leon was shocked mentally. First from spilling his guts & then from his brother's reaction. The hand grasping turned into a full blown hug.

The doctor sighed. The brothers reconciled without him saying a word.

It happened again. The brothers felt delirious. They could hear each other's thoughts. They pulled back quickly.

The doctor noticed this.

"Did you hear each other's voice in your heads," he asked.

They both nodded.

"I only dealt with a case like this once," he said.

"I am going to guess that you two are twins. You two are splitters," he said.

"We are what," Leon asked.

The doctor responded:

"Identical twins start off as one person, during the pregnancy, the original you splits into two separate zygotes & twins are born if you both survive."

"Not all twins are splitters. The distinction is that you two can still rejoin," he said.

Leon was confused.

"Wait, would merging fix our health issues," Finn asked loudly.

Leon was shocked at Finn's response. He knew exactly what Finn wanted to do.

"Such as," the doctor asked.

Finn blushed, in a hushed tone:

"I suffer from a disease that makes it impossible to have kids."

The doctor responded:

"There is some literature that speculates that splitters can suffer from ill effects if they don't pull everything they need."

The doctor eyes both of the brothers.

"You seemed to have stopped at the nether regions."

Finn closed his eyes & blushed again.

Leon facepalmed.

They were heading back to their dorm room when Finn punched Leon in the shoulder.

"What was that for," Leon asked.

"For splitting with me. We should have walked this earth as originally intended, as one," Finn said.

Leon blushed again. Was he that determined to bear fruit? The doctor did warn us that the original persona would take over. We would only exist as individuals in his subconsciousness. The idea of being stuck with Finn & debating about everything for as long as they existed 24/7 nearly gave him a headache.

They both walked into their shared dorm room.

"I know what you are thinking, that I only want to merge to be fertile. But it isn't restoring my fertility, the process will reform a new being. We are restoring him, whatever we were originally," Finn said.

"Oh you want to merge with me that much. I got you down bad," Leon retorted. He sticked out his tongue & panted like a puppy.

Finn threw a pillow at him in response.

"Look, I don't want to exist as half a person anymore. Please, join with me," Finn begged.

"You are never "half" a person. You are you and fully worth existing as is. If I am doing this, I don't want to merge with a wimp with self-confidence issues," Leon said.

Finn was shocked, his brother agreed. His shock turned to joy.

He didn't notice but Leon was right up close to him.

"Never say I never did anything for you, this better be worth it," Leon said.

Leon embraced his brother in a hug & soon after, so did Finn.

The delirium set in again. Come to find out, it was their minds opening up to each other to begin mixing.

There was a soft moan coming from the brothers. Their memories & mental traits were mixing into one.

As their minds became one, Leon began to sink into Finn like quicksand. The sounds coming from Leon stopped as his head sunk into Finn's chest. Within a few minutes, Leon was completely sunk into Finn's body.

Finn's closed his eyes & began to flex his fingers and toes. But this was no longer Finn. This was now their original self being reborn & his reaction to the process.

Stretching & pulling noises could be heard as his neck, shoulders, arms, legs, & feet expanded with new muscle. At the same time, the skeletal frame thickened and expanded. This original self grunted in response.

Pops could be heard as the chest grew bigger. The abdominals became flat at first, but as if one was popping saran-wrap, his abdominal muscles began to pop out one by one until he had an eight pack.

His butt expanded as well, but more gently. It was as if he had balloons for butt cheeks that were connected to a water hose, and someone turned the water on.

The sensation of being filled didn't stop there, it eventually extended to his private areas. At first he was fully extended to what Finn could achieve, but then his rod kept growing, and in waves, it grew thicker. His gonads came to life & grew four times their size. He cocked his head upwards in response.

Their minds finally became one. Finn let Leon completely in & so did Leon in return. They were reborn, no remade into their original persona.

His skull grew larger & a little more straighter. His eyes, mouth were Finn's but less sunken. His nose & eyebrows a combination of the two. His ears & chin was from Leon.

He kept Finn's hair style, but he gained Leon's volume. The flood of testosterone caused facial hair to erupt, giving him a beard, mustache, & side burns that connected.

He opened his eyes & his rebirth was complete. He found himself breathing heavily & a quick scan revealed he was drenched in sweat. He was naked too. Apparently Finn's clothing could not handle his much bigger frame and tore off.

Even though he was alone, he grabbed a white towel and wrapped it around his waist.

He quickly went to the bathroom to check out his form.

Here he was in flesh. He never thought he would ever exist as a whole the moment he split while in his mother's womb. But here he is. He knew that Finn & Leon could never return individually, and while he was grateful for both trying to live their lives, he had no desire to split again.

But who was he? He was never given an name as he was due to the nature of his birth, but wait he did have a name.

History had shifted. In merging back into one, the brothers merged their timelines too. He given the name of....Magnus.

He later took some fertility tests, and found no issues. Finn got his wish, sort of.

Thanks to the Leon part of him, there was no desire for kids until 28. If Finn was still here, he would be facepalming & Leon would be cackling. One last brotherly hit from brother to brother.

[lechrts]

Could’ve Fooled Me. ✷ Ollie Bearman

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Schoolmate!reader

Summary: When Ollie does something “probably stupid.”

Word Count: 2.1k

Vera's Voice! this was so stupid not gonna lie. Jusr. Just read idk. Lmk. Bye. have fun.

Your dynamic with Ollie had always been a strange one. A mix of heated arguments and undeniable chemistry that made everyone around you raise an eyebrow.

He was infuriatingly confident, with that perpetual smirk like he already knew the answer to a question you hadn’t even asked yet.

You weren’t sure when your mutual distaste turned into something resembling... whatever this was. It wasn’t quite hatred anymore, but it wasn’t exactly a friendship either. It was more like a magnetic pull—one you both resisted fiercely.

Until, of course, you were paired for a history presentation.

So cliche.

“Fate’s a cruel thing,” You muttered under your breath the day your teacher announced the pairings.

Ollie shot you a grin as you plopped into the vacant seat beside him. “You know, if you wanted to spend more time with me, you could’ve just asked.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sharp pang in your chest at his teasing felt alarmingly like excitement.

It was supposed to be simple. You’d meet at his house, finish your slides, rehearse your presentation, and be done with it.

In and out, no distractions.

You stood outside his door, the chill December air biting at your fingertips as you hesitated. The nerves in your stomach were new, unsettling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t argued with Ollie a hundred times before. It wasn’t like you hadn’t sat next to him in class, stolen pens from his desk, or rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comments.

This just felt... different.

When he opened the door, wearing a plain sweatshirt and grey joggers, hair messy like he hadn’t bothered to tame it, you almost forgot how to speak.

“Are you gonna keep standing there, or are you coming in?” He asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Just soaking in the joy of this moment,” You replied sarcastically, stepping inside with mock dramatics.

When he led the way to his room, you were shocked to see how neat it was. It smelled faintly like him—some mix of cedarwood and mint that you hated how much you noticed. The space was tidy, a little more put together than you’d expected, with a sleek desk by the window and shelves lined with racing memorabilia.

“Wow,” You said, gesturing to the small shrine of karting trophies, back from when he still raced. “How modest of you.”

He smirked, sitting on his bed. “What can I say? I’m amazing.”

“And humble.”

“And humble,” He echoed, grinning.

You rolled your eyes, plopping down on the carpeted floor next to his bed and pulling your laptop out of your bag.

“Alright,” You said briskly, needing to focus. “Let’s get this over with.”

But working with Ollie was, as expected, impossible.

You closed your eyes, counting to three.

Do not murder him in his own home.

Do not murder him in his own home.

Do NOT. murder him in his own home.

“Fine. You pick the font,” You said, shoving the laptop toward him since he had been pestering you about the title screen for the past ten minutes.

“Gladly.”

He leaned over, now sat beside you ever since he joined you on the floor many moments ago. You hated the way your heart jumped when his arm brushed against yours. It wasn’t even a full touch, just the faintest contact, but it sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“So!,” He said after a moment, his voice annoyingly casual, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” You said automatically, though it came out a little sharper than intended.

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “Yeah, right.”

You sighed, focusing on the textbook in front of you to avoid looking at him. “You’re just...distracting.”

“Distracting?” He repeated, his tone shifting. He leaned back slightly, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. “How am I distracting?”

“Because you never take anything seriously,” You said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You joke about everything. It’s like nothing gets to you, and it’s—”

“It’s what?” He pressed, his voice softer now.

“Annoying.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence stretched, thick and heavy. When you finally glanced up, he was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“What?” You asked defensively, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” He said, leaning back against his bed. His smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable. “You’re just....”

He shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Never mind.”

Your chest felt tight, like the air between you had shifted into something you couldn’t name. You tried to shake it off, focusing back on the slides, but it was no use.

When you reached for your pen, he reached for it at the same time. Your fingers brushed, and you both froze.

Neither of you moved, the air suddenly crackling with tension. His hand was warm, his touch hesitant but lingering.

“Um.. ” He said quietly, his voice lower than usual, clearing his throat as if he had something to say.

Your heart was pounding, so loud you were sure he could hear it. “Hm?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you really think I don’t take anything seriously?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” He said, his voice steady now. “Do you actually think I don’t care about anything?”

The vulnerability in his tone took you by surprise. You hesitated, then shook your head. “No. I just think... you hide it. Behind all the cockiness and idiocy.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his eyes searched yours, like he was trying to figure something out.

And then, suddenly, his hand was on yours again—not hesitant this time, but deliberate.

“Um.” You cleared your throat. “What are you doing?” You whispered, your voice shaky.

“Probably something stupid,” He murmured, and before you could respond, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was everything you’d been holding back since the day you met him—frustration, anger, and all the butterflies you refused to admit you felt. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer, and your brain short-circuited as the world tilted on its axis.

You kissed him back, your fingers tangling in his hair before you could think better of it. It was messy, intense, infuriatingly perfect.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, the rosiness on both of your cheeks clearly evident.

“That,” You managed, voice shaky, “Was definitely stupid.”

“Yeah?” He said, grinning despite the pink tint to his features. “Then why’d you kiss me back?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

Because he was right. And, worse, he knew it.

You sat there, blinking at him, your brain still catching up to what had just happened. Ollie was looking at you like he’d won something—smirking, flushed, and utterly insufferable.

“Well?” He asked, his voice annoyingly smug. “No witty comeback? No insult? Should I be concerned?”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking off the daze. “I’m just... processing the fact that you have the audacity to act like you weren’t the one who kissed me.”

“Oh, I absolutely kissed you,” He said, confidently admitting it as he straightened his posture, “But you kissed me back…”

“With enthusiasm, might I add.”

You scoffed, though your cheeks were burning. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He leaned closer, his smirk widening. “Because I’m pretty sure you had your hands in my hair. Very passionately..”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to kiss you!” You argued, pointing at him.

He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Right. You were just being polite. Kissing me back to avoid hurting my feelings?”

“Exactly,” You said, chin tilting up. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment. A... reflex.”

“Hmm,” He mused, clearly not buying it. He tapped a finger on his lips, pretending to think. “So, if I kissed you again, purely as an experiment, you wouldn’t kiss me back?”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said again, but you refused to let him see it. “Exactly. No hesitation. I’d push you away immediately.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer still. “Immediately?”

You hated how his voice dropped, soft and teasing, like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

“Yeah,” You said firmly, though the word came out weaker than you intended.

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it,” He repeated, his voice low and challenging. “If you’re so sure you wouldn’t kiss me back, let’s test your little theory.”

Your breath hitched as the space between you seemed to shrink. “Your ego is insane.”

“Maybe,” He said, grinning, “But, you still haven’t moved.”

And damn it, he was right.

You hadn’t moved.

In fact, you were leaning in ever so slightly, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his presence.

“Ollie,” You said, your voice more a warning than anything else.

“Hm?,” He hummed back, and then he kissed you again.

This time, you had no excuse. No reflex, no momentary lapse in judgment. You kissed him back because you wanted to—because, for once, you didn’t want to fight it.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

When you broke apart, his hands still framing your face, you couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Happy now?”

He let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Very.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” You said, pulling back slightly.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m definitely getting used to it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” He shot back, brushing a thumb along your jawline.

You swatted his hand away, though your heart was still racing. “This doesn’t mean anything, you idiot.”

“Sure,” he said, his tone so casual it made you want to throttle him. “It’s just two people who hate each other making out in my bedroom. Totally meaningless.”

“It was meaningless.”

“Right.” His grin was maddening. “That’s why you’re still blushing.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You just kissed me,” He reminded you.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you!”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You glared at him, but it was no use. The butterflies in your stomach betrayed you, fluttering wildly every time he smiled at you like that.

“Well,” You said finally, attempting to stand up and closing your laptop, “This has been a colossal waste of time. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Ollie said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down. “You’re not running away from this.”

“I’m not running away!”

“Then stay.”

You hesitated, your pulse quickening. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he said, his voice softening in a way that made your heart ache, “I like you. Even when you drive me absolutely insane.”

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

You wanted to argue, to deflect with some sarcastic remark, but the sincerity in his eyes stopped you.

“Fine,” You said after a long moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “But only because we still have work to do.”

His grin returned, but it was softer this time, more genuine. “Sure. Work.”

You straightened back up, opening your laptop and pretending to focus on the screen, but you could feel Ollie’s gaze burning into you. He leaned against the edge of his bed, his smirk far too knowing.

Far too confident.

And then, after a few moments of tense silence, you sighed and closed your laptop with a sharp snap.

“Hm,” Ollie drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Giving up already?”

You shot him a look, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “We both know we’re not getting any work done tonight.”

His smirk faltered for a second, replaced by something softer, something that made your breath hitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low.

Before you could overthink it, his hand cupped your jaw, pulling you toward him. And then his lips were on yours again, and this time there was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling.

It was pure, unrelenting gravity.

You kissed him back again, with everything you had, your fingers finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. He tasted like spearmint gum and something undeniably him, something you couldn’t get enough of.

Ollie’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn’t stand the distance. Your heart raced.

“You’re ridiculous,” You mumbled against his lips, barely able to catch your breath.

He grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “And you’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” You shot back, your voice breathless but still laced with defiance.

“Here we are,” He echoed, his fingers brushing along your jaw before tilting your head back for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, like he was taking his time memorizing every detail.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this was a terrible idea. But in that moment, with Ollie’s lips on yours and his hands keeping you grounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled away, your lips swollen and your heart pounding, you stared at him. He looked just as dazed as you felt, his hair slightly tousled, his lips red from kissing.

“Yeah,” You said, breaking the silence, “We’re definitely failing.”

Ollie laughed, his smile so wide and genuine it made your stomach flip. “Worth it.”

You groaned, dropping your head back and covering your face with your hands. “This is such a mess.”

He laughed, tugging your hands away so you had to look at him. “Maybe,” He said, his tone softer now, “But, it’s a good kind of mess.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Your idiot, maybe,” He teased, leaning down to steal one last kiss before you could argue.

“Oh, hush it.” You laughed as the antics continued anyways.

And even though you would never admit it, you didn’t really mind whatever this was.

Could’ve fooled you.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated! ^_^ let me know if u wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!! :3

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Wave

teacher!mingi x teacher!reader

summer camp/school trip au

word count: 7.8k

genre: fluffy stuff, just tooth rotting fluff for once

synopsis: when you suggest the idea of a one week trip to give the seniors a little break before their exams, you find yourself paired with mingi as the teachers in charge of your group of students, to your surprise and satisfaction. you've had your eye on him for quite a while- but so has mingi. he proves that it isn't too late for a highschool sweetheart - him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (we formally salute all fluff writers bc this shit was tough)

when you heard you were accepted as a part of the crew who would be accompanying students on a one week road trip 

not only were you beyond relieved because you needed a break so bad

but you were also way too curious about who else made it into the crew

it hadn’t been long since you started teaching at eden high school

but it was the quickest you found your place as an english teacher

it was surprising how well you got along with the staff here considering your not-so-excellent experience at your previous school

and the students here were just students, yes, just like everywhere but

you were pretty sure this was the most adored you had been

perhaps because you were in charge of the seniors who really needed someone like you- a person they could confide their problems and concerns in

a person who would offer solutions instead of telling them that it was just a fleeting worry

a person who would notice when they were beyond exhausted with the pressure of being, well, a senior

you remember how hard it was when it was your time and you wouldn’t want your students to go through the same thing

which was why you once suggested to mr. kim that perhaps the students would appreciate a trip

it was just a casual observation you had made and when mr. kim said ‘perhaps they really need it’, you weren’t sure if he was being serious

but turns out that he was, and the preparations began

not all the teachers could join but you had to be a part of it, mr. kim said, since you suggested it in the first place

you got so busy with assuring the students that they would have fun and they had nothing to worry about

talking to their parents in case they were being reluctant to send their kid, thinking it was a waste of time

convincing the students who were taking their studies way too seriously that they needed this- they really didn’t want to be burned out when exams would be near

that it slipped your mind- another suggestion for mr. kim to take mr. song along

mr. song mingi- the history teacher- the one who made history quite fun to learn

you had specifically planned with the staff- including him- to visit a few historical sights on the road-trip

however, he wasn’t the only history teacher here so you weren’t sure if he would be tagging along

and you never got the chance to ask him

(or even if you did, you were too shy)

but the day finally came

way too early in the morning when even the sun was asleep, you were standing by the bus counting the heads

almost all of your students made it- it was a bummer that some couldn’t but you promised to take them out for dinner after you were back

it was the least you could do for them

the girls were all over you, finding your casual style pretty intriguing

they had only ever seen you in professional clothing, tied hair and reading glasses on the bridge of your nose

so with your hair down, shades hanging by the neckline of your light blue sundress

the girls were pleased, yes, but the boys couldn’t help but share the sentiment too

“miss y/n, you should wear dresses more often!”

“light blue is your colour!”

“your hair looks so good-”

“come on now,” a familiar voice boomed and if you thought the flood of compliments from your students was making you smile

the smile changed into a grin, almost a giggle when you turned to the source

the source being none other than song mingi- in a loose sleeveless white shirt with a denim outerwear and matching jeans

song mingi may be a ‘boring history teacher’ like you sometimes teased him

but that man has got impeccable style

“stop flattering poor miss y/n and find your seats, come on!”

the students laughed but obeyed and the class pres started the roll call

and you felt a little somersault in your stomach when you locked eyes with mingi

“you made it”

he grinned back. “did you think i wouldn’t?”

“i was hoping you would, actually.”

and that took mingi off guard

you weren’t always forward with what you said unlike him and he found you a bit hard to read sometimes

and oftentimes, you surprised him with your actions or your words, just like you did now

but mingi knew when to make something out of an opportunity

“well, you’re stuck being paired with the boring old history teacher. hope you don’t mind.”

“i never called you old, though,” you told him, smiling to yourself before following the guard’s orders and getting on the bus

.

mingi, of course, sat next to you, the only seat available

and you marvelled at the turn of events

because how long had you wished for some sort of proximity to happen?

it wasn’t easy to be alone in the school with him- not that you wanted to do anything alone with him, but

sometimes, you thought, it would have been nice if you got one-to-one interaction with him that wasn’t related to grading each other’s papers 

or sharing pointers about the next exam

sometimes, he would find you alone with your head in your hands

and he would decide not to disturb you and leave a little something for you near your desk for you to spot if you, well, got your head out of your hands

a candy or a ‘cheer up!’ note

you would also find him alone in some classroom sometimes

you noticed he preferred to be alone at times so you knew to look in his classroom first instead of the staff room

he would be so absorbed in whatever he was doing

that you would simply watch him until he felt your gaze burning into his skin

and then you would pretend to have been passing by 

and of course you ‘accidentally’ bought two of whatever you were going to snack on

mingi would offer you to join him but most of the times, you let him be

but sometimes, if the staff room was too noisy, you would join him

and the two of you would sit at opposite ends of the classroom doing your own work

(while secretly stealing glances but nobody needed to know that)

so now that you finally got to be alone with him

ignoring the twenty-some noisy children in the back- they could be considered background noise

you couldn’t help but play with your fingers

the bus started and mingi initiated conversation

telling you who was paired with who

each bus had at least one male and one female teacher and only two out of the four buses had two teachers

the other being jongho and gyeoul

“ah, gyeoul is going to forget she’s a teacher. i bet she’ll be sitting with the students playing uno with them.”

“jongho is going to drive the kids away with his dad jokes,” mingi tsk-ed. “but guess the most interesting pairing?”

us?

“hongjoong, wooyoung and yuqi.”

“no way!” you actually laughed out loud this time. “hongjoong’s going to regret ever planning this trip.”

“you bet,” he scoffed. “seonghwa, mina and eunha are in the other bus.”

“all the calm ones?”

“i switched with seonghwa, actually,” he admitted and you raised a brow. “seonghwa gets along with them. i get along with you. we might as well have a good time too, now that we’re here, right?”

right.

he switched to be with you

“you sure you won’t regret that decision?”

you didn’t expect his eyes to travel all over your face and his lips to curve into a smirk

“i’m sure.”

and that was your cue to check on your students

you took a round, making sure everyone was comfortable and told them all to just take a nap

there wasn’t anything interesting going to happen for a good few hours

lucky for you, the kids were sleepy

so the bus fell quiet, the driver assuring you that you both could relax too- there was another driver to keep him company anyway

so you asked mingi if he was sleepy

“not yet. are you?”

“not yet,” you confirmed.

“are you comfortable? do you need anything?”

you relaxed back, shoulder to shoulder with mingi, a small blanket on your lap. “i’m good. do you need anything?”

“not for now, nope,” he took a deep breath. “how long has it been since your last trip?”

.

and that was how you found yourself actually relaxing and talking to him

you told him your last trip was a while ago with your family

you didn’t want to count school trips but you told him about that too

and he told you about his experiences

just like that, you got to know each other a little better

details you wouldn’t have shared otherwise

from random facts about each other:

“i used to love reading. i became an english teacher because i would consume books like nothing else. but i haven’t read a new book in about a year.”

“i hated the idea of being a history major until one of my professors started using storytelling as a way to get us to learn about the world. i still remember the stories he’d make up.”

to gossip:

“i think i saw wooyoung checking out eunha earlier”

“don’t you think mina’s got a thing for seonghwa?”

somewhere between all of that, you got too sleepy to continue talking

you didn’t realise when you dozed off but when you woke up with a weight on your side

your heart almost stopped when you realised it was mingi resting his head against your shoulder

and quite comfortably at that

you realised you may have been resting your face on his head too

and the current position with your neck upright was sending a painful wave down your shoulder

so you decided to give in, checking the time- you could sleep for another hour

you went back to resting your face on top of his head, the bubbly smell of his shampoo lulling you right back to sleep

you woke up when you felt the bus stop and when you groggily lifted your head

you realised that mingi had been awake for quite some while, using his phone

but he never moved because you were using his head as a pillow

“oh my god,” you said, hiding your face in your hands so he wouldn’t see your flaming cheeks. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realise-”

“it’s okay,” mingi chuckled, waving his hand in dismissal. “i’m to blame too.”

you looked at him to make sure it was really okay and when he said, “your snores are cute” you chucked your blanket at him and looked around

you were making a quick stop at a rest area

you woke the kids up and told them now was the time to get snacks or use the toilet

you met up with the teachers to have coffee, everyone in good spirits having woken up from their naps

the wind already felt different and fresh now that you were a few hundred miles away from the city

with newfound energy, you all got back into your buses and that was when the fun started-

for the kids.

it was suddenly too lively and noisy, loud music blasted in the bus and a few kids showing off their dance moves, the rest cheering them on

you clapped along, reminiscing about your own highschool time

soon, you reached the first town on your list- a town known for its historical ruins

though the kids had been complaining about visiting ruins- what’s there to learn about ruins?

you assured them the trip would only get better and you kept the ‘boring’ sites for the first few days

because you wanted to end the trip on a cheerful note- the beach

as the kids crowded and started following the teachers, you took note of their complaints and unsatisfied grunts

and though panic started bubbling in your heart- maybe you shouldn’t have put this town on the list? all your anxieties faded away when a certain history teacher stepped in to save the day

“alright, remember when i told you guys about the spirit of the exiled princess that haunts a certain town? that people spot in the forest sometimes?”

“is the spirit pretty?” a boy asked, earning a bunch of snickers from the crowd

but the way mingi smirked made them all shut up

“i guess you’ll find out soon.”

you winced when the kids burst into a chorus of cheers or frightened screams and the teachers shared a good laugh at how mingi handled this

“remember- if you find a four-leaf clover, the spirit might spare you!”

and as mingi guided them along the town, sharing fun facts about the sites, the kids kept their eyes trained on the ground in chances of finding the lucky leaf

really, it was worse than a needle in a haystack

.

after visiting a few sites, you found yourselves in the heart of the town, at a food street

all the class presidents were instructed to make sure the kids stay in sight and that they were free to go eat whatever they wanted

the kids were simply famished and just wanted those corn dogs and fish cakes

the staff took a table in the centre and you were glad that it was a weekday today- apart from a few people, you were the only ones here

you all got some noodles and double checked on your accommodations- it was supposed to rain so you wanted to check-in before dark

just like that, it was time to go find shelter

you stuck with your group of students like every other teacher 

and when you reached the lodge, you made sure everyone went to their rooms before finding your own that you were to share with the female staff

the rest of the girls were already there, removing their makeup and stretching. you smiled as you followed suit

“this trip is exactly what i needed,” yuqi slumped down on the mattress as she said. “even though today was a bit boring, the weather makes up for it.”

“well, the night isn’t over yet,” gyeoul smiled mischievously. “it doesn’t have to end on a boring note.”

she came up with the genius idea of having drinks in the backyard with the boys

mina sighed in disappointment because if gyeoul had told her earlier, she wouldn’t have removed her makeup so soon

“you’re pretty anyway,” eunha told her, grabbing her hand and dragging her out

you told them you would join after a few minutes and changed into your pjs like the rest

when you went to the backyard, you let out a surprised laugh

because the boys had already prepared drinks for all of you before gyeoul

“great minds think alike” hongjoong said

“rich coming from you because all it takes is one drink and it’s game over for you,” wooyoung said and seonghwa’s laughter boomed in the air

“you’re no good either, seonghwa!” mingi pointed at the teacher, clicking his glass with wooyoung’s and sharing a shot

you smiled to yourself- it looked like you were going to make really good memories on this trip

you took a seat between the noisy ones- wooyoung and yuqi- and immediately started regretting it

because not only were the two of them were making you drink a lot, ensuring a good hangover

but they also kept teasing everyone (including you) and you thought they were too loud

not that you weren’t having fun

you surprised everyone by joining them after a few drinks, though you couldn’t defend yourself like the two did

what a team they made

of all the people, mingi noticed that perhaps… you needed to switch seats

or the environment- he didn’t want you to get too drunk

so when he subtly motioned for you to follow him, you nodded in answer

he told the drunk lot he would get more drinks

as if there weren’t a bunch of unopened bottles on the ground 

but thankfully they were too busy roasting each other to notice

and then you made the excuse of wanting to go to the toilet and left

you walked inside the hall, trying to figure out exactly where mingi had gone

you almost walked past him in the dark corridor and if mingi hadn’t grabbed your arm, you wouldn’t have known

you turned towards him, eyes wide in surprise

he immediately let go of you, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable

“wanna go see the stars?”

when he said that, you didn’t realise it would become a nighttime ritual for the two of you

because away from the city, you could see so many stars

that drunken night, you watched the stars with him in silence

too afraid to speak lest he figure out the desires within your heart

the desire to be with him, to get to know him more, to simply talk to him

but that comfortable silence definitely created a shift in your dynamics.

.

you didn’t travel much the next day, just explored the surroundings and made a trip to the top of the hill

taking as many photos as you wanted

capturing candids of the students and the teachers to share with them later

watching in fascination as some of the kids caught bugs quite easily

thanking the girls who made flower bracelets for all of you

and when you caught mingi smiling at the bracelet on his wrist, you showed off yours

“the boring old history teacher received a gift?” you teased

“you have to admit that they’re creative,” he laughed. “look- the boys want them too.”

the boys, in fact, wanted them. they were all queued up waiting for the girls to give them all a bracelet- or a ring

“oh, when we go back, there are gonna be so many campus couples,” eunha joined the two of you to watch the sight

really, it was pretty obvious who liked who- they wanted to receive the flowers from the person they liked

and the girls wanted to give the flowers to the person they liked

you wondered if they were so obvious… were you too? 

because it was common knowledge that wooyoung liked eunha- even right now, you caught him stealing glances at her

and if you looked behind you, mina was listening to seonghwa quite intently while he rambled on about something

hongjoong, who was right there, seemed the least interested

so when you looked up at mingi, you caught him staring at you and your heart skipped a beat

“you’ve got a little something on your head- a petal.”

“where?” you ran your fingers through your hair where he pointed but it seemed like you didn’t get it

and mingi decided to take the matter into his own hands and leaned down a bit to pick the petal from near your ear

and just like that, time stopped for a few seconds

maybe you should stop really stop reading novels

even though you haven’t read one in about a year

but just like in the books, the length of the duration- despite being only a matter of a few seconds- seemed too long

as you met his eyes, the golden rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his skin

and making his dark orbs more prominent

you wished he was wearing shades right now so you wouldn’t be entranced by the way his eyes scanned your face

but you blinked, and the moment was over- he drew away and tossed the petal on the ground, smiling awkwardly

and you were so glad jongho called you at that moment, having spotted a kitten and knowing how much you liked cats

you got busy with him, burying that moment aside for the time being

that night, you came back to the same lodge

you didn’t drink this time, having learned your lesson from how bad the hangover was in the morning

but you played a few games of uno and perhaps… this was noisier than last night

because there were quite a few sneaky players in this game

gyeoul and jongho- the evil duo of the school

“have some shame,” wooyoung tsk-ed at gyeoul who grinned at jongho- only you seemed to have noticed the look they shared

the look of an underlying scheme

you were sometimes surprised by how well they got along despite gyeoul being a few years older than all of you, and jongho being the youngest teacher in the school

like attracts like, apparently. evil attracts evil

you noticed jongho mouth a number at gyeoul and you realised what was going on

they either took a peek at the other teacher’s cards since there wasn’t much space here to hide your cards properly

or when jongho had shuffled the cards… he had pulled some trick at that time

either way, you weren’t going to let the two of them win- at least not them

so you looked at mingi who was right in front of you, and you subtly let him know that the two were at it again

he stifled a smile, whispering ‘i got this’ 

and the tables turned when within a few minutes, he somehow tricked gyeoul into playing her wild cards but completely destroyed her

he did not win the game but to you, he was the winner

and you told him that when he asked if you wanted to watch the stars a bit tonight too before sleeping

he laughed loudly at that, almost getting shy

.

and that night, you talked about the most random stuff. again.

it was like you could never run out of things to talk about

after all, there was so much to talk about

the work tea

recent developments- eunha was noticing wooyoung back and seonghwa was still an airhead

you thought seonghwa was just equally nice to everyone so it would be hard to figure out if he looked at mina differently

some students tea- one of the close-knit group of friends had a falling out during the trip

mingi was sure they would figure it out on their own

but you were sure one of them would come to you or wooyoung for advice

you both were the unofficial counsellors in your school

“why wooyoung?” mingi wondered. “why not me?”

“because you, mr. song, seem a tad bit intimidating at times.”

the puppy eyes of disbelief he made in response proved you wrong

“who? me?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was looking at you

“sometimes, yes.”

“more than wooyoung?”

“wooyoung is a literal ball of sunshine though…”

mingi turned towards you, stepping closer

“do i seem intimidating to you too?”

though it was an innocent question

it did nothing to help the butterflies in your stomach

it took everything in you to shake your head no

because he felt intimidating sometimes, that was true

and if it wasn’t for his warm personality

you might not have ever interacted properly with him

mingi laughed to himself, perhaps knowing that you might be lying

and it fell silent all of a sudden

just the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves

and the loud sound of your thoughts

the next two days were a blur

and you thought that when you would go back home, you would have to look at all the photos you took

to ingrain these memories in your brain

because the days were packed travelling and having fun

the bus rides were fun and now it was mr. song who showed his dance moves to the students

he was surprisingly very good- in fact- too good

you wondered if that was why he felt so chill- because he just had this chill groove to him

which showed a lot in his dance moves when he freestyled

you had to physically go and calm the girls after this because

suddenly they were seeing the boring old history teacher in a new light

you folded your arms when mingi made his way back, still laughing at the way the girls cheered for him and the boys clapped

he asked you if you liked what you saw

and that made you smack his arm and turn your focus out of the window to hide your blush admire the scenery

now it was mostly visiting a few spots such as more historical sites and shopping points

and during the day, you were usually with the girls so you could shop together

you tried the local delicacies which was a new experience for most of the people here

and visited an apple farm to help the farmers as well

since it was a packed two days, the teachers didn’t really play more uno or drink 

though all of you would gather, this time in the common room, to plan what was next

but both of these nights, mingi offered you the same thing-

wanna see the stars?

you learned more about him and he about you

you learned that he has always loved to dance 

and he loves karaokes- especially drunk karaokes

he learned more about your previous school experience 

how they overworked you so much 

combined with gaslighting, you thought it was normal and you were just lacking

he assured you that you made a good decision quitting

and commended you for taking the big step- after all, it must have been daunting

though he did not have a similar experience, he could understand you

just like that, you learned the little things about each other

and now that the trip was almost over, you told mingi that you would like to take a walk around while you watched the stars

.

while walking, you were suddenly reminded of the time the staff went out for dinner once

and everyone was at least a bit tipsy if not drunk

when it was time to wrap up and mingi saw that you meant to walk home

he offered to accompany you

and that was only a few months after you started teaching so you weren’t very familiar with all the teachers

though you were pretty sure they were all very nice

you told mingi that he was too drunk but he insisted anyway

and you let him walk you to your neighbourhood which wasn’t far from there

now, almost two years later, you were both taking a walk again and it was oddly reminiscent of that time

and it seemed like mingi was thinking the same when he asked you if you remembered when he first walked you home

“i never told you but i didn’t remember for a while,” he confessed, the rustling of the leaves under your steps growing louder as you stepped on the autumn leaves

you weren’t surprised, if you were honest

“it’s okay. you didn’t do anything stupid. except make crow noises, but that’s okay.”

mingi covered his face in his hands as he laughed and you smiled

“i may or may not have been trying to impress you.”

“really? it was a success. i haven’t heard many people pull off crow noises that well.”

when mingi made a face at that, you lightly punched his arm

“it really is okay. but i have one little favour to ask…”

mingi knew what was coming before you said it

and you both walked a bit further from the hotel

making sure no one was around

before mingi turned away from you and made the loudest caws

and this time, you laughed heartily 

you were so absorbed in your little bubble that when you heard the sound of a door opening

probably the door of the nearest lodge who heard strange sounds in the middle of the night

you grabbed mingi’s hand instinctively and started running away from the source of the sound

the two of you couldn’t stop laughing, even as you ran

so much that it made it harder to run, actually

he took the lead and guided you to the benches to catch your breaths

and it was only after a couple of minutes when your breathing returned to normal

and the adrenaline started to wear off

that you realised the two of you were still holding hands

maybe because the muscles of your arm tensed at the sudden realisation that mingi finally noticed your joined hands

but when he glanced at you and found the corners of your lips curved in a small smile at the sight

he squeezed your hand instead of letting it go

and you looked up at him to see him shyly smiling

“what?” you asked

you couldn’t help it- you needed to know what he was thinking

“nothing, y/n,” he shook his head though he was unable to stifle his smile

“it’s not nothing,” you insisted. “why are you trying so hard not to smile?”

“it’s because i quite like this,” he finally admitted, raising your joined hands and you noticed how small your hand was in his, almost swallowed in his grip

for once, you were the one who was at a loss for words

“did i say something wrong?” mingi asked

and you wished he wasn’t so straightforward

but perhaps, it was for the better

and you thought the timing felt right too

the sky looked beautiful

the air felt like it was enveloping you in its embrace

the moon beautifully lit his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features

yet casting such a soft, welcoming glow

you shook your head, caressing the skin of his hand with your thumb in answer

there was no need for words anymore- the feelings were reciprocated, and you both could feel that

.

mingi made a daring move when he raised your joined hands in the air again

you wondered what he was up to now

but the last thing you expected was for him to kiss the back of your hand

it was such an endearing action that you could not help but giggle

“can’t we stay like this even when we go back home?”

an offer. a question. a confession. it was all of that and more

“i don’t think you can see many stars in the city though.”

“i don’t think i would have to look for stars,” mingi said, looking right at you

that was enough

you smacked his arm. “that’s the cheesiest pick up line i’ve ever heard. you really are the boring old history teacher, mingi.”

you started to go back, folding your arms and still giggling especially when mingi laughed loudly, rushing after you

you tried to run but damn his long legs

he caught up to you, running backwards in front of you now

you pouted as you tried to cross him, but he just won’t let you

“you haven’t answered my questions.”

you paused. you really hadn’t, huh?

he stepped closer to you, trying to read your face for a hint of what was going on behind your eyes

and you thought it was time to finally follow your heart’s desires

and test the waters without any fear

you stepped closer, surprising him

you placed a hand on his shoulder and he wondered what you were about to do

he shut his eyes when you stood on your tiptoes, inches away from him

and you took a moment to drink in the sight

before you pecked his cheek, a giggle escaping your mouth

and this time, you ran for your life

because you didn’t think you could take anything else right now

especially because you had waited so long for some sort of a signal from him

though you wanted nothing more than to hug him and stay there for the rest of the night

you let him chase you and let him hold your hand again

when it was time to separate to go to your respective rooms

he patted your cheek, looking at you with such soft eyes that you melted

and you knew, in that moment

that you were absolutely done for

the travelling time for the next day was a bit longer

which meant you got to spend more time with mingi on the bus

and it was a little awkward at first, the both of you fumbling around like the very teenagers you were making fun of not too long ago

the very teenagers that were on the bus right now

and it took you both a while to stop fidgeting and do something other than awkwardly laugh

thankfully, one of the students came forward with some snacks to share

and thus began a discussion of which snacks were better and which were mid-tier

you both were so enthusiastic about this that the students joined as well

before you knew it, you reached the outskirts of the village you were going to stay in for the next two days

and you thought beautiful was an understatement

the sea was so bright that it looked like a sheet of clear crystals under the sun

the air smelt of salt and sand and you felt a sense of relief

and so did the rest of the passengers- you could hear the soft sighs of the students

this was why you planned the trip

so everyone could just relax at the seaside

there was nothing planned for the last two days- there were a few sites so the students could divide into groups according to where they wanted to go

and the teachers would divide and tag along accordingly

the next two days were all about having fun

no more historical sights, as the kids teased mingi

though mingi retorted with a poetic ‘history is everywhere’ that earned him a few grimaces

as soon as you reached the lodges by the beach, the kids all ran towards the sea with the teachers shouting concerningly

thankfully, there were a few lifeguards since it was a tourist destination

so all of you decided to relax a little too, while still keeping an eye on the kids

.

that day, you all simply enjoyed being on the beach

making sandcastles, playing volleyball, swimming and collecting shells and rocks

mingi was out with his sleeveless again, no jacket covering his arms this time

you had a tough time if you were honest

and so did mina who couldn’t stop sighing at the sight of seonghwa’s long wet hair matted to his face

you could kind of relate to her, though your eyes only followed mingi

and perhaps, you were as obvious as mina now

because a certain menace came to stand next to you

“was just curious why you keep grinning into the distance. but nope. you’re just watching that fool. also, maybe wipe the drool off your mouth.”

you glared at wooyoung

“when you wipe yours. do you want to know what eunha thinks about you?”

suddenly, he’s ready to bow in front of you if necessary and you laughed

you’re both just two lovesick birds at this point and decided to calm yourself by making some sandcastles

“i never realised you got the hots for mingi too,” wooyoung said while trying to place a shell on the top of the lopsided castle. 

“what do you mean ‘too’?” you asked absently, more focused on making sure the whole thing wouldn’t collapse because of a shell

“he’s liked you for the longest time, y/n. you’ve just only noticed now.”

oh. 

that can’t be true, can it?

“are you sure?”

“i mean, he literally watches the stars with you every night. why else would he do that? and only with you? i like watching stars too, he knows. never offered me now, did he?”

you snorted at that

it did make sense

plus, with the events of last night… he must like you a little, right?

you decided to confirm it tonight

this time, you were the one who asked to watch the stars with him

after dinner when you made sure all the kids were in their rooms

the whole staff went to watch the stars, actually

you couldn’t miss it here- the full moon was the cherry on the top

however, you noticed how wooyoung and eunha found a spot away from the rest

mina also managed to get seonghwa to follow him- and perhaps, you thought, he really did like mina 

the rest were in their own bubble

and you grabbed mingi’s hand to lead him towards the big rock you had spotted earlier

where you could have a little privacy 

not that you aimed to do anything, no

you just wanted him all to yourself

was it selfish of you? yes. absolutely. but did you care? 

nope

did mingi care? he followed you willingly

this time, you were more touchy with each other

while you talked about how much you had missed the beach, his fingers trailed the curves of your hand absently

you brushed the sand off his cheekbone

and he scooted closer to you

“i don’t want to go back now,” you sighed happily

you really didn’t want to- it was too peaceful here

and you had never felt more content

“neither do i,” mingi said. “but at the same time… i do.”

“hmm… are you sick of watching the stars with me?”

mingi laughed at that

“i thought by now you knew that i never watched the stars.”

your heart did a few flips at his words and you glanced at him

he was right- he never really looked at the stars

he was always watching you

“would you like to see the stars when we go back?”

“every day, if i can?” he tucked your hair behind your ear as he said

“i really like you, y/n.”

.

god

it’s like you’re the high school student on a trip the way you’re feeling right now

you smiled, looking away and shyly responding

“i really like you too, mingi. i have, for a long time now.”

“how long?” the goofy mingi was back

“never answering that by the way,” you said, getting up and away from him. “you cannot extract that information out of me.”

“y/n!” he yelled your name in warning and you laughed as you tried to make a dash

but he was far too quick and he grabbed your wrist

you had to put your free hand over your mouth to keep your laugh from booming across the horizon

but you could not contain it when he pulled you in to his chest

you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his slim waist

and he curled in your hold, rocking you back and forth

“you’re too tall, by the way,” you said when you realised you were on your tiptoes and he was leaning down

he parted with a kiss on your cheek, pinching your nose afterwards

sending your brain into a spiral, turning you into mush

“you’re too cute.”

no.

you’re too insane because you want to kiss him right now

and you don’t know what took over you when you did just that- pecked his lips, surprising both of you

giggling when his eyes went a little wide 

your grin almost faded when he didn’t respond

but before you could say or do something, he crashed his lips on yours

kissing you deeply, once before drawing away and making sure that it was okay

oh, it was more than okay

but he decided to keep things calm, kissing you slowly and testing the waters

it was perfect in every way, more than what you ever dreamed about

you just never expected this

you and mingi on this beautiful beach, the full moon shining on you two, the waves almost washing your feet

all the four-leaf clovers you found were worth it, it seemed

now that you were sort of official

you spent the next two days with each other

without any hesitation this time

the others barely noticed the difference and you realised that it was because perhaps, the two of you had always looked at each other that way

(or maybe a certain kim hongjoong told them to shut up and let you two enjoy)

but either way, the others let you two tag together when you accompanied the students into town

you went to the local shops and this time, you bought things for your friends and family just like the students

you all had bbq before coming back to the lodges

and that night, you gifted mingi a silly pair of sunglasses

round sunglasses with wide white rims

and when he wore them, you burst into a fit of giggles

“you look like willy wonka from charlie and the chocolate factory”

“do i?” mingi asked, unlocking his phone to check

“mingi wonka. mingi wonka, the amazing history teach~”

you were pretty sure your laughter was heard by everyone on the beach as he chased you 

you decided to take refuge in the waves of the sea and started swimming away from him

but he was quick to follow

and once he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist, you laughed shyly

“someone will see us!”

but when you turned in his arms

the moonlight illuminating his face but hiding his eyes due to the glasses he still had on

you tried taking them off his face but he grabbed your wrists

“yeah, keep them on,” you whispered. “they suit you.”

“i can’t tell if this is a joke or not,” he smiled a bit

“you just need a hat and a cane to go along with it-”

and before you knew it, mingi put his hand on top of your head and dunked you under the sea

you splashed water on him in revenge

and the two of you chased each other again until he finally caught you

and this time, you thought he really did look beautiful with the damp hair and the glasses

so you didn’t try to wriggle away from his grasp when he leaned in to kiss you

.

the last day, everyone decided to just laze around at the beach

the kids played in the water all day

and it was a bit cloudy so the heat was tolerable too

you wore a hat, resting your back against a rock

and whoever passed by would mess up your hat, annoying you

wooyoung decided to step in to guard you

but also for advice

“would it be too much if i cook and take eunha to a private spot for a little picnic?”

you shut the book you had been trying to read and turned your focus to wooyoung

“that sounds cute, actually. would she accompany you willingly?”

wooyoung smacked your arm and you snickered. “she gifted me my favourite perfume last night.”

“so?”

“how did she know?” wooyoung folded his arms. “i’ve never talked about which perfume i wear. no one knows, but she knew.”

this time, you let out a long ‘oh’ as you pondered

“you’re telling me she did her research?”

wooyoung nodded, very pleased

“do you know what her favourite food is?”

“that’s what i came to ask.”

you both did a little planning and wooyoung admitted that he had noticed a shift in your relationship with mingi too

you asked him if you were that obvious

and almost comically, you both looked towards seonghwa

“he’s hopeless,” wooyoung concluded

for some reason, mingi was very curious about what you two were talking about

(or maybe he just wanted you all to himself for the time being)

and he told you that intrusive thought that night

it was the last night of the trip and you would be leaving for home in the morning

so you told him that he better get used to the lack of proximity

because during school hours, it would be pretty packed especially now that exams were nearer

and after that, you both would have too much to work on

“will i be able to see you often then?”

“i mean…” you began. “what are we?”

mingi’s mouth formed an o shape as he realised

that you two hadn’t really talked about this

“shall i ask you out?”

“if i have to tell you that…” you scowled at him and he laughed

digging into his pocket to extract a small box

it was your mouth forming the o shape now

he opened the box to reveal a set of matching bracelets

a pretty little silver chain, very subtle, and just how you preferred

“will you go out with me?”

you made an impressed face, accepting the bracelet

“i didn’t know you were such a romantic”

“there are a lot of things you don’t know yet”

“i’m pretty sure i don’t need to know most of those things-”

mingi only laughed this time 

that night came to be a memorable one

as the trip concluded and you got back to your daily routine

you found that it no longer felt mechanical

you started off with a smile on your face

even mondays felt exciting 

because you could see mingi at school

you would eat lunch together everyday with the rest of the staff

but it was official now- you and mingi

and wooyoung and eunha

the latter was more unexpected, the staff revealed

and you were flustered to hear about how obvious the two of you had been

but it was okay

seonghwa finally noticed that mina acted differently only around him

and was left confused as he tried to figure out how he felt

hongjoong and yuqi were your new enemies

they made it their life’s mission to never let you couples have a peaceful moment

at least wooyoung could fight back

you and mingi were the type to let him bully you

and the students?

they thought they were being subtle when they tried to make the two of you cross each other at the same corridor

or when they casually told you things about each other, little updates

you caught on pretty quick but you let them be

though it was all fun and jokes

hongjoong told you a little secret later on

that mingi had specifically requested to come on this trip because of you

it was endearing

after school, mingi would walk you home every night

because that was the time you could catch up with each other in private

sometimes, you would stop by to have dinner or coffee

you met each other’s families and they instantly liked you

everything was perfect

everything was perfect, just like the waves had been on that beach 

calm, playful but strong

just like your love for each other

and every night before you went to sleep

(if you were not sleeping beside mingi)

you would look at the grid on your wall

at the pictures of you and mingi on the beach

and the picture of him in those silly glasses that suited him so well

and if you were sleeping beside mingi?

well

you could just look at the real thing :D