#which is usually no more than a few chapters into the second half

[fenya-scribbles]

Collide - Part 5

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Pairing: Non-Idol!Dancer!Hyunjin x Dancer!Fem!Reader

Other Characters: Non-Idol!bff!Minho mentioned, Non-Idol!Dancer!Felix mentioned

Summary: Things happen before the second competition round - and after.

Genre: fluff, angst?, rivals to lovers

Content warnings: suggestive if you squint ig

Word Count: 2,516

A/N: Didn’t know what to do with the second half of this for the longest time, but here we are with a chapter that is 1k words longer than all the previous ones lol

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The backstage room was emptier than the first time you’d been here, due to the fewer contestants, but somehow it felt a lot more stuffy. It was the day of the second competition round and you were nervous. Just like the first time, your heart was pounding, hands sweaty, mind racing. But unlike the first time, it had only partly to do with the fact that you’d have to dance in front of the jury in a few minutes. No, your current state was mostly caused by a criminally good looking Hyunjin, who’d thrown uninterpretable glances at you all morning. 

There was no way to describe how fucking weird it felt, knowing that he’d always liked you - or at least strongly suspecting it. Thinking about how he’d only been a nuisance because he’d felt hurt and rejected, and imagining what he would be - could be - like if that wasn’t the case, had your heart skipping beats. Part of you wanted to bridge whatever gap was between you, but you had your pride. You wouldn’t make the effort unless he actually managed to apologise to you. You had endured his bullshit for so long and just because the attraction was mutual, didn’t mean you had to throw away your principles. 

But it was hard. Anxiously, you watched as Hyunjin was talking to Felix, both of them stretching in preparation for their performances, his pretty eyes wandering to you again and again. And Felix noticed, of course. The blonde had a silly grin on his face, which had you curse under your breath. He knew. Of course he knew. He was Hyunjin’s friend, maybe even best friend. Hyunjin looked a bit uncomfortable, if you were honest. Very much like a child who had been caught, scolded and told to apologise.

And then Felix patted his friend on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod in your direction, to which Hyunjin let out a visible sigh, his muscular shoulders slumping. His tall frame turned towards you, though, and he made his way over. He looked as nervous as you felt. Your heart was speeding in your chest, making it borderline impossible to breathe, but also prohibiting you from running away. You were frozen in place, hand pressed to your chest as you watched Hyunjin approach you. He was so damn beautiful, even when he was just walking. 

“Hey”, he said, stopping roughly two feet in front of you. “Hey”, you answered. This was likely the first time Hyunjin had greeted you like a regular person in ages. Since before that fateful first dance class. Since before he thought you were unavailable and his feelings were unrequited. It felt so foreign to you, the idea of being civil with him, when there had always been this animosity. When you had always felt like his punching bag, pushing down your own feelings for him. Feelings that didn’t dissolve, despite how mean Hyunjin was. Maybe part of you had always felt that he didn’t actually dislike you. Maybe part of you had always known. 

Hyunjin stood with his head down, struggling to keep eye contact, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. His ears were red, his eyes big, and despite his height he did not seem to tower over you like he usually would. He more so just stood there, a bit hunched and definitely very unsure of how to act. He looked like a scolded puppy. It made your knees weak, but strangely it also calmed down your heart a bit. At least you weren’t the only one feeling awkward in this situation.

When he didn’t speak, you raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes?”, you said expectantly. The fact that you were supposed to go on stage and dance in only a few more minutes had you put some urgency behind the word. After all, you were supposed to be focused on your performance soon enough. Waiting for him to speak, you stared at Hyunjin, who very obviously struggled to jump over his own shadow. “So,” he eventually said, “I feel like…I mean….ugh” He sighed, throwing his head back, giving you the most delicious view of his neck. It was unfair. You wanted to cut him off and jump him right then and there, but you opted for taking a deep breath instead.

“I’m sorry”, he said after another moment of awkward silence, shifting his gaze back onto you. “Sorry for what?”, you replied. You tried to sound cold or distant or literally anything other than delighted about his better-late-than-never apology - you were not sure, how successful you were. “I’ve been a real dick to you”, he admitted, “and I’m sorry for treating you like that.” Again, you raised your eyebrows. “And you’re apologising right now because…?” You were a bit surprised by your own boldness, but something inside you needed to make him squirm a bit. And squirm he did, narrowing his eyes at you, stepping from one foot to the other. 

Silence fell again between the two of you as he struggled to find an answer. Eventually, he took a deep breath, composing himself. Then, all of a sudden, the expression on his face shifted. His whole demeanour shifted, as he very clearly had an idea, leaving the vulnerable Hyunjin behind and instead turning smug. “I guess it just got boring teasing you, leftie.” The comment was a blow right to your chest, and for a moment you feared, he would just revert back to his old ways. That the apology was just a ruse to distract you before you had to dance. You searched his face, trying to ignore the sting in your chest, and there it was: a playful glint in his eyes, a wink, a smirk. Was he flirting?! 

He took a step towards you and leaned in, gently putting his hand on your chin. Your heart accelerated again, beating faster than it ever had, as his face came close to yours. What was he doing? Would he try to kiss you? But before his lips were too close to yours, he slightly turned your head, aiming for your ear instead. With a low, sultry, dangerously smooth voice he whispered: “Good luck with your solo, Y/N.” 

The way your name rolled of his tongue, the proximity, the feel of his hand softly gripping your chin - your body couldn’t take it, betraying you in the worst way. Your knees gave out for just a second, and you lost your balance. But he was right there, his free arm reaching around your back, as he caught you, before you could fall. He chuckled. “Hey, easy there, leftie. You okay?” He was still so damn close to your face, making it hard for you to breathe, but you managed to nod. You knew full well that you were red as a tomato, and despite feeling embarrassed you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He kept the eye contact, a soft smile on his face now. Part of you wished very baldy that you were alone with him. 

Once he was sure you were stable on your feet again, he let go of you, breaking the tension and creating some distance between you again. With a playful wink he turned around and made his way back to Felix, who gave you the most shit eating grin. You poked your tongue out at him, which made him laugh. And just like that, the nervousness about the performance vanished. Somehow, it didn’t seem all that scary, going out on stage alone now. But you also knew that what just happened would make it harder to focus on your dance. It would make it harder to focus on fucking anything.

***

The evening air was comfortably cool as you made your way across the studio’s parking lot towards the bus station. You had just found out about the second competition round’s results, and while you had placed third - Hyunjin being first, Felix second - you were still satisfied with it. Especially, because you had in fact struggled to fully focus on the dance routine, the sound of Hyunin’s whispered words repeating in your mind the whole time you were on stage. Nevertheless, you made it. The top five had reached the final round, and you still had the chance to win the competition. You knew, however, that the last round would not be easy. Everyone had to choose a song, create a choreography on their own and then perform it at a showcase - with an audience. 

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice him behind you at first, but eventually, Hyunjin’s hand tapped your shoulder and you jumped. “Oh, sorry”, he said, “didn’t mean to startle you.” You turned to face him, and trying to sound nonchalant, you said: “It’s fine.” He smiled. It was a warm smile. An honest smile. You weren’t used to seeing him like this, and you were not sure if you could ever get used to it. His smile made your heart flutter, forgetting every bad word he’d ever thrown your way. You cursed yourself internally. How could you forgive him so easily? How could your grudge against him just disappear like that?

“So”, he said, “you made it to the last round, huh? Despite those two left feet.” He grinned at you, all playful and confident. “Will you ever let that go, Hyune?” Fuck. Not the nickname. Why did your mouth do that? Why did your brain not work around this man anymore? Why did your heart send tingles through your body, as you watched his ears turn red? “Depends, will you ever forgive me for bringing it up in the first place?” He stepped closer, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “I…uhm…”, you stammered, suddenly acutely aware of the proximity between the two of you. 

For a moment neither of you said anything. For a moment, you felt your impulses creep up on you again. Kiss him. Touch him. Love him. But you couldn’t, not yet. You needed to hear him confess, needed more than vague glances and this insane tension. “Why did you start?”, you asked, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “Huh?” He seemed to be pulled from his own thoughts, and you turned red imagining what those would’ve been. “Teasing me? Being a dick? Why’d you start?” You wanted an answer, you needed to hear him say it. Admit it. 

Instead of answering, he raised his hand to your cheek, lightly tracing your skin. He was hesitant at first, but when you let him touch you, even leaning into it a bit, he full on cupped your face. “Isn’t it obvious?”, he asked. You closed your eyes, lost in the feel of his skin agains yours. His hand was warm, his touch soft, and it felt so damn right to have him this close. “Answer the question, Hyune”, you whispered, “please.” You opened your eyes again, finding his and placing your hand over his own. “Fine”, he sighed, “I was…hurt. I liked you and I thought you were with Minho.” 

“Liked?” You raised your eyebrows at him, putting emphasis on the past tense of the word. “I still do, silly”, he chuckled, leaning in closer, “I still really like you.“ The look in his eyes was so soft, practically begging you to forgive him. “Is that so?”, you whispered, suddenly feeling a bit breathless. He was so close now that your brain threatened to stop working all together. His breath tickled your skin, his hand still lingering on your cheek, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Very much so”, he whispered. The world didn’t exist anymore. Nothing was real but you and him, in this moment, on this stupid parking lot, finally being honest with each other. “Hyune…” “Can I ki-“ He didn’t finish. You didn’t let him. 

When your lips met his, time stopped. The universe simply dissolved, reality evaporated, and you immediately threw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. Fireworks went off in your chest as his arms went around you, pulling you closer, pressing you tightly to his chest. His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, and the kiss very quickly turned into a needy, desperate, passionate mess. All those bottled up feelings finally flowed freely through your body, and you felt a bone-deep need for him spread inside of you. You didn’t care that he’d been a dick, didn’t care about any of his mean words, rude comments, dismissive glares. Because this was the real him, this was what he really felt for you. And this was what you really felt for him. 

Hyunjin kissed you like his whole existence depended on in, like he had never wanted to do anything else in his life ever. He kissed you with all of his heart and mind and soul, showing every bit of the attraction and outright love he had for you. His breathing turned ragged, his hands gripping your jacket as he made you feel desperately wanted. It was easily the best kiss you had ever received, and you let yourself get drunk on it, intoxicated by the smell and feel and sound of one Hwang Hyunjin.

Both of you were thoroughly panting once you eventually managed to pry your lips from each other. Slowly, reality slipped back into your field of view. There was the cool evening air, the distant seeming sound of the city, the parking lot around you. And there was Hyunjin, all flushed and slightly sweaty, smiling like a love drunk fool. “That was…wow” Gently, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Then he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. “Yeah”, you replied, still catching your breath, still coming back to the present. In which you heard a bus approaching. Your bus. 

Fuck. “I’m so sorry”, you said, abruptly removing your arms from his shoulders, “I really need to catch that bus.” But he didn’t let go. “I can just give you a ride?” “I’m sorry”, you repeated, suddenly panicking. The idea of Hyunjin driving you home was on a whole other level, even after his apology and confession, even after that kiss. It suddenly became intensely clear to you that you had just made out with Hwang Hyunjin and it had your heart racing in the worst way. 

You felt trapped by his grip all of a sudden, the closeness to him turning unbearable. You pushed him away, finding a little resistance, but he quickly complied and let you go. “But…”, he started, voice a bit shaky - you did not hear, what else he said, as you turned and sprinted towards the bus, that had just stopped and opened its doors. You needed to get away, almost stumbling over your own feet as you made it onto the bus. You kept staring out the window at Hyunjin, who stood there, staring at you in utter confusion. He looked lost, bewildered - and worst of all, hurt.

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Fenya’s Masterlist

[lola-theshowgrl]

"Star-Crossed Blades" - Writing Update #2

Month: January Stage: First draft Word Count: 7785 Currently Listening To: Ep 3 of "Monty Don's British Gardens" Beverage: Chai latte Mood: Anxious

It's going well! In the past week I've written the prologue, chapter one, and about half of chapter two. I've got almost the whole novel plotted out, which is very strange for me (I'm usually much more of a "pantser" than this!) and I even have the two main characters' voices very strongly in my mind. I've been bombarding close friends with all my little thoughts and ideas, and, at the risk of sounding immodest, I really think I have something here. I really do.

There are two problems I'm facing right now. The first is that with such a clear story in my head, practically screaming in my ear to get out into the world, I simply can't write quickly enough. I'm not a very fast writer in general, truth be told. I enjoy writing - I'm not one of these people who complains about the act unless I'm burnt out or dealing with an awkward scene. Generally speaking, I love doing this and actually writing is just as much fun as sharing the finished result. Still, I wish I could be quicker this time around, or at least I wish I didn't need a day job so I could spend the bulk of my energy on SCB instead of data entry and wearing a bra.

The second problem I'm dealing with, is that I'm coming fresh from the fandom space. I'm used to posting chapters as I finish them, and having people to talk to about characters and plot developments. That sense of community is very difficult to do without, especially when I'm practically boiling over to talk about what I'm doing.

I'm part of a few servers on Discord, and I'm trying to spread my excitement across them so I'm not being a huge bore by talking constantly about my WIP. It's difficult, though! I'm so torn between wanting to sit on it, to keep it all secret so I can get people's reactions when the whole thing is finished, or to just blurt it all out like a fog horn to anyone who will listen.

I've been going backwards and forwards about finding a platform I can post it chapter by chapter, as I have no plans to traditionally publish or go via KDP, but with the rise of plagiarism and pirating and AI scraping, I just don't think that's the best idea right now. There's Patreon, but I don't know how I feel about that, either.

It's a shame, really. If nothing else, all I ever want for my writing is for it to be read. At the moment I have a lovely, small but dedicated little group of people who are interested in my scribbles, and I worry that they'll have lost interest before I'm ready to share the whole, finished thing.

I'm in the unusual position of having a good idea how long this story will be, and it's going to take me a while to finish, I imagine. I can't see it'll be ready this year, and right now I'm aiming for September 2026 - that's a very long way off!

For now, I suppose I can only keep chugging along, and reminding myself how much I love this part of the journey. The rest I'll figure out as it comes!

[worthyking]

accidentally read too far in my little women reread and now oh im miserable

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

1 | Something about you

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | flirting, language, suggestiveness, fluff, & faint sexual tension.

❧ Word Count | 7.1k (we're starting off strong it seems...)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Congratulations, you’ve nearly escaped hell— not-so-happily entering your final year of university as time stands currently. And y’know what, you think you’ve coasted through most of your college years drama-free. Well, aside from freshman year you suppose, everyone fucks up around that time…

But that’s a tale for another day, right now, you’re finding yourself waltzing into an entirely different plotline— with your head held high as you waltz toward a newfound cafe that you haven’t had the pleasure of finding for the past four years. Up until today, you’ve just barely been stomaching dining hall caffeine. Which, to say the least, isn’t nearly as savory or energizing as coffee from your local cafe. 

Four years you’ve been going to this school and yet here you were walking right into an establishment you swear simply spawned out of nowhere because you pass this street all the damn time and you don’t remember this place being here a week ago. Yet, when you enter the cafe and spot a sign that says they’ve been there for the past three years, you begin to realize that maybe you should start going out a bit more…

Nonetheless, you mentally claimed that if the coffee here was bad, you’d walk right out and return to never acknowledging the place. But hey, when you do push past those double doors, fingers wrapped around a warm metal handle, a waft of smoky coffee aromas simmering into your nose, and spot a rather attractive cashier first thing, you’re quick to tell yourself that maybe shitty coffee might be worth a few things.

Especially seeing as six staggering feet of height, fluffy bright white locks of hair, and the most dazzling set of blue eyes take notice of your entering seconds after you’ve stepped inside— how could you not tell yourself that terrible coffee may be worth digesting so long as you get to drink in this tall, fine man whose name you note as Gojo as you near him and read the tag on his apron.

“Suguru, it seems the gods have finally answered my prayers,” Gojo yells back to someone you can’t quite see yet. His eyes were all over you, drinking you in just as you were him. The tall man receives a laugh from somewhere further behind him before he redirects his words to you, “To what do I have the pleasure of serving you today, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted as you approached the counter fully, your eyes lingering on his far longer than they should’ve. “Uh,” And you were making a fool out of yourself already, great, “It’s my first time here, so I’m not too sure…” Okay, that’s a decent enough save considering how your words earn a half smile from the man in front of you who tilts his head and eyes you down.

And fuck if he wasn’t every bit of intimidating looking down at you like that. He places a single hand onto the counter space in front of him, leaning forward just a bit before turning his head back to take a glance at the menu hanging up, as if he didn’t have it memorized already, “Well, for first-timers I usually recommend anything but our coffee.”

You bat your lashes at the man for a moment as he returns his attention to you, “Seriously? That’s the one thing I came in here for…”

“Ah, well,” Gojo clicks his tongue and shrugs a bit, leaning toward you just to whisper, “Y’gotta come here when I’m in the back.”

You lean forward, intrigued by his words, “…Why?”

“Cause’ Suguru doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Gojo chuckles a bit and you reciprocate before pushing your brows together questioningly. “Suguru, my best fr-, my coworker.” He clarifies quickly.

“Ohh,” You nod, “So should I come back another time, or…?”

“Nono, you caught me a few minutes before rush hour,” Gojo says rather cheerfully before he leans away from you and flashes a smile, “I can run back there ‘nd make ya’ somethin’ since we’re not too busy?”

At that, you take a moment to glance around the cafe interior, spotting one, maybe two people sitting on their laptops and languidly sipping or munching away at their breakfast. You’re glad you came in when you did.

Not only did you get the chance to talk to Gojo, who you turn back to seconds later with a nod, but you also got the chance to get not-so-shitty coffee according to the man. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice,” You hum to him.

Gojo dramatically moves to stretch his arms, clasping his hands together before extending them out with a heavy sigh, as if he were preparing to do such a difficult task. “Alrighty then, is there any specific kinda coffee you’re lookin’ for?”

“Still my first time here, Gojo. So, no…” The way you say his name so suddenly has him wondering if you knew him from somewhere. But, you quickly smile a little and nod your chin to his name tag, to which he looks down and laughs at himself. “Surprise me,” You then say moments later.

“Surprise you?” Gojo echoes.

You shrug sheepishly, “If that’s not too much work for you-“

“No, I don’t mind. I can surprise ya’,” His smile at you deepens and you catch the slightest dip in his cheeks as the most enamoring set of dimples pops out to your gaze. “Buuut, before I do… Do you have any allergies or dislikes I should be wary of?”

You hum, “Uh, no I don’t think so? I’m feeling rather open-minded today so, just bring me something good enough to have me returning for more.”

“Yeah? I mean, I’m sure you’ll come back for somethin’ else aside from jus’ coffee,” Gojo laughs to himself at his own comment and your eyes simply widen, a cute lil’ tilt of your head catching his attention.

You chuckle nervously, “What else would I come back for if not coffee?”

He shrugs before slowly turning away, “Oh, I dunno… Perhaps a certain handsome cashier that’s caught your eye?”

Oh, you see where he’s going with this. It may have been a while but, you know what flirting looks like. “Is this handsome cashier in the room with us, or…?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the way Gojo freezes and he sends you this look that you have to try your hardest not to laugh at.

He nearly pouts, “W-Well, yeah, obviously. You’re lookin’ at him.”

Your brows lift, “Am I?”

Gojo narrows those pretty blue eyes of his at you, “Do you not find me handsome?”

“Say I didn’t,” You murmur tauntingly, “Wouldn’t you be really embarrassed?”

The corner of his lips twitch before he scoffs playfully, “What are you, some kinda masochist?”

You giggle, “No, but seein’ that pout on your face was kinda cute.”

“Pout?” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Hah, what pout?” He scoffs again before straightening his face and attempting to be serious with you, “I didn’t pout-“

“You totally did,” You cut off, peering right into those mesmerizing eyes of his— damn, it was almost like you couldn’t get yourself to look away.

“I did not,” Gojo corrects your statement, lower lip poking out once more into a pout.

You shrug and finally get yourself to glance off to the side, “It was cute.”

He instantly tilts his head at that, ears perking up, “Y’think I’m cute?”

“I do.” You hum simply with your eyes wandering right back over to his face.

There’s this little moment between the two of you, a spark if you will, where you both just meet one another’s eyes and admire each other. Is this what mutual attraction feels like?

Perhaps if you squinted, you would’ve noticed the faintest shade of pink decorating his cheeks, “I-,” Gojo swallows suddenly, “Why thank you, sweetheart,” He utters suavely, as if to save himself from embarrassment. After which, he clears his throat, “That aside, we’ve got about six minutes before people start rushin’ in here ‘nd it’ll take two for me to prepare that coffee of yours so, do you mind givin’ me a name?”

You blink, “A name…?”

“Your name,” Gojo clarifies.

“Oh! Sorry,” You’re quick to apologize for your moment of daze, giving him your name seconds later to make up for it.

He starts to smile again, “That’s your name?”

“Yes?” You utter almost confusedly. Was there something wrong-

“It’s pretty,” Gojo interrupts your thoughts completely and your eyes go all wide all over again, a small feature in which he finds absolutely adorable.

“T-Thank you,” You stammer out, turning away to now avoid the eye contact you once couldn’t tear yourself away from.

“Uhuh,” His eyes scan you up and down once more before he sighs, “I’ll be back in a sec’, sweets,” Gojo says finally.

God, you think the nickname he threw out has your heart racing because it made your face so utterly hot. Almost as if you don’t hear nicknames like that on a daily basis…

Aside from that, you gave Gojo one last nod before looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. He’d told you that there was only a few minutes until rush hour so you were a bit wary that people would appear out of nowhere in the next-

“So you’re the girl that’s got Satoru all giggly, huh?” A voice purrs from somewhere in front of you.

Quickly, you return your gaze forward and spot a man, equally as tall as Gojo, with long dark hair, slim eyes, and a really pretty face— holy shit, how many hot guys work here??

“Uh,” You’re stuttering again, tipping your head to the side, “…Satoru?” You repeat, confused by the person he’s referring to.

The man chuckles, “Gojo,” He tells you, “Satoru Gojo,” You nod at the clarification and he grins warmly.

“Oh, then yeah I guess so,” You shrug sheepishly before flashing a smile, “So then that means you must be Suguru-“

“Geto,” He’s so quick to correct you that you almost immediately shut up, swallowing down your words as if you’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I assume Satoru told you my first name?”

You steadily nod, avoiding eye contact with him out of embarrassment, “He did…”

“As expected,” Geto hums before letting out a long sigh, “Just call me by me last, I don’t know you too well so I’m sure you understand.”

You hum, “Right, sorry.”

It’s a tad bit awkward for the next few seconds after that mild conversation but when you hear Gojo yelling from somewhere in the back, the awkwardness quickly subsides.

You even spot Gojo popping his head out from around the corner just to speak to his coworker, “Suguru don’t scare her off jus’ cause you have a girlfriend-“

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Geto interrupts, sharp with his correction as he glances back over his shoulder.

Gojo snorts, “Fine then, girl who’s a friend that you like-“

“I don't-,” A sigh leaves Geto’s lips before he’s moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning afterward, “Just hurry up with the damn coffee before people start comin’ in.”

Your eyes somehow find Gojo’s and you watch him mouth out something to you, “He’s grouchy because his girlfriend’s ignorin’ him-“

“Satoru,” Geto says scoldingly, causing Gojo to flinch dramatically.

Then you see the white-haired man laugh before winking at you and dipping back around the corner. After which, you don’t even realize you’re smiling until you meet Geto’s gaze and feel your expression drop at the glare he’s giving you.

“What?” You murmur warrily, raising a brow at his plain look.

Geto tilts his head and studies your face for a mere moment, “You new around here or somethin’?”

“New to this cafe, yeah,” You explain, “Why?”

He shrugs, “I’ve learned most of our customer’s faces and majority of them live around the area but I’ve never seen you before.”

“I live not too far from campus but I wasn’t aware this cafe was here until today…” You explain steadily, earning somewhat of an intrigued expression from the man.

“Damn, really?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“So, wait,” Geto scoffs a little at the thought, “Don’t tell me you’ve been stomaching dining hall caffeine all this time.”

You chuckle and glance off to the side, “Well…”

“If you live near campus, how the hell are you just now finding us??” Geto questions, he seems genuinely confused by your cluelessness.

Your shoulders lift into a shrug, “I don’t go out much.”

“Maybe you should,” He tells you.

A thin lipped smile tugs at your lips, “Starting to realize that now, thanks.”

The man opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo returning from the back and placing a hand on his shoulder, to which Geto glances down at.

“Alrighty Suguru, thanks for not scaring the pretty lady away!” Gojo says cheerfully as he pushes past his friend and makes eye contact with you.

Geto’s brows push together, “You’re welcome? I don’t know how I would’ve scared her, I-“

Gojo unintentionally cuts him off with a laugh, “You’ve been kinda grouchy towards women ever since you met-“

“Fuck off,” He grumbles, brushing off Gojo’s hand on his shoulder and turning to make his way to the back once more.

“See what I mean?” Gojo hums to himself.

Then Geto laughs, “You’re not a woman are you?”

“Suguruuu,” Gojo whines, turning his head back to his friend who’s already disappeared from his line of vision. Then, Gojo sighs and looks to you again, “Ah whatever, ignore him, he sucks sometimes.”

You grin, “You guys are best friends, aren’t you?”

The way Gojo tilts his head almost innocently is kinda cute, “How can you tell?”

“Mine acts similarly,” You explain, thinking of your best friend who’s not the nicest person in the world.

“Yeah?” Gojo hums, “An asshole once they get into a relationship?”

“I’m not in a relationship, Satoru!” Geto calls out from the back.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes at his friend's refutation of his claims. Looking somewhat off to the side, your thoughts wander more so toward your best friend, “Well, no, he’s kinda just an asshole all around.”

“Really? Why’re you his best friend then?” You’ve always found this question funny considering most people are confused about how you and your best friend are even friends when most times you two don’t get along.

Instead of really answering Gojo’s question, you look up at him and smile, “I could ask you the same thing, no?”

His brows furrow and he scoffs, “What? No, Suguru’s just grouchy today, I promise he’s usually better than that.”

You nod, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Gojo extends his hand out to you, “Here, give this a try,” He offers, handing a decently sized cold drink to you.

You receive the item and look down at it, “You’re not trying to poison me right?”

Gojo laughs, “Aaand why ever would I do that?”

The cup is steadily lifted to your lips as you lift your eyes to him once more, “I dunno, men are weird.”

“That they are,” He chuckles, “But no, that’d be illegal and I have no intentions of harming you.”

Again, you just nod at that and then take that first sip of the surprise drink he’d given you. A strong taste of vanilla and a nearly overwhelming amount of coffee creamer hits your tastebuds. You smile but you’re a bit taken back by how sweet it is. One, it’s way better than any cup of coffee you’ve ever had from the dining hall and two, it’s a lot sweeter than you were expecting.

“Holy fuck, how much sugar did you put in this thing?” You utter in surprise as you move the cup away from your mouth and glance at it as if that’ll give you the answer to your question.

Gojo lets out a laugh, “You said to surprise you.”

“Yeah but this is sweet as hell,” You tell him, your eyes raking over the cup in your hand.

“Sweet drink for a sweet girl, I don’t see a problem,” He responds with a little lean toward you.

“Right and-,” You scoff, eyes narrowing at the very lousy print of your name on the cup, “Who’s…” You almost laugh, “Christ, your handwriting is shit.”

Gojo lets out a huff, “Okay, first off, my handwriting is not that bad. And secondly-”

You’re quick to turn the cup to him and lift it, “Look at it!”

“Oh.” He squints his eyes at it, “Shit, that is kinda bad…” Gojo mumbles with an amused little smile on his face.

“Yeah, I can’t even read this…” You laugh, returning the cup to yourself, “But that’s okay, I appreciate the effort,” His smile grows at your comforting words as you then look up at him once more, “How much?”

“Since my handwriting’s so shit,” He starts, tilting his head at you and shrugging, “Consider it on the house.”

Your eyes seem to light up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Gojo hums.

“Aw, thank you,” Who would you be to ever pass up something free? Especially given by this cheeky cashier before you.

“Anytime-”

Geto’s voice intrudes from the back, “Satoru I thought I told you to change these filters? And why’d you leave such a big mess, holy shit.”

Gojo yells back to his coworker, slightly looking over his shoulder, “The mess isn’t that bad is it?”

You snort, “If it’s anything like your handwriting then uh…”

“Alright,” Gojo’s quick to look at you once more, “You just got a free drink out of me so I don’t wanna hear anything from you.”

“Satoru, these filters aren’t gonna change themselves,” Geto nags further.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes and yells back to his friend yet again, “You’re literally back there already, change them yourself.”

“Nope, it’s your turn,” Geto argues.

Gojo frowns, “But-”

“The girl’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” At that, you blink in surprise. How does he know you’re not ready to leave just yet? “Get your ass back here,” Geto orders.

Gojo turns his head and looks at you almost pleadingly.

You giggle, “What? Sounds like you’ve got some filters to change, Gojo…”

“Y’know what,” He scoffs and nods his chin to the cup in your hand, “$5.45.”

Your head cocks back a little and your brows go up, “I’m sorry?”

“The drink,” Gojo hums simply, looking back to make sure Geto wasn’t on his way out to scold him some more just yet, “Since you wanna take his side over mine…”

The way you frown misses Gojo’s eyes up until he turns to look at you one last time, his eyes going wide as you try to defend yourself, “I wasn’t-”

“S’fine, I got it,” An entirely different voice grumbles from your right, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. So close to you, an arm slips right past your face and you watch as an all too familiar man extends a card out to Gojo.

Your lashes bat a few times as an annoyingly familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose. You’d literally just escaped said smell a few hours ago after leaving your apartment and yet here it was all over again, directly in your nose and you met the side profile of your best friend, “Choso?” You utter.

Whatever light and fluffy banter that was in the air seconds ago seems to die at the mere presence of Choso standing so closely beside you. Ignoring you, he urges Gojo to take his card and Gojo soon does so with a scoff— he was going to keep flirting and teasing you but here comes this all-too-serious-looking man taking your vacant side as if it were second nature.

The smile Gojo once had on his face simmered down and his expression became a lot more neutral as he quietly moved to charge Choso’s card.

After which, your best friend finally looks down at you, his eyes pointed in a glare that would make anyone feel unloved despite you knowing he feels quite the opposite (to some extent at least), “Don’t you have class in an hour?” Choso asks you in a dull monotone.

Your face scrunches up slightly before you shrug, “I was thirsty…”

Choso stares at you for a long moment, glances at Gojo, then back to you with a scoff, “Yeah, clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off by Choso taking his eyes off of you and receiving his card back from Gojo, the two men making eye contact once more and both looking as if the other had done something to offend them. Your best friend openly scoffs in Gojo’s face before pocketing his card and turning away, quickly walking out of the establishment.

Your eyes go wide, “Choso, wait!” You call out as your eyes followed him walking away from you. Only to be ignored again, you let out a huff and start to walk after him but turn back to Gojo one last time, “Sorry about him.”

Gojo’s expression seems to light back up a bit and he shrugs, “You’re fine.”

You nod and start turning away before remembering something and looking at Gojo yet again, slightly pointing at him, “You owe me a free drink by the way,” You remind him playfully.

His face is twisting right back up into that intrigued expression from earlier, “Do I now? And what for?”

“Your shitty handwriting of course,” You hum.

"Hm," He takes a second to think before letting out a slight huff. You then feel and watch the way his eyes glide up and down your body before he responds to you, "Alright."

And with that, both of you smile at one another one last time before you go running off to catch up with Choso. Gojo watches you almost in some kinda trance as you leave, spotting more customers approaching but ignoring them for the most part as his gaze remains glued to you until you’re completely out of his line of vision.

Then, he lets out this breathy little sigh, “Fuck…” Moving to wipe his face off as if that’ll rid himself of whatever the hell he’s feeling after talking to you. 

He didn’t even get to ask you for your number like he wanted to…

With perfect timing, “Satoru, the-”

“Filters, yeah yeah, I got it,” Gojo cuts Geto off completely, turning around to see his friend emerging from the back as they both swap places due to the approaching rush hour.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Outside, you were met with a slap of heat as soon as you exited the cafe, your eyes searching the area for Choso. A slight breeze of refreshing wind brushes over your skin as you finally spot the man having not gotten too far away.

Barely managing to catch up to him, you nudge Choso on his arm as soon as you meet his side, “Why’d you pay for my drink? I could’ve done that myself.”

Just as he did earlier inside the cafe, he acts as though you’re not even there, keeping his gaze forward and pretending he didn’t hear a single thing you just said.

“Choso? Hello??” You huff out, nudging him on his arm again.

His lip twitches into a scowl and he just barely side-eyes you, “What?”

You ignore all of his attitude, as you typically do, “Why’d you pay?”

“You’re a walking charity case,” Choso hums all too casually.

Your head goes back and you scoff, “I-, what? No, I’m not!” Then the back of your hand is landing on his arm as you hit him and he almost smiles.

Finding amusement in your reaction, he shrugs, “Yeah you are,” And before you can even try to get a response out, the cup of coffee in your hand is stripped from your grasp faster than you could blink. Choso removes the top and takes a sip, “Ew, you like this shit?” He scowls, placing the top right back on and handing you your drink back.

You blink, struggling to process a logical reasoning behind his action, “First off, no one told your ass to take a sip. And secondly-”

“I wanted to know what you got,” Choso cuts off, glancing at you to watch how quickly you get annoyed by him.

You groan, “You could’ve asked if that was the case.” He shrugs your words off and you roll your eyes at him, “And how the hell did you know I was in there anyway?”

“I didn’t,” Choso tells you, “I always go in there but today I happened to see your short ass at the counter when I walked in.”

You’re quick to shoot him a glare, “Stop that, I’m not short.”

He’s got this arrogant little grin on his face, “Look short t’me.”

“That’s because you’re taller than me, which doesn’t make you tall in general nor does it make me short.” You explain to the man simply with your eyes shooting daggers into the side of his face.

Choso continues to act as though you’re not even looking at him, “Being shorter than me makes you short-”

“And y’know what,” You cut off, tearing your eyes off of your overly bothersome friend, “You’re annoying.”

He cocks his head back, “Annoying? I’m annoying?” Finally, he looks at you, now searching the side of your face for answers.

“Yeah, very.” You hum.

Choso scoffs and then sizes you up and down, “Says the one who was gawkin’ over Gojo Satoru of all people.”

You nearly laugh, “Fucks’ that supposed to mean? How would that make me annoying?”

“He’s a weirdo,” Choso shrugs, pocketing his hands as he faces forward once more, “I can’t understand what you could possibly find attractive about him.”

You blink and both of you slow down in the pace of your steps, “I talked to him for less than ten minutes, how was I supposed to know he’s weird. And wait-, how does me finding him attractive even annoy you?”

Your best friend sighs and his words come out all too casually for them to be so offensive, “Cause when he breaks your heart,” Choso looks at you, “You’ll come bitchin’ to me about it.”

At that, you freeze, quickly turning to meet his gaze, “Who says he’ll break my heart? And bitching? Is that what you call me talking to you about my relationship issues?? Bitching? Seriously?” With your eyes narrowed and brows tightly knit together, Choso should’ve sensed that he struck a nerve there.

Yet, he seems to not care in the slightest, blinking as if he’d said nothing wrong, “Fuck else am I supposed to call it? I warn you about every guy you date but you don’t ever listen to me.”

Your face twists up, “That doesn’t make my complaints ‘bitching’…”

“Well, it makes it fucking annoying,” He hums before pulling his lips into a thin smile— mocking you through facial expressions.

Your brows go up, “Really? Okay then, sorry for ever confiding in you,” You set your eyes straight once more, “I’ll just go find someone else to-”

“You know no one else is gonna put up with your shit the same way I do,” He’s so quick to dismiss your little statement, almost as if the implication of you ever leaving him, in a sense, bothered him.

You scoff matter-of-factly, “That’s not true.”

“It literally is though,” Choso deadpans, “You have one friend and that’s me. Who the hell else are you gonna go rant to, hm?”

“Someone that doesn’t call my rants bitching.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.

Choso scales his eyes down to your arms and he smiles, “Are you seriously mad about that?”

“Maybe,” You shrug.

His feet come to a stop and you follow suit, turning to avoid his eyes as much as possible. Choso stares at you for a moment before leaning toward you, tilting his head and angling his lips toward your ear.

All of which done so he could whisper to you, “M’sorry, princess,” Choso murmurs to you affectionately, “Y’know I didn’t mean that seriously, I’m jus’ fuckin’ with you.”

You remain unphased for a mere moment more before the constant brush of his breath against your skin makes you shudder, your hands moving to his chest to push him away, “Yeah, whatever… And stop calling me that.”

Choso blinks, feeling confused since you act as if he hadn’t been calling you such a thing for years, “Why?”

“Cause I don’t like it…” You so clearly lie— not that you enjoyed the nickname but more so that you’ve always felt indifferent to it. Or, almost always.

He smirks, “Your face is telling me an entirely different story.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle, moving to shoot your middle finger at him, “And what story does this tell you?’

Choso stares into your eyes for a long period of time before looking to your finger, smiling fully and tilting his head again, “…You wanna fuck me?”

Immediately putting your finger down, your brows tense, “What? No!” You exclaim, groaning as you return to your walking, “God, I cannot stand you.”

He laughs and follows right alongside you, “You’re so easy to annoy, holy shit.”

“And you’re insufferable,” You huff.

Choso shrugs simply, “You love me though.”

You glance at him, “Debatable.”

He pouts and pretends to clutch his heart, “Ouch-”

“Anyway,” Returning your attention to someone much less annoying than the man beside you, you nod your head back toward the cafe, “Do you know if he’s single?”

Choso nearly trips over his steps at the sound of that, letting out a cough, “Who-, Gojo??”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Why?” Choso’s lips twitch, “You lookin’ to get rejected?”

Pausing, you look to him with a quirked brow, “Excuse me? What makes you think I’ll get rejected?”

“You’re uh…” He trails off a little, eyes lingering down your frame before he smiles and speaks to you in this faux gentle whisper, “Not his type, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll at that, “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Secondly, how do you know?”

“Uh, I’ve seen the kinda girls he’s into so trust me when I say…” Choso’s eyes shift to peer directly into yours, “It ain’t you.”

You stare back for a moment before shaking your head and looking off, “Whatever, you’re just saying that.”

“Yeah because I’m gonna lie to you about something like that,” He snickers to himself before rolling his eyes. Within seconds, he goes to look at you again only to see you heading in a different direction, “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”

“Away from you!” You call back.

He laughs yet again, “What, you can’t handle the truth now?”

Glancing back to him, “I’m gonna prove you wrong asshole.”

Choso flashes you a shit-eating grin as if he’s already begun praying on your downfall, “Sure you will.”

He then watches as you further away from him, his smile steadily fading as he catches himself a bit too happy at the sight of you so determined. Choso shrugs off whatever feeling the topic of Gojo Satoru had brought up within him, dismissing the entire thing as he truly believed you’d never really get yourself too involved with that guy.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the way you were taking to Gojo before he walked in so, Choso had no idea of how things were about to play out within the next few hours.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

As such, after that morning class of yours that extended decently into the afternoon, you found yourself rushing back to the cafe as soon as you could.

You knew not of Gojo’s working hours so you had no clue whether or not he’d still be there but you sure as hell hoped so. Choso had really ticked you off with his claims.

You not being Gojo’s type? Yeah right, he didn’t see the way that cashier was looking at you, nor did he hear all the banter that took place. Given that, you were determined to prove your dear friend wrong and yourself right. You know flirting when you see it and that’s exactly what Gojo was doing.

So to say he wasn’t at least intrigued by you would be a blatant lie you had every hope on exposing to Choso.

When you finally find yourself entering that lovely little cafe, it’s a lot more busy in comparison to earlier— something you take note of for your possible future visits. The line wasn’t exactly too long but quite a few people were hanging out or studying throughout the establishment.

That aside, your eyes were quick to search for a certain white-haired barista, gaze lighting up the very second it meets the man it questions. 

Gojo had a weary smile on his face as he handed some girl a coffee and you could tell based on his eyes alone that he was tired of the chick rambling to him. He nodded and nodded, trying to keep himself appearing entertained by whatever she was saying but when he glances over and spots you, all his attention is diverted.

Those pretty blue eyes of his fixate on you and you watch as he finally dismisses the girl, nodding toward you as if to say he had another customer to tend to. She shrugs and finally leaves, to which you take place in standing where she’d been seconds ago, sending a smile to Gojo.

“Long day?” You suggest with a slight tilt of your head, to which he nods.

“You have no idea,” Gojo sighs out to you, “You’re back sooner than I expected though.”

He didn’t know what it was about you, perhaps the way you gaze at him, but there was something that kept his eyes lingering on yours far longer than normal— something that genuinely lulled him in. Perhaps it was the natural flow of conversation and how even from earlier, you didn’t really feel like a mere customer but instead just a person, a woman at that-, a very pretty woman, might he add.

“You owe me a free drink, remember?” You remind him, earning a different reaction than expected.

Gojo pauses, “Ohh… About that…” He hums, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah see, that offer no longer stands…”

You blink, “I’m not sure I understand…”

He lets out a sigh, then moves to lean forward against the counter, bending down and crossing his arms as he rests on his elbows and comes much closer to your eye level, “Another cute girl came in ‘nd got it before you,” Gojo whispers.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and your brows pinch together, “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm,” He hums tauntingly with this smug look on his face as if to say giving away your promised drink was to get back at you for something.

“Well,” You click your tongue, “I think you owe me a free drink now more than before, maybe two.”

Gojo smiles, feeling amused, “Yeah? I mean, my number’s free. Y’want that instead?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat at how ridiculously smooth that was, trying your hardest not to give in and return a smile. “I… What am I supposed to do with that?” You end up asking.

He snickers, “Perhaps text me? Or call? Y’know, the thing you do with phones-“

“Alright smart ass,” You scoff playfully, grinning as you move to pull out your phone, “What’s your number then?”

Gojo smiles triumphantly and extends his hand out, “Here, lemme put it in for ya’.”

You glance at him, eyes meeting and yet another moment passing before you hand him your phone, to which he takes a second to look down at the device in his hands. Then, he enters his number and a contact name for himself.

After which, your cell is quickly returned to you and you look to see what he’s put in. Studying the name closely, you tilt your head, “Satoru?”

“Mhm, tha’s me, sweetheart,” He purrs, moving to rest his cheek against his knuckles.

You look up from your phone, “You want me to call you Satoru?”

Gojo shrugs, “If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“We’re on a first-name basis already?” You tease, eyes narrowing at the man.

“It seems we are,” He utters. His voice was a bit lower with you now, much more casual and playful. “That alright with you, pretty girl?”

Unknowingly, your face flushes, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s fine.”

Gojo lets out a hum, “Good.” Then, the two of you do that thing yet again, peering into one another's eyes, unmoving, nearly frozen and dazed for a moment longer than intended before Gojo snaps out of it by almost awkwardly clearing his throat, “So uh, you still want that free drink or…?”

You blink out of your own stupor and shake your head, “No, I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“It seems I am, yes,” A smile graces your face and he can’t help but stare.

Gojo mirrors your expression, “Just for coffee?”

Your eyes wander off to the side cheekily, “Perhaps for a certain handsome cashier too…”

He thinks his heart is fluttering. Is this normal? To experience such a genuine infatuation with a woman’s words within less than twenty-four hours? It was unusual for Gojo, that’s for damn sure. Hence why his head is tipping to the side, “Really? Have my charms worked so soon?” He teases.

You return your gaze to him, “Just a little, yeah.”

Mesmerized by you, Gojo nods, “Good to know.”

“Mhm,” After a slight hum, you glance down at your phone and check the time, “Well uh, I actually have another class so I should probably go.”

“Yes… Yes, you should,” He voices out slowly, again entangled into that daze of his until you lift your head once more, “But uh, make sure you text me later, yeah?” Gojo reminds you.

To which you chuckle and start turning away toward the exit, “No promises.”

He’s left in a mere awe of you, not even knowing what to say, and left utterly speechless from such an intriguing yet simple conversation with you. As you wave bye, Gojo had to feel for his heart the very second you leave just to see if it was working correctly because he’s not sure what the hell that was just now.

Whatever it may have been, he knows it was much more genuine and raw than what he’s typically used to. And it came so naturally too, the banter, the gazes, the flirting… Gojo was longing for more already and he’d only just met you a few hours ago.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

All the while you’re just as cheerful at the interaction you just had, beyond ready to brag to your doubtful best friend of your most recent accomplishments.

Which is exactly why you’re facetiming said friend as soon as you leave the cafe. The call rings for less than a second before it’s answered and you’re met with a visibly displayed and… shirtless Choso.

Before you get the chance to even try and take in his naked torso, he’s already scowling at you, “The fuck are you facetiming me for?” He grumbles, taking the smile right off of your lips, “I’ve seen your face enough for one day. Why don’t you ever call like a normal person??”

You bat your eyelashes at the man, “Cho, we just got on the phone and you’re already souring the mood…”

He ignores your complaint, “What do you want?”

Steadily, your smile returns, “Guess who got a certain someone’s number,” You utter cheerfully, voice light in a little sing-song tone.

Choso gives his phone a blank stare, not saying a single word in response to that.

Which confused you, “Well? Are you gonna guess-“

“You could’ve texted me this shit,” He cuts off before you watch as your screen is soon met with the ceiling as he places his phone down.

You pout, “Well, yeah but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction…”

He scoffs and pops his face into the camera for a second, eyes dull, smile nonexistent, eye bags heavy, and tattoo running across his nose the only thing giving some form of expression despite it being nothing more than a dark black line. “Does it look like I give two shits about you gettin’ some asshole’s number?”

You let out a long sigh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”

And that’s when Choso seems to smirk, “Cause’ you won’t leave me alone.”

“I’m hanging up,” You groan.

His laughter, albeit somewhat of a rare sound, fills your ears, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

You send him a look, “Are you?”

“Mhm, good job on gettin’ his number, princess,” Choso coos, making your eyes widen, “I’m proud of you.”

Your mouth opens to say something to that but your throat runs oddly dry. Instead, you gulp down his sudden praise and ignore how warm his words make you feel. “…Thank you.” You eventually say.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods before removing himself from the camera again, “Pretty sure he’s just trying to fuck though.” He says bluntly.

Instead of choking like he expected you to, you only scoff, “Fine by me.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, feeling almost silenced before he sighs, “Oh… But you told me no-“

“That was entirely different, Choso.” You cut off.

He shuts up again.

“You were drunk, and…” Your voice dies out.

To which he raises a brow at his phone, “And what?”

“And things were different back then,” You sigh, trying not to recall the entirety of your past with Choso at the present moment, “…You were an even bigger asshole, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Choso sighs, moving to dismiss the topic, “Anyway, let me know how things go with your new albino boyfriend.”

You scoff, smiling at the suggestion itself, “He’s not even my-“ 

The call disconnects. Oh how you just love your best friend and his antics. You wouldn’t trade your friendship with him for anything.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself anyway. What exactly does a new man in your life bring if not drama? This right here was but the beginning of a very interesting journey toward such a fickle emotion we know as; love.

mlist | next chapter |

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[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; a new face arrives in town, and everything begins to shift. something is terribly wrong strange, but no one is talking.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ next

☆ story masterlist

As the first light of dawn filtered through the windows of the apothecary, you buzzed around, busy with substituting half-way empty jars with new ones full of elixirs and various herbs. The heavy scent of sage hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of brewing potions bubbling in the cauldron nestled in the corner. With a flick of your wrist, you lit the candles scattered around the shop, their soft glow casting long but warm shadows around the shop. 

Your familiar Sybil, a snow white Borzoi, twitched from her spot under the counter, slightly raising her head in attention. Not a second later, the bell above the door chimed with your first client of the day. 

“Well, well, still up with the dawn, I see.” The deep, raspy voice was unmistakable.

Alex stepped into the apothecary with his usual long strides, his dark blonde hair a touch wilder than you remembered. 

“And you're still sneaking around at sunrise," you teased lightly. “Here for Farah’s order? I was just about to pour a fresh batch.”

“Yeah,” he replied, as he handed you his usual green thermos for the refill. “She’s been feeling… well, she’s hanging in there. Just a bit more tired lately.”

You hummed knowingly, tightening your apron and moving to get the order ready. 

“Have you heard?”

“About?” You replied absentmindedly, focused on getting the exact quantity of steaming liquid into the thermos. 

“The new girl that Laswell took in.” 

That made you pause and turn to look at him. 

Laswell was a witch like you, and a deeply influential one at that. That made her difficult to approach, but even harder to earn her trust. It had taken you a year of back and forth before she allowed you to set up shop in this part of the city. So to say that you were slightly intrigued was an understatement. 

“Who now?”

He snorted, stretching over the counter to wriggle his fingers down at Sybil, and who in response raised her large snot to meet them in greeting. 

“Apparently a few nights ago Ghost saved this rando girl from the Rose District―”

“What the hell was she doing in the Rose District?” 

“Well clearly she’s not from around here.” He retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which clearly wasn’t. Even people from out of town knew to stay away from that place, especially at night. She was either from another country altogether or really, really, dumb. 

“Anyways, he took her to Laswell and she offered her a job on the spot. She even let her settle in the loft above her bar and all.”

“Well, that’s….unexpected? But good for her I guess.”

“But wanna hear the best part?” Shrugging you rang him up, throwing in a few stray herbs in a satin pouch as an extra for his wife. 

“She’s magicless, and a total smokeshow.” He was clearly trying to get a rise out of you, and honestly, he was successful. Rolling your cleaning rag tightly, you snapped it against his hand. He yelped in surprise, cradling his hands with mock-indignation. 

“Anything else?” He shook his head and dropped the exact amount for the order into the ornate dish you kept beside the register. 

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, stashing the flash into his bag before pointing at the satin bag. “What’s this?” 

“They should help with Farah’s morning sickness. Just mix them in with her morning tea, a dash of honey will help with the bitterness.” 

He gave you a wide boyish grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Waving him off and as if telling him ‘oh I know’, you watched him leave with a spring to his step, clearly eager to go back to his wife. You waited for him to disappear from sight, before reaching for your phone in your apron’s pocket. 

9:15 am

you: hi

you: everything k? alex told me about the rose district

9:17

👻: 👍🏻

9:18

you: lmk if u need anything

you: btw your order’s ready, you can drop by anytime

you: sybil says hi 

(picture attached) 

You didn’t get a reply right away, which was strange, but not uncommon for the half-wraith. In the end, he always got back to you. Telling Sybil to stay put and care for the storefront, you moved to the back to organise the rest of the day’s orders. 

Once upon a time, Ghost’s go-to place had gone out of business (he had personally taken it down after discovering it was a front for a fairy trafficking ring), and as per Laswell’s recommendations, he had appeared one day to commission you with a list of potions and ingredients, each tailored to his pack’s specific needs. He gave you three days, and you had gone above and beyond to deliver. 

You knew you had succeeded in meeting their expectations after he came back the following month with a much bigger and more detailed list in hand. And it was through his monthly visit that you got to know the rest of the pack. 

Simon took care of pickups and never stayed long, but long enough to listen to you rant about lousy customers, all while answering to Sybil's demands for pets. 

You never got much done with Johnny around, but his charm definitely helped you with sales, especially with the older gnome ladies. The werewolf also played tug with your familiar when the shop became notably busy and you couldn’t take Sybil for her daily walkies. 

As the only son of a witch, Kyle liked to help you with just about everything. He especially enjoyed peering over your shoulder whenever you delved into one of your many experiments, smiling like a child whenever you asked for his opinion. 

You got to know John last, a human Hunter and their de facto leader. He never dropped by, but whenever you encountered him outside your shop, he never failed to greet you with a warm smile and ever warmer shoulder-squeeze. The older man also was a worrywart to his core, always asking about you and Sybil, as in have you had breakfast/lunch/dinner yet? Did you get your windows insulated for the winter? He can take care of it for you, and oh he got a good bargain on some chicken, let him share some of it with you. 

Slowly but surely, they each had wormed itself into your stiff-witchy heart. 

10:30

👻: can’t today

👻: sendin’ alejandro

The curt answer made you falter, a mix of disillusion and confusion settling heavily on the pit of your stomach. His lack of response to Sybil's picture was also worrying, that never happened. You struggled not to push him for an explanation. 

And so, you waited. 

Alejandro made his appearance a few hours later. Again, you left Sybil in charge while you greeted him and his partner, Rudy.

“Preciosa, it’s good to see you.” Alejandro enveloped you in a tight hug and kissed you on the cheek, Rudy following right after. 

You returned their greeting just as warmly, guiding them to the back and to the crates stacked neatly and ready for them to take. You watched them work, swaying a little from side to side, before finally mustering up the courage to ask them about Ghost’s unusual absence. 

“Is Ghost okay?”

Alejandro grunted as he loaded the crates into the trunk, hand falling over his hips before he turned to regard you with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah he’s fine, por (why)?”

You shoved your hands deep into your apron’s pockets, a nervous habit. “He has never missed a pickup, and he’s not answering my texts.” 

“Oh, it’s probably that girl.” He acknowledged dismissively. As if sensing your dismay at Alejandro’s lacklustre response, Rudy chimed in. 

“Leah, the new girl working for Laswell.”

Making the most of his receptiveness, you prodded Rudy for more details. “Have you met her?”

He shook his head, tilting his chin towards his partner. “Nope, but Ale has.”

“Well she’s cute, in a mousy kind of way.” He supplied while scratching his chin, and something about his pensive gesture told you that he still hadn't exactly made up his mind about her. 

They were quick to leave however, busy with their own things, plus having to drop off the pack’s order. You watched them go, fingers twisting and turning 

Yes, hopefully this strange episode would pass.

. . .

Things did not pass, if anything, they only got worrisomely stranger. 

A few days later, you found yourself in the supermarket. It was just another part of your routine that you usually enjoyed.  You reached for a jar of honey, when you felt it—a shift in the air, a tingle at the back of your neck. Straightening, you allowed your gaze to wander, searching for the source.

And then you saw him.

He stood a few feet away, staring intently at a shelf of cereals. Your heart skipped a beat, not from surprise but from the pleasant flutter you always felt when you saw him. You  instinctively moved closer, a full smile already settled on your lips.

“Johnny, hi!” 

His head jerked up as if startled, eyes widening when they met yours. For a moment, he looked at you with a strange mix of confusion and surprise, as if he barely recognized you. 

“Och aye! Hello there! Whit ye daein' here?"

“Uh, I always shop here on Sundays?” But you know that, you’ve come with me more than once!

"Oh, dae ye no? Well, anyways!” Johnny’s brows furrowed, and he blinked rapidly, like someone waking from a deep sleep. His gaze flickered away from your face and back to the rows of cereal “Whit dae ye think Leah would fancy the most?"

That caught you off guard, so much so that you couldn't give him a rightout answer.

Suddenly, a second figure came from around the corner. It was Gaz. He walked up to the two of you, but something was off. 

“Mate, stop running off! We need to get back to—” Gaz blinked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. “Oh, hi?”

“Hi?” You parroted back with an incredulous guffaw. 

You just stood there, feeling an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation—like the ground beneath you had shifted and you were the only one who noticed. This wasn’t right. Your relationship had always been so easy, and filled with laughter. But now, it was like there was a barrier between you and them, unseen and unsettling.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked them, voice laced with a mix of worry and disbelief. 

Gaz looked at you again, but there was no warm recognition in his eyes. “We’re fine,” he said, though his voice was flat. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, Johnny following him like a shadow, a box of chocolate flavoured loops in hand.

He hated that kind, not even bending whenever Gaz tried to coax him into getting them as a treat. 

You watched them disappear down the aisle, dumfounded. The vibrant hum of the grocery store around you flickered slightly as your mind whirled. 

Taking a breath, you forced yourself to stay calm. You should head back to the apothecary and Sybil, maybe even check in with Laswell. 

She’d know what to do, right? She always did.

banner credit

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter six | the lakes

pairing — satoru gojou x fem!reader

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 5.6k

warnings — nsfw (minors dni), explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnilingus, explicit smut, profanity, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, age difference

notes — this is like my second time writing smut in like 2 years gimmie a break pls. anyways. hello to my cursed seas babies, don't worry i will never abandon my og child you can be assured its my first priority, unless i have writers block which unfortunately happened and thats why this chapter is short and why i SEVERELY dislike it. enjoy ;)

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

♪ the lakes — taylor swift

previous chap. you're on your own, kid | next chap. (coming coon)

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your father's small, cozy home, casting warm light across the room as you silently folded the last of your clothing into a worn leather bag.

Your father sat at the table in the dining room, watching you with a pensive expression, his hands resting on his lap. It had been a few days since you returned to Elysport, and in that time, he had treated you like the little girl he had lost so many years ago. Considering your relationship over the last few years, the affection he had shown you was more than you had expected.

“Are you sure you want to go? There might be another way to find out what happened to your mother.” 

You paused, looking down at your packed bag before facing him. “Father I’m sure. There are things I need to know—about Mom. And I think this is the only way I will get any answers.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “Alright, but promise me something—promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded. “I promise,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You didn't want to leave, not really. This small part of Elysport, your father’s home—it was a sanctuary compared to the madness of the ship you were about to return to. But you had made your choice and you knew that you couldn’t stay here forever.

“I’ll be back,” you said softly, “Soon.”

Your father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting.” 

With a final glance around the room, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door. 

Making your way through the streets of Elysport gave you time to think about what going back to Gojou’s ship meant. And it meant diving headfirst into a world of chaos once again and having to face him after everything that had happened.

And you didn't like that idea. 

The docks soon came into view and you could see the massive silhouette of Gojou’s ship towering above the rest. You hesitated as you stood at the pier's edge, watching crew members bustling about, preparing for the next leg of their journey. 

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and began walking toward the gangplank. You found him near the helm overseeing his ship as he usually would. When he spotted you approaching, his eyes widened briefly before narrowing in that familiar way that made your stomach twist.

“Back already?”

You set your bag down, taking a deep breath before answering. “I told you I’d be back last night.”

Gojou’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the crew.

"Well, you're just in time. We're setting sail soon. Grab your things and get ready." 

You waited for more—some snide comment, some half-hearted insult—but it never came. His voice lacked that usual bite and he avoided directly looking at you, which was strange in itself. 

It was strange, this new version of him—one that didn’t bark orders or throw insults your way at every opportunity. 

It was... comforting in a way.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something bright—a familiar tuft of pink hair. Yuuji was perched high in the crow's nest, his energy impossible to miss, even from afar.  He instantly noticed you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically, calling your name across the deck. You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of him. His energy was infectious and his kindness was a rare comfort. You lifted your hand in return, waving back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the railing watching the waves lap against the side of the ship. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Captain Gojou approaching.

He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between the two of you like a taught wire.

“You won’t ask why I let you back so easily?” 

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I figured you just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” you said, your words laced with a hint of bitterness.

Gojou chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m not as heartless as you think.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He winced at that, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back at you, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not good at this... at any of this. You want to hate me, I get that. Hell, maybe I deserve it. But I’m trying, alright?” His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The Gojou standing next to you wasn’t the arrogant, reckless captain you had grown accustomed to.

“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “But you make it really hard sometimes.”

Gojou let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good at that.” He paused, his expression softening. “But I meant what I said. You did good back there. And... I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the Gojou who you had kissed so desperately in that hotel room was not as far away as you thought. The waves lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, the sound calming as you stood in silence next to Gojou.

“About earlier,” he began. “When I left your room… I just—” He paused, seemingly frustrated, like he was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “You always mean to be an ass.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not like that. Not this time.”

You turned to face him, fully leaning against the railing. The fading evening light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the pale strands of his hair that moved gently with the breeze. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the infamous captain you had grown to know—he looked… tired. 

“It’s not like you to apologize. What’s going on?”

He frowned, his gaze dropping to the deck below, his hand absently drumming against the wooden railing. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just… you’ve been different. This whole situation has been different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began slowly, as if testing each word before saying it, “I don’t know why I keep pushing you away when I don’t want to.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession. He wasn’t the type to open up easily—especially about things like this. And for him to admit that he didn’t want to push you away… it was almost too much to process.

“But you do,” you pointed out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You push me away every chance you get.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping for a moment before he straightened, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… easier, I guess.” His gaze finally met yours, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to take your breath away. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Crew, friends, family.” His voice grew quieter. “It’s easier not to get attached.”

“And me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Am I just another person to lose?”

Gojou hesitated, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to be.”

This wasn’t just the arrogant, reckless captain speaking—this was Satoru, the man behind the mask. And the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally seeing you for the first time, sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could say anything more, Gojou spoke again, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re really leaving your father for this?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your bag.

You nodded. “I need to know the truth about what happened to my mother. And… I need to find that treasure and be with the map.”

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the map, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. You knew he didn’t like talking about the map—it was the one thing that seemed to come between the two of you time and time again.

“I’ll take you back onboard. But I need you to understand something.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression serious. “This isn’t a game. Whatever you’re getting yourself into with Sukuna, it’s dangerous. It's more dangerous than you realize. I don’t trust him or whatever he is up to.”

Sukuna. 

That must have been the man with the pink hair you were talking to in the marketplace. You didn’t expect Gojou to know who he was, or at least know him enough to have that look on his face.

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I have to do this.”

Then, slowly, Gojou nodded, as if finally accepting your decision. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “But if anything happens, I’ll kill Sukuna myself.”

Without another word, Gojou turned and began walking back toward the ship, his usual swagger returning with each step. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of what lay ahead heavy on your mind.

Captain Gojou leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the ocean and the small port where they’d docked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and workers from the docks were beginning to head home. His crew had grown restless after days without a break, so he’d ordered a stop at a quieter port for some shore leave. But he hadn’t been completely honest about why he gave the order—it was mostly for the map. He wanted a chance to study it carefully and had recently decided they would soon start the journey it promised, especially now that you had rejoined them. The treasure it led to was dangerous, and he knew he’d need a solid plan if he, you, and his crew were going to make it out alive.

After a moment of contemplation, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you coming up from below deck. He grinned, giving you a casual wave. “Looks like everyone’s scattered,” he said. “You wanna go for a walk?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. But what’s the reason?”

“Because I asked you nicely, Y/N.”

“Fine, I could use some fresh air anyway. Your ship’s unnaturally stuffy.”

Before the two of you departed the ship, Gojou made his way to his captain’s quarters to stow the map away safely. You assumed it was for security reasons, considering how much of a pain in the ass he’d been when trying to take it from you. After he returned, you both took off your shoes and walked down the gangplank together, stepping into the shallow water and heading down the beach toward the port town. Gojou’s ship was too large to fit in the small port, so he’d had to anchor it a little way off the coast. It was a bit of a hassle, but you didn’t mind.

You and Gojou had made it halfway down the beach before he broke the silence. "You know, I wasn't born a pirate."

You turned to him, surprised by his revelation. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Although, now that I think about it, you seem like a child who was spoiled far more than he should have been."

He gave a small shrug. "Pretty much. When I was a child, I ran away from home. I had met a young pirate, the same age as me, and he showed me another side of life. The place where I grew up felt like a prison and I wanted out."

"Oh. What happened?" you asked quietly.

"My family… my family had high expectations for me. They expected me to marry another girl from a rich family, a girl I had never met, a girl I didn't love. They expected me to be the head of the family when my father died and live up to the Gojou family legacy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left in the middle of the night. No one came looking, either.” His voice softened. “Guess they were happy to be rid of me.”

"Was it hard to live like that?"

"I stole for a little while, I had no name, no ship, and barely any money. After a few months to a year, I was able to make a living for myself and I never looked back."

“You never went back? Not even to see how your family is doing?”

"No, my father was a bastard and could have given two shits about how his own family felt about him. I actually spent some time living in Saltstone Port when I was eighteen, it wasn't too bad. You used to live there, right?"

Wait how did he know that?

"Anyway, we're almost there, do you wanna find a bar? Since you know, you like drinking."

“Who said I like drinking?”

“I did,” he said with a smirk.

And that's how the two of you found yourself in a dimly lit corner of a booth, ordering round after round as a way to “unwind” as Gojou said. Somehow, unwinding meant downing enough drinks to make the room spin. 

“To—” He paused, squinting at you. “To us, and to making it through yet another day without you murdering me,” he toasted, raising his mug with a smirk. You clinked your glass against his as you sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your veins. As the alcohol loosened you up, you began telling Captain Gojou things you shouldn’t have, things you probably won’t remember in the morning.

As the night went on, the two of you began inching closer and closer to each other. At some point, he’d moved his arm around your shoulders, and you’d stopped noticing, letting yourself melt into his warmth.

“Y’know,” he slurred, eyes glassy as he looked at you. “I always thought I was fine alone.”

You tilted your head, blinking slowly as you tried to focus on his face, which kept swimming in and out of view. “That so?” you mumbled, giggling as you took another sip of your drink. “Thought you liked being all ‘mysterious and distant,’ Captain.”

“I… I dunno.”

Your heart did a funny little skip, and you glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Maybe it’s the drinks talking,” he muttered.  “Or maybe it’s just…you make things… less lonely.”

Gojou,” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.

“I like having you around,” he mumbled. His gaze flicked down to the empty glasses on the table. “But we should… get back to the ship, yeah?”

You could barely remember the journey back to the ship. When you made it back to his ship, you stumbled towards his captain’s quarters, exhausted from your night out. As you reached his bed, you tugged on your shirt, frowning. “Ugh, I can’t sleep in this. It’s filthy.” The fabric was sticky and wrinkled, and the thought of crawling into bed with it on was almost unbearable.

Gojou chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. “You’re a bit of a handful, you know that?”

Ignoring his teasing, you started to strip off your clothes, too tired and too drunk to care about modesty. You caught the faintest widening of his eyes before he quickly looked away, a strange sort of awkwardness flashing over his face.

“Better than being boring,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you ducked under the covers, the warmth of the bed wrapping around you. The soft linens felt heavenly, and you sank into them with a sigh, your eyes already drifting shut.

“Goodnight, Gojou,” you murmured, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you watched him from beneath half-closed lids.

“Goodnight,” he said softly. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe for a moment longer, before he finally slipped out of the room, leaving you to the gentle lull of sleep.

When morning came, the sunlight filtered softly through the small window. You stretched, blinking sleepily as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, and as you shifted beneath the covers, you became very aware that you were still bare under the blanket. You stifled a groan, recalling your insistence on sleeping without your filthy clothes, and your face flushed with embarrassment. At least Gojou had seemed too out of it to really care.

Quickly, you climbed out of bed, searching the room until you found your discarded clothes from the night before. You tugged them on hastily, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to compose yourself as best you could.

You stepped out onto the deck, the salty morning air filling your lungs as you glanced around. You wanted to ask him something, and to ask him that something you needed to find him first. You managed to find him perched on a higher part of the deck. Noticing your footsteps, he turned around and before he could speak you opened your mouth first.

“I need a bath.”

The words left your mouth with a bluntness that surprised even you. You were covered in grime from the ship and smelled like salt from the sea, it made every inch of your skin itch for a proper soak. After days of being at sea, all you wanted to do was feel clean.

“Well, this place doesn’t exactly have the best facilities for that,” he said, surveying the streets. “But… I might know a spot.”

You tilted your head. “Not exactly helpful, Captain.”

“Follow me, then. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you’re willing, I’ll show you a river that’s a hell of a lot nicer than any of the baths in town.”

You and Gojou made your way out of the port city and through winding paths that eventually opened up to a dense forest just beyond the edge of town. Gojou was quiet as he guided you through the bush towards the spot, glancing back at you every now and then.

The two of you reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a serene river winding through the open land. The water sparkled underneath the sun, so crystal clear and inviting it nearly hurt to look at.

“Not bad, huh?” Gojou said, standing beside you.

“It’s… beautiful.”

Gojou shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’ll do the job. Go on.”

Your gaze looked to him as he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “What, you think I’m just going to strip down right here?” you teased.

“Not my fault if you can’t handle a little river bath. Besides, who’s gonna see?”

With a deep breath, you started to peel off your outer layers, feeling the rough fabric leave your skin before carefully folding it on a rock nearby. You kept your eyes trained on the river, trying to ignore that he was sneaking glances, but you secretly didn’t mind. You turned to meet his gaze before turning your back to him, realizing how close the two of you actually were.

Once you shimmied out of the rest of your clothes, you waded into the river, the chill of the water sending goosebumps through your body. You went deeper into the water, washing away the grime and heat of the day. When you turned back, you saw that Gojou hadn't moved from his spot; he simply watched from where he stood.

“You know, the water’s plenty big enough for two,” you called out to him, splashing in his direction with a grin. “Or are you too scared of a little cold?”

Something mischievous sparkled in his eyes. You think I’m scared of a little cold water?”

He began unbuckling his belt with a smirk, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His toned frame caught the sunlight, the faint scars scattered across his torso telling stories he rarely spoke of. “Let’s see who’ll be begging to get out first,” he teased.

Your eyes trailed down his body as he began walking into the water. When your eyes made it toward his pelvis before you had to stop yourself from going any lower, reminding yourself it was indecent.

“It's as warm as the sea,” you teased, floating on your back and letting the gentle current carry you.

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter.”

The two of you were naked, but you didn’t seem to mind, and neither did he.

“So, where did you learn to be so comfortable in the water?” he asked, kicking lazily as he floated beside you.

“My father,” you replied, glancing up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “He used to bring me to rivers like this when I was a kid. Said it was the best way to wash away the world for a while.”

Gojou nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying you. “Smart man.”

​​You chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’m disappointing him by being… here.” You gestured around you. “Running off to play pirate with people that are hardly respectable.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost missed them. “And, honestly, I think it’s brave. Not many would have the guts to do what you’ve done.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Gojou continued to float nearby as sunlight filtered through the trees overhead. He didn't try to hide the way his eyes roamed over your body, and you could feel he was growing bolder by the minute.

"You know, you clean up real nice," he muttered, his voice lower than usual.

You let out a small chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his intense stare. "I could say the same for you."

Silence enveloped the two of you as he drifted closer, standing up when he got close to you. You were in a shallow part of the water, which made the water about waist height. It was unfortunate that it was the only thing that covered his lower half because it was see-through. His fingers came up to brush your arm, lingering for a moment too long, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you two, standing so close that you could feel his warm breath fan your face. His hand drifted to your waist, feeling the soft, plush skin before sliding his hand around your back as his other hand came up to trace along your jaw. When you leaned in, you found yourself tilting your head up, your lips parting instinctively.

The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters in a way the two of you had only done once before. But then the kiss deepened, his fingers tightening on your waist as if he was afraid to let go. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands finding their way to his broad shoulders as you traced the muscles there, losing yourself in the kiss.

Gojou shifted the two of you, pressing you gently against the smooth edge of a nearby rock. One hand braced himself beside you against the rock with the other made its way down your backside.

His lips trailed along your jawline, sending sparks throughout your body, and when he kissed you again, it was like he was claiming something he had not dared touch before.

The kiss slowed as both of you caught your breath, still tangled in each other's arms as you steadied yourselves. Gojou's lips hovered near yours, his expression filled with desire.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If you're up for it… we don’t have to stay out here." His fingers traced gentle circles against your back. “There’s places in town. Places a bit more... private.”

You felt your pulse quicken and your heart race at his suggestion. “Yeah... let’s go.”

Neither of you wasted another second. Hands fumbling, you slipped back into your clothes, laughter and shared glances filling the space between you. Gojou helped you fasten a few buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. Once dressed, the two of you scrambled over rocks and brush, the cool evening air sharp against your skin after your bath—but in the heat of the moment, you hardly noticed.

You made your way back the way you came, with Satoru practically dragging you through town, looking for somewhere that wouldn’t ask too many questions. The sky was now dark, and the nightlife of the port had begun. Finally, he stopped in front of a modest hotel along a quiet street, breathing heavily from his excitement.

“Here,” he said.

You both hurried inside, catching the attention of the older man at the front desk. His eyebrow lifted as he eyed the two of you, taking in your windswept appearance and the clear look of anticipation you both wore. He sighed, passing you a key with a knowing look. “Just�� keep it down, eh?”

A mischievous laugh escaped Gojou as he snagged the key and tossed you a wink. “No promises."

The two of you dashed up the narrow staircase, careful not to trip in your haste. When you finally found the room, Gojou fumbled with the key, his hands practically trembling as he tried to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him—a pirate captain, renowned for his cool composure, completely undone by anticipation.

“Need some help?" you teased, biting back a grin.

“Hey, keep that up and I might reconsider,” he shot back.

After fumbling with the key for a while, he finally managed to get it inside the lock and unlock the door. The room wasn't much, with only a small bed, a few chairs, and a vanity to decorate it, but it would do.

The two of you stumbled inside the room kissing fervently as he closed the door with his foot. You walked backward, leading him to the small bed in the center of the room.

“You're so beautiful to me,” he spoke in a hushed voice.

Your fingers reach up to his collar, gently pulling him down and pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Nothing prevented you from him when your fingers began to work on the already half-undone buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements.

You continued your path to the bed and before long you felt the back of your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards on the plush cushions. The desire was mutual, you could see it in his eyes, and there was an urgent need to be closer on a level beyond words. Satoru moved his hands up and down your sides, caressing the curve of your back and touching the delicate skin of your waist.

He broke the kiss before moving down to your bust, removing the layers of your clothing to reveal your supple breasts. His pupils were fully blown completely covering his cerulean eyes, wanting to submit to his carnal desires. He leaned down kissing you once more, feeling the slopes of your breasts pressed against his chest in your lip-locking exchange.

You sat up before flipping the two of you over so you could be on top, a wave of confidence overtaking you. You slowly kissed down his body before reaching his trousers and undoing the ties of his breeches. Before you knew it, you were crawling off of his lap and laying on your stomach between his legs.

To be completely honest, you had never pleasured yourself before, let alone a man.

Your eyes widened as you pulled off his breeches, releasing his aching member that revealed a size that was proportional to his height.

"Sweetheart—ngh! Don't tease me like that."

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes he had dreamed about, and he thinks he somehow got harder.

"But what if I want to?"

"Ah fuck, please sweetheart? I'm so hard already," he whined.

"Um, I don't really know how to do this… so please forgive me."

You had a friend back in Elysport who was a courtesan for the wealthy, often having sex with married men for money. You never judged her, as she was a friend, but she had taught you a couple of things including how to give a man a hand job, but you had never thought you would need to use it, not in a situation like this with a man like him.

Satoru looked down at you, and awaiting your next move he decided to wrap a hand around his cock.

"Fuck sweetheart," he moaned. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this with you."

Something inside you awakened when he said that—something bold, you decided to replace his hand with your mouth. His deep and guttural moans were enough to encourage you to keep going and take his entire length.

Your mouth is so warm and fuck babe was all you could hear him say. It gave you a confidence boost hearing his constant praise.

You continued until he suddenly tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock. Frowning, you looked at him wondering why he did that when he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I was about to cum."

Disappointed you made your way back up his body, kissing him deeply once more. He flipped the two of you over so he was back on top, kissing your neck and feathering soft kisses around the bruised skin before moving down to your breasts. He alternated between both of them, giving them equal amounts of attention by biting and sucking at the flesh and biting at your nipple.

"S-Satoru," you moaned, arching your back to meet his chest, as he descended further and further own your body to where you needed him the most. On his way down, he muttered a "Lift your legs." before removing your soaked pair of panties that he threw somewhere in the room, not caring where they landed. He was quick to dive head-first into your sopping cunt, lapping at your entrance with his tongue, exploring your walls until you were softly moaning his name.

"Fuck you taste so sweet," you could hear his muffled voice from between your legs. He encircled his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading your lips apart to look at your weeping hole. He sat up, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you to the point of tears.

"S-Satoru, Please!"

"Fuck. Good Girl," he muttered before sliding himself in.

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you.

He was insatiable, he couldn't get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He was moaning loudly from the feeling of your warm, velvet walls milking his cock. He continued to thrust inside you, sitting up with his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside you.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out," he says. “You’re taking me so well,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.

"Satoru," you moan, your walls clenching around his length. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft hair.

He knows what he's doing, and you can feel that smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he peppers kisses on your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts.

Wanting to please him, you quickly get on all fours and he immediately presses you back down onto the mattress. He lifts your ass as you arch your back even more. He palms the flesh of your ass in his hands before entering you once more.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in your small hands. When Satoru notices this he moves to interlock your fingers, pressing his chest against your back to pound into you.

"Satoru, ah—" you whine.

"I know, I know," he grunts. You can feel your walls tightening around his thick cock "Fuck—so good." you moan.

“Gonna make you cum so hard.”

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, leaving you breathless and wanting to reach your orgasm. A couple of more thrusts against your g-spot bring you the most incredible orgasm.

“Fuck Sweetheart, I’m close.”

It takes a few more thrusts before his movements become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you. You feel his sweaty forehead drop against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath. After a few moments, he lifts his head off your shoulder and moves to lie next to you. You flip yourself on your side, eyes focused on the ship's wooden panels as your chest heaves.

You feel Satoru shift next to you, pressing his chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu  Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, love triangle, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff.  Word count: 9.2k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: A LOT of angst and tension, explicit language, sexual innuendos, kissing. Lemme know if there's more. A/N: I’m so happy it’s finally out!!! Just a few notes: I don't want to specify an exact date, but the events take place mostly during the second half of 2022, during the PROOF and Face the Sun/SECTOR 17 eras. Also, I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this fic will have, but possibly around 10 to 15 (if i can help it). That’s it! Enjoy the reading and let me know what you think!! Tags: @cherrylovescheol, @lovingkoalaface, @whoa-jo, @marihoneywk

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything. 

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Your phone buzzed on the dresser as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You knew it was a message from Jungkook, probably wondering where you were since it was half past nine and you were already late. 

Nice way to make a good first impression, you thought to yourself, staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a mix of excitement and nerves creeping in your chest. 

Jungkook had chosen the dress himself. It was simple yet elegant, a mid red velvet dress—his favorite color on you—with a slight sheen and floral embossed details. The dress has a V-neckline and it’s fitted to the body, creating an elegant and sophisticated fit, perfect for the night. Over the dress, you chose to threw a black leather jacket, which added a cool touch to the look, contrasting with the delicacy of the dress and looking very chic overall. 

You took a step back, after applying a final coat of the deep red shade lipstick, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time as you studied your reflection in the mirror once more.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had spent more time getting ready than usual, wanting everything to be perfect. 

Tonight marks six months since you and Jungkook started dating, a milestone you both had eagerly awaited. From the moment you met while temporarily working for HYBE as a stylist for BTS’s PTD on Stage first show in Seoul, back in october, you knew it was meant to be. When he started shamelessly flirting while you tried to adjust his clothes, you knew you were a goner. And in the 182 days since he kissed you at 2 a.m. by the Han River, the two of you have been through so much together.

You’ve already done almost everything and anything, absolutely ignoring when everyone said not to rush into things, since you’re both so young. Plans for the far future, matching tattoos, and considering how much time you spent at his place, basically living together. You can name it and find out what you've already done. HYBE already knew about your relationship, and you spent ninety percent of your time together, except when you were both working. He already knew your family and closest friends, and you also knew his mom, dad and brother, his members and most of his friends from school and the industry. 

Well, all except the infamous 97 line. Which basically was your task for tonight. 

You had never met them before, or at least not all of them. However, tonight that would change, as Jungkook had arranged a dinner and drinks to introduce you to them. And from the moment everything was agreed upon, the thought of making a good impression had your stomach in knots. Jungkook was everything to you, and all you wanted was to be perfect for him—to be the woman who would fit seamlessly into his world. 

You really did love him. It was a thought that both comforted and anchored you all day, keeping you steady despite the nervous feeling creeping in your stomach as you finished getting ready. During the time you’ve been together, you've fallen hard for Jungkook, his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel safe and cherished. He became your world. He’s kind and thoughtful manners, the way he treated you like you were the most important person in his life.

Jungkook had been nothing short of amazing and you loved him deeply. 

But that was not the only thing on your mind tonight. There was something else, something you hadn’t been able to push away no matter how hard you tried. Or rather, someone.

Of course you knew the guys who were part of 97 line—you didn’t live under a rock. For Christ’s sake, you also work for the entertainment industry; it’s basically part of your job to know who they are. And even if they weren’t who they are, Jungkook never stops talking about him specifically. He’s already shown you dozens of photos of the two of them and their adventures during Seoul’s nights.

It had been months since you realized that Mingyu from Osaka was also Jungkook’s Mingyu. 

The worst part, however, was that you hadn’t had the heart to tell him. You knew how angry he would be, how fiercely he loved you, and how much he disliked the idea of sharing anything, especially you; what was his was his only. So, yes, you were terrified of what would happen if he found out. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not when you loved him so much, and not when what you had together was the best thing that had happened to you since you set foot in Seoul again. 

That’s the only reason you had kept it to yourself this entire time, knowing this moment would come eventually and you would have no way to escape it, only hoping you could get through the night without Mingyu causing any trouble. You knew he was a discreet guy, and it wasn’t like you were going to see each other every single day anyway from now on.  

Your phone buzzed on the dresser one more time, pulling you out of your thoughts. As you have guessed before, it was another text from Jungkook. 

You smiled, the warmth of his words soothing your nerves, if only a little. Jungkook was the reason you were doing this, the reason you face tonight despite the anxiety gnawing at you. And tonight was about him, and you were determined to make it nice and easy. 

So you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you muttered to yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It's just one night.” 

Grabbing your purse, you took one last look in the mirror, and headed out the door. Even though it's not that far from your house, the cab ride to the restaurant felt shorter than you expected, your anticipation growing with each passing minute. 

Earlier in the day, Jungkook had insisted on picking you up, but you refused. You ended up working late—your temporary job as an editorial stylist for Elle Magazine had taken more of your time than expected—and you didn’t want to make him late as well. So, you told him you’d take a taxi and assured him it would be fine. But even so, you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He'd texted you several times throughout the evening, double-checking that you were okay and reminding you to let him know once you were on your way.

When you arrived, you spotted Jungkook immediately, staging outside the entrance with a wide grin on his face. He looked effortlessly handsome in his dark gray Calvin Klein shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair tousled in that way you loved.

As soon as he sees you getting out of the cab, his entire face lights up. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted you, bunny smile on full display as he pulled you into his arms to a warm hug, nose immediately dragging against the column of your neck, “I missed you.”

“Hi, handsome,” you replied, a teasing smile on your lips, nerves easing slightly with his touch as you melted completely into his embrace. “It's only been eight hours, babe.”

He shrugs. "What can I say? I don’t think I can last much longer without you, babe." Taking his face from the crook of your neck, Jungkook smiles, leaning down to kiss you softly. You sunk into the kiss, his familiar warmth making you feel safe and more at ease. “Happy six months.” 

“Happy six months, baby,” you replied between kisses.

When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, both hands on each side of your hips, an amused smirk pulling up at the corner of his lips. “You look incredible. Can’t wait to take this dress off of you.”

Your arms rested on his shoulders, circling his neck. “Mhmm… you don’t look so bad yourself.” He smelled really nice too, a wood and ocean scent that was distinctly his. “I have a surprise for you underneath this.”

"Don’t do this to me, doll,” he groaned in complaint, his voice almost sounding like a whimper. “I’d ditch those guys for you in a second.”

His lips met your jaw, trailing a path down to your neck. “And I wouldn't complain.”

You heard someone clear their throat, noticing a lady on the sidewalk staring at you with an unfriendly expression. You giggled, finally pulling away but staying close enough for him to drape his arm around your waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he sounded way too excited, his doe eyes sparkling with joy. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the lingering jitters.

“They’re going to adore you, I promise,” he said, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

Jungkook led you into the restaurant, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. The place was cozy and intimate, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the tables—the exact kind of spot you’d expect idols to gather for this kind of get-together. You could hear the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you made your way to the back of the room toward a large table where a group of eight guys were already seated and chatting animatedly. 

As you weaved through the maze of tables, your nerves began creeping back in, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the table. You forced yourself to focus on Jungkook, on the fact that he was here with you, and that tonight was more about him than anything else. But as your eyes scanned the faces at the table, you couldn't help but search for the one you were dreading most.

“They’re just over here,” Jungkook said, bringing you out of your thoughts as you approached the group. 

And then you saw him.

Heart skipping a beat and breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the man sitting at the far end of the table, his eyes downcast as he filled his glass with a cabernet liquid. 

The man you never expected to see again in your life.

Kim Mingyu. 

The sight of him was like a punch to the gut, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy. The world around you blurred, your vision narrowing to just him—the man who had occupied your thoughts for so long after Osaka four years ago, the one you had tried and failed to forget.

It felt like slow motion as all eyes turned to you, and Mingyu slowly looked up from his drink, following suit with the rest of the guys.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his. A flicker of recognition crossed his gaze, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly masked his surprise with a neutral expression. Even though you knew he would be there, nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotions that surged the moment your eyes met.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and frozen in place. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart.

Mingyu held your gaze, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. In that moment, a jolt of electricity shot through your body—a mix of fear, guilt, and something else, something you didn’t want to name.

“Everyone,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze in your mind, pulling you back to the present. “This is Y/N, the amazing woman I’ve been telling you all about, and the love of my life.”

Jungkook’s tone was joyful and proud as he kissed your cheek. You tore your eyes away from Mingyu, forcing a smile and trying to steady your breathing. Meeting the gazes of the guys around the table, you spoke, your voice steadier than you felt. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you all.”

“Babe, this is Yugyeom, Bambam, Chan, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Seokmin, Minghao… and Mingyu,” Jungkook introduced, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Mingyu stood up almost immediately, one of his long legs hitting the edge of the table, causing the silverware to rattle. He offered you a polite smile, but you noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided yours as he reached out to shake your hand across the table.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and measured, as though nothing was out of the ordinary, giving nothing away.

Your hand trembled slightly as you shook his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body that you desperately tried to ignore. Heart racing, you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced a smile, “You too, Mingyu.”

Clenching your teeth, you fought against the shiver that coursed through your body, your nipples hardening despite your will. Memories flooded back in flashes, like a kaleidoscope of moments—the way his fingers felt inside you, on you, touching and caressing, guiding you to most the earth-shattering nights of your life.

Your hands lingered together for just a moment, you mind racing as you tried to gauge his reaction. Was he going to say something? Did he really remember you?

The rest of the introductions faded into a blur. As everyone took their seats, you found yourself sitting directly across from Mingyu, the small proximity only heightened your awareness of him. You could feel his gaze on you, even though he was careful not to let it linger too long. 

Jungkook sat beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh under the table—a gesture that usually made you feel secure. But tonight, it felt like a reminder of the terrible situation you had suddenly found yourself in. 

You now hated yourself for not saying something to Jungkook before tonight. 

Of course, you hadn’t known Jungkook when Mingyu came into your life, but now that you knew both of them, shouldn't you have said something? 

And what would you even say? 

That his best friend had once stirred feelings in you so intense that they haunted you? That you spent years trying to erase the memory of his touch? That all those years ago, it was as if Mingyu hadn’t just claimed your body but your soul? 

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down.

As the conversation flowed around, you tried to focus on the others, to be present in the moment. You had to keep yourself occupied, or your sanity would begin to fray. And the other boys were more than happy to help you with that. They were very kind, funny and welcoming, and despite your tension, you found yourself slowly warming up to them. 

Jaehyun was charming and amusing; Seokmin was full of energy, making you feel more at ease with his laid-back attitude; Eunwoo was sweet but a little shy; Chan was outgoing and warm-hearted; Yugyeom was bubbly, relentlessly teasing Jungkook throughout dinner, while Bambam was clearly the life of the group—loud, hilarious, and making you laugh with his playful banter and jokes, easing some of the tension you’d been carrying since you arrived. Minghao, on the other hand, was more subdued but quick-witted, throwing in sarcastic comments and showing a genuine interest in you.

They all seemed genuinely happy to meet you, and you found yourself laughing at their stories, trying to relax.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Bambam asked. “We gotta know if you’re doing something cooler than us.” 

You chuckled softly. “Right now I'm between jobs. I mainly work as a tour stylist, but recently I’ve started getting into some editorial work too, for Elle Magazine.” 

"Oh, so you know Chaeyoung?" Eunwoo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Chaeyoung?" you echoed, unsure.

"Rosé, babe," Jungkook leaned in and whispered.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I was responsible for her outfits in the Elle June issue. We spent the whole day together—she’s really sweet." 

"She's part of our group too," Jungkook explained with a grin, "but you'll meet the girls another day."

"They're a separate event," Jaehyun joked and you laughed. 

“What do you like more? Touring or editorial?” Yugyeom asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Touring, definitely,” you replied, your face lighting up as you spoke about your job. "It’s incredible, and I get to do the other thing I love most—traveling."

“Wow,” Seokmin outed, sounding genuinely impressed. “What do you do when artists go on tour?”

“The months prior to a tour I coordinate the designers and do the talks with brands for custom pieces or partnerships," you began to explain. “During the tour, I oversee the team of dresses who help with costume changes and ensure costumes are functional for performances.”

“She’s so much cooler than you, Jungkook-ah.” Bambam said, pointing at Jungkook, who just shrugged.

“I can't argue with that.” 

“What artists have you worked with?” Chan piped in, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Mostly westerners. Little Mix, Dua Lipa, Ariana Gran—”

“So how did you two meet?” The question came up suddenly from the far end of the table, interrupting what you were saying and making your breath catch.

You shifted your gaze toward Mingyu, who leaned across the table with his eyebrows arched, head resting in the palm of his hand. Curiosity—and something more—sparkled in his eyes. Until that moment, he had been the picture of composure, engaging in conversation easily, his voice smooth and confident as he chatted with Jungkook and the other guys, but never with you.

Right now, however, you could see the tension in his jaw and the way the muscles in his forearm flexed, fingers tightened around his wine glass as he said, “Jungkook’s been pretty quiet about it, keeping us all in suspense.”

You hesitated for a moment, his tone sharp and unsettling, the bluntness of his question throwing you off balance. It was exactly the conversation you'd been avoiding, knowing it could lead to Mingyu prying into things you weren’t ready to share in his presence. 

You glanced at Jungkook, who smiled encouragingly and gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“Well, we actually met when I was working temporarily with BTS during the PTD on Stage shows here in the city," you said, keeping your voice steady, though inside you were bracing yourself. You turned your attention to your boyfriend’s face, forcing yourself not to let Mingyu's presence intimidate you, though it was becoming harder with every passing second. "It was supposed to be just for those shows, but I ended up staying with them until PTD in Las Vegas.”

“HYBE really loved her work, but I think I loved it more than anyone,” Jungkook said with a big smile, his hand gently caressing the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you exchanged a warm smile. “We got to talk one night after one of the concerts in LA, and…”

“It just felt right,” you concluded, smiling at the man on your left.

“Wow,” Yugyeom said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how similar his smile was to Jungkook’s—very bunny-like. “That sounds like something out of a drama.”

“Doesn’t it?” Jungkook said rhetorically, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “I guess it does. Life has a funny way of writing its own scripts.”

Tonight was the greatest proof of that, you thought, as Mingyu's gaze seared into the left side of your face. 

You stole a glance in his direction, catching him watching you closely. His expression was unreadable, but the tense set of his jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed—his own question had backfired, and this conversation was clearly affecting him, and not in the "I’m-happy-for-my-best-friend" kind of way. 

Then he abruptly turned his attention away when Minghao leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"She’s got a point," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk as he pointed at Eunwoo. "You’ve probably started enough dramas to know how this plays out, huh?"

The man chuckled. "To be honest, it does sound like fate.”

Jungkook glanced at you with a smile that made your heart flutter even more. But before you could respond to Eunwoo, Mingyu’s voice cut in, accompanied by a wry smirk. “Real cinematic. Almost too good to be true, right?”

“It really was kind of perfect,” Jungkook said, smiling down at you again and completely oblivious to his friend's ironic tone."Fate or not, I’m just glad it happened."

The boys instantly started imitating Jungkook’s voice, making obnoxious noises and exaggerated smooching sounds. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way Mingyu’s words lingered above you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

His eyes remained fixed on you, but he leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. “I see. Well, it’s surprising that you didn’t run into us at the concert here in Seoul, too, since we were there. I guess fate decided to keep things interesting.”

Once again, his words were tinged with irony, and though he didn’t directly address it, the implication was clear as the day for you. Your heart raced as you fought to maintain your composure. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Just then, Jaehyun flashed you a warm smile and asked, “So, Y/N, are you from around here?” 

You shook your head. “No, actually. I’m originally from Gwangju, but I lived in the UK for almost my entire life before deciding to move back here.”

“Really?” Jaehyun said, clearly intrigued. “What brought you back?”

“Just felt like the right time,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sometimes you need a change of pace, you know?”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s nice to have a fresh start every now and then.”

"How many countries have you visited while working?” Yugyeom asked, taking your focus off Jaehyun. “Must be nice traveling to so many places." 

"Oh, it is. There are so many places that I couldn't name them all at once. The last time I was in Brazil with–”

“Have you ever been to Osaka, Y/N?” Sensing an opening, Mingyu threw the question at you, his eyebrows raised, your name rolling out of his tongue slowly. His smirk didn’t waver as he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with the kind of knowledge only the two of you shared. “Osaka is really nice.”

You winced at the chill in his words, desperately searching his eyes for the tenderness that once resided in those brown depths. But all you found were dark, empty eyes that swiftly brought back memories of your time together.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, the memory of those three days in Osaka flashing through your mind like a neon sign in the dark. He didn’t mention it—he wouldn’t—but the way he phrased the question made it clear what was hovering between the two of you. You didn’t know what game Mingyu wanted to play tonight, but it was suddenly driving you crazy. 

Everyone at the table turned their eyes to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, since he brought up Osaka out of nowhere. 

It was Bambam who voiced the question. “Osaka? She just said she was in Brazil, and you're stuck in Osaka?” he laughed. “You’ve been to Osaka hundreds of times, bro. Let’s hear about Brazil, please.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, conversation and laughter filled the air. You tried your best to focus, to be present and engaged, but it didn’t matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to Mingyu, the tension between you palpable, even though neither of you acknowledged it. The others made you feel at ease, but Mingyu’s presence cast a shadow over your excitement.

And as if his mere presence wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, his smooth gestures and deep, husky laughter stirred memories you were desperately trying to forget.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes burning into you, now and then. Every so often, you would catch Mingyu looking at you, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he looked away. And every time your eyes met across the table, it sent a jolt through your system; your heart skipped a beat again and again, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, a jumbled mess of past and present. You couldn’t believe this was happening—of all the people in the world, Mingyu had to be Jungkook’s best friend.

It was so obvious that you weren’t the only one affected by this. You could see the tension in Mingyu’s shoulders, the way he kept his responses short, his attention drifting elsewhere. He was as shaken by this unexpected reunion as you were, and knowing that only made you feel more unsettled.

You loved Jungkook so much, you reminded yourself over and over. You were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

“Jungkook’s been so happy since you two got together,” Eunwoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice beneath the hum of conversation. His warm gaze focused on you as he whispered, grounding you again. “It’s really nice to see.”

A lump rose in your throat, the warmth of Eunwoo’s words a sharp contrast to the cold tension swirling inside you. Forcing a smile, you replied, “He makes me really happy too. The happiest, actually.”

It was true—you knew that. But right now, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than reaffirm it, and you hated yourself for it.

As the night went on, the tension in your chest never eased. It felt like guilt was eating you alive. Maybe you were overreacting—after all, it wasn’t like you had any feelings for Mingyu anyway. Maybe you should have told Jungkook from the start. Maybe he wouldn’t have reacted the way you feared, and everything would have been fine. The two of you would have laughed at the coincidence, and life would have gone on.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But now it was too late, you thought to yourself—you were already here. You and Mingyu had already spent most of the night pretending you didn’t know each other, as if nothing extraordinary had happened four years ago. There was no way Jungkook wouldn’t find the situation strange.

Did that make you a cheater? You had wrestled with the question through the night, guilt gnawing at you, even if there was no betrayal in the technical sense. 

This wasn’t the kind of thing you could confess without destroying everything. It wasn’t something you could admit even to yourself without breaking. But the memory clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to bury it. And the weight of it was unbearable now, sitting in a room with both of them, feeling like you were betraying Jungkook just by being reminded of a past you could never speak of. 

Not with him, anyway. 

Sitting among your boyfriend's friends in silence, you felt like the worst person in the world. Although the rest of dinner flowed with lighthearted conversation, your heart raced every time Jungkook brought up something about your relationship that could give Mingyu space for interrogation.

And that continued until the conversation suddenly shifted.

“So, Mingyu, you still haven’t spilled the details about what went down between you and Sanghee," Yugyeom said, turning all eyes toward his friend. “Spill, already.” 

"Who’s Sanghee?" Bambam mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

“She’s that friend I set him up with on a blind date about three weeks ago," Yugyeom explained and all of a sudden, it seemed like the whole table had remembered a very important topic to be discussed: Mingyu’s love life. “She’s a dancer for YG.”

You took a long sip of your wine, trying to drown the strange knot tightening in your stomach. A confusing mix of warmth and bittersweet unease creeping through your veins, leaving you momentarily disoriented. 

Jealousy? Seriously? 

The thought hit you like a wave, catching you off guard. You had no reason to feel this way, but the unsettling twinge in your chest was undeniable. You shook your head, trying to push the feeling aside. You didn’t even know him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or him to be feeling this way. But most of all, it wasn’t fair to Jungkook. Yet the thought of Mingyu being with someone else had every muscle in your body tensing, rejecting the idea completely in a crazy possessive way. 

"Wait, you're dating again?" Jungkook asked, genuinely surprised and you lowered your gaze to your plate, trying to tune out the conversation, even though a part of you wondered what he meant with again. "I had no idea, man. That's good for you!"

Mingyu’s tone was sharp, clearly meant as a jab, as he replied to your boyfriend. "Well, of course you wouldn't know. We’ve barely seen you these past six months."

"But for a good reason, so you're off the hook," Seokmin said with a wink in your and Jungkook’s direction, quickly easing the tension. "Anyway, it's awesome that Mingyu's getting back into dating. Four years is a long time."

You froze, a chill running through you. That couldn't be right. You must've misheard.

Slowly, you lifted your head, just in time to catch Minghao wrapping an arm around Mingyu, as if offering quiet support. "He had to move on eventually, you know."

"Seriously, dude," Eunwoo chimed in, shaking his head. "I’m starting to think that girl you met in Osaka is a figment of your imagination. No way you’d stay hung up for four years over someone you only spent three days with."

Mingyu’s face flushed, and it was obvious he knew you were staring—he avoided your gaze, and for the first time tonight, he was looking everywhere but at you. Still, you couldn’t help but watch him from beneath your lowered lashes, struggling to make sense of your feelings right now.

To your surprise, he glanced your way for just a second before turning his attention back to the guys. 

"Could you all shut up for a moment?" His gaze landed on Jungkook, then Yugyeom. "And no, I'm not dating again. Sanghee was a little annoying, to be honest. She only wanted to talk about things that didn't interest me”

Yugyeom let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his head back. "You’re way too damn picky, man. Seriously, just choose someone and date them already!"

"I'm not picky, I just know what I want." He leaned back in his chair with a casual shrug and turned his gaze to you. You quickly looked away, but he pressed on. "I've already said it: I'm looking for someone I can genuinely connect with. Someone kind-hearted and easy-going."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like the girl from Osaka."

Mingyu shrugged. "Exactly like her."

You swallowed hard, leaning your head against your boyfriend's shoulder, using him as support to try to erase the thoughts racing through your mind at full speed. 

What the fuck was going on and why was he saying all these things?

"Mingyu met a girl in Osaka, like, five years ago? And he's never shut up about her since," Jungkook whispered, trying to include you in their conversation. "He hardly ever dates anyone because of her, so it’s always a reason to celebrate."

You forced a smile, bringing the glass to your lips as you replied, "She seems like a special girl." 

Jungkook smiled softly at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I bet she is.

The conversation went on and then shifted, turning to the new drama Eunwoo was preparing to film over the summer. When dessert was served, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and breathe. You slipped quietly out of your chair, walking down the dimly lit hallway outside the restroom, your heart still racing as you closed the door behind you. 

You immediately leaned against the sink, gripping its edge tightly as you stared at your reflection, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you cursed loudly. “Fuck.”

What the hell was going on? Why was Mingyu trying to confuse you with all these things, after everything that happened the morning he left Osaka? What did he stand to gain from this? He was the one who set the boundary, who made it clear that the past needed to stay buried. So why now, of all times, was he stirring it all back up? None of it made sense, and the more you tried to piece it together, the more it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

You loved Jungkook. You knew that. You were in love with him, with the life you had begun to build together. The perfect bubble you had created around yourselves, one that no one seemed able to burst. You’d spent six months like this—entwined in each other as if your very lives depended on it—and even now, you were still eager to celebrate this milestone by yourselfs the moment you step out of here.

Yet, seeing Mingyu tonight took a toll on you. 

There had always been something about him, something intangible that tugged at your soul in ways you could never fully explain. Now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite remember what it was. It was maddening; the way the memory of him from four years ago slipped through your fingers all night, yet still sent your mind spinning uncontrollably. Deep down, you knew it was the same force that had once made your heart surrender so easily, the same pull that left you defenseless all those years ago.

You splashed water on your face, hoping to wash away your thoughts, trying desperately to clear your mind and come to your senses. But no matter how cold the water was, the anxious feelings remained, stubborn and unshakable.

Drying your face with a towel, you tossed it into the basket and took a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to pull yourself together before heading back out there to face the rest of the evening with nothing but a big, stupid smile on your face, doing what you seemed so good at: pretending.

You stayed in the bathroom a few more minutes, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the flush that had risen as you steadied your breathing. You needed to get back to Jungkook as soon as possible—back to the reality you had chosen, back to celebrating your six-month anniversary together with his friends.

But as soon as you rounded the corner, you almost collided with a solid figure.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, stumbling back slightly before steadying yourself. “I’m sorry, I—” 

You stopped talking immediately when you looked up and met the one person you least wanted to see right now. Panic coursed through you, and you instinctively dodged, forcing yourself to start walking again without saying a word. 

But you were quickly halted when a hand landed on your forearm. The sudden touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of surprise and an unwanted spark of familiarity that you couldn't shake off. It was the faintest brush against your arm, but the sensation lingered, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm. 

How could such a small touch feel so electric? 

You quickly pulled your arm away, but didn’t take a step, frozen in place with him just behind you.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whispered, his voice husky in urgency. “Can we talk?”

Your heart sank. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered right now, especially after everything that had been said at the table just a couple of minutes ago.

Slowly, you turned to face him, heart racing as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm you just by a single touch. In that moment, all the thoughts you had tried to suppress tonight came rushing back, and you found yourself caught between the instinct to flee and the magnetic pull of his presence. 

“I… I really can’t,” you replied, voice firm but slightly wavering.

“Please,” he said, stepping closer, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to breathe. “I just need a moment. Just to talk.”

You shook your head no, mind fighting with all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “Mingyu, it’s not a good time. I’m with Jungkook, and—”

“I know you’re with him,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “But that’s not what this is about. It’s about us.”

“What happened is in the past,” you stated, feeling a rush of frustration. “This won't change just because we ran into each other.”

His expression softened, a mixture of regret and longing. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. We…”

He stopped talking for a moment and for a second, just stood there, his gaze fixed on your face with intensity. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you it was as if he hadn’t really seen you until this moment. His eyes roamed over your face, down to the way the red dress clung to your body, and back up again, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like you was something he couldn’t quite believe was real. 

Your pulse thumped loudly in your ears. The proximity between you was unbearable. He was too close, his scent too familiar, the memories flooding back with every breath taken as if the ones that haunted you through this night weren't enough. 

It had been four years, but suddenly it felt like it had all happened yesterday.

Mingyu stepped closer, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse thudding wildly as his eyes met yours once again. There was something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken, that made the air between you hum with electricity. He was looking at you like he’d been waiting all night just to get this close, like being in the same room hadn’t been enough until now.

“You…” Mingyu’s voice was rough, almost strained, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look… different.”

“Mingyu…” you started, but your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You knew what he meant. It wasn’t about the dress or the fact that your hair had grown long since the last time you had seen each other. He meant something deeper, something you both felt but neither could acknowledge. As you met his gaze, the weight of that understanding settled over you.

“You… look good,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but it still carried the same roughness that sent a shiver down your spine. 

You smiled softly, tilting your head to the side. You wanted to say so many things to him, but all that could come out of your lips was, “Thank you. You look good too.” 

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything you couldn’t say. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of hope clouded by the reality of your lives now. 

“Mingyu,” you started, unsure of how to express the conflict inside you. “Listen, I…”

But before you could finish, somebody turned around the corner, interrupting your moment, making you jump slightly. Your heart started racing again, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. Anticipation clenched in your stomach. You had to get out of here. 

“Minghao. Hi.”

Minghao smiled at both of you immediately, stopping in his tracks, his curious gaze locking onto yours. “Sorry about that,” he said with a chuckle, stepping aside to let you pass. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” You said, mirroring his smile. “No worries.”

Then you made a move to walk past him, eager to return to the safety of the dinner table, to Jungkook, but Minghao didn’t let you go so easily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just needed to freshen up.” You replied, glancing toward the dining area of the restaurant where you could hear Jungkook’s voice and the others still laughing, still blissfully unaware of the storm that had just brewed in your mind. 

“Are you two okay?” Minghao asked, glancing between you with a raised eyebrow. 

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

He didn't look convinced. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“We’re just catching up,” Mingyu replied, his expression shifting, the vulnerability from moments ago replaced by a guarded look. The casualness in his voice stood in stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung between you seconds earlier. “I had to know if she passed the test to be Jungkookie's girlfriend.”

Mingyu let out a light laugh as he spoke and Minghao nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. There was a curious glint in his eyes, as if he were trying to piece something together. He studied your face intently, his brows furrowing in thought, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You know,” he started, his voice thoughtful, “you look really familiar. Have we met before?”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat for what it felt like the hundredth time this evening. The way he said it, the way his eyes held yours—it sent a chill down your spine. The distant familiarity in his eyes unsettled you all of a sudden, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

You quickly glanced at Mingyu, then back at Minghao, swallowing hard, the weight of his gaze suddenly becoming too much for you to handle, because you knew exactly where he recognized you from. 

That day at the airport, the very last day, four years ago. The day you had said goodbye to Mingyu, heart in pieces, believing you’d probably never see him ever again. Minghao had been there, along with the other members of Seventeen. Far away, but there. He had probably seen it. He probably knew.

Panic bubbled in your chest, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. You forced a laugh, shaking your head as you carefully replied, "I don’t think so. I think I’d remember."

“You’d be surprised,” Minghao’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if your reaction to his question had only deepened his suspicion. He chuckled softly, but his eyes stayed on yours, sharp with thought. “I’m terrible with names, but faces? I never forget a face.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he tilted his head, studying your face a little bit more. He glanced at Mingyu slightly and there was a beat of silence between the three of you. All of sudden, you felt your pulse quickening again. This night looked like it would be one that would land you in the hospital with the onset of a cardiac arrest. 

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t think we’ve officially met before tonight.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he mused, glancing past you for a second before returning his focus back to your face. There was something knowing in it, something that made you feel sick. This couldn’t be happening. Then Minghao’s expression shifted, as if a light had just switched on in his mind. “Japan! Ha! Have you ever been to Japan?”

“I, uh…” you stammered slightly, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’ve been. For work.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You had met Mingyu during your time off while the singer you worked for was on tour.

He nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together. “Right.” 

Minghao's eyes lingered on yours, and you had the distinct feeling that he was seeing right through your attempt at casual conversation. 

But to your relief, he didn’t press the subject further. Instead, he just shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually,” he said, his tone hinting at something unspoken. He smiled as he stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining room. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Minghao.” You mumble quickly, as he stepped into the men’s restroom after lightly touching Mingyu's shoulder and smiling at his friend. You took a deep breath, eyes meeting Mingyu’s again. “I should go,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I really need to—”

“Wait,” he interrupted you, his tone suddenly serious. “Can we… can we talk later? Somewhere private?”

You hesitated, the conflict within you flaring up again. Minghao's words and gaze had completely thrown you off balance. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Mingyu said, his voice dropping to a whisper, a plea that struck deep within you. “I just need to see you again. Just to talk.”

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, taking one last look at him before you walked back toward the table. 

Every step felt heavy, your mind racing with thoughts you wished you could push away as you made your way back to Jungkook. Did Minghao know? Was he just playing with you, or had he already connected the dots? Has he really recognized you? Was it possible that he had seen you in the airport with Mingyu? 

You simply couldn’t afford to think about that right now. Not with Jungkook looking so happy, waiting for you at the table, surrounded by his closest friends. For now, you had to push everything aside, pretend like the past hadn’t crashed into your life tonight. 

As you neared the dining area of the restaurant, the sound of laughter greeted you, and for a moment, the weight on your chest lightened. Jungkook spotted you immediately, his face lighting up as he waved you over. 

You observed that boys had spread out. Seokmin, Bambam and Yugyeom were huddled around the karaoke machine, laughing and dancing to the soft ballad playing in the background. Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan sat nearby Jungkook, deep in conversation, while there was no sign of Mingyu coming behind you. 

When you reached the table, Jungkook turned fully toward you, flashing that familiar boyish smile, the one that always made your heart swell. It was effortless, the way he could make you feel safe with just a look, as if the entire world faded away and it was only the two of you.

He extended his hands, pulling you close to seat on his lap, his voice soft and affectionate as he murmured, “There you are. I was starting to miss you.”

You genuinely smiled, the sound of his voice grounding you in the presente, exactly where you should be. You had to focus on him. On your six-month anniversary. On the life you had built together, even if ghosts from your past were insisting on creeping back in. 

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you as close as he could. “You okay?”

The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness in his words wrapped around you like a protective shield, momentarily easing the tension inside you. You melted into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder and allowing yourself to sink into the comfort he always provided you, grateful for his touch on your skin. “Never been better.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, his words filled with sincerity as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “You make everything better, you know?”

You smiled at him again, though this time it felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“I’m glad too.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

He smiled big. “I love you more.”

You shook your head, tears suddenly welling up, pushing against your resolve. "No," you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to hold them back. You couldn't tell what it was. Whether it was the events of  tonight that had left you feeling so overwhelmed, or if it was simply because you loved this man with every fiber of your being that it couldn't be possible for there to be a love greater than that. "It’s not possible."

Everything inside you felt tangled—love, guilt, confusion—blurring the lines between what was real and what you were trying to push away.

“Yes, it is,” he said, head tilted to the side as he examined your face, his eyes and voice soft with concern, while you sank deeper into his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you whispered, forcing a small smile as you blinked away the tears. "They're tears of happiness, I promise. I'm just happy that we're here and together."

“Babe, this has been the happiest six months of my life.”

Your heart clenched. Six months. It was supposed to feel like a celebration, but all you felt right now was guilt weighing on you.

“Mine too,” you whispered back, mind far from settled.

Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laughed, despite the sincerity in his voice, burying more of your face in his neck and closing your eyes to inhale the scent you loved—his. “Are you drunk right now, mister?”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I feel the same way, baby,” you said, hoping the words would steady you. 

He leaned closer, moving your hair away from the back of your neck to leave a trail of kisses there, voice a little rough. “And the way you look in this dress? Absolutely perfect and mesmerizing. I’d say you’re turning heads tonight.”

Your heart raced with joy at his compliment, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not too shabby yourself,” you teased, letting your gaze linger on him. “So handsome,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your lips. “So hot. It’s no wonder Calvin Klein wants you as their new brand ambassador.”

He chuckled, a low, playful sound that sent a thrill through you. “Careful, babe. If you keep complimenting and kissing me like this, I might have to take you somewhere else.” His tone was flirtatious and tinged with mischief, causing a flutter deep within you at the thought.

You bit your lip, lifting your head from his neck as your hands caressed his face, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw and lip ring. Leaning in closer, you raised an eyebrow, your voice soft and teasing. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhmm…” 

Your faces were inches apart, the warmth of his breath sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. There was electricity in the air, a palpable tension that danced between you, wrapping around you like a silken thread. In that brief moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away. 

You swept his hair back, savoring every detail—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes, the magnetic pull of his gaze. The urge to lose yourself in him was always so powerful. With a teasing flick of your tongue, you traced his lips, biting his lip ring, and he parted them willingly. A smile played at your mouth as you pulled back provocatively, but his lips chased yours immediately, hands slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you close. This time, you surrendered to him completely, feeling his smirk press against your mouth as you gave in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching as his soft lips pressed into yours, stealing the air right from your lungs. As you moved in, your tongue met his in a playful, lingering dance. The warmth of the kiss sparked something deep inside, each gentle caress a silent promise to savor every second together.

Still seated on his lap, your hands pressed to his chest, fingertips grazing over the firm planes beneath, as each languid pull of his lips melted you further .Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips, urging you even tighter against him. The cool touch of his lip ring sent a thrill through you with every brush, a tantalizing contrast to the heat building between you.

Your hands slid up, fingers lacing behind his neck as your nails grazed his skin, slipping into his hair with a gentle tug. But just as you were close to getting more lost in each other, a piece of bread sailed through the air, smacking Jungkook on the head. You both broke the kiss, turning quickly to see where the unexpected interruption had come from.

Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan observed you with amused expressions, joined by the others on the other side of the room.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he stared at you, Jaehyun said, “Aren’t you two awfully cozy over there?” 

“Seriously, get a room!” Yugyeom shouted across the nearly empty restaurant. 

“And don’t forget we’re still here, please.” Chan spoke, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

The others joined in with laughter, their teasing breaking the intimate bubble you and Jungkook had momentarily created. Your cheeks warmed even more as you buried your face in Jungkook’s shoulder again, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Jungkook said, laughing as he pulled back slightly, still holding you on his lap. “Can’t blame us for trying to celebrate our anniversary!”

“Right, right,” Eunwoo said, smirking. “Just don’t do it with us watching, yeah?”

As laughter filled the air, you felt the warmth of Jungkook’s arm around your waist, anchoring you to him amidst the joyful chaos.

But just then, you couldn’t help but let your gaze drift across the table. Drawn by an invisible thread, your eyes locked onto Mingyu’s. He was there again, clearly forcing a laugh as he stared at you. Your heart raced, the laughter around you fading into a distant murmur. Mingyu’s expression was unreadable yet charged, a blend of warmth and something profound swirling between you, and suddenly the light atmosphere seemed to shift again.

“Babe?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you back, concern etched across his features as he noticed your distraction. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him again, the affection in his eyes steadying you again. And then you lie, feeling like the worst person in the world again. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook pressed, his brow furrowing. ”You're not uncomfortable, are you?”

“No. Really, I’m okay.” you insisted, the words slipping out a little too quickly as your eyes met his. 

Eventually, as the night wore on, your head nestled against Jungkook’s shoulder, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat started to lull you into a sleeping state. He turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. “So, what do you say we call it a night? I think we’ve celebrated enough for one evening.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection.

Jungkook pulled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

★ TAGLIST

[redsrooftopprincess]

Gravity (Part 3)

Last chapter? Idk. Taking suggestions on what to call this.

Asks are open, but I don't have a lot of free time and I'm new at this so be gentle. 😅

Okay, let's face it, you're not here for me. On with the show.

Warnings: alcohol, hypothermia

chai-tea level spice.

gn (w/ longish hair) reader x Raphael

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You're anxious tonight. You aren't sure why. Maybe it's the weather. You hate when the boys are out on nights like this. Another rumble of thunder shakes the near empty glass of wine on the coffee table, and you glance at the window which offers nothing more than a void. Unhelpful.

You'd drifted through the week, distracted. That night, and his words, echoing your head. Even April had noticed. Eyeing you one morning while sipping her coffee.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh?" You looked up from the cereal you were supposed to be eating. By now, the marshmallows had half dissolved.

"I said... What's wrong with you?" April asked, sitting down at the table across from you and looking you up and down.

"Nothing," you reassured unconvincingly, your eyes darting back down to the generic cereal, which was pretty swiftly becoming a thick sugary soup. You poked at it a few times with your spoon.

She'd let it go, but you caught her watching you closely a few times. Screw her and her journalism instincts.

You and Raphael had always been close. He'd been standoffish at first, acting in his self-appointed role of family guardian, but it didn't take long before you were endeared to him, and not long after that you were spending nearly all your free time together.

More than a few times you've gotten sideways glances from his family. You're so in-sync that you almost seem like a couple at times. You laugh and cry together, and talk deep into the night about things you just can't tell anyone else. He's become your person, and you his.

The last few weeks have been hard on the both of you, and the last week has been the hardest. You dont want to push, especially not right now, nothing important should be discussed right now, but you don't know where his head is at and you're worried.

You frown at the television, readjusting your position on the couch and scrolling to find something to watch. You are attempting to settle in to some exceptionally stupid movie (this way, when April asks what you did tonight, you don't have to lie) when you hear something heavy hit the roof.

He didn't make a sound if he didn't want to. Usually he would land just hard enough that you would know he was there. They all did, out of courtesy. Like a knock at the door. But this was different. Clumsy.

You stare out into the pitch black, grabbing your phone and sending the call. It goes to voicemail.

Raph was always encouraging you to trust your instincts and right now, your instincts were screaming that something was very *very* wrong.

You toss your phone on the couch and are out the window and halfway up the fire escape without a second thought. You're soaked through in seconds and shivering, but you slow before you crest the roof. You shout into the squall.

"Listen Red, I know you don't want to see me right now, but you're not answering your phone and I need to know that you're okay. Okay?"

You wait for a response and there is none, which doesn't make you feel better. You finally reach the roof, and suddenly neither the cold, nor the rain matter.

Sheets of rain and sleet crash over his fallen form like waves, and you run to him. He's freezing cold. Damn it. He'd promised you he'd gotten that fixed. You don't bother checking for a pulse. Your hands are borderline numb, and you probably wouldn't be able to feel it, anyway.

You call his name and make a valiant attempt at shaking him awake.

Somewhere in the depths of unconsciousness he hears you, but he fights it. He wants to stay. He likes it here. It's soft and warm and safe. The world behind him is cold and hard, full of pain and longing. He wants this. He wants this peace.

Then he hears you call his name again, and there's no contest.

He stirs and it's raining so hard that the only way you can tell you're crying is the warmth on your cheeks. You hear him groan weakly. You need to get him inside.

You know you can't physically help him in any way, but you make the attempt. You know it's not going to work, but at least now you can say you tried. He could feel free to laugh at you later.

After very much not budging your beloved behemoth so much as an inch, you lean down next to him.

"I'm gonna need your help here, Bruiser, you know I can't carry you."

A Herculean feat, but he manages to pull himself to near standing. You help him as best you can down the fire escape. It's slow going and he nearly passes out twice, but eventually you make it inside.

He doesn't make it to the couch, but collapses in front of it, sitting on the floor and leaning back against it. His eyes are closed and his breathing slow, you snatch your phone from the cushion behind him and call Donnie.

He doesn't pick up.

You call again.

"Yes. What. Do you need something?" He snaps, exasperated, as if you interrupted a hyperfocus (which, let's face it, you probably did).

"Raph is soaked and freezing and in my apartment. Get the fuck over here and fix your damn tech." You end the call and toss the phone on the couch.

You could apologize later.

You sprint to the linen closet and grab a stack of towels, tossing them into the dryer and turning it on. You quickly change into something dry, before running back to the reptile. You thank whatever god of foresight made you force Raphael teach you how to remove his gear just in case, and get to work.

Your hands don't want to cooperate at first, but adrenaline is one hell of a drug, and you have his waterlogged equipment off in record time. You retrieve the now warmed towels from the dryer and return to him. You lay a couple over his carapace, and use the others to start drying him off.

By the time you finish toweling off his extremities, he is once again beginning to stir. You step over his legs, straddling him while standing to better reach behind his head, and as you lean against him your warmth radiates through his plastron like a sun.

Almost involuntarily, his hands raise to rest at your lower back, pressing you gently against his chest.

You gasp as his hands slide under the back of your shirt, searching for warmth. His hands are still freezing cold, but you're pretty sure the gooseflesh rippling over your skin is unrelated.

You finish toweling off just under his shell, behind his head, and pull back, bracing a hand on his shoulder. As you do, his hands move to your waist and you try to ignore how they nearly envelope you.

You look down at him as his eyes slowly open and smile softly. It's obvious he's still pretty out of it.

Wreathed in warm lamplight, you look ethereal, and when his eyes finally focus on you, he thinks he's either dreaming, or dead (with his luck, probably the latter). The moment you place a warm hand against his face he decides he doesn't care.

"Hey Bruiser," you say quietly, smiling softly as your thumb wipes a drop of water from his cheek, "you're safe, the boys are on their way." The sound of your voice pours into him like warm honey and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

Reaching up to the back of your head, he pulls you gently toward him to rest your forehead against his. It was something you started doing to him not long after you became close, whenever he would get really worked up. You weren't sure if it was the physical proximity or the emotional comfort, but it seemed to help ground him. In reality, it's the closest he would ever allow himself to kissing you, and that thought by itself was very, very grounding.

But he is still warming up, still half conscious. You are filling his senses and it's overwhelming. The curtain of your hair falls around his face, and he feels drunk on your scent. You're so soft beneath his hands and the one around your waist tightens gently.

There is only about two more weeks left in the season, but it's by no means over, and something old and primal stirs in his DNA. He presses your head more firmly against his as intelligence and instinct battle within him for control.

You are his *mate*. And it is *time*. And you are *right here*.

Besides, regardless of whether he's dreaming or dead, it doesn't ultimately matter. He can't hurt you if you aren't real.

He lifts his chin, brushing his lips softly against yours. When you don't pull away in disgust he grows a little more bold, and kisses you in earnest.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn't been thinking about it more-or-less from the beginning, how different it would feel than kissing a human. Admittedly, you'd been a little worried about the mechanics, but any concerns you had dissolve when his mouth fits so perfectly against yours.

His body still feels like lead, but his mind is growing sharper, and about the time you are kissing him back he realizes how very real this is. Unfortunately, his reptile brain realizes it first.

His hand grips your waist as his kiss deepens, and there is a deep rumble within his chest that you can feel inside your own. When his thumb brushes over your abdomen you can't help the involuntary sound that escapes you.

The sound is like a starting pistol and suddenly you're flush against him and his mouth is on your throat, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jawline, blood burning in his veins at the way your heartbeat quickens under his tongue.

You had to stop this. If this was going to happen it shouldn't be like this. Right now he's borderline drugged, and if you let this happen and he later thought you didn't actually want it? You can't imagine the fallout.

But you'd had a few glasses of wine this evening, and Gods, he felt *so* good.

When his teeth graze your pulse point your attempt at a deep breath becomes a gasp, and you close your eyes to steady yourself. You had to get his attention.

You attempt to say his name, but it tumbles out of your mouth as a sigh.

"... want you..." He murmurs into your shoulder. The way his breath scatters over your skin like a shower of sparks is doing nothing to help you regain control of yourself or the situation.

He begins kissing down to your clavicle, both hands now at your waist, and despite knowing what this is, where it's going, and why it needs to stop, you can't help placing a hand on the back of his head to pull him closer.

"Sweetheart, we should really talk about this first..." you attempt again, but the tremor in your voice is the only thing that seems to register.

He holds onto you like a lifeline, as if he was drowning and you were his only oxygen. When he grips you tighter and his thumb presses into the hollow of your hip, you almost buckle. A moan escapes, despite your best efforts, and your nails scrape against the back of his neck.

The rumble in his chest grows deeper and he shifts beneath you, movement becoming easier as his temperature rises.

The sound of three very heavy things landing very softly comes from overhead.

The two of you break apart, flushed and breathless, and look at each other in shock.

You glance at the fire escape when you hear the metal rattle outside, before looking back into bewildered amber eyes.

"We're gonna talk about this," you say. He looks at you as if he doesn't understand. "When this is all over, and your brain is no longer swimming in hormone soup... We're gonna talk about this..."

He blinks up at you, a hesitant hope blossoming behind his eyes as you smile down at him, "... because I'm tired of not talking about it."

(Fin)

[areyouwell]

Thanatophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of losing somebody you love. Children or adults with this condition tend to steer clear of any form of relationship, haunted by the possibility it could be ripped away from them.

Ch.6

Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Paring: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content, brief description of rape, extremely fucked up timelines cuz i can't do maths but just like, go with it? for me? pls?

Word Count: 13k

A/N: whew boy was this chapter tricky. not to go into too much detail about my personal life but i actually managed to trigger myself writing this so please please please be aware that this could be difficult to read if you're an SA/Rape survivor cuz yeesh... was this tough

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik

Settling into your new life hadn’t been as difficult as you’d thought. Perhaps it was because you’d spent the last two years away, but you didn’t miss the mansion as much as you thought you would. Sure, you missed Kitty randomly barging into your room, and you sincerely hoped someone had explained to her at least some of what was going on, but the feeling faded fairly quickly within the first few weeks. You and Logan fell into routine domesticity a little too easily. He taught the correct way to aim a hunting rifle, nestling the butt of the gun into the nook between your shoulder and chest. He taught you how to follow deer tracks, what to look out for when estimating how far away the game is, and which tracks not to follow under any circumstances.

You, on the other hand, started teaching him a passion you’d forgotten you’d had until you found yourself with too much time on your hands. Or at least, a passion you’d forgotten was planted in your memory… was it your passion, or just a passion you thought was yours? Every time thoughts such as these rose to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push them away. They never yielded any answers and just served to send you spirally. Logan usually caught your faraway stares, the way your eyes glazed over as you dissociated back into your mind. He’d bring you back with a gentle call of your name, hands tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. 

The first time you’d slid your sketchbook across the dining room table, Logan’s eyes welled up slightly. Sure, he’d stolen glances at you whilst you huddled on the window seat bench, charcoal staining your fingertips black as you elegantly swiped it across the paper, but he had no idea you were sketching him. When you’d asked him what he thought, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up with you perched on the kitchen counter, his head between your thighs, pouring his awestruck gratitude into eating you out. Since then, you both took time out of your days to sit with each other and you taught him everything you knew. As it turned out, he wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what you exclaimed with a slightly insulting amount of surprise in your voice. He’d always brush off your praise, comparing his work to yours, but he couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in his chest.

Logan had learnt not to ask after your well-being too often, finding that you would huff in irritation if he mentioned it more than once a day and remind him that you weren’t that mentally unstable. After a month of settling in, you’d mutually decided to start training again, heading out into the woods a little ways and finding a safe, exclusive spot on the lake shore. Plenty of shadows around between the tree line and the water, it was perfect. Though, not that it made much of a difference. The progress you made was second to none, barely managing to make the darkness shift a fraction before you’d grit your teeth and attempt to stamp down your frustration. 

The days grew colder as the months went by, leaves fading from lush, vibrant greens to crinkled, burning oranges before dropping altogether, coating the ground in a blanket of crunchy fire. It was your favourite season, autumn. The sweet scent of mulch wreathed your senses with every kick of the chilly breeze as you stepped from the warm cabin thankful you’d donned a knitted scarf around your neck, two mugs clasped in your hands. Amongst the many other things Logan had taught you, how to make the best cups of hot chocolate may be, in your opinion, the most useful. Small marshmallows melted atop the surface of the drink as your boots crunched along the gravel, eyes drinking in the sight before you.

He was made for this life. Leather jacket discarded atop a stack of logs, he’d rolled the sleeves of his brown flannel shirt up to his elbows, the hood of the truck propped open and his head ducked far into the depths of the engine. You mentioned you thought the spark plugs were going a few days ago, but he brushed off your concerns. It wasn’t until he’d received a call from the local garage about a bike part he’d requested and he went to leave that morning did he realise you were right after the truck misfired almost instantly. You tried not to be too smug about it.

“How’s it going?” Logan looked back as he heard your voice and approaching footsteps, withdrawing from the depths of the hood and swiping his hands on the dirty rag over his shoulder. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he saw what you were carrying, and he thanked you with a quick kiss, taking the mug you’d offered to him. 

“Well. you were right,” you pursed your lips as you tried not to smirk wildly, failing miserably when he rolled his eyes. “Yeah alright. ‘Scuze me for asusmin’ you didn’t know what you were talkin’ about. Anyway,” he continued pointedly and you giggled lightly. “Todd rang, he’s on his way with a few replacement plugs, since the damn thing won’t even start now. The good news is, he’s bringing the bike part with him, so we could get that goin’ this afternoon.” He raised the marshmallowy mug to his lips, humming pleasantly as he tasted his own hot chocolate recipe you’d followed. 

Your eyes lit up at his words. He’d been working on the bike hidden in the small barn since you’d arrived here six months ago, making its restoration his little personal project. He’d spoken to Todd before about acquiring replacement parts and had slowly been fixing up the motorcycle with each trip to the garage. All he needed now was the replacement brake calliper and it would be good to go. “I would have made a third mug if I knew Todd was coming round. That’s amazing though, crazy to think it’s taken this long.” You cradled the steaming mug with both hands, blowing slightly on the warm liquid before taking a long sip, licking at the remains left on your upper lip.

“I know right?” he agreed, tucking you against his side with an arm around your shoulders. “Startin’ to think I should have asked you for help since you can recognise a blown spark plug from a single misfire,” you snorted a laugh into your drink.

“Yeah well, in my completely fabricated past, I trained as a mechanic for a bit so I know a thing or two.”

“You’re only tellin’ me this now?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time!” You held your hands up in defence, your fingers still hooked around the handle of your warm mug. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame his disobedient smile. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, ya know that?” He set his half-full mug next to his jacket on the stack of logs, taking yours and setting it down as well all so he could pick you up in his arms, your legs instantly circling around his waist, his hands settling on your thighs. Your fingers threaded through the soft strands at the back of his head as you looked down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief.

“Me? Little ol’ me? I’m heartbroken,” nothing about your current body language suggested anything of the sort, your faux innocence only serving to confirm his suspicions. 

“Bet it’s just eatin’ you up inside, huh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone and you threw your head back as you laughed, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck before you looked back down at him, wasting no time in taking his lips captive with your own, giggling into the kiss when he bit gently on the soft flesh of your upper lip. You inhaled a sharp gasp through your nose when he smoothed over the small hurt with his tongue, feeling your core respond to his actions, your blood heating with every languid brush of his lips against yours, every slight nibble of his teeth.

Logan groaned softly at the scent of your arousal building, his skin tingling as you returned every nip of his teeth with one of your own, sandwiching his lower lip between your front teeth and tugging slightly. Your hands returned to his hair, twirling the longer strands between your fingers and pulling tight. Todd’s imminent arrival forgotten, Logan swiped at the hood prop, slamming the lid shut and setting your down so his hands could roam up your waist to your breasts, kneading and groping at your tits over your hoodie. 

His lips dragged a trail of soft bites down the side of your neck, his fingers deftly popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down your zipper, his entire hand disappearing down between your damp thighs, his fingertips grazing across the centre of your slick core over your underwear. He growled in response to your whimper, tugging the crotch of your briefs to one side and sliding the back of his finger up over your clit. 

“So wet for me, what got you goin’, hm? ‘S it that book? Did they finally fuck? Make you miss me, hm?” He’d caught glances of you in the window, lip caught between your teeth as you devoured the pages in front of you, your legs crossed tightly. He’d laughed to himself at the time, but now he wanted to show you what the real world could offer. 

You went to bite back at his condescending tone, opening your mouth only to inhale an embarrassing gasp as one of his thick fingers slid inside you, pumping and curling in the ways he knew would have you creaming in minutes. Your nails sank into his forearm, mouth dropping open as hot pleasure coursed through your veins. Humiliatingly enough, it was exactly why you’d come out to see him. The two characters in the book you were reading finally put aside their differences and realised they loved each other in a passionate display of tender fucking. And yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of Logan at the time. But this wasn’t what you were expecting at all.”

“Logan!” you cried out to the blue skies as your head fell back the moment a second finger slipped inside your aching heat, your walls clamping down against his digits as if he would ever try to escape. With his one free hand, Logan dragged your jeans and underwear down just far enough to slip beneath them between your legs, keeping your knees over his shoulder as he pushed you back against the windshield. You clutched at the wipers as he rubbed his nose against your clit, moaning wantonly at the scent of your liquid nectar. 

His tongue darted out to swipe a long line up the centre of your core, using his fingers to provoke more of your slick to drip down the apex of your thighs for him to drink like a man parched of water. Your hips bucked with each stroke of his tongue, gasping a pitched whimper of his name as his lips wrapped around your sensitive pearl and sucked until you screamed at the heavens above you, your orgasm splitting every nerve in your body with each slow caress of his fingertips against that delicious bundle of nerves nestled two knuckles inside you. 

Your nails scratched against the hood of the truck, flaking off the paint job as wave after wave of your high crashed through your mind and body, your spine arching your hips further against his face as you ground against his tongue before the pleasure spiked into overstimulation and you squirmed away from his fingers, panting desperately. 

“That’s my girl, y’allright?” he soothed, pressing soft kisses to the scar on your inner thigh, cringing in second-hand pain as the back of your head smacked the windscreen behind you, your tensed, shaking muscles finally relaxing. “Y’okay!?”

You giggled, still a little dazed from your orgasm, your hand lazily feeling the slight numbness at the back of your head, simply making sure you hadn’t cracked it open, or at the very least, split the skin. But you felt no blood. “Yeah, ‘m all good. But if you don’t fuck me on the hood of this truck I might pass away– whaaat’re you doing?” You asked as he ducked out from between your legs, pulling your underwear and trousers back up over your knees and to your waist.

“I’ll start makin’ funeral arrangements then. Todd’s here.” You didn’t miss his growl of discomfort, and your heart bled for him a little, knowing he was going to have to go the next god knows how long hard as a rock in his jeans. Pulling up the zipper and fastening the button at your navel, you hopped off the truck just as Todd’s beaten old 4x4 trundled through the tree line. He was one of the only people who knew you were even here, apparently, he was a friend of the previous owner and knew Logan fairly well. The two hadn’t kept in touch, but he’d given him a firm handshake when he first took the pickup truck to his garage.

Retrieving the two mugs of now slightly cooled chocolate, Logan smiled gratefully as he once again took the mug from you, placing a kiss to your brow as he held up an arm of greeting to Todd. The older man stepped from the car, slamming the door shut, a ziplock bag of spark plugs grasped in his broad hand. He had a thick, greying beard bushing proudly along his chin and jaw, bridging across his upper lip. A full head of salt and pepper hair slicked back from his brow, tied into a small bun at the back of his head. You couldn’t deny that he most definitely would have been a lady's man back in his prime, with deep-set blue eyes and a smile crisp as winter frost? You could definitely have seen yourself falling for his charms.

It seemed you had a thing for bearded men. And Logan also seemed to have noticed. He raised a brow as he looked at you out of his peripheral. “Stop eyeing up my mechanic.” He elbowed you lightly and you snorted a laugh.

“Not my fault,” your tone was hushed as you watched Todd head into the backseat of his car, retrieving the new brake calliper for Logan’s bike. “Clearly I like older men.” You sent him a wink and he rolled his eyes, smirking against his better judgement. 

“What’ve you done to ‘er then? And I don’t mean to yer girl ‘ere.” Todd strode over with the self-assurance of a gold medal athlete, a winning smile parting his bearded lips to reveal bright white teeth. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, stepping forward to embrace the man who planted a kiss on your cheek. “Hello, gorgeous. He lookin’ after ya properly?” His faux seriousness had you casting a cheeky glance back at Logan, who narrowed his eyes in response. 

“He’s doing his best.” You whispered loudly behind your hand, and Todd nodded in an exaggerated display of understanding. 

“I’ll ‘ave a word with ‘im, don’t you worry.” He winked at you and you placed your hand against your heart dramatically, pretending to faint as Todd turned from you to Logan, who folded his arms across his chest with a thick brow raised. But he couldn’t keep up his irritated façade for long. It was a tradition ever since the two of you started visiting the garage frequently for Logan’s bike. Todd would flirt with you relentlessly, Logan would pretend to get irate about it for all of thirty seconds before breaking into a wide grin and firmly clasping the man in an embrace. And this time was no different, a solid clap to Todd’s back was all that was needed for you to know this wasn’t the time the men fought it out. The first time you’d visited, you genuinely thought Logan was going to slice his head clean off the second Todd looked your way. But he just stood back with an amused, almost proud smirk as you were flirted with relentlessly. It took you completely off guard at first, but now you were more than happy to go along with it. 

“Didn’t surprise me, it’s an old truck,” you heard Logan explain as you returned from your memories, stepping up to lean against the raised hood of the pickup, your arms crossed against your chest, gesturing to the engine with the mug in your hand.

“Think the oil needs changing too. The mileage counter was going crazy the other day and I only went out to the corner shop. I checked the oil level when I got back and nothing was wrong so I think it’s most likely carbon buildup. Like Lo’ said, it’s an old truck.” The two men stared at you in disbelief as if knowing how to check the oil on a car wasn’t something they expected from you. You flipped them both off. “Oh fuck off the pair of you, I was the one to notice the faulty spark plugs thank you very much.” You placed a defensive hand on your hip, and Todd looked from you to Logan next to him.

“That true?” he asked with a bushy brow raised. 

Logan released a long sigh, offering a low, reluctant “Yep…” 

There was a beat before Todd howled with laughter, his hand clasping Logan’s shoulder with a loud clap. “Said it before an’ I’ll say it again, you got yerself a keeper ‘ere Logan. A woman who looks this good in jeans and knows ‘er way ‘round an engine? Tie ‘er down ‘fore someone else does.” Todd sent you a wink and you blew a kiss back at him. “C’mon then, gotta fix yer bike ‘fore I tackle this hunk o’ metal. Unless missy mechanic over ‘ere would like to do the honours?” he raised a brow and you held up your hands to decline. 

“Cars I can do. Bikes are totally foreign to me, so you lead the way,” you gestured for him to head to the barn, which he did but not before offering you a chivalrous bow. You rolled your eyes as he turned away, falling into step next to Logan who slipped a hand to your waist. You elbowed him slightly. “See? I’m a keeper.” you shot him a shit-eating grin and he pursed his lips in a feeble attempt to suppress his smile.

“‘M stuck with you either way,” he shrug in mock nonchalance, and you poked his ribs.

“You like being stuck with me.”

“Shut up.” He breathed, smothering your face into the crook of his arm, muffling your maniacal cackles as the two of you followed Todd into the barn, watching as he pulled off the tarp sheltering the bike from any leaks in the roof. 

“You’ve done ‘er up somethin’ great, Logan. Lookin’ good as new.” Todd patted the back fender the same way you would a horse you were proud of. Logan just grunted in acknowledgement, being truly terrible at receiving compliments. 

“Think we can get her up and runnin’ today?” Logan asked, glancing as once again your eyes lit up. It had been since months ago since he promised to take you out on that date, and he wanted to stay true to his word. Todd nodded thoughtfully as if contemplating how realistic that was.

“We can certainly give it a go. If you an’ the missus wanna change those spark plugs I can start on replacin’ this break calliper and we can go from there.” You suppressed a grin at being referred to as Logan’s ‘missus’, a giddy spark pepped up your step as Todd tossed the ziplock bag to Logan who caught it in one hand. 

“Sounds good. Absolutely no way I’m leavin’ you two alone together.” You snorted a laugh at Logan’s slight grumble, sending Todd a flirtatious wave as he steered you back out of the barn and towards the pickup. “Unbelievable…” he shook his head fondly as you all but skipped over to the hood of the car, removing what Logan only now realised was his jacket and rolling up the shirt sleeves of his flannel. Not that he was about to complain, but he must have been too caught up in your cunt earlier to notice.

Leaning into the hood of the truck, you peered around the side of the engine, finding the six plugs you needed to change. With deft fingertips you twisted the wire boot of the first plug instead of just yanking it free, a trick you’d picked up when you’d…

Oh yeah. That never happened. A trick they’d planted in your brain, you guessed. You extended a hand out behind you, barely needing to open your mouth before the socket spanner was placed firmly in your grasp. You looked over your shoulder at Logan who’d returned to leaning against the large pile of wood to his right, smirking shamelessly at your ass as you bent over the engine. You grinned, making a show of rolling your eyes, before returning back to the task at hand, unscrewing the first spark plug from the well. Discarding the old part to the floor, you accumulated a small pile of six faulty plugs when you’d removed them all.

Stepping back from inside the hood, you wiped a small bead of sweat from your brow with your oil-slicked hand, leaving a dark smudge just above your eyebrow. Logan handed you the ziplock bag, his smirk ceaseless. “I ain’t gonna pretend this isn’t the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged when you sent him a questioning look before bubbles of laughter rose from your chest.

“Now look who’s the freak.” You shot back with an equally wicked smirk, before eyeing up the toolbox to his left. “You got a torque wrench in there? Todd might have one actually–”

“Todd is not seein’ you like this, he’ll lose his damn mind. The man already worships the ground at your feet.” Logan rifled quickly through the toolbox as if speed would prevent you from heading back up to the barn and giving the poor mechanic a love-induced heart attack. 

“And why shouldn’t he? I’m a keeper, dontcha know?” You responded haughtily, raising your chin with a dignity you couldn’t possibly hope to possess with your face smudged with engine oil. Logan barked a laugh, tossing you the torque wrench from the box and watching as you returned to your mission, fitting the new plugs in the wells and using the torque when you couldn’t tighten the screw any further with your fingers.

Logan slotted his hands in the dip of your waist, his front pressed against your back as he bent over you, teeth catching the sensitive skin behind your ear. “You’re a keeper, sweetheart. And you’re mine.” his breath fanned your ear as he growled lowly, the outline of his hard cock grinding against the seam of your ass as his hands pulled you against him slightly. 

You gasped airily, teeth clamping down on your lower lip. “You been hard this whole time?” You asked, struggling to focus on fitting the remaining plugs as he trailed one of his hands down your front and between your thighs. He just released a gravelly moan in response as you pushed back into his crotch, moving your hips in a slow circle. Logan bucked with a sharp gasp, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Not my fault. I got this gorgeous new mechanic. She’s hot as fuck and you wanna know the best thing about her?” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he rubbed your clit over your jeans, eyes fluttering closed as a smile split your mouth.

“What would that be?”

Logan inhaled your scent, a mixture of engine oil, wood smoke and sweet arousal, his fingers tightening on your waist. “She lets me do whatever I want to her after she changes my spark plugs.” It was a blackened promise filled with swirling lust, sucking the vow of pleasure into a bruise on the side of your neck before withdrawing completely to lean back against the stack of firewood, giving the both of you room to catch your breath.

You had to shake your head of the daze he’d left you in before you could continue, agile fingers reconnecting the ignition leads before you stepped away from the hood completely, swiping at your cheek with your forefinger and leaving yet another dark, greasy smudge. 

“The oil still needs changing but at least we won’t be getting anymore misfires. At least, we shouldn’t.” You wiped your hands on the dirty rag still draped over his shoulder and he licked his thumb, rubbing at the dark smudge above your brow but to now avail. You waved him off, ducking out from his fussing with a look of irritation. “Alright, Dad, I’ll clean myself up later, Christ.” You folded your arms across your chest, before remembering exactly why he wanted to get rid of the smudges, and snorting a laugh. 

“His blood is on your hands if he keels over at the sight of you.” Logan shrugged just as Todd emerged from the barn, wheeling the good-as-new bike along with him.

“A’ight Logan, she should be all ready for ya. Though I’d take ‘er steady to start, I don’t–” The man stopped the second his eyes shifted to you, and he clutched his heart dramatically. “Oh my lord this is it, I’ve seen the light! An angel! Here! Standin’ before me!” He sank to his knees and you chuckled madly, Logan shaking his head in disappointment. “Oh, nope, beggin’ yer pardon. It’s just yer girl.” Todd stood, dusting off his knees and sending you yet another wink, clearly having heard Logan’s comment. “Well, that’s me all finished up then. Comes to around fifty dollars.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance of knowing. You were both well aware Todd had been giving you both discounted prices. Hell, just getting the spark plugs replaced was around eighty, and he was only charging you fifty for both the plugs and the brake calliper? You and Logan had prepared for this moment. He gave you a subtle nod, and you pranced forward, hooking your arm around Todd’s shoulders. A perfect distraction. Logan stepped up behind the two of you silently, slipping the extra hundred-and-twenty into Todd’s pocket, listening to you ask about the difference in performance between the firing cylinders on a V6 and a V8 engine and not really listening to the answer. 

“Well, I think that’s everything, right Lo’?” You asked and he confirmed with a brief nod as you pat Todd’s shoulder once, letting Logan take the lead and make a show out of counting out fifty dollars from his wallet. You left them to it, folding away the prop for the truck hood and slamming it shut, giving the side a gentle pat. The pickup really had served you well for the last six months, and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to either consider getting a replacement car. You’d grown kind of attached to it, developing a taste for the more rugged things in life. 

You couldn’t help but look over at Logan alongside the thought. Rugged things indeed. You leaned against the car door as the two men made their way back over to you, and your ears picked up on their ongoing conversation as Logan stopped by your side. 

“She’s a gem, Logan. Fuck knows how yer ugly mug managed to bag ‘er, but you look after ‘er, ya hear me?” Todd jammed a finger towards his aforementioned ‘ugly mug’  in an empty threat.

“Loud ‘n clear, Todd.” He sent the man a false salute, settling an arm around your shoulder and you instantly leaned into his side. Todd took both your hands in his own and Logan fought the urge to laugh. 

“An’ if this one ever pisses y’off, you know where t’ find me.” He grinned and you chuckled heartily.

“You’ll be the first one to know.” You responded with such conviction Logan had to double take, though your partially imperceptible smile eluded to your sarcasm. You were incredibly good at that. At saying the very thing people wanted to hear. You were also incredibly good at saying the opposite of what people wanted to hear, one too many bar fights started because some handsy asshole decided you were a prime target. If it didn’t piss him off so much, he’d sit back and watch as you both verbally and occasionally physically beat a motherfucker down.

But unfortunately, handsy motherfuckers at bars did piss him off. Monumentally. And though he rarely threw the first punch, he would always throw the second. You didn’t need defending. He knew that. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you both soon then. Best’ve luck with the bike, and my door’s always open for the both of yous, whatever ya need.” He nodded as you both waved him goodbye, standing in the driveway until he disappeared down the track and past the treeline. You hummed a contented smile.

“You’re gonna get a really angry text later, you know that. How much did you slip him?” You asked, stretching your arms high above your head and checking Logan’s watch on his wrist. The time had just gone midday, the sun still casting speckled shadows through the canopy. 

“One-twenty. Brake callipers aren’t particularly cheap.” He admired the way your arms flexed as you stretched, that bruise he’d sucked into your neck blossoming a dark purple. He needed to control himself if he wanted to make good on his promise to you six months ago. “Fancy a drive?”

You spun round to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll get my boots!”

Biting wind whipped your unbound hair, exhilaration flooding your system as you clung to Logan’s leather jacket, your cheek resting against his spine. True to his word, he’d taken you out for the day on the back of the bike, finding a secluded, forested cliffside for the two of you to perch on. It wasn’t quite the lakeside romance he’d planned for you before, but it still worked to perfection, watching the clouds pass by overhead, the view a palette of every shade of red, orange and yellow, trees igniting as the sun began to sink low in the sky, faded the bright blue to a softer pale pink as the daylight descended into twilight. 

His hand secured your arm around his middle, caressing the sleeve of your jacket with his thumb with soothing swipes. Glancing over his shoulder, Logan smiled to himself as you nestled closer into his back, your arms tightening around his waist. One of your hands spread up his chest and over his heart, something he’d noticed you started doing absently, subconsciously. His soul sang along with the warmth you brought.

“Y’okay back there?” he called over his shoulder, returning to face the road. He felt you shift in what he could discern was a nod of your head, patting his abs twice.

“Perfect!” he caught your response over the roar of the engine and the whistle of the wind in his ears. Though you sounded alright, something had been off about you. You covered it well, playing around with Todd, nestling into his embrace as you watched the setting sun, but Logan had been seeing that faraway look on your face more often recently. 

It started around a week ago when you were looking for a new book to read after finishing your old one. You were sifting through the bookcase, carefully removing old sketchbooks the two of you had filled and grainy photographs taken on a digital camera when Logan heard you stop abruptly. He’d been oiling a baking dish when eerie silence greeted his ears, and by the time you returned back down the stairs, that vacant look had returned to your eye, the shitty romance novel clutched in your hands.

He’d asked if you were alright, but you waved off his concern with a huffed laugh of dismissal. Though Logan could see it, he didn’t press you. You’d talk about it when you were ready. You always did. 

Turning off the tarmac and down the track to the cabin, Logan took your hand over his heart in his own and dipped down to press a kiss to the top of your knuckles. He was rewarded with a squeeze of your fingers, kicking down the footstand as he parked up next to the truck. He couldn’t smell any rain on the air tonight, so he was happy to leave the bike out and just cover it with the tarp from the barn. 

Swinging your leg over the back of the bike, you cupped the side of his furry jaw, stooping to mould your lips to his grateful kiss, your warm smile infectious. Logan sighed into your mouth, his hands tugging you closer by the waist until you stood between his knee and the bike. His palm moved to the back of your thigh as you swiped your tongue along the seam of his parted lips, your taste sweet honey on his tongue whilst he pulled you onto his lap, two steadying hands braced on the dips of your waist.

“‘M gonna fuck you on this bike… wanted to do it since I first saw the thing,” you breathed against his cheek before dipping below his jaw, suckling little nibbles against his skin. Logan groaned lowly. You’d been teasing him all damn day,  from the way he ate you out that morning to the way he ground against your ass when you were changing the spark plugs. His cock twitched as he let himself hope he would finally find the relief he needed deep within your cunt. 

You rolled your hips against his growing erection as he sat more deeply in the saddle, your legs perched daintily on the foot pegs on either side of his calves. Nimble fingers fiddled with the front of his thick belt, unlacing the buckle from the loop and pulling the two halves aside. Logan growled at your urgency, appreciating the swift tug of his zipper, your fingertips ghosting along the waistband of his briefs, causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. Scratching through the happy trail leading down beneath the elastic, you bit down into his throat, drawing a gasp from his chest. 

He could do nothing but hold you tight as your hand finally sank beneath his briefs, curious fingers circling around the shaft of his cock and tightening your grip. His eyes screwed shut when you circled his sensitive tip with your thumb, his mouth falling open with heavy pants, his hips bucking up into your soft palm. Your nails clawed against the nape of his neck as he pushed you from his throat, turning the tide and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh behind your ear, licking and biting at the same bruise he’d left there earlier. You whimpered against him, and the scent of your arousal teased his nose. 

You tugged his hard cock from his briefs, shoving the fabric down as far ar you could. Logan shivered slightly, the cold air caressing his raging length as you released him to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of your jeans. 

Too long. It would take too long. Logan needed to be inside you yesterday. With a heated hiss, he slid his middle claw from his knuckle, using his other hand to grip both your wrists. “Stay still…” he murmured, bracing the tip of his claw over the clothed apex of your thighs. You gasped, promptly sandwiching your lower lip between your teeth when the ripping of fabric caused your gut to churn. Logan’s nose twitched as your quaking cunt gushed to soak the crotch of your underwear, and you both looked down, equally as surprised at your reaction. 

“Yeah?” he queried with a raised brow, ever-so-softly dragging his claw down the inside of your thigh. You pitched an airy whine, tugging tightly at the hair on the back of his head. To see you like this, gaping and breathless because of his claws did something wicked to him. Instruments that had previously only been used for death had suddenly become something so much more, gifting you with sharp peaks of pleasure when he dragged the back of it over your throbbing clit. 

You nodded desperately, breathing hard through your nose when he hooked that same sharp claw around the waistband of your underwear, slicing clean through the fabric and exposing your pulsing cunt. “Fuck…” you breathed as he retracted the silver claw, giggling slightly when he lifted you against him, pausing to tease your dripping entrance with the head of his cock. 

“‘course you get off on knives…” he muttered, smirking wildly as you attempted to sink onto his cock, using your weight to push down on the hands holding you aloft. You groaned in frustration, dragging a wicked chuckle from his throat, before he slowly pulled you down, humming a low moan as your tight walls welcomed his thick shaft. 

“Should… should do that again… sometime.” You panted into his mouth, barely able to form your words as you slowly roll your hips against him, earning yourself a gravelly grunt along with your movements. “So fucking hot.” You gasped as he thrust up into you, using the bike’s suspension to bounce you slightly as you clung to him, your fingers buried in his hair.

Logan looked down to where he rhythmically disappeared up into you, his breath hitching as you took one of his hands from around your waist and pressed your fingers into his knuckles, right where the slight hurt of his claw healed over. His cock twitched as you massaged his knuckles gently, finding just the right spot between each bone where his claws usually split. He couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open, his eyes rolling when you lifted his hand to your mouth and tongued one of the three surprisingly sensitive skin. 

“Fuck… Fuck! D’do that again…” Logan fucking stuttered as you repeated the motion with your tongue the very same way he would when he ate you out. Pleasure surged through his veins at the newfound discovery of the erogenous zone, thrusting up into you deliciously and causing you to bite down at the bone of his knuckle as the tip of his cock brushed against that patch of ecstasy inside you. 

You held his gaze as you made a show of dipping your tongue in the slits between his knuckles, closing your lips around the skin and sucking the same way you would against his cock. Logan furiously drove into you, still holding your waist with his one hand whilst you lavished the other. Eight months he’d been seeing you, and not once in that entire time had he ever come before you with his cock inside you, always taking extra care to make sure you hit your high at least once before he found his own. But with the liquid heat pulsing in his veins, he didn’t know if he could last.

He was thankful when your other hand left his wrist, skirting down beneath the waistband of your torn jeans to play with your own clit, throwing your head to the sky as the building pleasure wracked your body, only to bring his knuckles back to your lips. 

Your walls clenched tightly around his thrusting cock, deft fingers toying with your own pearl when your thighs started to shake, your whimpers and moans climbing in pitch, the vibrations of your voice tingling against the skin of his hand. 

Logan felt his own high cresting, his back tensing as his balls drew up, trying in vain to hold your failing gaze. Watching your eyes roll back into your skull was his undoing, feeling you coating his cock as you came around him, your teeth sinking into those little patches of pure pleasure shoving him over the edge of tension and into the honey-coated lightning storm of ecstasy. He cried your name, sharp pulses of fire shaking his system as he exploded inside you, coating your inner walls white.

Your brows pinched, mouth forming a perfect O as you struck your peak, his aphrodisiac cries of your name pulling you under as you simultaneously came with each other. You’d never felt him come so hard, and through your pleasure-addled brain, you assumed it was the result of being so pent up all day. Logan clung to you like a lifeline, nestling his face against the nook of your neck as he continued to twitch inside you, those overwhelming waves finally receding until he was basking in the full afterglow.

You panted hard, finally releasing his hand to grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him to recover from just how hard your release had wrecked your body, barely able to laugh breathlessly and in utter disbelief into the little peaks of his hair. Logan grit his teeth together as you lift yourself off him to sit back on his sturdy thighs. How you managed to absolutely wreck him every goddamn time he didn’t know, but at least he’d been working on his self-control, and his claws didn’t slice your mouth open.

“That was fuckin’ dangerous…” he murmured, swiping his thumb along your lower lip. “Coulda hurt ya.” His brows pinched with genuine concern and you pressed your forefinger into the creases between them, easing his worries.

“How have we waited until now to use your claws? Such a good idea!” You were way too enthusiastic about that, and Logan simply huffed a laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes. 

“Not a good idea. Sure it was good today–”

“Logan it was fucking great today–” he clamped a hand over your mouth, silencing your protests. 

“But I can’t guarantee I’m always gonna have that kind of control. I could’ve done some real damage.” He knew reprimanding you was going to do absolutely nothing. Not when it had felt so fucking good, and you’d seen and felt what it had done to him. “Where’d you even get that idea?” He asked as you giggled a little mischievously, swinging your legs back over the bike and shimmying a little as you felt him drip from your cunt. Logan snorted as you squirmed awkwardly, tucking himself back in his briefs, not bothering to re-buckle his belt before scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal-style to the cabin.

“Just came to me in the moment. I’m sensitive around my scars, so I guess it made sense to me that you would be as well. Or rather, if scars could be left on your body.” You shrugged, your arms looping loosely around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as you reached into his pocket for the key, inserting the metal into the lock. 

Logan nodded in understanding as if your explanation made sense. And, in a way, it did. You were sensitive around your scars. He knew that better than anyone. At any point he wanted to distract you from something, all he needed was to nip at the mark on your neck, swipe his thumb against any of the four bullet wounds on your chest, or even pinch lightly at the one on your inner thigh, and you’d throw your head back with a breathy gasp.

So it checked out that, if scars could be left on his body, he’d react similarly. Which he had done. 

You tossed the keys into the bowl on the kitchen windowsill as Logan carried you through the cabin and up the stairs. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t enjoying the treatment, and at the very least it was preventing his cum from dripping uncomfortably down your leg. 

Laying you on the bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your brow, before disappearing into the ensuite. “Why aren’t you pregnant yet?”

You choked on your spit, half laughing half coughing at his question as he returned to you with a warm, damp towel clutched in his hands. “Come again?” you asked, still in recovery.

“We’ve been fucking, unprotected, for months now, and you still regularly get your period. Sure, you’re ovulating at the moment–”

“Logan!?” You gaped, kicking him lightly with the side of your foot as he cleaned you up, tossing the towel to the side and innocently dragging down your ruined jeans.

“But I’m just curious. Surely something woulda happened by now, even just a scare,” he pulled open your drawer, rummaging around until he recovered your favourite dark grey sweatpants.

“You got a point. Maybe it’s my mutation? I guess my body sorta resets itself every time I shadow walk, almost like a default state,” You shrugged, sitting up as he handed you the pair of trousers to replace the ones he’d ripped. “I guess if we wanna know then we could always just…” You trailed off and Logan turned from where he was changing his own clothes, comfy loungewear pulled up to his waist. 

Following your line of sight, Logan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew where you were looking, and if he was being truly honest with himself, he knew what you’d found a week ago. He wasn’t blind. The first month settling into the cabin, you’d cast fleeting glances at the bookcase where the folder was nestled, and he didn’t know whether you thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. 

The months went by and you didn’t quite forget about it, but you learned to live with it. Until a week ago, when you were searching for a new book to read. Logan didn’t know if you were ready. Shit, he didn’t know if he was ready. He’d only scanned a few pages of the file and he was truly terrified of what he’d discover if he’d looked at the pages in more detail. 

His blood turned to ice as you stood, approaching the shelving as if it would lash out and bite you. Steeling your nerves, you reached behind the first layer of books, parting them slightly as you retrieved the thick folder detailing every day of your life. Every horror you endured, every agonised second. You inhaled a shaky breath, returning to the bed and setting it down. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan slowly came to sit by your side, taking your hand in his own, a silent gesture to remind you he was here. You looked up from the file, uncertainty swirling in your irises.

“I have to…” you whispered, trembling slightly as you went to open the folder, only for Logan to stop you.

“No. You don’t. You’re safe here. Nothin’ can get to you, sweetheart. Only do this if you want to, not because you feel like you have to.” You squeezed his hand, gaze flickering from the sincerity in his face to the handwriting on the documents containing who you were.

“I do have to do this, but I have to do this for me. Not for anyone else. I still have so many questions, Lo’. I don’t understand why Rowan is still there and I’m here. I need to know what happened. To all of us.” You spoke with such conviction, that Logan knew you’d made up your mind. Covering your hand positioned at the corner of the folder, he nodded.

“Alright then. We do this. Together.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave you whilst my heart was still beating, yeah? Do I look dead to you?” You snorted a laugh, shifting to lie on your front. Logan waited until you settled yourself before he too shuffled about, lying almost on top of you so his cheek was practically pressed against your own.

“Dead gorgeous maybe.” You grinned, and he pinched your waist, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just open the fuckin’ folder, freak.”

You turned your attention back to your past, once again inhaling a long, shaky breath. “Ready?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. 

Logan nodded once in response. “Ready.” And the two of you turned the first page to your past.

For the some of the part, the documents within were mundane. It was incredibly creepy to start off with, knowing every moment of the life you remembered was being observed and written down, but it quickly became more of a story and less of a recounting. Logan would often crinkle his nose in confusion. “Wait, which one’s Subject Three again?” He’d ask, to which you’d respond with a sigh and a long look. “That’s Joseph, or Janus. He can teleport. Kinda like Kurt but less smoky.” And he would raise his head with understanding, before continuing to read in silence. 

You were okay for the first few pages, Ex.3 shook you up a little, reading about a memory you simply don’t have where they pushed your mutation to the limit alongside your bother. Deprivation and indulgence indeed. You took deep breaths through the surge of anxiety, Logan holding you close to him, asking softly if you needed anything. You just shook your head. You were fine. There were worse things to come. If you couldn’t handle this, how would you be okay with everything else?

The first big obstacle arose in 1944. The day was usual, you’d woken up, made breakfast with Rowa, and visited Jade, before they took you out for experimentation. It was the shift at Shots Shack. The one where you’d been flirted with all night and ended up fucking one of the customers in the bin shed.

Except, that’s not what happened at all. It was an accident. The result of a guard getting far too handsy with you. You’d fought him off as much as you could, but Subject One hadn’t restored your memories yet, so your mutation was at its baseline. You clenched your jaw as you kept reading, nausea roiling in your gut as Kreva detailed his observations, from your agonised screams for him to stop to the way you couldn’t stop shaking after he was done. You could barely stomach another sentence before a particularly vivid description of what was left behind had you detangling from Logan’s arms, racing to the bathroom and throwing up the contents of your stomach. You were kept under extreme observation after the incident. Not to make sure you were alright, but to look out for any signs of fucking pregnancy.

Logan had to suppress his burning hatred, not finding enough justice in knowing that the guard was let go from his position. He should be torn to fucking pieces for what he did. But flying off the handle wouldn’t help you. He followed you to the bathroom, gathering your hair in his hands as you convulsed over the toilet seat, the acidic stench of pure bile burning his nose. 

It was a fairly fond memory, what supposedly happened that night, only now for it to be tainted forever by the truth of what really happened. Your gasp echoed into the toilet bowl as you wretched again, your skin itching as if you hadn’t washed in days. 

“What’d you need?” Logan asked, gently scratching down your spine as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your weak response of “Shower…” Had him moving instantly, opening the window before turning the dial of the shower, letting it warm before he helped you to your feet. 

“Where d’you need me?” He asked as you swallowed hard, clinging to his arm.

“Here.” You whispered, before slowly removing your clothes. Logan helped you out of your sweater, leaving you to pull down your own sweatpants unlike what had been written in the folder, before he guided you into the steam. Stripping himself of his own clothes, Logan stepped in after you, his heart breaking in two as you instantly sought his embrace.

He held you beneath the warm water until he completely lost track of time, your face nestled beneath his chin, his thumb slowly caressing up and down your spine. Occasionally your shoulders would spasm with a stifled sob, and he’d whisper sweet nothings into the top of your head. You were safe with him. He was going to look after you. He’d never let them find you again. 

Despite having read your previous experiences, his hands on your body felt clean. Pure. Nothing about Logan was tainted in the same way that memory was. You nuzzled your nose further into the hair on his chest, feeling the aura of comfort wrap around your heart. He had you. He wasn’t letting you go. 

Promises and vows drowned by the hum of water left his lips until you took a deep breath, stepping back from his embrace and meeting his gaze with newfound determination. You were okay. You’d be okay. Reaching behind him, Logan turned the dial for the water pressure until it was off completely, barely separating far enough from you that you could wrap a fluffy, heated town around your shoulder before he was stuck to your back again like a limpet. You weren’t complaining. It was absolutely what you needed right now. His presence. His touch. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what. No matter how broken your past, or how ruined you may be. He’d be by your side through all of it. 

Logan kissed the top of your head, stepping ahead of you to snap the folder closed and shove it somewhere out of sight, but you stopped him before he could. 

“I’m okay…” you murmured, loosening your grip on his forearm a little. He tensed his jaw, looking between you and the file. The mere fact that you were alright to continue was a testament to your courage. If he was being honest with himself, Logan didn’t know how much more he could read before it was you holding his hair back. And you giggled as he said just that. “Big baby.” You teased lightly, threading your fingers through his dark strands, swiping the damp back from his brow. 

“‘Scuze me if I’m not exactly thrilled to read all the agony they put the love of my life through…” he admitted with a soft huff, unable to meet your gaze as your eyes lit up. You rose to your tiptoes, moulding your lips against his in a soft, reassuring kiss, before pulling back. You chose not to mention it, how he’d never said anything like that to you in the last eight months you’d been together. You chose not to pinpoint the moment of vulnerability, opting instead to let his words settle in your heart. 

You didn’t know the time and honestly didn’t want to. Making yourselves two cups of tea, you returned back to the folder on the bed, once again getting comfortable. “Well. That was fucking harrowing…” you commented flatly as if you’d read something in the news, and Logan grunted in agreement, raising his fresh mug of tea to his mouth. He’d never been a tea drinker in the past, but living with you had turned him to all kinds of interesting new habits. “Ready for more…?” you asked with a wry smile to mask your nerves. He shot you an exhausted look but nodded nonetheless as you flipped through the papers to return to the one you’d had to leave. “Yeah no okay we don’t need to continue that one, we get the gist of it…” you turned the page hurriedly, smoothing out the paper as you pushed the contents behind you.

Year by year you kept reading, huffing little laughs as Kreva noted down everything NLMO got up to. From stealing some man’s car in the 1950s to graffitiing a wall with a penis in the 1980s. And whilst you knew your entire life was a simulation, it was almost gratifying to see that half of the things you remembered really did happen. You really did cook food with your brother. You really did hang out with Jade, or Kaleidoscope, every day. Erin, or Wood-Nymph, really did teach you how to grow plants effectively. You used to sit with Morgana, or Sanguine, and sketch together. Atlas, or Harmony, used his mutation to heal you up every time you ‘got into a fight’. You refused to refer to them by their numbers, just as you would refuse to refer to yourself that way too. 

Logan wasn’t expecting the moments of peace within the file. He’d only skimmed a few pages back in the med bay and hadn’t picked it up since, so he was pleasantly surprised every time you chuckled lightly at your old shenanigans. You would offer small anecdotes of what you remembered, providing further context to what he was reading. 

It broke him apart, however, when you went quiet. When you’d turn the page and be faced with the reality of what was happening to you. Psychological torture to test your mind’s durability. Scans and tests that had you screaming in pain as they injected you with various drugs, just to see how your mutation would react, if at all. These were the moments when Logan would hold you tighter against his side, eyes flickering from the pages to your face to guage where you were mentally. 

1962, your mouth fell open as you scanned down the experiment report. They were helping you develop your mutation. Logan too pinched his brows in confusion. You’d been able to call the shadows at will, conjuring various objects, weapons, and appendages without a sweat. “Wh– How?” you muttered to yourself, flipping back through the pages you’d already read as if to find some kind of answer. Logan stilled your hand, his eyes scanning furiously down the log before pointing to a paragraph roughly a quarter of the way down the page.

“There.”

Sub.8 only seems to access its mutation after we use Sub.1 to refocus its brain. Whereas 5 had access to its full range of powers at all times, 8 shows signs of regression when 1 replaces its memories. To combat this, I have 1 reassemble only the memories it needs to regain full control and access to its mutation. The reasons for this are, as of right now, unclear. However, it is suspected that, though subconscious, 5 retains muscle memory of utilisation. It could be that 8 is so resilient because it simply forgets even on a subconscious level. Further investigation is needed to yield an answer.

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sarcastic “Oh, very helpful.” Before you continued flipping through the pages.

Spending the next day in bed, Logan was up and down the stairs, mainly to stretch his legs every now and then, but also to grab snacks and drinks before falling back down next to you on the bed, offering you a bite of whatever he’d snatched. You’d continue reading the document in front of you, absently opening your mouth before sinking your teeth into what you learned was a block of cheese. Only then did you look away from the text, shooting him a look of bafflement. 

“An entire block of cheese?”

“‘M hungry.” He shrugged defensively, and you snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you returned to the words before you.

Logan didn’t know how you did it. He’d seen you sit for hours, with a nose buried in a book, but this was on another level. In the last twenty hours, he thinks he saw you get up and stretch once, head to the bathroom maybe three times, and take a roughly two-hour power nap. He, on the other hand, had to stand every hour or so, his legs feeling like dead weights if he lay down for much longer than that. The stacks of pages evened out slowly before finally, the read side looked far larger than the to-read side. 

Setting down another mug of sweetened coffee on your nightstand, a new secret recipe of espresso mixed with hot chocolate, Logan lay back down next to you, skim-reading the rest of the page where he’d left off before you turned it over. It was how he forced you to give your eyes a break. You couldn’t continue until he’d finished the page you shared, and you only looked away when you’d reached the bottom and he’d stood up to go somewhere. 

You’d reached 2013 now, only seven years ago, and the two of you were coming to the end of the folder. Flipping over the final page, you were met with penmanship rather than the typeface you’d become used to. Glancing to Logan, he returned your look of trepidation, before you started to read it aloud. 

6th April, 2013. Fuck fuck FUCK! He’s let them all fucking go. FUCK! I barely managed to save their folders before the stupid bastard blew up the whole FUCKING FACILITY! I don’t know how he managed to get 1 to alter their memories without coercing it, but they’ve all scattered across the fucking country. We need to start rebuilding. We need to get them back. Now. We cannot let this research go to waste. They need to be understood. If we are to create an army of these mutants, we need them to return and continue understanding their fundamentals. 5 was the easiest to manipulate, and 1 didn’t know how to run. I found it lying on the ground by the road. I will rebuild what he destroyed, I will find them all again. I’ll continue the work of my great-grandfather. But if anything should go wrong… I’ll have 5 eradicate all evidence. 

That was the last entry in your folder, and you wondered if any of the other seven had a similar log. Blowing out a long breath, you folded the file closed, turning to look at Logan as he seemed stuck in his head. A palm against his cheek, you turned him to look at you, tilting your head to the side in silently questioning.

“Hundred-and-five.” Was all he said, and you squinted in confusion.

“Hm?”

“That’s how old you are. At the start, it said you were sixteen. The first entry was in 1931, and the last entry was in 2013. Add the last seven years to that, and you’re hundred-and-five years old.” You stayed silent, attempting to wrap your head around his calculations. Over a century, you’d been alive. And eighty-two years of it was spent in a simulation, your memories being replaced almost daily. It was like your brain was a computer software they updated every ten years, making sure the background to your memories matched the decade. Fucking hell.

“Guess I can’t really make fun of you for your age anymore, huh…?” You smiled a little sadly, genuinely upset that half your jokes were now completely voided due to the fact you weren’t that much younger than him. You still didn’t know his age for sure, and neither did he. “But, looking on the bright side… at least I won’t grow old and grey whilst you look gorgeous forever.” You elbowed him softly in an attempt to lighten the mood.

If this was how you chose to cope with it, then Logan would be happy to go along with you. “You were worried ‘bout that?” he asked, raising a thick brow as you nodded.

“It crossed my mind, sure.” You shrugged, before kicking the folder to the floor, its once imposing presence in the room was now little more than an inconvenience taking up too much of the bed. The silence settled as you contemplated that last page. A mutant army. It didn’t seem possible. Who would be willing to join something like that? And why would any mutant fight for a human doctor? But you couldn’t shake your growing fear. And now he’d gathered whoever was left of NLMO, minus yourself and Jade. And since Jade was dead, you were the last on his list.

The thought didn’t scare you. You knew what you needed to do. And you were pretty sure Logan knew it too. 

“We need to get you back to Charles…” he whispered in defeat, being the braver of the two to actually voice what needed to happen. You needed your full mutation, and if the file was to be believed, the only way you could get it back, was if your memories were restored. Your real memories.

Closing your eyes, you tensed your jaw as you nodded in agreement, still too afraid to speak it into existence. Truth be told, you didn’t want your memories back. Whilst you weren’t exactly thrilled at what happened to you, it felt so far away, since you don’t remember living through any of it. “What if…” you started, trailing off almost immediately as you found the right words. “What if I’m not… me, anymore. If he can get them back, my memories… what if I’m different than I am now?” You asked timidly, avoiding looking anywhere near his face by fiddling with one of the tassels of his zipper hoodie.

Logan sighed through his nose, clasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and raising your head so he could look you in the eye. Honestly, it scared him too, what those memories might do to you, but he also knew who you were. At your core. At the centre of your being. He knew exactly who and what you were. 

“You’ll be different, sure. But you’ll still be you,” he urged you to meet his gaze, adjusting his grip on your chin every time your eyes shifted from his own. “No matter what happens. No matter who or what you are after you remember, I’ll be right here.” His fingers shifted from your chin to your jaw, sandwiching your face between his calloused palms, his thumbs tracing the shadows beneath your eyes. 

Your head settled against his brow, simply feeling him close to you, whispering a quiet “Okay…” before he pressed a kiss of assurance to your lips. You smiled against him, your breath fanning his mouth and chin. 

“Glad I changed the spark plugs now… shame about the oil.” You chuckled slightly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

“Think an oil change is the least of our concerns…” he mumbled, before you sat back, rubbing a tired hand down the side of your face. You looked exhausted, but then again, you always did. “Well, no time like the present, huh?” A rapid sigh flew from parted lips and you scrambled off the bed, pulling your rucksack out of the closet. Logan made to follow your lead, before halting as rhythmic, low vibrations hummed from the bedside drawer. His wry gaze slid to you, a brow raised in sly amusement. 

You held your hands up in innocence. “Don’t look at me! My drawer’s on that side! Plus it has an off switch, thank you!” You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, wrenching the drawer open, various different objects clattering around with the force, including his unused mobile phone. It was rudimentary, barely more modern than the Nokia Brick, sporting large thick buttons rather than a screen. What small screen it did have illuminated as Logan chuckled at the name, holding up the mobile so you could read it. 

TODD

You snorted a laugh, checking the time on the phone simultaneously. Had he really only found the sneaky money after almost two days? At two in the morning? “Told ya you’d receive an angry text or call!” You grinned triumphantly, Logan tossing the phone back down on the bed to let it ring out. He’d return his call on the road whenever you’d inevitably fallen asleep, and listen to whatever long-winded reprimanding he had coming his way. 

“Stay in the car…” he’d growled, his nose twitching as he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Your heart thundered in your throat as he opened his door, claws sliding from his knuckles, surveying the treelines on either side of the road. The air beyond the cab was quiet. Too quiet. And Logan angled his head to the sky, inhaling deeply before exhaling a threatening snarl. 

Something was very wrong. 

You linked your fingers through the handle of your door, pulling against the mechanism. Logan whipped to look at you through the driver’s side, his eyes wide and panicked as you shot him a look back. You weren’t fucking defenseless for Christ’s sake. You were a powerful mutant even without the whole scope of your abilities. 

You stepped out of the car despite his protests, waiting for something to happen the moment your feet touched the tarmac.

Silence.

You took a step forward.

Silence.

Casting a glance over to Logan, you watched as his chest heaved with adrenaline, and you didn’t fight the urge to cross the road with the intention of setting him at ease.

The second you were crossing the headlights, the dark road ahead exploded with light, shadows disappearing as a single gunshot rang out.

Logan’s world froze as blood exploded from your chest, spraying the hood and windshield of the pickup. A look of confusion tilted your head, before realisation dawned on your features and you staggered back, your breath strained in your throat as a dark line of crimson slid from the corner of your mouth. Pain wracked his chest as Logan roared, though his desperate attempts to get to you were in vain, finding his limbs sluggish and his brain hazy. 

Your knees gave out as you collapsed onto the road, splitting your head against the tarmac. This is why you haven’t left for six months. This was the exact reason why he’d kept you safe in the cabin. Logan supported himself against the truck, dragging his stubborn legs across the ground, his vision swimming. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. All you needed was a shadow and you’d be okay. He’d deal with the rest. He just needed to get his shadow within your reach. 

“The Wolverine. I’ve heard a lot about you.” A voice echoed around the trees lining the road, that pocket-sized sun moving closer to where you lay, gasping and bleeding, with no shadow to disintegrate into. “You’re extremely hard to get rid of. I never take Subject Two anywhere, yet here it was needed to keep you at bay. An impressive little mutant. It can manipulate blood cells. You see, right now, it’s slowed the beat of your heart to the point where you feel… drowsy? Sluggish? Exhausted? How’re you feeling right now?” He almost mocked, crouching down to where Logan had fallen to the floor, inches away from you. But the light had moved, his shadow now behind him and nowhere near where you needed it.

“Kreva.” He hissed, his claws slowly sliding from his knuckles and scratching along the tarmac. You gurgled weakly, making a subconscious reach for where Logan lay immobile, his eyes bloodshot. You’d read the file now. You knew all about NLMO and their individual mutations. Subject Two, Sanguine, could control and manipulate blood, whether it was her own or belonged to somebody, or something, else. And of course, that constant glow of sunlight belonged to Subject Five. Rowan. Solaris. Your brother. 

Your body itched as you bled out, begging for the haven of darkness to dissolve and reform, it was taking all of your strength to hold together those threads.

“It’s been cute, watching our Phantom domesticate the great Wolverine. But it couldn’t last. I still need it, unfortunately.” Dr.Kreva patted his hand against Logan’s arm as if in consolidate him, but it did nothing other than fuel his rage. Logan struggled against Sanguine, looking up at her shrouded face, eyes burning a deep red as she continued to manipulate his bloodstream. “Everyone step back!” Kreva called out, resulting in the team around him shuffling back a few feet.

“Don’t… don’t you– fuckin’ touch her!” Logan’s vision tunnelled slightly, barely managing to ground out his threat between clenched teeth. Kreva simply laughed with bitter condescending.

“Yes, I suppose I could let her bleed out. Though considering she’s been shot in the chest before and lived, I wonder how long it would take for her to actually die. Maybe that’ll be our last experiment. Whaddya say, Eight?” He bent over you, and you mustered up enough energy to spit a globule of blood into his face. He swiped at your crimson spit, cracking a hearty smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Subject Five, if you could.” Rowan moved behind Kreva, his shadow shrouding you in darkness and you fought the urge to dissolve into it, knowing that if you did, there would be nothing you could do. He had intimate knowledge of your mutation, he’d already prepared by bringing along your brother, let alone whatever else he’d had with him. You greet your blood-stained teeth, shivering as your body pleaded with you to let go. “You’ll give in, Eight. You always do. You tried this before. Not that you remember. Those scars on your wrists? You’ve tried this before and your body wouldn’t let you. So just give in…” He urged quietly, and you balled your fists, your nails digging harshly into the soft flesh of your palm. 

Your eyes slid to Logan a few feet away, his breath heaving in his chest, fear swirling in his wide hazel irises as he looked at you. 

“I will find you,” he grit, the tendons in his neck straining. “I promise. I will find you.”

You offered him a weary, bloody smile, and his heart broke as he saw the hope fade from your face. 

“I love you…” you barely managed a silent whisper, lingering just long enough to watch his whole world shatter through the windows to his soul, before you released the threads within your body, sinking into Kreva’s shadow. 

“Splendid,” Kreva clapped his hands together as if he’d done nothing but lit a fantastic barbecue. “Subject Five, you can stop now.” Like a switch had been flipped, the daylight glow resonating from your brother cut out, the torch beams from the truck headlights now the only remaining light. Logan clawed at the ground, his eyes lingering where he’d seen you last. You weren’t dead. He needed to remember that. You weren’t dead. But the way you spoke to him like it was the last time you were ever going to see him…

A cry of anguish worked its way up his throat, splitting the air as Kreva turned back to him like he’d just remembered he was there. “Oh, I know, hurts, doesn’t it? Let’s ease your pain for a while. Subject Two, if you’d be so kind.” 

Logan’s vision swam further, the pounding in his head growing to a crescendo as his heart rate slowed, knowing nothing more as his senses faded to black. 

It must have only been seconds of unconscious, the sky still shrouded in black clouds when he came to once again. Though Kreva was nowhere to be seen, a pool of crimson blood left behind where you once lay dying. 

You weren’t dead. You weren’t dead. 

Raising to his forearms, Logan shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the cobwebs, hazy memories dancing just out of his reach. Staggering to his feet, he craned his neck as the hum of a jet hovered overhead, recognising the Blackbird instantly, the sleek design blending in seamlessly with the sky above before the beams from the truck headlights illuminated the cockpit, steam hissing with pressure as the feet extended to the ground.

The engine was still whirring when Storm sprinted down the ramp toward him, her stark hair flowing behind her in the breeze she kicked up. Logan shook his head numbly as she approached, in answer to the question she had yet to ask. “Gone…” was all he could say, eyes sliding from Ororo to the bloodstain on the tarmac. Scott jogged up behind her, fingers braced at the side of his glasses before he stopped, seeing Logan’s expression.

There was a moment of understanding between the two men, Scott swallowing hard, Logan shaking his head still, slightly helpless before Scott stepped forward and firmly enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

“We’ll get her back, man. We will.” 

Logan’s breath shuddered as Scott drew back, keeping a hand firmly clasped atop his shoulder as Ororo looked between the two of them. “Kreva, right?” she asked rhetorically, though Logan nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. Ambush. Had this freaky blood manipulator. I couldn’t fuckin’ get to her.” he bared his teeth, running a hand through his hair.

“How’d he even know where she was? Where were you headed?” Scott asked, continuously glancing around as if someone was eavesdropping on the conversation. But they’d gone. Kreva and his subjects had gone. 

And taken you with them.

“Headin’ back to you. We read the file. She needs her memories back if we want to use her mutation. I don’t have a clue how he knew. I just–”

The realisation struck Logan like a brick to the head, stopping abruptly as he absently removed his phone from his back pocket.

There, glaring in the low light, the sole reason for icy fury to flood his veins. There, the sole reason you weren’t by his side right now.

Logan gripped the phone in his palm, hearing the casing crack slightly as he read the text over and over, a name he thought he could trust. The only name he thought he could trust with you.

TODD:

Forgive me.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT

A/N: Here I am, once again, with another chapter. Chapter 8, my friends, is here and it is still sweet. I will not spoil anything, just read and enjoy.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: explicit thoughts?

Summary: The students get to know Y/N a little more.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3700+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Seven

LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT

Nothing interesting had happened since that night at the bar. Logan helped Y/N get back to the school and to her room. He laughed at her silliness, which caught him by surprise. Logan wasn’t the guy to laugh around. He was usually stoic and grumpy. But there were some lingering touches here and there. And yet, their bodies were like two opposite magnetic poles, pushing away. The moment she closed the door, he sighed - relieved he didn’t do anything stupid but also sad that the night was officially over. 

The days went by. Logan and Bobby joined the Professor in Washington for another conference. The President wanted to meet Charles during a banquet. They were gone for a few days. Jean and Scott were still away with Remy and Hank. The school got quieter when some students went home for the weekend. There were only some kids that had a supportive system back home. Many of them were alone in this cruel world.

On Sunday, the day before Y/N became a teacher, she and JJ were sitting outside on a bench near the pond. She took him out to spend some time with him. He snuggled closer to her side. The weather got colder. Heavy clouds appeared in the sky. Halloween was approaching, and the students were excited about the celebration. 

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Jerome said with a wide smile. “I’ve heard you have to make your own mask. It’s a contest, you know?” he was ecstatic. “Everyone does it. The best masks will get some rewards. It’s mostly candy. That counts as a prize.” 

“Wow,” Y/N said with a chuckle. She was glad that the boy was happy at the school. “Have you been thinking about what you want to become? Or would you like some suggestions?”

He shook his head. “No, I think I know what I want to be. I’m not telling you. It will be a surprise.” 

“A surprise, you say? Alright, don’t tell me anything. I want to see what you will make,” she patted his head. “Otherwise, are you happy here? Do you have everything? Do you need anything?” 

He thought about it for a second. “I have everything. They gave me clothes and school supplies. Jean told me to ask for anything. But I can always come to you, right?” 

“You can always come to me, Storm, Kitty, or Logan,” she said. “You can even see the Professor and talk to him. He’s the one who created this school. He’s a good man.” 

JJ nodded. “Listen,” he turned his head to look at her face. “A few nights ago, I think I heard you giggle in the hallways in the middle of the night.” 

Y/N blinked, and she bit the inside of her lip. “Yeah,” she nodded and cleared her throat. “I went out with some of the teachers. We had a lot of fun that night.” It was half true. She omitted the part where she got drunk. 

He poked Y/N into her shoulder. “I’m eleven, I’m not stupid,” he said. “You were with Professor Logan. I heard you talk. Well, you laughed more than you talked.” That was true. Logan walked her back to her room. They talked, she giggled, and then the night was over. “By the way, he’s awesome.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. “Does Logan teach you something?” 

“We have one history lesson a week with him. I like the subject a lot. History is fascinating. Plus, he knows so much about the First and Second World Wars. He gives us so much information and details. As if he was there. He’s strict, and we cannot misbehave, but I enjoy the lesson.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said with a smile. A shiver ran down her spine. The wind got colder. “Let’s head inside and have a cup of tea. I think it’s going to rain. Or Storm is having a bad day, and she changed the weather to fit her mood.” 

JJ laughed. He stood up first, grabbed Y/N’s hand and helped her up on feet. He held her by the forearm as they walked inside the school. When she scanned his face again, she noticed the bruises were healed and almost invincible. He looked healthier. It made her heart warm. 

As they walked down the hallway, Y/N heard a whimpering sound. It was soft, girl-like. She frowned. Instead of going to the kitchen, she followed the sound. The boy was confused. He opened his mouth to ask where she was going, until he heard it too. 

Y/N walked to the lounge room, where she found a young girl sitting on the window still, silently crying. She was JJ’s age. She had curly hair and glasses on her nose. Her skin was light brown. 

Carefully, Y/N approached her. She didn’t want to scare her. “Hi,” she used a gentle voice. “Are you alright?” The girl's puffy brown eyes looked up. She shook her head and continued to cry. “Oh, come here, sweet angel,” she said. Her arms spread, and she waited for the girl to accept her hug. 

Surprisingly, the girl was immediately hidden in her arms, weeping into Y/N’s leather jacket. Y/N stroked her curly hair lovingly, letting her take her time. JJ took a seat on the couch and silently watched. 

“You can talk to me if you want?” Y/N said after another minute. “Did something happen? Has anyone been mean to you?” 

The girl's tiny fingers brushed away the hot tears. “My parents haven’t visited me for three months now,” she confessed. That broke Y/N’s heart. “They brought me here, and I never saw them again.” Her voice was low, sad. “They hate me for what I am.”

That statement broke Y/N’s heart. She understood the girl’s pain. Her loved ones gave up on her because she was a mutant. “What’s your name?” 

“Nova,” she said. Her arms were tightly wrapped around Y/N’s torso, holding her close. 

“Nice to meet you, Nova,” Y/N said with a smile. She rested her head on top of the girl’s. “Tell me, what is your mutation?” 

“I, uh,” she hesitated. “I can scream very loudly,” she said. “It can damage your hearing.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side, thinking. “Sonic screaming,” she said out loud. “That is an interesting mutation, Nova. You have powerful vocal cords, and I’ve never met a mutant with this ability.” It wasn’t a lie.  

Nova lifted her head and finally looked at Y/N. “You think so?” 

“Yes,” she said with a brighter smile than before. “Every mutation is unique, and so is yours. With learning and more information, you will master your ability and know how to properly use it. All you need is time, patience and practice.” 

Y/N’s goal was to shift the girl’s attention to something else. It was evident that Nova was agonising over her parents’ neglect. That’s why Y/N wanted to gain her trust, and maybe she’d feel more comfortable around her. 

“What is your mutation?” she asked. 

“I can create protective forcefields,” Y/N explained. “I am still trying to learn more about my mutation. I’ve heard the term Flyrokinesis, but some call it Flyrogenesis.”

“Is there a difference?” 

“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “Flyrokinesis means you can only control force fields. When you can create them, it’s called Flyrogenesis. I can do both.” 

“That’s so cool,” Nova sighed. “You can do so much good with your mutation. I only hurt people,” she said. Nova pushed away from Y/N but remained sitting by her side.

Y/N chuckled a little. “Well, it’s not as it seems. I hurt with my ability, too. It was unintentional, but it happened. That is why we need to practise and learn about our mutations. So we won’t hurt people again. We can use our abilities to do good.” 

“My mutation is elasticity,” JJ joined the conversation. He picked the right time. Nova’s eyes turned to him. “The people that fostered me thought it was disgusting,” he said. “Now I think my mutation is unique.” 

Y/N’s eyes moved to the boy. This was new information. He had never said anything about his parents before. Now she knew why. He didn’t have parents. He was in foster care. Even there, he wasn’t loved. Y/N wanted to run to him and hide him in a tight, loving hug.

“My parents have sent me here and never came to see me or take me home for the weekend,” said Nova. “I deafened my father in one ear,” she confessed. “He never looked me in the eyes again.” And she started to cry again.

“Nova?” another soft voice said from the entrance to the room. “Are you okay?” 

Y/N found three other girls standing at the door, watching them. The oldest girl could be thirteen. All three were different. One of them had cat-like irises. The mutation must have caused it.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to…” she turned to Y/N, not knowing her name. 

“My name is Y/N. This is JJ,” she pointed at the only boy in the living room. “Would you like to join us?” she showed at the empty couch. 

The girls walked inside and sat together. They introduced themselves, too. Jamie, Olivia and Kyra were friends with Nova. They all shared a room on the second level. At least these girls were the support Nova needed. 

Y/N and Nova moved to sit next to JJ. “You are the new professor?” Olivia asked Y/N. 

“Oh,” it caught her by surprise. Did the Professor announce it already? “Yes. I’ll be teaching English and Literature starting tomorrow. I got a few classes a week.” 

“Really?” JJ’s eyes brightened. “That is so awesome!” 

Y/N nudged his shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll be teaching you too, you know? We’ll have literature together on Tuesday and English on Thursday.”

“You haven’t been here long, have you?” Olivia asked. Her long blond hair was braided from the top of her head. She had colourful bracelets on her wrists. “I’ve been here for a year and noticed you a couple of times these past few weeks.” 

Two teenage boys walked into the lounge room. They stopped in their tracks when they found the place occupied. “Sorry,” one of them said. “We thought we’d be alone here at this hour.” Before he could finish it, another two boys walked in. 

Y/N raised a brow. Already ten people in the room. “What time is it?” she asked no one in particular. It took another five minutes, and another six children entered the room. 

“You’re the new teach’,” one of the older boys pointed a finger at her. “Cool,” he smirked. 

“I guess the word is spreading faster than you know,” Y/N mumbled under her nose. 

“No, she’s the one who saved Jerome,” a girl said as she sat in an armchair. She was at least fifteen years old. 

“I guess you have a reputation, Y/N,” JJ laughed when the kids around them started to talk about Y/N as if she was not there. 

The woman raised her hands into the air to stop the debate. “If you want to know more, you need to ask the source - that’s me. Please, stop discussing me as if I was not here, okay?” One after one, they nodded their head. “Great. Let’s start again. My name is Y/N. Do you have any questions?” 

“What is your mutation?”

“Is it true you will be our new teacher?” 

“Did you throw Professor Summers out of the window a few days ago?” 

That last question made her laugh. Obviously, they knew something happened. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to the students and know them better. She lived there for some time now. It would be nice to be part of their lives, be there for them. As she kept looking at it, she realised all these children stayed at school for the weekend. Some of the faces were familiar to her. They never left the school the whole time she lived there. 

They all had one thing in common - their families gave up on them the moment they discovered how different their children were. 

A frown appeared on her face. “Do you ever go home?” she asked gently. She wanted to know how many of them still had their parents.

They all shook their heads. “No,” said one of the oldest boys present. “Some of us have families on the other side of the states. Most of us are here all the time. They gave up on us.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N sighed. “I know how it feels to be pushed away from your family. Mine got rid of me, too.” 

“Sure,” one of the girls scoffed. 

Y/N’s eyes found hers. “They locked me in an insane asylum because I… I killed my own little sister with my mutation,” she admitted out loud. “It was the first time I used the ability. Until that moment, I didn’t know I was a mutant. My mutation is forcefield manipulation. Even though it is a protective ability, I managed to kill my sister with it.” 

It was hard to admit it in front of a group of children. Y/N concluded it was better to tell the truth than to lie. What if Scott would open his big dumb mouth, and the kids would fear her? No more lying.  

“My parents put me into an insane asylum because of it, and they never came for me. Well, I believe they’d rather see me dead. I escaped the asylum and joined a group of terrible people. My decisions were not the best. I’m not proud of that part of my life.”

“Y/N was locked with me in a lab where they experimented on us,” JJ chimed in. The kids turned their gazes at him. He sounded like a grown man. “She was already there when they brought me in. I helped her escape. Later, Profesor Logan and her came for me and saved my life.” 

The silence that surrounded everyone was heavy. Some kids lowered their eyes to the ground, others closed them. They didn’t know what to say or if to say anything at all. The topic was heavy. Some could relate, and others were lucky to not experience anything tragic. 

“I get how you all feel,” Y/N said. “I know what it is like when the people you love get rid of you like you’re an old, used toy. I understand you feel betrayal and pain, even anger.” Her hand found Nova’s hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly. “But look where you are now. You all ended up in a school for mutants, where you’ve been given a second chance for a better life. This place is your home. People here care and want the best for you. I dare to say that this is your new family.” 

More silence followed. “I know I’m still a stranger to you, and you don’t trust me. That’s okay. Teachers like Storm, Jean or Kitty will be there for you. Please, just know you can talk to me, too. I want to help in any way that I can and know.”

Once Y/N finished talking, Nova wrapped her arms around Y/N’s waist and hugged her tightly. When JJ saw it, he did the same from the other side. The woman wrapped both arms around each child and smiled. The love she felt was immense. Before she knew it, more children approached her. They all huddled together in a big, warm hug. It was a beautiful gesture. 

Storm walked around the school, checking on the students. She stepped into the lounge room. Her eyes landed on the scene before her. She had to smile. Storm was lucky enough to witness the group hug. 

“What’s going on?” she asked softly.

Slowly, the children moved from the huddle. They went back to their sitting spots again. JJ kept his arms around Y/N while Nova grabbed Y/N’s hand and held it tightly. 

“Just bonding,” Y/N said with a smile. 

Storm’s lips reflected the smile. “That’s nice. I’m glad you are finding a way to their hearts.” 

Later that day, The Professor returned with Logan and Bobby from the banquet. They were back after a few days away, and both men couldn’t be happier about their return. Bobby missed Kitty. They’d been texting here and there throughout the time. Logan didn’t have the guts to call or text Y/N. He rarely used his phone. Also, he thought it would be weird. Charles could feel Logan’s faint anxiety crawling around him. He knew the reasoning behind it. The man’s thoughts weren’t quiet.

They drove to the school, glad this ‘mission’ was over. They didn’t expect to hear loud music roaring from the building. Logan tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Is that coming from the school?” Then they heard singing. It was like a live concert. “What’s going on?” 

Logan parked the car in the garage. They helped Charles out of the car and into his wheelchair. The singing got louder. It echoed around the garage. The students were singing a familiar song. Charles smiled and chuckled. When was the last time something like this happened?

All three went from the garage and got to the main level. The song changed. After a brief silence, the singing began again. The students were crammed in the lounge room, dancing around and singing as loud as their voices let them. When some kids noticed the Professor, they made a passageway for him and the other two teachers. 

Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. He found Storm, Y/N and Kitty in the middle of the room, surrounded by students, jumping and screaming words to the song playing. 

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you. Been here all along, so why can’t you see? You belong with me.

It seemed everyone knew the words to that song. All three women swayed their hips to the music, jumping around like all the students. They were happy, enjoying the moment. Y/N grabbed JJ’s hands when she started twisting him around. Her face was bright and cheerful. Even the boy was thrilled. 

She wears high heels. I wear sneakers. She’s cheer captain. I’m on the bleachers. 

This part was powerful. As if everyone wanted to scream the chorus as loud as possible. No one cared that the headmaster was present. But Charles had a big smile on his face. Yes, they organised events for the students, but this happened out of nowhere. It was special. It was a bonding moment for everyone.

“I love this song!” Bobby shouted, bobbing his head to the song. He started to sing the lyrics. 

Storm draped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders while Y/N wrapped an arm around her waist as they sang the song. One of her hands remained on JJ. They laughed at their silliness. Kitty found Bobby walking to her. She got excited and ran into his arms, and they swayed together to the song. 

Storm discovered Bobby a few seconds later. She stopped dancing, and her eyes found Charles and Logan. Her arm fell from Y/N’s shoulders, and she made her stop dancing. 

Y/N gasped. Her face heated up, and she quickly turned around to turn off the music. She had a remote control to the stereo. When the song was abruptly stopped, the students whined. It was evident they were displeased by the interruption.

“Professor,” Storm said his name nervously. “I’m sorry for this. We got carried away.” 

Charles laughed. “Oh, Storm, no need to apologise. I like that you all have so much fun on a Sunday afternoon. You should continue to have more fun.” 

Y/N was breathing heavily. Her chest was rising and falling visibly. It was quite a cardio. Her eyes met Logan’s, who had a grin on his face. He leaned against the nearest wall, crossed his arms over his chest and kept staring. When he licked his lips, Y/N’s eyes followed his every movement. 

“Well, the magic of the moment is kind of gone,” Y/N said. “But we had good two hours of this fun, right?” she turned to see the kids. They shouted affirmations. Some of them whistled.

“Okay, everyone, it’s time for us to end this session,” Storm raised her voice so everyone could hear her. “Thank you for being here and having fun. It’s time to get to your rooms and prepare for tomorrow.” 

Logan watched as Y/N hugged a few younger kids. First, it was JJ, which wasn’t surprising. Then, it was two other girls. That sight made his insides tingle. He felt love radiating out of her. It made him smile. When they separated, Y/N’s eyes were back on him.

He took a few steps forward while greeting some of the kids. “Are you trying to bribe them to like you?” he mocked her. 

“Are you jealous I’m giving my attention to them and not you?” she poked his bicep when Logan was close enough. “Or should I bribe you too?” 

“I’m not that easy, princess.” 

“What if I tell you I sneaked in some beer?” she raised her brows. 

He was impressed. “You got me. Wait, you want to get drunk again?” he asked. “I won’t be taking care of your ass next time.” 

Y/N squinted. Her body was ready to jump at him. Not because she was angry at him. She wanted to kiss that smug smile off his face. Last night, she imagined what his hands would feel on her body, how he would taste and feel. She pictured his hands exploring her naked body, his lips between her legs. 

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she said. There was a teasing smile on her face. She walked past him and found JJ talking to one boy. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

Logan watched her leave the lounge room with the boy. His mind was spinning. His eyes lowered and remained on her ass, watching it move with each step she took. 

A hand tapped his shoulder. Bobby grinned at Logan. “You got it bad, my friend.”

“Shut up.” 

[carlottawllms]

Author’s note: It’s crazy how quickly these weeks pass by. We’re at chapter 4 already which feels absolutely insane! Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and comment/reblog. It keeps me motivated to finish it!

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

Mason knew you weren’t counting the days, but he still felt awful that it eventually took him about two and a half months to finally find some time to spend with just you. He’d promised to make it up to you and whilst you’d told him countless of times you didn’t want him to, he really wanted to make sure to look after you too.

Little did he know though that all the things he’d started doing lately made you feel looked after already. You weren’t even sure if he did them intentionally or just subconsciously, but either way, you appreciated all of them a lot.

They weren’t big or expensive, but they were thoughtful and never failed to put a smile on your face. They were things like buying fresh flowers on every Sunday for the office Mason had set up for you in his house. Or preparing dinner for you at least once a week so you could take a breather and simply relax a little bit. And then not too long ago, he’d come home with a book he’d heard you talking about randomly.

You kept telling him he didn’t have to do any of those things, but Mason being Mason, he didn’t want to hear any of it. Usually, he just rolled his eyes, grinned and kissed the top of your head as some sort of gentle dismissal, before disappearing to change into some sweat joggers and a hoodie, leaving you no chance to argue any further.

And as Mason knew he would face the same type of ‘discussion’ had he told you about wanting to spend the whole day with just you, he’d kept pretty much quiet about it. He’d stuck to asking discreet questions to figure out what you were going to do on your day off without raising any suspicion and when you’d told him you weren’t doing anything other than spending the day wrapped up on your sofa, he’d been quite happy about it. It had made it all pretty simple for him.  

-

It was half eight when you, dressed in cosy clothes, shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, ready for a cup of coffee, but before you could even press the start button on the coffee machine, there was a knock at the door.

“Go away.”, you mumbled, hoping that whoever it was would leave again if you were quiet enough, but the knocking continued. Thinking it might be one of your neighbours you made your way over to the front door, only to be greeted with a bright smile you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Mase?”

“Surprise.”, he grinned a little shyly before pulling you into a quick, warm hug.

“What are you doing here?” To say you were surprised would be an understatement. So far, he’d never come to see you on your day off, constantly insisting you needed at least a day to yourself to unwind and take care of yourself and him suddenly showing up this early in the morning had you a little worried. “Is Ellie okay?”

“She’s perfect, don’t worry.”, Mason explained softly as ushered you further back into your flat so he could close the door behind him. His heart warmed at your obvious concern for his daughter. “She’s with Luke and Anouska today.”

Those last few weeks, Mason had spoken a lot to Luke and his wife. He’d told them that he still felt a little guilty for bringing you into this mess and although the Shaw’s had reassured him like a hundred times that there was no need for that cause you enjoyed every second you got to spend with your best friend and his little daughter, Mason had been adamant. And as Luke was more than willing to support one of his best friends, he’d offered straight away to take Ellie for a day.

“I’m here for you actually.”, he chuckled, thumb gently brushing over the small crease that appeared between your brows at his admission. “Go get changed, we’ve got places to be. And don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

“Mase, I-”

“Please?” The moment he hit you with his puppy dog eyes and a little pout there wasn’t a single cell left inside of you that could’ve said no. Your overall willpower was pretty strong, and you usually knew what you wanted and how to put your foot down, but Mason was your weakness. In many ways.

“Fine.”, you sighed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in jest. You hated when he made things about you, but you had an idea that today might be the day he would use for making things up to you. “I need a bit to make myself presentable though.”

“You always look beautiful.” His quiet admission had you blushing and you dropped your head as you didn’t want him to see how flustered he’d made you. “But yeah, maybe change into something less revealing. It’s still pretty cold outside.” Mason dropped a kiss to your forehead before shoeing you upstairs, his eyes following your every step.  

“Make yourself a home.”, you called over your shoulder as you made your way towards your bedroom to get changed. And calm down a little.

Half an hour later, you were sitting opposite of Mason in a place you’d never been to before: Dishoom. An Indian restaurant he’d been to with his parents before and wanted you to try it too now. Especially as he knew how much you loved breakfast.

And you really wanted to enjoy it properly, but the lack of prices on the menu told you everything about how far from being lowkey this place was. You knew it probably wasn’t a big deal for him at all and he’d never held back from spending money on you, but despite the years of friendship, it still made you feel a little uncomfortable.

“y/n.”, Mason sighed. “I can literally see the cogs turning in your pretty head. Stop thinking about prices, it doesn’t matter at all.”

With a soft smile on his lips, he reached over and grabbed your hands in his, thumbs caressing your skin in a way that would never fail to calm you down and when you eventually smiled back at him, he felt reassured enough to keep speaking.

“What you have done in the last few months is worth more than all the money in the world. I never thought I would suddenly find myself as a single father and when I did, I was everything but prepared.”, he chuckled, but the sadness behind those words made your heart squeeze uncomfortably in your chest and you squeezed his fingers gently.

“Sure, my parents would certainly have stepped in too, but you are not only my best friend, whom I trust blindly, but above all a great role model for Ellie. In you, she has someone she can learn from without me having to worry. I can go to training without wondering whether or not she gets along with the nanny or if she might adopt values that I don’t share. You can’t imagine how much it means to me and how much pressure and worries you’ve taken from my shoulders those last months. Please let me do this for you, y/n.”

You sighed and stayed quiet for a while. Eyes solely focussed on his big brown ones and the way they were silently pleading with you, basically begging you to agree and enjoy the day he’d planned.

He knew you hated when he – or anyone for that matter – made things about you; let alone a whole day. Being the center of attention was quite literally the last thing you ever wanted, closely followed by someone else spending money on you, but Mason couldn’t help it. You deserved everything good in this world.

“y/n.”, he mumbled, fingers tightening around yours a little. “Please.”

You really wanted to say no and tell him off; to ask him to go to a normal priced place, but this was his way of caring for you and saying thank you. He hadn’t taken you here because it was expensive, but because he knew you loved breakfast more than anything and he wanted you to enjoy something new.

“You know I don’t care about you buying me stuff, Mase.”, you mumbled, causing Mason to chuckle cause you indeed had told him about a million times already. “Breakfast is fine, but no more spending money on me please.”

“I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”, he laughed, and you shot him a warning look, but it only made his cheeky grin become even wider. “And now please choose whatever catches your eye.”

Still hesitant, it took you a moment to decide, but at the end your curiosity and empty stomach got the better of you. Mason smiled when you gave your order, happy you’d given in as he knew you’d love it a lot.

The two of you fell into light conversation whilst waiting for your respective orders, discussing what the next weeks were going to look like.

After his injury had prevented him from playing, he was buzzing to be back this weekend and you were more than relieved to see the childlike excitement shining in his eyes again. He’d tried his best to hide his disappointment and sadness, but you’d seen right through it. Mason was born to play football and not being able to always took a toll on him.

“I’m really happy you’ll be back in the squad.”, you smiled. “I already talked to Anouska. She’s bringing the kids, so Ellie and I will be there too. Did I tell you that I got her a new shirt cause she outgrew the latest? It was a little tight around her shoulders and it looked a bit short too, and I just thought that-”

The strange look he was giving you stopped you mid-rambling. The smile he was wearing was one you’d never seen before and for some reason it made you blush.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mason dropped his head as a breathy chuckle flew past his lips, before eventually locking his eyes back on yours.

“Sorry, I just…I don’t know it’s such a normal thing to notice probably, but…it just made me realise how much you actually do. Not only bringing her to my games, but also noticing things like her outgrowing her shirt...I’m probably not making a lot of sense right now, just…thank you.”

He reached for your hand again, his fingers squeezing yours in appreciation, but you couldn’t help and roll your eyes.

“Stop thanking me all the time, Mase.”, you laughed. “I love her and I love doing this for you both. Also, she needs to be taught some proper behaviour, can’t really leave her with just you for that can we?”

“Oi, that’s just rude. I’m a great role model.” Slightly offended, Mason pulled his hand away from yours as he gave you a nasty look, but you could see right through him. Obviously he knew you were just messing with him and the glint in his eyes told you exactly that.

“Sure you are, Mase.”, you grinned. “The poor girl would grow up between your stinky shoes and-”

The waiter bringing your food cut your little dig short, but your best friend still kicked your leg beneath the table in jest, earning himself a scolding scoff.

Just like Mason had promised, the food was terrific, making you think you could never have breakfast anywhere else without leaving unsatisfied. The two of you made some light and joking conversation whilst munching away and you realised just how much you’d missed spending time with just him.

Not that he did it on purpose, but sometimes you got the feeling that around you, he was a different person. He seemed more relaxed and less troubled by all the pressure he usually felt and you couldn’t help the wave of pride rushing over you. He had always been your save haven and to know you could be the same for him was priceless.  

“What would you like to do afterwards though? Any special requests?”

“I think I’d like to see the gardens.”, you admitted quietly, unsure if he was even up for it, but his smile just widened.

“Fletcher Moss?”

 “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go.”, you nodded carefully. “I know it sounds boring cause it’s just a bunch of flowers and bushes and stuff, but-”

“y/n.” Mason interrupted you gently. The tips of his fingers brushing against yours. “It sounds perfect, okay?”

And that’s how a little less than an hour later, the two of you were walking through the seemingly endless greenery. Side by side, with his shoulder brushing against yours every once in a while.

“I missed this.”, you said when you stopped to look at a quiet and slightly hidden pond. Water lilies gathered at the top, blooming in pink and light rose colours.

“I thought you’ve never been?”

“Not the garden you wally.” You bumped your shoulder into his arm. “This. Spending time with you. With just you. I don’t know it’s…I just missed it.”

Mason sighed quietly, before pulling you right in front of him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the soft skin on the base of your neck as his eyes bore into yours and just like that it felt as if the air had shifted.

“I missed you too.”

There was a tiny turmoil in your tummy, causing all sorts of emotions to run through you all at once and for the first time you realised that some of the feelings you were harbouring for Mason weren’t as platonic as you’d thought they were.

You tipped your head back slightly when Mason leaned in a fraction. Your thoughts were running a mile an hour, barely giving you a second to try and get your head straight, but Mason’s fingers slightly tightening their grip on your neck grounded you ever so slightly.

When his nose rubbed against yours softly, your breath caught in the back of your throat.

“Mase.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n.”

You stared into his eyes before your gaze dropped to his lips the same second his dropped to yours. The air around you felt electric and whilst it scared you like nothing ever had before, the thought of feeling his lips against yours had your heart tripping over itself.

Mason leaned in a bit more; the beat of your heart echoing loudly in your ears as his breath hit your lips.

“Elliott!” And all of sudden the spell was broken. “Don’t get too close to the water!” A mother screaming after her son jogged past on the other side of the past, causing you to pull away from each other quickly, filling you with a heavy feeling of disappointment.

Shyly, you dropped your gaze to your shoes. You could feel the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks and, in an attempt to distract yourself from the slight humiliation you felt, you kicked a pebble into the pond; watching the tiny waves causing bigger ones in the formerly calm water.

For a moment, it was quiet with only the birds chirping away. It was rarely ever quiet between you two and you wondered if what had nearly happened a second ago had tarnished your precious friendship. What if it was going to be weird from now on?

With his flushed cheeks Mason looked adorable, but the awkward giggle he let out the moment your eyes locked gave away that he felt as embarrassed as you. In an attempt to hide himself away, he dropped his face into your neck, arms circling your waist pulling you flush against his body and after a moment of gathering yourself, you hugged him back.

You had no idea for how long you stood there, simply holding each other, but after a while you could feel his heart slowing down. He pressed his lips to the warm skin on your neck before pulling away slowly.

His cheeks were still rosy, albeit a lot less than before and the cheeky grin was back on his lips. “Let’s go and get ice cream?”

You nodded slowly, wondering how on earth you were supposed to get back to before what just happened.

“Perfect.”, he smiled and with a final kiss to your forehead, Mason pulled away fully. You missed his warmth and proximity immediately; longing for him to wrap you back up against his chest, but instead he headed towards where you knew the ice cream stand was.

Had he genuinely wanted to kiss you? Or had it been the spur of the moment? Maybe you’d imagined all that and he’d questioned what you’d been doing all along?

“C’mon lazybones.”, he laughed. “It’s not that far.”

The relief that filled you when Mason wrapped his arm around your shoulders to keep you tugged away against your body should be considered pathetic, but there’d never been a place you felt safer and after your almost-kiss it felt even more special.

You knew he was your best friend in the whole world, but after years of being in denial, even you had to acknowledge how the atmosphere had shifted a little.

The two of you eventually got the ice cream he’d promised. You knew he wasn’t supposed to eat any of it, especially not as he was about to make his comeback, but you’d known him for long enough to be aware that every once in a while, he allowed himself some happiness – at least that’s what Mason kept calling it.

You’d recovered from the previous situation – neither of you mentioning it again – and were walking towards the exit when all of sudden, a girl came up to the two of you.

“Mase, hi.”, she smiled brightly; showing off her perfect set of pearly white teeth. Her smile was as gorgeous as the rest of her. She looked straight out of a magazine, and you couldn’t help but pull your shoulders up and hide away in Mason’s jacket. The one he’d insisted you put on as it had got a little chillier a while ago.

You watched how she greeted your best friend enthusiastically, pulling him into a hug and the way he wrapped his arms around her waist had a bit of acid raising in your tummy. This wasn’t how you greeted someone you barely knew…

And when all of sudden she eyed you questioningly, no doubt judging your appearance, you felt small. And insignificant. You knew it was stupid and he’d slap you silly for it, but her looks made you feel like you weren't worth Mason's company.

“Hi.”, she smiled after a while, extending her hand towards you. “I’m Rebecca.”

“y/n.”, you nodded, eventually shaking her hand. You didn’t like her one bit and judging by the glint in her eyes, neither did she you.

“So, she’s the nanny then? Where’s your little one Mase?”

The nanny? Your heart dropped. What had he told her?

Mason’s brows formed a deep frown. He stepped a little closer to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. Not that it had any significance, but it certainly felt like a tiny win.

“No, y/n isn’t the nanny. She’s my best friend and my daughter’s god mother.”

“Oh, well.”, Rebecca laughed melodically. “I’ll see you around then, y/n. I assume you’ll be around as much as me then.”

Rebecca left a little while after, leaving you with a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, but as much as you were dying to know what was going on between her and your best friend, you were too much of a coward to ask. Too afraid what he would say could hurt you a little too much.

The way back to Mason’s car was quiet; the air around you tense, but for the first time neither of you really knew what to say.

Even the drive home started off in silence, with just the radio providing that ounce of sound in the small space. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this awkward around your best friend – if you ever had – but the confusion about the almost-kiss and then meeting Rebecca, who seemed to be someone serious to Mason had caused some sort of brain freeze.

Mason though, was unsure as of whether or not he should explain who Rebecca was. He hadn’t planned to kiss you, but the spur of the moment had caught up with him back then by the pond. He knew you felt weird about it all, but he didn’t have any explanation or whatsoever to offer; he only knew he didn’t want to say goodbye yet.

“Chinese or Italian?”

Surprised by him suddenly speaking up, you turned to look at him. Mason stared straight ahead, giving you a great view at his side profile. He looked gorgeous, as always and for a second, your gaze dropped to his lips.

“What?”

“I’m talking about take away.”, he said, lips curling into a soft smile when he reached out and squeezed your thigh. “Thought we’d get some dinner on our way back and watch a film. Like we used to.”

“Oh erm…Italian, I think.” You were a little surprised that after the whole day he wanted to spend the evening with you too. “Haven’t had a pizza in way too long.”

“Gigi’s it is then.”, Mason nodded. He gave your leg another squeeze; his palm remaining on your thigh for the rest of the drive.

Having dinner on his sofa slowly brought back normality between the two of you. Mason obviously managed to lighten the mood with some of the worst jokes he could find and whilst they never failed to make you wonder what was actually going on in his head, you laughed at every single one of them.

Once the plates were cleared away, Mason flopped down on the sofa. He wasn’t an overly tall man, but for some reason he always managed to take up the majority of space on that huge sofa of his.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how to cuddle?”, he laughed, stopping you from stepping closer towards the shorter – and unoccupied – space of the sofa. “C’mon sweetcheeks. You know where you belong.”

Mason shuffled a bit more towards the edge before holding his hand out and although there was this tiny doubt holding you back, you eventually accepted his hand and flopped down in the small nook between his warm body and the back of the sofa.

“See, that’s not too bad, is it?” You felt his arm wrapping around your shoulder, encouraging you to snuggle into him further and place your head on his chest. His familiar scent and warmth surrounded you almost immediately, settling your heart and also some of your worries.

After all it was you, he was cuddling now. No one else.

It didn’t take long for Mason’s hand to start wandering. With gentle pressure, he ran his fingers up and down your spine, causing you to hum in content. It had been way too long that you’d spent so much quality time together and you only now realised just how much you’d actually missed it. And how you desperately didn’t want this day to end.

“When do you have to pick up Ellie?”, you asked, but apparently your words had been muffled by the hoodie Mason had thrown on after dinner.

“What?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. Mason was looking at you already; his lips pulled into a sweet, albeit slightly tired smile.

“When do you have to pick up Ellie?”, you repeated.

“At round about 8. Luke said Anouska wanted to make dinner and offered to watch Frozen with them so I wouldn’t have to kick you out too early.”

“You’re unbelievable, Mase. Getting rid of your poor little daughter.”, you laughed, but your heart skipped a beat as you were quite sure the initial plan had been to pick her up before.

“What can I say? There’s two important girls in my life and whilst they get along really well, sometimes I need to get rid of one to spend some proper time with the other.”

The cheeky grin on his lips had you blushing nearly as much as him calling you his girl, but it was him reaching out to trace your jaw softly that sent your heart into a frenzy.

“On a serious note though, thank you so much for today, Mase.” The look in his eyes softened a touch, as did his smile. “I didn’t realise just how much I needed a day like this and I appreciate everything you’ve done. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, y/n.”, he hummed. “I know you think I did this to thank you for all the things you’ve done, but I genuinely missed spending time with you and needed today as much as you. Like…you’ve been around a lot, but I missed you. I…does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

You watched a faint blush coating his freckled cheeks and making him look rather adorable and you couldn’t help but stare. Obviously, you’d noticed before that he was an incredibly handsome man – you weren’t blind after all – but you’d never looked at him the way you were doing now.

Somewhere in between stepping up and taking care of his daughter and today’s visit in the gardens, something had shifted dramatically, and you found it hard to ignore it.

Especially, as he kept staring into your eyes. His big brown ones bore into yours, making your skin prickle with nerves and your fingers tighten around the fabric of his hoodie. You were still half on top of his body, propped up on one arm whilst the other rested on his chest, but when Mason reached out and pushed a lose strand of hair behind your ear you felt like melting into his body.

His gaze flickered to your lips before jumping back to your eyes and just like that, it felt like you were back by the pond. The look in his eyes was captivating, basically forcing you to keep yours locked on his whilst your heart was threatening to burst through your ribcage.

“y/n.” His voice wasn’t more than a hoarse whisper; contributing to the intensity of the situation. You wanted to kiss him, you really wanted to, but instead, you dropped your gaze to his chest with flushed cheeks, breaking the spell reluctantly.

Mason dropped his hand from where it was cupping the side of your face, allowing you the freedom to lay back down. He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm back around your shoulders before focusing back on the film that was still playing.

Part of you felt awful as you hid away in his chest, wondering if you should’ve just gone for a kiss and see where it would’ve taken you, but there was this nagging feeling of doubt in the back of your mind, making you question everything.

It felt like you’d gone from 0 to 100 in less than a day and you couldn’t help but think it was rushed. Maybe it was just you reading too much into these two situations. Maybe it was you seeing things that weren’t actually there.

After all, there was still Rebecca…the thought of her and how she’d greeted Mason made your tummy churn. No matter how obvious today’s moments had seemed, there was no way he’d go for someone like you.

It was too late to do something about it when you felt your eyes growing heavy and with Mason pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you eventually nodded off.

*

The next morning, you were mulling about your coffee. Your thoughts pretty much still all over the place, but with Ellie around, you tried your best to be up to your usual standard.

After Mason had woken you up the evening before to go and get his daughter, he’d asked you to stay, but you’d refused. The thought of sleeping over after everything that had happened had felt wrong, so you’d told him to drop you off on his way to Luke’s. He’d seemed a bit disappointed, but for you, it had been the best decision.

You’d spent half the evening overthinking every tiny detail and ended up working yourself up in a frenzy, terrified of it being weird from now on, but when you’d showed up at Mason’s this morning, everything had been back to normal.

“What about a walk, Ellie?”, you asked eventually. The little girl looking up at you with the same big brown eyes as her father and nodded furiously. By now she knew that going for a walk also meant spending time with you at the playground – something that had become one of her favourite things in the world. “Let’s get you dressed then, munchkin.”

You held her hand as you walked to her room to put some outdoor clothes on and since she only cared about leaving as soon as possible, little Ellie didn’t make much of a fuss of what you’d chosen for her to wear.

By the time Mason came back from training, you’d prepared dinner for later and cleaned most parts of his house. It wasn’t part of your agreement, but whenever you’d put Ellie down for a nap, there was little to do so you’d started to clean or at least tidy up.

“Daddy!” Ellie all but jumped out of your hold when Mason showed up in the living room. She ran over – as best as she could at her age – and fell straight into his wide opened arms.

“Hello love bug.”, he smiled widely before pressing smootches all over her little face, causing Ellie to wiggle in his arms, belly laughter falling from her lips and you couldn’t help but stare.

Mason was always amazing, no matter who he was with, but when Ellie was around, he seemed like the most carefree person. It was as if he could get his inner child out in a way he never dared to around others and you couldn’t be more thankful to see it.

“So, what’ve you and auntie y/n been up to today, hm?”, he hoisted her up into his arms and strolled over to where you were still sitting on the sofa. The kid’s book you’d been reading to Ellie still sat in your lap. “Oh you’ve been reading, yeah?”

“Peppa!”, Ellie exclaimed as she pointed out the pink pig on the front of the book. It was her absolute favourite thing to do.

“Well that’s amazing, bubs.” Mason kissed the top of his daughter’s head before leaning a bit closer to you, so he could whisper without Ellie hearing any of his words: “Bet auntie y/n isn’t tired of this book at all, is she?”

You laughed when he flicked the end of your nose in jest and shook your head. “No, not at all. I enjoy being able to quote a kid’s book by heart.”

After a quick chat – one that relieved some of the tension you’d still felt because of the day before – the three of you had decided to go outside again to try and tire out the little girl in hopes she’d be out like a light once you’d be back home, but for some reason, nothing you tried worked so you ended up walking back home with Ellie still being her energetic self.

“Good luck getting that one to sleep.”, you grinned, pointing at the brunette kid jumping up and down right in front of you.

“It’s definitely going to be one of those evenings.”, Mason sighed. “I can see it right in front of me already…me sitting by her bed, reading about 10 books and her still not being tir-” He stopped talking when he felt your hand grabbing his arm. Turning to look at you, he found your gaze settled on his front door. “Wha-”

“Ellie? Munchkin come over here please.” The little girl came straight up to you, her arms reaching out so you could pick her up and as if she sensed the change in atmosphere, she snuggled right into the crook of your neck.

You could tell the exact moment Mason recognised the person standing in front of his door. His pace quickened and he cast a quick and worried glance back at you, ushering you to stay back. And you did, but you could still hear the harsh sound of his voice loud and clear.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 019 !

you slipped on a loose button-up, tucking it halfway into your jeans as you sat at your vanity. your next modeling shoot wasn't anything major, just a simple shoot for an up-and-coming brand, but you still wanted to look somewhat put together before heading out.

reaching for your concealer, you dabbed it under your eyes, blending it in with your fingers when-

ping!

your phone vibrated against the desk. you glanced at the screen, expecting a message from your manager or mitsuki, but instead-

you exhaled sharply through your nose. whoever that guy shidou ryusei was, he was a dumbass. shaking your head, you locked your phone, deciding to deal with this later. right now, you had a job to do.

the shoot went by in a blur. you posed, changed outfits, adjusted your expression depending on what the photographer wanted- nothing you weren't used to. the team was easy to work with, and the atmosphere was lighthearted, which made the whole thing fly by faster than you expected.

before you knew it, the shoot was over, and you were stepping outside into the crisp afternoon air, slipping your hands into the pockets of your coat.

and there he was.

sae sat on a bench a few feet away, one ankle resting over his knee as he scrolled through his phone. his head lifted slightly at the sound of your footsteps, and when he caught your eye, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, pushing himself to stand.

"you're actually here," you said, more to yourself than to him.

he raised a brow. "you thought i wouldn't be?"

you shrugged. "figured you'd cancel last minute and send me a half-assed excuse maybe."

a quiet huff of amusement left his lips as he took a step closer. "if i wanted to cancel, i wouldn't have texted you in the first place."

fair enough.

"so," he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. "where do you want to go?"

you gave him a look. "you were the one who wanted to meet up."

"yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "but i figured i'd let you choose."

you narrowed your eyes slightly before sighing. "well, what do you want to see?"

sae paused for a moment, his gaze flickering away as if he was contemplating something. the sun was starting to dip behind the buildings, casting a soft orange hue across the city, and for a second, you almost felt like you were in a movie scene.

"honestly?" he looked back at you, his tone much lighter now. "i just want to spend time with you. since you're my girlfriend now. so why don't you show me what you like?"

your eyebrow quirked, both surprised and a little skeptical at how casually he was putting it.

"are you serious?" you crossed your arms, trying to appear more annoyed than you actually were.

he smiled, a genuine one this time, and shrugged. "yeah. you can show me something boring if you want."

your eyes narrowed playfully. "boring, huh? alright then, follow me."

without waiting for him to reply, you turned and started walking, heading in the direction you hadn't quite planned yet. sae followed without hesitation, keeping pace beside you as the two of you walked through the streets.

you could feel him glancing at you every so often, probably trying to figure out here you were leading him, but you didn't look back.

it didn't take long for you to reach a quiet street lined with trees and small cafes, the kind of place that wasn't packed with people or overly flashy. you stopped in front of a little museum you loved, one that was tucked away from the usual crowds. it wasn't too popular, but it had a certain charm to it that made it feel more intimate, like you could actually enjoy the art without a thousand other people jostling for a view.

you glanced at sae, who had fallen silent for a while now. his expression was thoughtful, like he was sizing up the place. when he noticed you looking at him, his lips twitched into a slight grin.

"this is where you wanted to go?" he asked, his voice almost teasing.

you nodded, starting to walk toward the entrance. "yep. art galleries aren't your things, aren't they?"

"i don't mind them," he said casually, following you inside. "as long as you're not trying to make me understand all the abstract stuff."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "it's not that kind of place. come on."

the museum was quiet, the kind of calm atmosphere that made it easy to forget the outside world. you walked through the galleries, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or sculpture, but not really saying much. sae was right beside you the whole time, walking at your pace, but his presence was less of a distraction now. the awkwardness from earlier seemed to melt away, leaving a space where you could just be together, without all the pressure.

there was one painting that caught your eye- an abstract piece, with deep blues and swirling greens. you couldn't explain why, but it made you pause, drawn into the colors. sae noticed you staring at it and stepped closer, leaning in slightly, making your breath stop.

"is it weird?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "that i'm starting to get the appeal of art, just from watching you look at it?"

you glanced at him, a little surprised by the comment. "you're weird," you muttered, but it wasn't exactly an insult. it was just, maybe, a different side of him. a side you hadn't seen much on social media before. not that you've known him for years but there has been a lot more content of sae itoshi on your feed since he stepped into your life.

he smirked, unbothered. "yeah, i get that a lot."

you stayed there for a few more minutes, lost in the silence of the room. it felt different, easier, like you didn't need to fill every second with words. and even though you wouldn't admit it aloud, there was something nice about it, being there with him.

once you'd walked through most of the museum, you made your way back out into the city streets when your stomach grumbled slightly, reminding you that you didn't eat anything yet for today. your eyes wandered over the street, and that's when you spotted it- the hot pot restaurant you had been dying to try for ages.

you didn't even think twice. "hey, let's eat here," you said, pointing toward the small building with a neon sign glowing above it.

sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the sign. "hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "looks... cozy."

you didn't wait for a second invitation. without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

the small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. the hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

sitting down, you grabbed the menu, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "i’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again- something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did. there was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"yeah?" sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "what makes this place so special? the broth?"

you nodded eagerly, not missing the way sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "it’s all about the broth. i think they’ve got, like, ten different types. but the best one is the spicy miso- it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "alright, let’s go with that one then. i'll let you choose."

you nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. you weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening- something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

as the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at sae. he was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. you tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual boldness.

"so," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "i didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "i told you, i’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "i can appreciate... this." he gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "it’s more... real. different."

you blinked, surprised. his answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "huh. didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the real stuff."

sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "you’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "you don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

that was true. you didn’t know everything about him. you’d seen the public version of sae itoshi. confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight- but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. you glanced at him, your curiosity irritating.

before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. you tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but sae noticed. "seems like you made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

you gave him a small, amused smile. "yeah, i did. i wasn’t kidding about the broth."

the two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when sae was around. eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. "what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

you looked up from your bowl, caught off guard by the question. your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life- the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. but sae wasn’t asking about your career. he wasn’t asking about the apparent stuff.

you hesitated. "i don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "i guess i’ve always been more focused on... other things. other people."

sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "that’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

you scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "i don’t see it that way. you always do what you think is best, right? but... you know, sometimes, it feels like i forget what i even want anymore."

he was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "i get that," he said quietly. "it’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. but you deserve more than that."

you swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. his words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. for a moment, the weird dynamic between you and sae seemed to shift. it wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "but hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "i'm not here to preach to you. just do what makes you happy. that’s all i'm saying."

you gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. there was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

but you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. so, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "well, for tonight, i'm happy with this."

sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "good. that’s all that matters."

and so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. sae itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras- there was more to him. and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

but for now, you were content. or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

Sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the neon sign. "Hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "Looks... cozy."

You didn't wait for a second invitation. Without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. Sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

The small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. The hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

Sitting down, you grabbed the menu quickly, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "I’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again—something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did with Sae. There was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"Yeah?" Sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "What makes this place so special? The broth?"

You nodded eagerly, not missing the way Sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "It’s all about the broth. I think they’ve got, like, ten different types. But the best one is the spicy miso—it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

Sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "Alright, let’s go with that one then. I’ll let you choose."

You nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening—something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

As the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at Sae. He was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. You tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual bravado.

"So," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "I didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

Sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "I told you, I’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "I can appreciate... this." He gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "It’s more... real. Different."

You blinked, surprised. His answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "Huh. Didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the 'real' stuff."

Sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "You’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "You don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

That was true. You didn’t know everything about him. You’d seen the public version of Sae Itoshi—confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight—but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. Maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. You glanced at him, your curiosity piqued.

Before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. You tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but Sae noticed. "Seems like I made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

You gave him a small, amused smile. "Yeah, you did. I wasn’t kidding about the broth."

The two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when Sae was around. Eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, Sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"Tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more introspective. "What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

You looked up from your bowl, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life—the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. But Sae wasn’t asking about your career. He wasn’t asking about the superficial stuff.

You hesitated. "I don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "I guess I’ve always been more focused on... other things. Other people."

Sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "That’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

You scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "I don’t see it that way. You always do what you think is best, right? But... you know, sometimes, it feels like I forget what I even want anymore."

He was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "I get that," he said quietly. "It’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. But you deserve more than that."

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. His words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. For a moment, the playful, teasing dynamic between you and Sae seemed to shift. It wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

Sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "But hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "I’m not here to preach to you. Just... do what makes you happy. That’s all I’m saying."

You gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. There was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

But you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. So, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "Well, for tonight, I’m happy with this."

Sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "Good. That’s all that matters."

And so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. Sae Itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras—there was more to him. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

But for now, you were content. Or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

he handed you his phone, and your eyes instantly fell on the screen. it was a picture. one of you at the museum, standing in front of a painting, completely absorbed in the art. the catch? it was from behind, just capturing the curve of your shoulders and the fall of your hair as you stared at the piece, the soft light framing your figure.

you glanced up at sae. "that's actually a good shot," you said, your voice soft, the usual sarcasm absent.

he softened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "do you mind if i post it?"

you stared at the photo, feeling the unfamiliar urge to hesitate.

"sure," you said, your tone quieter than usual...

chapter 018 > here > chapter 020

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: hi i'm back and i dont like this chapter bye

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @black-swan-blog27 @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (3/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; I seriously cannot thank ya’ll enough for ALLLL the love!! 😭 I’m blown away! Honestly. I’m really happy and I’ve been BUZZING. EEEE! So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It took me a little longer because I wanted to get it just right and I think this is the closest I could. 😬 Also!! I made the visual up above (I made Pinterest boards too PLS FMDKDKKD) and the filter is called ‘tardiness’ by @elliesnovella on Insta! ENJOY. 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳), 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁) 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗱.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4116.

Two days had passed and Ariadne still hadn’t tried talking to anyone else.

Except for the shadow when it came to check in on her - at least, that’s what she assumed it was doing - and herself, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

She thought about trying with Nesta first and then quickly took that right off the list when she had stopped by to bring a few books she thought her sister might like, only to be glared at and the stack snatched from her arms with the door slamming seconds after.

Nesta had taken the books though.

And that was something.

Then she considered Elain, who was marked off even quicker than Nesta. Their rooms were connected and when Ariadne had knocked, the door flew open to reveal the eldest Archeron with her blue eyes seeming to glow and had spoken in a tone so sharp that it made her ears ring.

She wasn’t great at lip reading - everyone always spoke too fast - but she managed to catch ‘leave’ and judging by the vitriol in her sister’s expression, she guessed it wasn’t a particularly pleasant string of words; it led to her decision of staying away for a while.

That’s when she found herself thinking of Feyre and how much she missed her.

Ariadne knew that she would be the first to want to try, to actually be able to talk instead of half-relayed messages on paper, and yet, it wasn’t possible. Because Feyre had gone with… What was his name? The High Lord of Spring. Timothy? Yeah, okay. Either way, her sister had left, with no clue as to when she’d be coming back.

It was an ever-present ache in Ariadne’s chest and no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t go away.

You need to get out of this room. You’re suffocating in here and the more you think, the more you’ll drive yourself insane, she blows a huff through her nose, finding she was annoyed with herself, which was worse than being annoyed at someone else in her opinion. Just get up and leave. Go explore! Do something! Anything!

Her thumb and index finger reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she releases an exasperated sigh; she stands from the seat by the window and follows her own advice, leaving the damn room and storming off towards the library.

No one would bother her there.

Ariadne throws open the doors with all her strength and strides over to the armchair she always sat in, plopping down with a second huff, brow furrowed. She hated being at war with herself because she couldn’t get away from herself. So, she tended to avoid the things that frustrated her the most, which almost never worked out.

Maybe on a special occasion, if there was such a thing.

But usually, she ended up doing what she tried to avoid and always searched for a place of solitude. The irony was not lost on her; the deaf girl looking to be in an even quieter place, having found comfort in the isolated silence. It would make her laugh if she thought she was capable of it anymore.

And now?

It was like she couldn’t sit still no matter what and she wanted to be around people. She didn’t even care who it was, but it seemed that she was the only one wandering around here since her sisters refused to come out, which limited the available options.

Ariadne closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself to relax her mind so it didn’t explode from the pressure building; it made it more difficult to focus and all she wanted was for it to go away. She needed to scream and she couldn’t do that, not now, not again.

Deep breaths, Ari. You’re fine. Relax. I promise, she swallows dryly and picks at the skin around her fingers, wishing for any sort of distraction. Feyre will come back and everything will be alright. She’ll listen. You’ll have her to talk to. Even if it isn’t all the time, it’s still something.

She flexes her hands to stop the incessant bad habit and then smooths them over the satin fabric of the pants she wore, the cool texture against her palms paired with the motion actually managing to soothe her.

See? You’re okay. Got all worked up for nothing, Ariadne takes a breath, then another, and tilts her head, the air around her shifting, tickling her skin. A sigh of relief emits from her lips and the opalescent wall in her mind begins to tremble, the doorway appearing more quickly than it ever had.

Everything rushes out of her at once. “I’m glad you’re here, thank that blasted Cauldron! I couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I couldn’t! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day!”

Nothing.

Silence.

“You can talk.”

Everything freezes.

That wasn’t the shadow, no, in fact, that was the furthest thing from the shadow.

Her eyes snap open and a soft whoosh leaves her as she stares directly into hazel tinged with gold - rimmed with lashes that even Nesta would be jealous of - and held a mixture of shock, curiosity, and something else that she wasn’t quite sure of.

It was Azriel.

She had just spoken to Azriel.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than stare. What had she just done? He wasn’t supposed to be the first one she revealed this to! It was supposed to be Feyre - the one person who always cared about what she wanted and what mattered to her - and even if she had to wait to do it, she knew it was going to be perfectly fine and now that was all over with.

It was supposed to be Feyre. This was all wrong!

“You’re a Daemati,” Azriel’s voice rolls in and she’s actually able to hear it inside her head, as clearly as her own. It was low, deep, velvety, and her breath hitches; it wasn’t like the shadow’s whisper at all, instead, there was quiet authority laced in his tone and a richness that reminded her of a thick chocolate, though there was a slight edge that emanated a danger of the lethal kind. It was… It was beautiful.

“Yes,” Ariadne blinks and watches him as he watches her, noting that even in the crouched position he was in, he still remained a respectable enough distance away. “A new one.”

His head tilts and the shadows around his shoulder flourish about excitedly. With a subtle tug, he manages to reel them in and give his full attention to the Archeron sister who had managed to take him completely by surprise, which wasn’t exactly easy to do. “You seem to be doing pretty well.”

She falls silent for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Talking with the shadow hadn’t been hard at all and now she felt like a fish out of water, flopping around and utterly devoid of any semblance of words; she didn’t know what to do.

Azriel waits patiently with his elbows rested on his knees, deducting that this must be even more jarring to her than it was for him. He wasn’t impatient by any means and had no intention to rush her.

“I’ve been practicing,” Ariadne finally responds, a single hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and he tracks the movement without her notice.

“Have you?”

She nods her head, clasping her hands back together. “The basics. Opening and closing the door, some organizing,” her thumb brushes over her knuckles. Why was she so nervous? There was no way she’d ever feel this way if it were Feyre. That had to be it; Ariadne just didn’t know Azriel, if she did, there wouldn’t be any of this feeling. “But no knowledge of obliterating minds. I don’t want to do that.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips twitch. She was different than he expected and it piqued his interest, making him wonder what else there might be. “It would be a good idea to learn regardless.”

“And if I did, who would I ask, Shadowmaster? You? Rhysand? Feyre isn’t here, you know,” she levels him with a look and his eyebrows raise before there’s a deep rumbling in her head, rich, warm, and sending a shiver down the length of her spine. What was that? A laugh? Maybe? If it was, she wasn’t sure why, which brought back the annoyed expression on her face. “What’s so funny?”

He works to suppress the smile struggling to show itself, though the amusement was definitive. “I’m the Shadowmaster now?”

Azriel watches keenly as Ariadne’s narrowed eyes widen a fraction, realization setting in, and she tenses slightly, breath stilling, and he finds himself feeling a sense of relief when she inhales. She sits up straighter and her voice fills his head as it had before; tentative and unsure, then flowing in like a whisper of moonlight, luminescent, gentle and fleeting.

“I mixed up your titles, didn’t I? I did it twice,” a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth and he doesn’t like the way it settles so quickly, appearing too comfortable. “That would make you the Spymaster and a Shadowsinger.”

“I think I like Shadowmaster better.”

Surprise flashes across her face before she relaxes a little, though there was still an uneasiness in the way she swallowed, and how her eyes flitted to him and then to her hands and back again. Azriel wasn’t sure what was bothering her so badly that it was lingering around, but it left a bad taste on his tongue.

“But you can call me Azriel.”

Ariadne blinks, noting the subtle hopefulness that was woven into his tone and finding that curious. Wouldn’t everyone call him that? “Azriel,” his shadows slither towards her, reaching for her ankles when they suddenly retreat and she tilts her head. “Why did you do that?”

His eyes seem to glow a little more golden then and they remind her of the sunrise peeking over a lush forest.

“Do what?”

“Pull them away from me.”

Azriel falls silent and his shoulders move, signifying he had taken a deep breath. Why? He stands from the crouched position and Ariadne leans forward suddenly, which is strange because what was she going to do? Follow him? He turns around and starts walking away, causing a pang to hit her chest, and she digs her nails into her skin. “Wait! I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to assume anything. I just thought that you commanded the shadows and I didn’t want you to think they scare me because they don’t. I actually think they’re very sweet.”

He moves further and her heart drops to her stomach; she had managed to drive away the first person she talked to because she had said the wrong thing.

How could this happen so fast? Was she really so bad?

Ariadne gnaws on her inner lower lip, thinking over how she should have worded it differently or if maybe she was too invasive? The shadows were his and he could do whatever he wanted to with them. It wasn’t any of her business.

If Azriel didn’t want them to touch her, then that was his right.

A flash of black catches her eye and she blinks, head lifting to find that the Shadowsinger had grabbed the other armchair and dragged it until it was only a few feet away from hers, now sitting with his wings lifted up over the back so they wouldn’t be crushed under his weight. His gaze finds hers, brow raising as he leans to the left with his arm rested on the chair and the other at his side, gloved hand on his thigh.

“I do and I don’t. They came to me and chose to listen to what orders I give. Though, I prefer to think of them as requests. They’re smarter than most people think and that actually ends up being a benefit to me and the work I do for Rhys,” Azriel dips his head, a few shadows curling around the arch of his wings, movements fluid as they swirl and reminding her of falling feathers dancing. “They’re meant to be kept close in case I need them. Good to know what you think of them though,” his lips curve slightly. “Does that answer your question?”

It did and it didn’t; there was still the unanswered one of why he felt the need to keep them from her. Surely she couldn’t be that big of a distraction? And if they had come to him willingly, shouldn’t they be allowed to have a bit of leeway too? The understanding of it all was just out of her reach and she desperately wished she could grab and hold onto it.

Ariadne sits back in the chair and pulls her legs underneath her, deciding to keep it to herself. This could possibly be the start of something great and she refused to ruin it, especially when she had never had an actual friend before.

“Yes,” No. She taps her finger on her knee. “What sort of work do you do?”

Azriel watches the subtle shifts in her expression - a twitch of her brow before they came together, the way her bottom lip moved as she bit the inside, and how her eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks like butterfly wings when she seemed to fall into her thoughts - and feels something stir inside of him.

Almost like being asleep for a long time and finally starting to wake up.

“Gathering intel, observing, and making sure that we know everything we can that goes on in other Courts,” his wings stretch outwards a little and her eyes roam over the movement, noting the scars that were littered across the membranes and she can’t help but be reminded of the horror back in Hybern, how he must of suffered in agony with no way to get out of it. “When I can’t be somewhere, I send the shadows and they bring back what they find.”

“Do you like doing all of that?”

“It keeps me busy.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that.

Everyone in the Inner Circle knew what he did and had to do, but no one had ever pursued the topic any further, having figured if he wanted to tell them, he would.

And here comes this little Fae, asking because she… what? Because she wanted to? The idea was ridiculous and yet, Azriel found himself unsure and it was disconcerting.

He takes a breath, weighing over his thoughts and debating on how to word what he wanted to say. “Sometimes it’s difficult. There are certain things,” flashes of Truth-Teller slicing into flesh, crimson dripping onto the floor, the sound of screams, and his jaw tightens. “That I have to do and a certain way of doing them that isn’t always my favorite.”

Ariadne tilts her head. There was a darkness swirling within the gold that wasn’t there before and it was clear that there was a lot more to it than that. She wanted to know what he had to do that would make him this haunted and she came to the conclusion that it must be awful, which didn’t sit well with her. Did no one bother to ask? Did no one bother to even try?

A part of her wanted to ask Azriel herself, but how in the stupid Cauldron was she supposed to do that? Would it be over-stepping? How should she say it? What if it made him angry? Or upset? She didn’t want to do that to him.

But she wanted to know.

There was something telling her that she needed to and it was yet another thing that she didn’t understand, so she decided to just go with it like she did everything else until she had the answers.

“There are certain things that I don’t like to remember either. Particularly how they made me feel,” Ariadne swallows, using the pad of her thumb to rub small circles into the back of her hand. “Everything else is heightened since I can’t hear in a normal way and that isn’t always a good thing,” she takes a deep breath, skin prickling. “It makes the pain worse.”

Her body shifts and she lifts her chin to find that Azriel’s shadows were whipping around his back and shoulders - movements a bit wilder than they usually were - with the tips refined into razor sharp points; they seemed ready to cause some serious damage and she wished she could smooth her hands over them, if only to calm.

“I do know if I leave it alone for too long, that it’ll be harder for me to deal with when the time comes,” her eyes trail along each obsidian tendril, noting that they were shaking, blurring slightly at the edges. “I’m not ready for it right now, but I’m hoping that one day I will be. Even if it hurts, I know it’s something I have to do,” she marvels at the way they flow through the air, like water down a stream, and a soft hum emits from her throat.

“I think it’s something we all have to do at some point,” Ariadne tears her eyes away from the shadows in search of that golden hue to find that Azriel was already looking at her. She inhales. “No matter if we hate it,” she exhales. “No matter if it isn’t our favorite.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Azriel couldn’t remember the last time someone had stunned him into silence; as a matter of fact, he didn’t think it had ever happened before, which was a complete conundrum and left his mind in a scramble and it was the most unorthodox thing he had ever experienced.

How?

Why?

There was something about Ariadne that was different from her sisters, a secret locked away with a hidden key, and the Shadowsinger wanted to dive into every square inch of her mind until he knew everything that there was to know about her.

He already knew she was intuitive and witty, genuine, perceptive, curious - soft - and probably one of the most intelligent people he’d ever met, which he would be sure to keep from Rhys lest he fall into his usual flair for the dramatics.

But he wanted to know more.

Because as soon as Azriel thought he had a good grip on who he thought she was, the little thing slipped through his fingers and changed direction.

And now he couldn’t form words into a sentence that would make sense of what he wished to say to her, coming up short several times and beginning to get frustrated with the whole ordeal. He wanted to keep the line of communication open and have her presence so near to his, and it seemed that his desire for that was what was making his mind draw blanks.

If this were to happen with Rhys or Cass, he would’ve left the room by now.

Azriel quickly discovered that was the last thing he wanted to do where Ariadne was concerned.

So he stayed.

His shadows had settled and he marveled at the warmth of her honey-eyed gaze and the featherlight caress of her whisper, which seemed to be soothing them and causing their own anger to ebb away like the tide; it took him by surprise - he sensed a theme here - and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

They were an extension of Azriel, every part of them intertwined with him, and no one had ever had such an influence before.

How is it possible? What does it mean? He didn’t have the answers and it made him want to question everything until he finally got them.

“That’s easier said than done,” is what he responds with, tone a bit gruffer than usual.

Ariadne’s expression shifts to a mixture of perplexity and mirth, the corners of her mouth twitching and she purses her lips. “I never said it would be easy, Shadowsinger. You have to put in the effort if you want the results.”

A single brow raises. “You seem to have all the answers.”

“Not hardly, but I can read people fairly well and I can tell that you’ve never considered it before.”

She was right. He hadn’t.

Azriel readjusts his position and leans forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as the gold swirls around his irises. “You really aren’t afraid.”

Her brow mimics the action of his, the amusement still tugging at her lips, though she manages to keep it at bay. “Do I have a reason to be?”

He tracks the movement and finds himself wishing that she would show her smile, wanting to see how it changed her expression; if it would make her eyes light up as joy filtered through or if it would disappear quicker than a blink and have him eager for the day that he could stop, stare, and admire the beauty of it.

“No,” his wings unfurl to stretch and he stands, having made a decision to keep her in his orbit for just a while longer. “You might change your mind eventually, but we can revisit after.”

Confusion flashes across her face. “After what?”

“We’re going to have dinner. You have to eat, don’t you?”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

This is bizarre, isn’t it? Ariadne stares at the notebook in her lap, quill poised between her fingers. All of this.

She had, in fact, had dinner with Azriel and she was still reeling a bit; the house had provided soup and sandwiches, along with her usual tea, and even a plate of lemon bars that she actually decided to try, which was a good idea because they were delicious. It was sour and sweet and citrusy, and it made her tongue tingle.

Azriel kept the conversation focused on her and it was strange. She didn’t know if there was a line for how much she was allowed to reveal considering she’d never had to worry about it before, so she tried to pull the detail back in her answers as much as she could, not wanting to overwhelm him or ramble or do anything to offend.

And that was the part that left her utterly confused; he seemed to be disappointed in what she said and it didn’t make sense because why?

Wasn’t polite conversation supposed to be light? Simple?

That’s what she had gathered from Elain over the years and it seemed to work just fine, so what was the problem?

It seems like a balancing act, Ariadne doodles a crescent moon into the top right corner and allows herself to work through it. You don’t want to tell too much because that would be an overload of information and no one wants that, she adds a couple stars. But you also don’t want to give too little because that would be boring and no one wants that either.

She writes her name in the center before boldening the ‘A.’

You need to give just enough so it stays flowing and keeps the interest there. See, a balancing act! Makes sense. It’s okay, you didn’t know. You’re learning, aren’t you? Don’t expect to be perfect the first time around. That isn’t realistic and you know it.

A drop of ink falls from the tip of the quill and soaks into the page, ruining the ‘A’ and she releases a huff as she shuts the notebook and sets it on the bedside table.

Today was a lot. That’s all. You need to try and sleep or at the very least, rest your eyes. Start again tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll feel better about everything then. Maybe. A little bit.

Ariadne leans against the headboard and stretches her legs out in front of her, wiggling her toes that were dressed in fuzzy socks and wishing more than anything that she knew the things she was missing. It was a hindrance and above all else, it was annoying.

Stop it. More has happened in the last three days than you’re used to and it’s impossible for you to go through it for the fifth time when you’re this tired.

She finally closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, willing her thoughts to stop running wild so she’d be able to steal a couple hours before the nightmares came.

The questions, the shadow, the knowledge of Daemati and what she could now do, Nesta and Elain, Feyre, and everything else could wait.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm .

[hyuneskkami]

03 ✦ I think i’m addicted to the title ‘you and me’ ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : my favourite chapter by far 🤭 kind of a fluffy chapter! def the longest in the series till rn too (I hate writing long chapters, please save me 🙏); anyway. the time has finally come fr! here’s your the ultimate climax chapter <333

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : mention of kissing , hand holding , talking about being a bottom/top , hands around neck , light neck biting (twice) , y/n trying to internally best-friend-zone hyunjin but it doesn’t work , oblivious idiots in love ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.05k

DAY #03 . . .

days merged into one another because all I did was go to school and prep school, nothing more and nothing less.

I internally even sobbed, realising that I hadn’t read any of my books for the past six months.

we got our test scores back an hour ago, leaving the results of a bet looming over my head. a bet I made with hyunjin. a bet, whose loser had to kiss someone.

I bet that hyunjin would score higher than I would, and he bet the opposite. loser has to kiss anyone the winner picks.

except, we weren’t serious about the consequences because he had gotten out of a pretty serious relationship just a couple of months ago, and I was… well, I hadn’t had my first kiss yet.

instead of reminding each other of the bet, hyunjin and I were holding hands under the table—which we did quite often because he said my hands were cold and he was ‘warming them up’—when, one of the days preceding halloween, the topic of being a ‘bottom’ or a ‘top’ came up in the class.

“I think you’d be a… bottom,” hyunjin whispered to me.

“duh,” I rolled my eyes.

“why? you like when the other person does all the work for you, don’tcha?”

“well, yeah,” I said, shrugging.

the conversation quickly moved on to what our type was.

“she needs to be as mentally unwell as I am,” hyunjin said. “and have the same sense of humour, too. a little shorter than me, and smart. like, book-smart as hell. oh, hopefully someone who goes to the same prep school so we could see each other a lot, you know?”

I nodded, thinking of any of the girls in our class who fit the criteria, but failed. I even tried to go out of the way and mentally scrolled through a list of girls from other prep school classes, and still turnd up with nothing.

“y/n, what about you?” he nudged my arm.

“mmm, obviously mentally unhinged, because if not, it’d be boring if they didn’t match my freak, right? also, they better be ready to hear out all the freaky fantasies i’ve collected after being a book girl for so many years. the list is unbelievably long,” I said, half-laughing. “I don’t really mind if they’re younger or older than I am, but I would never date anyone shorter than me.”

he laughed and nodded his head at me, his eyes crinkling. I was honoured to be one of the few people who saw this version of his smile—the kind that reaches his eyes.

classes ended earlier than usual—at 7:50, instead of 8:00 p.m., which is still relaxing—so we spent more time in the park near my house together, before hyunjin could leave.

“come on, i’ll walk you home. it’s getting a bit late,” he said, jumping up from his swing, and extending his hand.

I took it without a second thought, and we talked about everything that happened in our classes at school as we kept walking.

“oh my god,” I groaned, looking at the ‘out of service! sorry for the inconvenience!’ sign taped to the elevator. ugh.

“let’s go,” he said, happy to convert me to his staircase-is-better-than-elevators agenda, pulling me up the stairs immediately.

trailing behind him, I asked, suddenly curious, “what led you to conclude the fact that i’d be a bottom?”

when we reached the third floor, he waited a beat before pulling me towards the wall. he pushed me against it gently, and slowly wrapped his fingers around my throat, towering over me and staring down into my eyes. I looked away to the side in embarrassment, as my cheeks flushed.

a second later, he let go. “the fact that you liked that, i’m pretty sure, is proof enough, don’tcha think?”

I mumbled a ‘whatever’, and we kept walking up the stairs. from the corner of my eyes, I could see his mouth still moving, continuing conversation, but my mind kept straying to his lips. and his nose. and his eyes. oh my god, he was beautiful.

“remember our deal about letting me bite you?” he asked suddenly. I nodded. I always bit his finger to annoy him (as I did to my other friends, as well) and he bit back a remark of ‘you’re just begging for me to bite you too, huh?’ to which I cockily remember replying, ‘try it’.

I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and pushed my hand towards him, assuming he’d bite my hand like I did to him, and get it over with.

instead, he pulled me by my outstretched hand towards the wall again. his hands rested around my neck and tilted my face to my side. he gently nipped at my neck, and I laughed softly.

“tickles,” I mumbled.

best friends, I reminded myself.

he let go, and we walked up another floor to reach mine.

before I could wave to him, he asked, “want another on the other side?”

I quietly took small steps towards him, and his warm fingers found their home on my cheek, tilting my face away slowly. he bit down on my other side for a lot longer than the first time.

I held in a whimper, this time.

best friends.

I was pressed in between the wall and his body. I plopped my head down onto his chest, trying to calm down my racing heart.

best friends, right?

we were both smiling a little and his hand rested against my heart.

“got that heart beating so fast, all for me?” he smirked. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

best friends, I had to keep reminding myself.

I mumbled a ‘good night, hyune,’ to him and walked out of the stairwell. he let me go, knowing my parents would get mad at me if I got home even a minute later than I was supposed to.

he smiled, wishing me a good night and walking down the stairs again.

the cheeky little bastard.

I continued cursing him out in my mind, as I unlaced my shoes and stepped into my house. still scolding him internally for nothing, I tried to calm down my racing heart and shaking legs.

best friends aren’t supposed to have this kind of effect on each other… right?

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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[izzy120]

Cute but dangerous

Part 2

First chapter, the meeting

Pairing: Melissa scemmenti x fem y/n

Summary: you just came from your old school to Abbott Elementary to be Melissa’s co-teacher. But she has been being a total bitch for not even half the day to y/n making her angry. So y/n may or may not have pepper sprayed Melissa in the eyes!

Warnings: cussing, more than usual mean Melissa, I think that’s it, tell me if I missed something!

Italian sayings in English

I’m going to kill that kid: “Sto per uccidere quel bambino”

Idiot: Idiota

Kid: Bimbo

Fucking piece of shit: Cazzo di pezzo di merda

Y/n isn’t quite sure how she ended up here. One moment, she was talking to the principal of her old school, and the next, she’s somehow in the halls of Abbott Elementary. Apparently, one of the teachers needed a teaching assistant—or as some like to call it, a “co-teacher.” But let’s be real, that title felt like a stretch. With a resigned sigh, Y/n adjusted the strap of her small bag, which held all the “essentials”: chapstick, makeup wipes, extra shirts (for inevitable kid-related messes), pepper spray, and a pocket knife. You know, the basics.

Pushing through the school doors, she approached the front desk with a polite smile and a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. “Hi, my name’s Y/n, N/y/n. I’m here to see Principal uh, Ava…I think that’s her name?” Y/n giggled awkwardly, already feeling out of place. Forgetting the principal’s name on day one? Great fucking start. She glanced at the two women behind the desk, who were now staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head.

The silence made Y/n shift uncomfortably, her nerves creeping higher. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, glancing between them. One of the women, dressed head to toe in maroon—a cardigan over a floral blouse, matching slacks, and perfectly styled hair—looked like she could be Y/n’s mom. Well, if her mom exuded the perfect balance of warmth and authority. The second woman, though… oh boy. Strict, sharp, and undeniably intimidating. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Dear,” the maroon-clad woman said with a motherly smile, snapping Y/n out of her spiral. “I’m guessing you’re the new co-teacher?”

Y/n blinked a few times before nodding quickly. “Yes, ma’am! That’s me!” She accepted the woman’s outstretched hand, shaking it politely.

“I’m Barbara Howard,” the woman introduced herself warmly. “I’m the kindergarten teacher here. And this,” she said, motioning to her work wife, “is Meli—”

“Ms. Schemmenti,” the second woman cut in, crossing her arms and giving Y/n a once-over with a sharp glare.

Barbara sighed and placed a calming hand on her work wife’s shoulder. “Her name is Melissa, dear.”

Y/n nodded, trying not to let the intensity of Melissa’s stare rattle her. “Oh! Wait—are you the person I’m co-teaching with? I got an email about who I’d be assisting, and I think it mentioned you…”

Melissa scoffed and looked away. “Yeah, that’s me. Ava stuck me with two classes this year, so she figured I’d need a little help managing the little eagles.”

Y/n’s face lit up at the nickname. “That’s adorable! Do you give each second-grade class a nickname every year?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “No, Idiota….Now, come on, let’s get moving, Maddie.”

“That’s not my name… it’s Y/n!” Y/n called after her, rushing to keep up.

Melissa groaned, clearly unimpressed. “If you last more than a month, maybe I’ll remember your name. Until then, Rick.”

Y/n gasped, trailing after her. “That’s not even close! That’s a guy’s name!”

Inside Melissa’s classroom, Y/n was hunched over, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath. “Wow…hah…you’re a…hah…really fast walker!” she wheezed, still recovering. Melissa shot her a half-smirk, half-frown, clearly trying not to laugh. “Maybe don’t be so slow Bimbo,” Melissa replied dryly before heading to her desk to grab some papers.

Y/n’s exhaustion vanished in an instant as she squealed and rushed over to Melissa. “Is this your desk? Do I get a desk? At my old school, I had the cutest little desk, and I absolutely loved it!” she gushed, smiling proudly. Melissa raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, you’ve got a desk.” She walked to the back of the classroom, nudged one of the kids’ desks with her foot, and smirked. “Right here. Happy?”

Y/n wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “Well, I was kind of expecting more of a—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, kid,” Melissa interrupted, walking up to Y/n and pressing a firm finger to her chest. “I’m not your friend. You’ve gotta earn the right to be friendly with me. I won’t remember your name, you’ll call me Ms. Schemmenti, and you’ll sit at that desk with no complaints. This is my classroom, which means my rules. Got it? Capeesh?”

Y/n blinked in shock, a little hurt by the sudden harshness. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, unsure of how to respond.

Melissa gave her a quick once-over and added, “Also, you might wanna change before the kids get here. You look like a pink unicorn shit on you.” She turned back to her desk as if the conversation was over.

Y/n glanced at the small desk Melissa had pointed out and dropped her bag onto it with a huff. “I don’t have anything else to wear that isn’t… my style.” She glanced down at her outfit: a light pink, fluffy dress with ruffles on the shoulders and hem, paired with knee-high white socks, pink ballet flats, and a white bag with a gold heart. Sure, it was a lot of pink, but who cared?

Clenching her fists, Y/n huffed. “You know what? I’m not changing.”

Melissa turned back with an arched brow. “What did you just say

Y/n crossed her arms and glared. “I’m not changing! The girls are gonna love this outfit anyway! And you clearly don’t understand fashion styles if you’re judging me for it.”

To drive her point home, Y/n flipped Melissa off. “Fuck you!” she shouted before storming out of the room in a dramatic exit.

Melissa stood there, stunned. But seconds later, Y/n came rushing back in, grabbed her bag with a sheepish look, and bolted out again, leaving Melissa shaking her head in disbelief.

When the second graders finally arrived, Y/n begrudgingly returned to the classroom to help, though she stayed at the back with her arms crossed, clearly sulking. Her glare was locked on Melissa throughout the lesson, earning her the occasional glance from the older woman.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, Y/n eagerly led the kids to the cafeteria and made her way to the teacher’s lounge. She realized too late that she’d forgotten to put her salad in the fridge that morning, thanks to the fight with Melissa. As she opened the door, she spotted Barbara and Melissa already there.

Y/n immediately perked up at the sight of Barbara, grateful for her warmth and kindness—so unlike Melissa, who seemed determined to make her life miserable. Sliding into the seat next to Barbara, Y/n beamed. “Good afternoon, Barbara!”

Barbara smiled warmly. “Good afternoon, Y/n, dear. Have you met the rest of the staff yet?”

Y/n shook her head. “Not really,” she admitted with a small smile.

Barbara chuckled and began pointing out the other teachers. “That’s Janine,” she said, gesturing to a petite woman with a questionable sense of fashion—not that Y/n could judge right now. “And over there are Gregory and Jacob. Oh, and that’s Mr. Johnson. He’s not a teacher; he’s our janitor.”

Barbara continued introducing the rest of the staff as Y/n nodded along, chuckling. “They all seem so nice. Thanks for telling me their names—I would’ve felt so awkward not knowing them.”

Y/n giggled, but her amusement was cut short when Melissa muttered something under her breath. Turning to glare at her, Y/n pouted. “What did you just say?”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her expression indifferent. “Hmm?”

Y/n scowled and stood up abruptly. “Ugh! You’ve been a total bitch to me since I got here!”

Janine gasped and immediately rushed over, her hands raised nervously. “L-let’s all calm down, please!” she stammered, clearly more anxious than Y/n had been that morning.

Melissa’s glare hardened. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said you’ve been acting like a TOTAL BITCH!” Y/n shot back, her voice rising.

Melissa stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. “That’s it!” she snapped, looking like she was about to lunge at Y/n before Barbara quickly intervened, grabbing Melissa by the arm.

“Melissa, do not!” Barbara scolded, forcing her back into her seat. She turned to address Y/n, only to find the younger woman had already stormed out of the lounge.

Barbara sighed heavily and looked back at Melissa, her expression stern. “What have you been doing to that poor girl?”

Melissa scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Okay, maybe I’ve been a little bitchy, but why should I be nice? She’s not gonna last a week here anyway!”

Barbara sat down beside her, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. “And she’ll leave even faster if you keep acting like this.”

“Good riddance,” Melissa muttered under her breath, earning a sharp slap on the shoulder from Barbara.

“Apologize to her. Right now.”

Melissa’s arms remained crossed, her glare unwavering. “I’m not fucking doing tha—”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” Barbara snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Melissa flinched and immediately stood up. “Fine! You didn’t have to use my whole name… sto per uccidere quel bambino,” she grumbled as she stomped out of the room.

Melissa searched the school for Y/n, eventually finding her sitting in the classroom. Rolling her eyes, Melissa walked over quietly, not wanting to make a scene. Without thinking, she placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n jumped with a startled scream and instinctively sprayed pepper spray directly into Melissa’s face.

Melissa let out a pained yell, clutching at her eyes. “I know I pissed you off, but what the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that?!”

Y/n froze, horrified by her own reaction. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Melissa, still blinded and livid, groaned through gritted teeth. “Cazzo di pezzo di merda!”

It’s not that good, her personality isn’t exact and this is definitely not the best I’ve ever done. But I hope that you guys liked it!