#364 days of feeling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pandapetals · 2 months ago

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Last Christmas

Last Christmas, Logan wanted to confess how he felt about you but after a misunderstanding he decides against it. Logan kept his distance all year until you confront him this Christmas about it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - angst, fluff, misunderstandings, inspired by the song last christmas by wham!, logan brooding and self-loathing, i imagined X2 logan, confessions, no y/n used, no reader description, not proofread-i got lazy

divider credit: @issyh3ll

Logan had never cared for Christmas. The twinkling lights, the forced smiles, the cheesy carols that spilled out of storefronts—it all felt hollow, a sugar-coated excuse for people to act like the world wasn’t a mess the other 364 days of the year. He used to spend the holidays as far from the festivities as possible, holed up in a dive bar or lost in the woods where no one would try to drag him into their forced cheer.

But this year was different. This year, he had you.

It had crept up on him slowly over the past twelve months—how you’d wormed your way into his guarded heart with your laugh, your quiet kindness, and the way you never treated him like some gruff, damaged thing that needed fixing. Though Logan didn’t have the words to say what you meant to him, the idea of giving you a gift, something that spoke for him, had latched onto his brain and wouldn’t let go.

So he’d spent the better part of the year waiting for any hint of what you liked. He’d browsed through shops he would’ve never set foot in otherwise, scowling at gaudy jewelry and glossy trinkets that all felt... wrong. Too shallow. Too shiny. Too unlike you.

Then one night, it hit him—the answer had been around his neck all along. His dog tags.

To anyone else, they were just scraps of metal, scratched and worn from decades of hard living. But to him, they were the closest thing to permanence he’d ever had. They’d seen wars, far-flung corners of the earth, and darker days than he cared to count. They were a reminder of who he was. And giving them to you… it felt like handing over a piece of himself, the one part of him he thought might mean something.

So he’d wrapped them—if stuffing them into a small velvet box he’d gotten from the mall could count as wrapping—and now he was on his way to find you. His boots crunched against the thin layer of frost coating the school’s courtyard, his breath puffing out in small clouds in the biting December air. He felt… nervous. A rare, foreign sensation crawled beneath his skin and made his fingers itch to light a cigar, though he couldn’t exactly do that while carrying your gift.

When he reached the door to the greenhouse, he paused. You were inside, standing by a table of blooming poinsettias, talking with Ororo. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should interrupt, but the sound of your voice drew him closer. It always did.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, your voice carrying a nervous laugh. Logan felt his chest tighten.

“You could just tell him,” Ororo replied gently, her words muffled slightly by the plants and the glass.

Logan frowned, leaning a fraction closer.

You sighed. “I don’t want to make it awkward. What if I’ve read it all wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

The air seemed to grow colder. Feel the same way? His heart dropped like a stone, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the uncertainty in your voice. Maybe it was the way Ororo hummed like she was weighing her response, which meant she knew exactly who you were talking about.

“He might surprise you,” Ororo said after a moment.

You gave a short laugh. “I doubt that. I mean, Logan? Come on. He’s nice to me, but it’s not like that. He’s probably just… protective or something. You know how he is.”

Logan felt like the frost had seeped straight into his chest. He’d been frozen to the spot before, but now his body felt like stone. Solid and immovable.

Protective.

You didn’t see him that way. Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? He was rough around the edges and scarred inside and out. A decent friend at best. And while he thought he’d been so damn clever choosing the perfect time and way to tell you how he felt, you’d never even considered it.

His hand closed around the small velvet box in his pocket, his knuckles tightening until the corners of the box dug into his palm. What a stupid idea this had been. A soft scoff escaped him—quiet enough that you wouldn’t hear it, but loud enough to carry all the bitterness crawling up his throat.

Logan turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of your laughter ringing out behind him, the gift burning a hole in his pocket.

Later that evening, Logan lingered near the base of the staircase, his shoulders hunched as he leaned against the railing. The faint smell of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mixing with the warm crackle of the fire in the common room. The mansion was alive with holiday cheer—laughter, the rustle of wrapping paper, and the occasional clink of mugs filled with cocoa or spiked eggnog.

Logan hated it.

Well, he was bitter and it sure didn’t help his mood. He’d spent the better part of the night trying to keep his distance from you, but somehow, you always found him. Like a moth to flame—or maybe it was the other way around, because even now, he couldn’t help watching you from across the room, your laugh lighting up the corners of the mansion like the damn Christmas tree twinkling in the main hall.

He let out a soft, bitter snort under his breath and shook his head. You were doing it again—making his heartache when he should’ve been smart enough to steer clear.

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Are you just going to stand by the stairs the whole time?” you asked, amusement curling the edges of your words. You approached him with a bounce in your step, your hands tucked behind your back.

Logan straightened, crossing his arms over his chest like he was trying to make himself smaller. “What else am I supposed to do?”

You tilted your head, giving him a look that was equal parts teasing and concerned. “You could try… mingling? It’s Christmas, Logan. Have a drink, crack a joke, maybe smile once or twice. You know, festive stuff.”

“Festive stuff.” He huffed out a laugh and looked away, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Ain’t really my thing.”

Your lips pursed, but the soft smile beneath it remained. “Yeah, I figured. Still, you’ve been sulking all night. What’s up with you?”

Logan stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nothing,” he muttered, a little too quickly. “Just not in the mood for all this holly-jolly crap.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press him either. Instead, you gave a small shrug and leaned against the railing beside him, so close your shoulder brushed his arm. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company then. If you’re gonna be a grump, you might as well have someone to grump with.”

Logan side-eyed you, his lips twitching again despite the weight on his chest. “You’re too cheerful for that.”

“Cheerful’s good for you,” you quipped, nudging his arm gently. “Balances you out.”

Logan didn’t reply, but the smallest of smirks ghosted across his face, and you caught it before he could hide it.

The two of you stood there in companionable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your presence was… calming, even if it made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t shake. You didn’t push him for answers or force him to join the party. You just stayed. And for a guy like Logan, that meant more than words ever could.

When you finally moved to stand in front of him, his brow furrowed. “What’re you—”

You pointed upward, and Logan followed your gaze. His stomach sank when he saw it: a sprig of mistletoe dangling above you, tied with a shiny red ribbon.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” he muttered, scowling. “We don’t have to do this. It’s a stupid tradition.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his gruffness. “Who says I mind?”

Logan blinked, the words catching him off guard. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign you were joking. But you weren’t. There was no teasing smile, no hint of mockery. Just you, standing there with an expression so open, so patient, it made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“…You’re serious?” he asked gruffly.

You gave him a small, encouraging smile. “It’s just a kiss, Logan. I’m not gonna bite.”

His pulse hammered in his ears as he hesitated, his instincts warring with the sharp, quiet longing gnawing at him all night. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

But you didn’t pull away.

Logan leaned in slowly, his heart pounding harder with each inch that closed between you. But when he got close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin, he shifted at the last second, pressing a kiss to your cheek instead. His lips lingered for a fraction of a second longer than they should have, and when he pulled back, his voice was low and rough.

“There. That’s good enough.”

You blinked in surprise, your hand coming up to touch the spot where his lips had brushed. Then you smiled—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made his knees feel unsteady.

“Logan,” you huffed, your voice soft but insistent. “That’s not—”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Logan cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. The words came out like a low growl, and the flash of hurt that crossed your face immediately made him regret it. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to look away, his hand instinctively dipping into his pocket to touch the small velvet box tucked there as if the feel of it would ground him. It didn’t.

You took a small step back, your frown deepening. “Okay,” you said quietly, your voice carefully neutral, but he could hear the edge of confusion in it, maybe even disappointment. It made his chest tighten all the more.

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan muttered, his throat tight. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, staring instead at the polished floorboards or the faint gleam of tinsel strung along the staircase. “It’s just… it’s a stupid tradition.” He gestured vaguely upward without looking, as though that explained everything.

Your eyes searched his face, trying to read him. “You didn’t seem to think it was stupid a second ago.”

Logan winced. Of course, you’d noticed. You could see straight through him. You always could. But the ache in his chest only burned hotter, louder, because no matter what he wanted, no matter how much he wanted to lean in and—

No.

You didn’t feel the same. Not the way he did.

“I don’t want to make this… weird,” he mumbled, the words feeling awkward and heavy in his mouth. He shifted his weight, his fingers still curled around the edges of the box in his pocket, his knuckles brushing the smooth velvet. “So let’s just forget it, alright?”

You studied him for a moment longer, your expression unreadable, before taking another small step back. That distance between you felt like a canyon, and Logan hated how cold the air seemed without you standing so close.

“…Alright,” you said finally, but your voice was quieter now, your smile dimmed at the edges. “If that’s what you want.”

Logan’s heart sank. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Not even close. But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t let himself say anything. Because what if you were standing here out of politeness, or because you thought it was a harmless, friendly gesture? What if you laughed or walked away if he told you the truth?

Still, the way you looked at him now made something twist painfully in his gut. You seemed… unsure. Cautious, even, as though you were starting to doubt yourself, and that was the last thing Logan wanted. But he was so tangled up in his own mess of feelings, that he didn’t know how to untangle it for you, let alone himself.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he began, but you were already turning, folding your arms across your chest like you needed to shield yourself.

“It’s fine, Logan,” you interrupted, a bit too quickly. “I get it. Really. I shouldn’t have…” You trailed off, giving a small, uncertain laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Hearing those words from you felt like a punch to the gut. Logan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his throat locked up, and he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, watching as you took another step back.

You hesitated as if you wanted to say something more. Your lips parted, but then you shook your head, offering him a soft, strained smile before murmuring, “Merry Christmas, Logan,” and slipping away.

The sound of your retreating footsteps echoed in his ears, growing fainter with each step, and Logan was left standing there, the faint smell of your shampoo lingering in the air and the velvet box burning like a brand in his pocket.

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders sagging as he leaned back against the railing. The sting of your words—I shouldn’t have assumed—dug deep, and for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t sure who he was more upset with: you for misunderstanding, or himself for not setting it straight.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, the words bitter and hollow as they fell into the space you’d left behind.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Another year had slipped by, and Christmas loomed on the horizon like a storm cloud you didn’t want to face. The mansion had come alive with garlands of tinsel, glittering lights, and the faint smell of spiced cider wafting from the kitchen. Normally, you loved this season. But this year, you wished you could ignore it altogether.

Last Christmas had been…a mess. Awkward silences, unresolved emotions, and Logan—who’d pulled away until he felt like a stranger. You’d spent the better part of the year trying to make sense of what had gone wrong, but all you’d gotten from him was cold distance and the occasional gruff nod when you crossed paths.

Now, here you were again. Another Christmas. Another opportunity to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was fine. But the truth was, you weren’t sure you had it in you this time. This year hadn’t been kind to you—not by a long shot. A rough breakup, the stress of life at the mansion, and the lingering ache of last Christmas had left you feeling worn thin.

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the fogged-up window of your room. Outside, the mansion grounds were covered in a blanket of snow, the soft glow of holiday lights spilling across the frost like molten gold. It was beautiful. And yet, all you felt was tired.

Maybe you’d just skip it this year. Stay upstairs, hide out with a book or a blanket, and wait for the festivities to pass.

A sharp knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could answer, Ororo’s voice drifted through the wood.

“Don’t even think about skipping this party,” she said, her tone lightly scolding but gentle enough to make you crack a small smile.

You opened the door to find her standing there, arms crossed, one brow raised in challenge.

“’Ro,” you began, sighing. “I don’t think—”

“Nope.” She cut you off with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you’ve had a rough year, and I know you’re not in the mood, but you can’t hide away forever. Come downstairs. Just for a little while. If it’s awful, I promise I’ll sneak you back up here myself.”

Her smile was warm, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes that told you she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You hesitated. “I don’t know, ‘Ro. I just—”

“You need this,” she said softly, placing a hand on your arm. “We all do. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be better than you think.”

Her words lingered, nudging at something deep inside you. Finally, you relented with a small sigh. “Fine. But if it sucks, you owe me cookies.”

Ororo’s laugh was light and airy as she looped her arm through yours. “Deal. Now, let’s go.”

The mansion’s common room was buzzing with life by the time you made your way downstairs. The tree stood tall in the corner, its ornaments glittering like tiny stars, while students and staff mingled, exchanging gifts and laughter. The air was warm and smelled of cocoa, cinnamon, and the faintest hint of evergreen.

It should’ve felt magical. It used to feel magical. But as you scanned the room, your gaze inevitably landed on Logan.

He was off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his usual scowl etched deep into his face. He looked almost comically out of place amidst the holiday cheer, like a grumpy bear surrounded by elves. And yet, even after everything, you felt that familiar tug in your chest.

Before you could think better of it, you found yourself heading toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, you reappeared, a mug of steaming hot cocoa in hand. You crossed the room, weaving through the clusters of people until you reached Logan’s corner. He didn’t notice you at first—too busy staring into the middle distance like he was willing the party to end through sheer force of will.

“Hey,” you said softly, holding out the mug.

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” you said with a small smile. “I hear it’s good for sulking.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he hesitated, his sharp eyes scanning your face like he was trying to figure out your angle. “I don’t need cheerin’ up,” he muttered gruffly, though he reached for the mug anyway.

“Good thing that’s not what I’m doing,” you replied, leaning lightly against the wall beside him. “I’m just here to keep you company. Can’t have you scaring off the kids with that face of yours.”

Logan snorted softly. He took a sip of the cocoa as the two of you stood there in silence, watching the party unfold.

“You’ve been avoiding this, haven’t you?” you asked after a while, keeping your tone light.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared into the mug like it held all the answers he didn’t have. “Don’t see the point,” he finally said, his voice low.

You glanced at him, frowning. “The point of what?”

“All this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the room with the mug. “Christmas. The lights. The... cheer.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something heavier than the usual grumpiness he wore like armor.

“Well,” you said, nudging his arm gently with your elbow, ��maybe the point is that it’s not about all that stuff. Maybe it’s just about… being here. With people who care about you.”

Logan shrugged, his usual scowl still in place, but his eyes flickered. Something unspoken moved across his face—an emotion you couldn’t quite place—but just as quickly, it was gone.

“I guess,” he muttered, the words gruff and reluctant.

You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall beside him. “C’mon, Logan. What’s got you in such a grumpy mood? You’ve been like this all year.”

You weren’t sure why you were pressing him—maybe it was because you missed being around him, or the strange pull in your chest whenever you looked at him. Whatever it was, it made you keep going, even when he shot you a look that practically screamed drop it.

“Thanks for the cocoa,” he said abruptly, his tone dismissive as he pushed away from the wall and headed toward the kitchen.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden retreat. “Logan—” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

For a moment, you debated letting him go. He was stubborn, after all, and prying anything out of him was like trying to chisel through solid rock. But something about the way his shoulders hunched, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back, made you follow him.

You caught up with him in the kitchen, where he stood by the counter with his back to you. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast shadows across the angles of his face, and you could see the tension in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding him steady.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’d think you were trying to avoid me.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything, his expression guarded as always.

You sighed, stepping further into the room. “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk about it. I get that. But at least tell me what’s wrong so I can stop guessing.”

“There’s nothing to guess,” he said gruffly, turning back to the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quipped, crossing your arms. When he didn’t respond, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s see…did Scott say something to piss you off again?”

“No.”

“Jean?”

“No.”

“Did someone steal your cigar stash?”

That one almost got a smirk out of him, but he bit it back, shaking his head. “Just drop it.”

You ignored him, leaning against the counter beside him. “Is it me?” you asked, softer this time.

His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve hit the mark. But then he shook his head again, more firmly this time. “No.”

The sharpness of his tone made you pull back, but only for a second. You chewed on your lip, glancing down at your hands. “Well, whatever it is, you’re not the only one having a shitty year,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Logan frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. “Just… this year hasn’t exactly been kind to me either, y’know? Between everything with the team, my family drama, and breaking up with Matt… it’s been a lot.”

Logan froze, his grip on the counter tightening. He turned to face you fully, his brow furrowing. “You and that guy—Matt—you broke up?”

You looked up, surprised by the sharpness in his voice. “Uh, yeah. A while ago, actually. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher.

Something in his expression shifted, and for the first time all night, he looked… uneasy. His usual mask of indifference slipped just enough for you to see the flicker of something else beneath it—something raw and vulnerable.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Why do you care?” you asked lightly, trying to make it sound casual, but your heart thudded in your chest as the question hung in the air between you.

Logan opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he closed it again, his jaw tightening. He turned back to the counter, gripping the edge like he needed to hold himself together. “I don’t,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice said otherwise.

Your brows knitted together, confusion prickling at the edges of your mind. He was acting strange—stranger than usual—and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Okay…” you said slowly, watching him carefully. “Well, for what it’s worth, breaking up with him sucked, but I’m trying, y’know? To move forward. To not let it ruin everything.”

Logan’s grip on the counter tightened again, the tension radiating off him in waves. He still wouldn’t look at you, and for some reason, that stung more than it should’ve.

“You should try it sometime,” you added softly, your tone half-joking but laced with sincerity.

He finally glanced at you then, his gaze sharp and searching. There was something in his eyes—something almost... vulnerable. But before you could figure out what it was, he looked away again, his walls slamming back into place.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered gruffly, pushing away from the counter.

Just like that, he was retreating again, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, the weight of his unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

You sighed, watching Logan retreat, his broad shoulders hunched as the weight of the world had settled there. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t just the holiday blues. It ran deeper than that, buried under layers of that tough, gruff exterior. Pressing him hadn’t gotten you anywhere, but letting it go? That wasn’t an option.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grabbed the empty cocoa mug from the counter, set them aside, and followed him out into the main hall.

“Logan,” you called, your footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor as you caught up to him by the staircase.

He paused, one boot planted on the bottom step, his hand gripping the banister. He didn’t turn around at first; he just stood there, shoulders stiff, his head tilted slightly like he was bracing for whatever you were about to say.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. “Are you really going to sulk your way through another Christmas?”

Logan exhaled a slow, measured breath and turned halfway to face you, his expression shadowed by the warm glow of the holiday lights strung along the banister. “Didn’t know you were keepin’ track of my Christmas habits,” he said dryly.

“Hard not to when you make it so obvious,” you countered, folding your arms. “C’mon, Logan. Just talk to me. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

That last question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice almost hesitant. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered if this distance between you—this quiet storm of tension—was somehow your fault.

Logan’s brows pulled together, and for a moment, something softened in his expression. “No. It’s not you,” he said, his voice low and rough, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that made your chest tighten.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, taking another step closer. “Because you’ve been acting… different. Ever since—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you should bring up last Christmas, the awkward tension that had hung over the two of you ever since, and the fact that you’d spent the better part of the year trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

Logan looked away, his jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Drop it.”

“Logan—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice sharper now as he glanced at you. “I’m tellin’ you, it doesn’t matter. Leave it alone.”

Your lips parted to argue, but the way his eyes burned into yours stopped you in your tracks.

The air between you felt heavy, you weren’t sure what to say. But before you could find the words, Logan’s gaze shifted. His eyes flicked upward, and his entire body went still like he’d been turned to stone.

Frowning, you followed his line of sight—and that’s when you saw it.

The mistletoe.

It was hanging in the exact spot as last Christmas, tied with the same bright red ribbon, swaying ever so slightly with the movement of the air. You stared at it for a second, the memory of last year crashing back into you: the awkward pause, Logan’s gruff dismissal, and the sting of his words—“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Your gaze flicked back to Logan, who was still frozen in place, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the mistletoe like it was mocking him.

“Looks like some traditions die hard,” you said, attempting a joke to lighten the tension, though your voice came out a bit shakier than you’d intended.

Logan’s eyes snapped to yours, and something shifted in his expression. Whatever walls he’d been holding up—whatever force had kept him restrained—cracked in an instant.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t catch it.

Before you could ask what he meant, Logan stepped forward, his hand lifting to cup your face. His movements were rough, almost desperate, as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss hit you like a wave, crashing over every thought and doubt you’d had over the past year. For a split second, you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. But then your hands instinctively grabbed onto the front of his flannel shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and almost vulnerable, and it made your knees feel like jelly. His other hand settled on your waist, rough and warm even through the fabric of your sweater, and he kissed you like he was pouring every unspoken word he’d been holding back into you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That wasn’t how I planned that.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still gripping the soft fabric of his flannel shirt, your breaths mingling. His lips were still flushed from the kiss, his gaze softer now in a way that made your heart ache.

“Planned what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but you couldn’t stop the slight tremor in it.

Logan hesitated, his hands lingering on your waist as though he didn’t want to let go. But then, with a deep breath, his fingers left your sides and fumbled into the pocket of his flannel. You frowned slightly, watching as his usually steady hands moved clumsily, almost nervously.

“Last Christmas,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, “I wanted to—I planned on giving you this.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, worn velvet box. It wasn’t flashy; the edges were slightly frayed, and it looked like it had been sitting in his pocket for months. But the sight of it was enough to make your breath catch.

His thumb brushed over the fabric of the box, his brow furrowed as if he was searching for the right words. “I, uh… I was gonna give this to you last year. And, uh…” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, his usual gruff demeanor faltering in the face of vulnerability.

Your gaze flicked between him and the box, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan,” you said softly, “what’s in there?”

Finally, he opened it.

Inside sat a pair of dog tags—his dog tags. They were old and worn, and you’d seen Logan wear every day since you’d known him. But seeing them here, nestled in the box like some kind of treasure, made your stomach flip.

You stared at them, your mind racing to catch up.

“I was gonna give these to you,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough at the edges. “Thought… I don’t know. Thought it’d be a good way to tell you how I feel. Thought maybe you’d… I don’t know, wanna be my girl.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. “Damn, that sounds stupid.”

Your eyes shot up to his, wide and stunned. “Wait—you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend? Last Christmas?”

He winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was the plan.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his thumb brushing absently over the edge of the box. “I heard you talkin’ to ‘Ro. Heard you say somethin’ about me just bein’ protective, that you didn’t feel that way about me.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was ashamed of admitting it. “Figured I’d read it wrong. Figured maybe I was just foolin’ myself, thinkin’ you’d see me like that.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Logan,” you said softly, stepping closer, your hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. He flinched slightly at the touch, but then leaned into it, his eyes closing briefly.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was scared. I thought you didn’t see me like that. I didn’t know what to do.”

His eyes opened, and the way he looked at you—like he was hearing those words for the first time—made your chest ache.

The air between you felt heavy like the weight of a year’s worth of misunderstandings was finally beginning to lift. Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was slower, softer, but no less desperate. Your hands slid up to his face, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear. When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his.

“I’m such an idiot,” Logan muttered, his voice laced with relief.

“You’re not an idiot,” you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. “But you do have terrible timing.”

He chuckled softly at that, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he held up the box again, his expression shifting into something almost shy. “So, uh… you still want these?”

You stared at him for a beat before laughing softly, your chest tightening warmly. “Of course I do.”

He let out a breath before his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. Carefully, he took the dog tags from the box and stepped behind you, the metal cool in his hands as he reached around to clasp them around your neck.

“There,” he said gruffly, his voice softer now. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You glanced down at the tags, your fingers brushing over the engraved metal as your heart swelled. You turned to face him, your eyes shining. “You know this means you’re stuck with me now, right?”

“Guess I can live with that,” he replied, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though his voice held an unmistakable warmth.

You laughed, reaching up to tug him down into another kiss, your lips brushing his as you murmured, “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

He grinned against your lips, his hands settling on your waist. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

697 notes · View notes

sterredem · 3 months ago

Text

Real love

Franco colapinto x reader

Face claim random girls from Pinterest

Summary Their relationship through Y/n’ instagram

Warning Bad Spanish cuz google translate, spelling mistakes, not proofread

A/N a bit of a short but sweet one (you get it? No…? Okayyy) but I like it. This is kind of a filler but I wanted to post smth I will now try and work on writing ones instead of smau so if you want pls send requests!! I will do a soulmate au but still need to figure out with who and I will finnaly finish the You fic! Iykyk

Also first Franco fic! So lmk what you think!!

Instagram

Liked by bsfuser and 214 others

Yourusername what a life

View all 45 comments

Bsfuser What a life indeed

Friend1 Cutie

Friend2 Jealous of u

Sisteruser I wasn’t invited??

Yourusername never

Brotheruser pls tell franco I miss him

Yourusername no

FrancoColpamtino miss you 2

Friend3 When will I se you againnnnn

Yourusername soon I promiseee

Francopriv espléndida

Yourusername ❤️🫶

Randomuser4 huh…!????!!

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Instgram

Liked by FrancoColapinto and 231 others

Yourusername POV: Franco stealing my phone

View all 50 comments

Bfsuser we look cute

Yourusername yeah we do

FrancoColapinto glad to be of service

Yourusername always happy with it

Friend5 that are a lot of books

Classmate So THAT is what you do in your free time…

Random6 Franco??? As in F1 driver…?? Wth is going on?!?!

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Instagram

Liked by Alexalbon and 1.725 others

Yourusername we went outside for once

View all 32 comments

Friend7 FINALLY!!

Bsfuser What a cutie

Francopriv I have a girlfriend

Bsfuser wasn’t talking about you

Alexalbon ?????????

Lillymhe ???!!! -Alex

Random8 FRANCO??

Francopriv It really is once in a lifetime time

Friend9 is this what real love looks like?

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Instagram

Liked by Lillymhe and 2.835 others

Yourusername Went to my 1st F1 race /w Franco!! What an amazing time!!

View all 42 comments

Lillymhe It was really great meeting you!

Yourusername So true! We should hang out soon! Liked by Lillymhe

FrancoColapinto You should come more often. Your like my lucky charms

Yourusername If it pleases you I will be there 🙇‍♀️

Bsfuser Awwwww

Random10 Sooo….. Francis gf??

User11 OMG!! I FOUND HER!!

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Twitter

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Instagram

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Instagram

Liked by Willimasracing and 8.925 others

Yourusername A day in the life of a WAG (wth??) a student at university with an art, English AND music major. Also…. Hi?👋 lots of new people here

View all 274 comments

Bsfuser does it feel strange that you can’t comment on every comment?

Yourusername it does

User12 Talented girl!!

Friend3 I’m in there!!

Bandmate4 Lots of jobs, busy girl

FrancoColapinto Another think for the resume!

Yourusername Thanks to you cutie

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

Liked by FrancoColapinto and 9.724 others

Yourusername life rn ig

View all 364 comments

User13 soooooo jealous of u ur Like gorgeous, smart, talented AND have an amazing bf?? What can’t you do/don’t have??

Yourusername You are also amazing!! Ily!

User13 Another thing to the list: SO FRIKING KIND!!!

Yourusername mwuah 💋

Bsfuser When do I get to go to one of the races????

Yourusername soon my love

Lillymhe miss youuu

Yourusername miss you moreeee

FrancoColapinto Ig??

Yourusername yeah….

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lev1hei1chou · 11 months ago

Text

Sick Day

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 364 Synopsis: Gojo is an absolute pain in the ass when he's sick Masterlist

You could hear the groans and sighs from the living room as you walked into the living room. Gojo Satoru, the normally energetic specimen, was currently draped across the couch, looking like a wounded puppy.

"I'm dying," he moaned dramatically as you entered the room, clutching a tissue box to his chest. "I never get sick. This is it. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, brought down by a common cold."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his dramatic self. "You're not dying, love. It's just a cold. Happens to the best of us."

He shot you a weak glare. "This is not just a cold, Y/N. This is the end of an era. The world will mourn the loss of its most powerful sorcerer."

Rolling your eyes, you approached him with a bowl of hot soup and raised the spoon to his mouth. "Here, eat this. It'll make you feel better."

Gojo stared at the soup suspiciously. "Is this cursed? Did you curse my soup? I knew it! You're trying to finish me off."

You sighed, trying to hide your smile. "It's just chicken noodle soup, baby. No curses, I promise."

He pouted but accepted the soup nonetheless. As he sipped on it, he made exaggerated "mmmm" sounds. "Okay, maybe this won't be so bad if you keep feeding me like this."

You shook your head. "You're such a drama queen when you're sick."

He grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Well, if I'm going to be a sick drama queen, I might as well enjoy the perks. How about a foot massage?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You're pushing it, sick man."

But despite his whining and theatrics, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Taking care of him became a task filled with both frustration and amusement. As the days passed, Gojo's cold started to subside, and with it, his dramatic tendencies.

One evening, as he finally started to feel better, he pulled you into a tight hug. "Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N. I promise, I'll be less of a pain next time I get sick."

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. "I'll believe it when I see it, darling."

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moonstruck-muses · 3 months ago

Note

birthday sex w sunghoon <3

- 🐰

HAPPY BELATED MY BELOVED BOOMF!! I feel so guilty this is so late but....well..enjoy xoxo

You had a peculiar relationship to your birthday. It’s not that you hated it, you just didn’t care for it. You didn’t people to be extra nice to you and treat you special one day of the year, if they weren’t going to bother the other 364 days. Sunghoon, however, was obsessed with you, and while yes he worshipped you every day, he took your birthday as the chance to truly go all out. And you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were a little flustered by it. Sunghoon had refused to divulge any details leading up to the day, no matter how much you whined for any sort of clue.

When the day finally came, your alarm was a serious of slow kisses across your face—your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, gentle pecks at your list. You swat away the force invading your dreams grumbling as you turn over.

“Shhhh I’m making out with the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my dreams,” you mumble.

“Ouch, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself,” Sunghoon teases against your ear.

“Fuck me instead” you yawn out as you stretch and wrap Sunghoon in your arms.

“Hey now, you can’t be spoiling all your birthday surprises so easily,” he says with a chuckle.

You force your eyes open against the soft morning light and grin into the face of your boyfriend.

“Happy Birthday, Baby.” He greets you.

“Blehhhh,” you stick your tongue out and shake your head while you stretch. “Don’t remind me that I’m a year older.”

“And somehow, you’re still looking younger.”

You snort, although you find Sunghoon’s cheesiness endearing. You’d give him the sun, and he’d give you the moon if you both could.

***

Sunghoon let you laze in bed, but not too long. Just long enough to eat the extravagant brunch he made. There was itinerary he had planned—none of which you were privy to. But after you got ready, he took you by the hand, first leading you to your favorite cafe for a drink before taking you the ice skating rink. Both of you were former skaters, but this time the rink felt like your personal playground, both of you colliding into each other in giggling fits. The hours seemed to slip by without you noticed. Your phone consistently was lighting up with streams of messages from your friends, but you barely had time to respond, Sunghoon kept you busy. After the rink, was of course shopping, and then it was late enough in the day, you could call it for an early dinner.

“I’m hungry, Hoon, “ you pouted.

“Okay, okay, we’ll have dinner soon. Our reservation is at 6.” You checked the time on your phone—5:30. You recognized the road he was leading you towards—it was your favorite restaurant. It wasn’t frilly—in fact, it was very lowkey. But you had dozens and dozens of memories that you had made throughout the years, and the food there was nearly as comforting as your mom’s food from home. The two of you managed to get seated a little earlier in a booth near the back, it was early enough on a Saturday evening, you were just beating the dinner rush.

“You’re always so prepared,” you praised Sunghoon as the server both poured you a glass of water. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, batting your eyelashes. The dim lighting and soft music made the rest of the world fall away, so it was just the two of you, dancing in a snow globe.

“Only the best for you,” Sunghoon responded, and you felt his leg rub up against yours underneath the table. “Did you have a good day?” He asked in follow up.

“I spent it with you, of course I had a good day.”

“No, but be honest was it fun?” “I think it was the most fun I’ve had on my birthday in a really long time.” “Good,” Sunghoon said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand.

*** The rest of dinner was perfect, and you were happily buzzed by the time you made it back to your apartment. Sunghoon opened the door and you fell inside, your hand wrapped tightly around his arm.

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you declared happily.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He responded and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Do you want dessert, by the way?”

Your brows furrowed. “Not really—“ He cuts you off with another kiss.

“Well I want dessert,” he whispers against your mouth and his hands are sliding up underneath your dress, gripping into your thighs as he presses you against the wall, dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. You don’t fight the soft moan that comes out of you, and you run your hands up in his hair, happy to have the night go a little longer.

You and Sunghoon are a tangle of limbs and flying clothes as he guides the two of you to your bedroom, falling down on top of you onto the plush sheets. His mouth travels up and down you like a starved man, luxuriating upon every taste of you, and he hold you tight with every twitch and roll of your body against him.

“May I?” He asks, voice husky, eyes wild as his hands slide to your panties, and you frantically nod.

Sunghoon palms your center, and the friction against your core elicits a gasp.

“Don't tease me," You rasp.

“Ah ah Ah," Sunghoon chides. “You let me take care of everything.” He’s slow and steady, drawing out every moan and gasp. His tongue expertly glides against your wet folds, lapping up every drop of sweetness he pulls from you and fter your first orgasm, he decides it isn’t enough.

“Let me in, baby,” he whispers against you, eyes glazed with desire as his mouth still glistens from you. You look up from underneath him and even though your body is exhausted, you nod.

“I want you, Hoon, I want to feel you inside me so bad.” “I want you, Y/N,” he pleads, desperate to feel one with you. And you’re so wet, that when he wets his girthy tip against you, rubbing it up and down your soaked cunt, it slips right in.

Your eyes rolls back from the sensation, and Sunghoon curses under his breath, gripping the headboard to steady himself as he pushes into you inch by inch.

“You’re so warm and perfect for me,” He croons and all you can think about is how he smells so sweet, his lips so pink, and his touch so gentle as he rolls his hips against yours.

“Hold on tight, okay baby?” He says softly, and you obediently dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his and squeezing tight. He feels it, feels your pussy tighten around his cock and he buries his face into your neck, trying to pace himself as his body tenses. Sunghoon nips and presses soft kisses to the tender skin at your neck, all the meanwhile picking up pace. He deftly grabs one of the pillows and sweeps it under your hips, elevating you, and you cry out his name as the new angle hits harder and deeper.

“I want to look at your face while you cum,” Sunghoon whispers, and the dark husk of his tone brings you to the edge then and there.

“Cum with me love,” you beg, and Sunghoon wraps his hands around your hips, squeezing tight as he thrusts into you relentless. He pushes himself up a bit and brings a finger to your clit, and you gasp, feeling pleasure in every single nerve ending.

“Mmm—Hoon!” You gasp, “I’m close I’m close, I’m gonna come, I”m gonna come I’m gonna—!” You break off babbling, and Sunghoon collapses on top of you as he reaches his high and you unravel together on your bed at the same time, holding each other tight as you come down from ecstasy.

“Happy Birthday my love,” Sunghoon says with a hoarse laugh as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Happy, happy, happy birthday.”

#the muses speak #chat #chat.txt #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enha hard hours #enha smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut

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angels-fantasy · 10 months ago

Note

Hello!!! 😃 I really love your work sooooo, may I request something that just came in my mind?

Sooo, what if Husband Kats finds his little one year old, (f or m) holding a photo album (Katsuki memories) that Mitsuki lent reader to look over and see how their beautiful husband looked when he was younger, and the little toddler is a giggling mess crawling while pushing the photo album to Katsuki. Reader is following little toddler giggling as well. I think it’ll be really cute. Anyways, thank you for your time! <3

Katsuki Memories (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Details/Warnings: Cw:Children, dad bakugou :)

Word Count: 364

thank you so so so much for your kind comment and your request!! i love family stuff its so cute 🥹 also this idea is so cute too omg. AND THE KATSUKI MEMORY!! i immediately thought of the panel of mitsuki looking at the memory book, so i included it. oh i also included bakugo and readers son, Hiroki, from my other oneshot called Second Chances :) i hope that's okay with you.

After a long day at work, Katsuki took a shower as soon as he got home to wash away the sweat and grime he gained over the day.

It felt good to wash away everything and finally feel clean again. Being clean also meant he could actually hug you and your 1-year old son. You didn't like him touching you guys when he was so dirty, which he respected.

He hated being dirty too.

After his shower he dried up as quickly as he could and got dressed in a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

While he was drying his hair, he heard loud giggles from your son's bedroom. Wondering what you two could possibly find so funny, he hung up his towel and walked out into the hallway only to be met with your son crawling down the hallway while pushing a book.

"Hiroki! Get over here." You said with a laugh while following the little boy, making him laugh and squeal.

Once Hiroki was close enough, Katsuki bent down and picked him up, lightly swinging him while he did so.

"Hey kid, what do you have there huh?" He asked and grabbed the book out of the baby's hands, making him fuss for it.

Looking at the book, he realized it wasn't actually a book but it was his old hag's memory book of him, labeled 'Katsuki Memories'.

"Where the hell did you get this?" He asked you.

You took the baby from his arms, "Your mom lent it to me yesterday when I dropped Keiko off for the sleepover. I know I've seen you as a kid before, but I wanted to see everything! You were so cute Katsuki, with your chubby cheeks and everything."

"Fuckin' Hag..."

"Hey, don't cuss around the baby!" You said and put a hand on Hiroki's head.

Katsuki crossed his arms and walked towards your shared bedroom with the memory book in hand, "My bad. Let's go look at this thing together, yeah?"

You smiled and followed him, bring along the baby as well. "Okay, but we have to do it again when Keiko comes back tomorrow. You know she hates being left out."

authors note

i really hope you liked it :)) i'm sorry it was so short though

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono

#fanfiction #@angels-fantasy #fanfic #anime #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #cw children

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 10 months ago

Note

Imagine Alpine waking up you and Bucky cause she’s hungry or she just wants attention from her mommy and daddy🥰🩵🩷

Just Like Her Dad

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: Extreme fluffiness (pun intended)

WORD COUNT: 364

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

The afternoon sun shines brightly through the open blinds, indicating the day is nearly half done. Bucky and you sleep in after staying up all night to watch the entire Hobbit series.

You feel Bucky wrapping an arm around your back pulling you close, and you nudge your nose against his chest inhaling his woodsy scent. You just lay in each other's arms, wanting to soak in the presence of the other.

Suddenly, a mass jumps on the bed. Then jumps on your side, and you let out an 'oof'.

Turning around, you see Bucky's white cat, Alpine. She chews on your covers and you start to chuckle.

"Aw, hello there baby," you pick her up and cuddle her close your chest. She purrs and rubs her head against your collarbone.

Bucky clears his throat, and opens his eyes to see the view in front of him. "Mornin' Alps," he rubs her chin, and Alpine moves away from Bucky and closer to you.

You both are in shock.

"Someone has a favourite," he grumbles and rubs his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. You laugh and coo and the little furball. "No she doesn't," you argue playfully, adjusting the little pink bow you tied on a small clump of her fur at the top of her head last night. Bucky looks at you with a look that just says 'are you kidding me?'.

"She doesn't!" You laugh harder and your grin windes, "Buck, I'm serious she doesn't like me more." Bucky turns and lies flat on the bed as he nods sarcastically, "sure."

Alpine purrs loudly and snuggles closer to your body, Bucky laughs and raises a brow at you, "see."

You shake your head and hug the cat closer, "Alpine, do you like me or you're Daddy more?" Alpine meows and licks at your jaw, pronoucing her choice.

You gasp while Bucky laughs, "I told you, she LOVES you more."

You shake your head as you laugh with Bucky, "well it just proves one thing." Bucky looks at you curiously, reaching over and starts to play with your hair lazily, "yeah?"

You hum and nod, "she's just like her dad." You wink at him.

💌💌💌

So fucking mad at Marvel, for not including Alpine in TFATWS.

Like besties, we were ROBBED.😩😩😩

LOVE THIS ASK, ALWAYS ON DECK FOR WRITING ALPINE.

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#Anya's 100 followers celebration #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series

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chamomilecafe · 17 days ago

Text

Boyfriend Headcanons - Park Min-su / Player 125

🏷 : sfw, gender-neutral reader, 364 words

Shy bb

You’re definitely going to have to be the one taking the lead here

Would never dream of confessing his feelings to you, let alone asking you out, so when one day you do both at the same time he feels like every cell in his body has frozen and can’t process what’s happening

Eventually he realizes this isn’t a dream and stammers out a yes

Simple is best when it comes to dates with him; he just likes spending time with you

Having a picnic by the river, walking through the city at night, trying a new cafe down the street

The littlest things make him the happiest

Gets incredibly flustered the first time you hold his hand

You feel him freeze up and you quickly let go, apologizing and asking if he’s okay, but he just nods and shyly reaches for your hand again, which you readily offer

(He still gets flustered after the first time too, but his reaction gets restricted to slightly reddened cheeks)

Finds himself growing more confident because of you

You hype him up so much and get upset on his behalf when people take advantage of him, over time he learns to trust himself more and start asserting his boundaries when necessary

It's a long and slow process, but even baby steps are steps

Acts of service!!

He’s not great at articulating his feelings and he’s still not used to initiating physical affection much, so he does his best to show his love by doing little things for you

Washing the dishes while you cook dinner, tidying up around the house, offering to run errands for you when you’re tired (and even when you’re not)

One time you got a cold and you swear he must have cleared out the pharmacy with the big bag of stuff he brought you

Made you a hot cup of tea and a big bowl of soup and watched you with worried eyes as you finished both (despite your reassurances that you were fine)

Overall a very sweet boy who just needs the right kind of support and environment to thrive, and your relationship with him is part of that <3

#squid game #min su #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game headcanons #park min su #squid game min su #min su x reader #player 125 #been wanting to start a writing blog for a while but was getting stuck on what to write for so everybody say thank you squid game!

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geoviki · 6 months ago

Text

Mo Guan Shan’s Big Feelings

Mo Guan Shan, resident tsundere of 19 Days, pretends to be tough and hard-hearted. But he’s easily and frequently reduced to tears, as we soon realize. In fact, he cries so often in the story that this post is pretty massive.

MGS cries as a child, of course. He’s in a clinic in his mom’s arms when She Li first becomes obsessed with him (ch 294).

MGS has a bad dream about the day his dad told little Guan Shan he couldn’t come to the school’s robot fair (ch 392).

MGS cries in other dreams too. Soon after meeting He Tian, he has a sensual dream of being comforted in He Tian’s arms after being bullied. Look closely – there are little tears falling as He Tian assures him he’s the “most invincible badass.” (ch 250)

True to form, he cries in the Santa fantasy extra when his house is destroyed (ch 345).

MGS cries when he’s frustrated, like in this episode after the play when he can’t untie himself to pee (ch 359).

MGS is a weepy drunk as well. After accidentally destroying Brother Qiu’s bike (ch 427), he drunkenly sobs in bed as he vows to somehow repay him.

Later, while MGS is still drunk, He Tian slips and falls while carrying him, ripping Mo’s pants in front of He Cheng (ch 429). MGS cries from embarrassment.

Unsurprisingly, MGS cries over his dad. After He Tian unknowingly brings him to dinner at what is probably his father’s former restaurant, we see a young MGS in flashback crying in fear at the chaos around him. Present-day MGS flees and He Tian finds him crying in the parking lot (ch 217)

One of the more moving chapters shows MGS breaking down as he visits his father in prison for the first time (ch 240).

MGS cries from sheer anger in several chapters. The earliest is when He Tian forces an unwanted kiss on him as a misplayed joke (ch 174-175). He Tian is taken aback by Mo’s strong, tearful reaction. It’s probably the first time someone doesn’t try to placate He Tian when he’s being a jerk, and he begins to take MGS more seriously after this.

MGS tries to end his friendship with He Tian after the school play that indirectly causes him to lose his meager job. He Tian doesn’t help matters by waving money at him as they quarrel. MGS weeps with anger and says, “Standing with you makes me feel like a failure.” (ch 364)

He cries in anger once more as he watches incredulously as She Li incinerates his backpack (ch 368). (She Li seems to walk around carrying gasoline like it’s no big deal – what’s up with that?)

MGS cries when he’s worried. When he digs frantically through the mudslide during their ill-fated mountain hike, he thinks He Tian has been buried alive. When He Tian calls out, MGS throws his teary self into He Tian’s arms (ch 329).

MGS’s worry is clear when the last violent fight with She Li is finally over and He Tian has won (ch 408). The battle was so fierce that by the end He Tian is crying too, and soon they’re embracing (I sense a pattern here!)

MGS often cries when his emotions overwhelm him. Early on, after MGS is rescued from the fiasco of agreeing to take the blame for a serious crime, He Tian tells him, “Don’t try to shoulder everything yourself.” (ch 188). MGS tears up at the thought that someone like He Tian has his back.

MGS ends up full-on sobbing in He Tian’s arms (again) when he finally admits why She Li has a hold over him: because of the homeless man who tried to kill him (ch 319).

In one of the most traumatic scenes (and a personal favorite), both guys shed a lot of tears when He Tian finds him after She Li has tortured and burned him (ch 369-370). These chapters mark a turning point in their relationship from friends to more.

MGS is shown when he’s happy only once, and that memorable event will happen in their future: that Christmas night when He Tian returns and proposes with matching rings (ch 412). Cue the waterworks!

Thanks to all of the translators who provide the English versions of the story!

#19 days #old先 #tianshan #mo guan shan #old xian #he tian #19days

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ncityprincess · 1 year ago

Text

The one before the big ‘three-oh’

Minors do not interact

Happy 29th Birthday to the boyfriend of all boyfriends, the one and only Mr. Johnny Suh🫦🎂

“Man, tonight was crazy fun y/n! Thank you so much, really. How did you score box seats to the Bulls vs the Lakers babe?!” your giddy fiancé exclaimed, high off of the evening’s events. You had just gotten back from the basketball game you surprised Johnny with for his birthday. The tickets cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. Johnny made all other 364 days of the year magical for you. He deserved a special experience for his big day. It was the least you could do.

Johnny turned on the lights in the house as you took your heels off and set them aside. “Oh don’t worry about it baby. I’m just happy you had a fun birthday. How does it feel being 29, big guy?” The two of you migrated into the kitchen, your typical hang out spot in the house. You loved your little life you’d built with Johnny. From having to share a slice of pizza in your college days, to now being full grown adults and making a comfortable life for yourselves, it was these little moments you looked forward to in life. Making memories with the love of your life made you feel warm inside.

Johnny grabbed two water bottles and handed you one, opening it for you. “You know, normally I’d say I feel the same as any other age, but this year I truly do feel every bit of 29. I guess… it just feels like a serious number because it’s the last one before the big ‘three-oh’, ya know?” Johnny walked up to the barstool you were sitting on and stood in between your legs, cupping your dolled up face. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile and caressed his large hands.

“You’re gonna be as sexy as ever once you hit those 30’s…just saying” you joked, hoping to soothe his thoughts a little. Johnny tossed his head back and snorted, “wow, thanks babe.”

You giggled along with him, rubbing your hands up and down his broad back. “You’re blossoming into such an amazing man, John. Seriously. I fall more in love with you each day, and it’s an honor that I get to do life with you. I love you so much honey.” Johnny couldn’t hide the blush creeping up on his face even if he wanted to. Of course, always the man of action rather than words, Johnny bent down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. The action said more to you than any sweet words could.

After the kiss slowed, you pulled away from him and ran your hand across the front of his thigh. Maybe there were a few more birthday festivities you had planned for your man…

“Why don’t you uh, get us some wine and meet me back in the bedroom in a few, big boy.” You shot him some flirty bedroom eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist. Johnny gave you a knowing smile and backed away from you slowly, holding a hand out to help you down from the barstool. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you walked out of the kitchen with a little extra sway in your hips, feeling Johnny’s lingering gaze on your ass.

After giving you what felt like enough time to plan whatever you were conjuring up in that pretty head of yours, Johnny walked into your shared bedroom with two wine glasses in hand, just like you’d asked. He noticed that the lighting was slightly moodier than normal, and took note of the sexy playlist that added to the ambiance in the room. You walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a crimson red silk robe, and a pair of black stilettos.

“Oh well well well, what do we have here baby?” Johnny said as he took in your sexy little look. He gently placed the wine glasses down on the dresser, never taking his eyes off of you. You flipped your hair, the drinks from tonight and the desire to please your man for his special day heightening your confidence. “Hmm, well I guess you can call this your other birthday present, baby.”

“Oh? You mean, it gets better than box seats at the Bulls vs the Lakers?” Johnny flirted. “Why don’t you come unwrap it and find out, daddy.” With that, Johnny all but charged at you and kissed you passionately. You let out a sensual moan, running your hands all over his broad body. After a few moments of making out, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him back slightly. “You know what daddy? You’re always working so hard for me. Why don’t you go sit down in the chair? Let me take care of you.” Johnny was hooked under your spell. He would do just about anything for you right now. You guided him toward the chair in front of your bed, and he subconsciously followed.

He looked up at you, mesmerized as you started to put on a little show for him, rubbing your hands all over your body. Your fingers kept dancing toward the rope holding your robe together, but you wanted to drag it out a little more. As if it were right on cue, a particular birthday song popped up on shuffle. The familiar intro played throughout the room, but once the first verse started, the air in the room got a little lighter.

“Wow, very on the nose babe” Johnny snickered. You cracked a smile, giggling at the incredibly literal lyrics of the song. Birthday Sex by Jeremih seemed like an appropriate addition to Johnny’s birthday playlist you had curated beforehand, but in hindsight it did seem a little cheesy. You playfully slapped his arm, slightly embarrassed but also grateful that you two were close enough to be able to share a laugh in intimate situations like this. Yet another reason why you loved Johnny so much. “Shut up!! It seemed like a good song to include at the time. Just sit back and watch, big boy” you scolded lightheartedly.

Johnny held his hands up in retreat, signaling that he was done with the jokes and ready to focus on you. Your hips found the rhythm, and swayed along to the beat. After a few moments, Johnny was hypnotized by your seductive movements. He admired how sexy and confident you were, loving how you moved your body. How did he get lucky to have such a beautiful woman like you?

Johnny’s upper body bent towards you as your fingers inched closer and closer to the tie holding your robe together. You gave him a sexy smile, and played with him a bit. “Aw, you wanna see what’s underneath, don’t ya big guy?” Johnny frantically nodded, licking his plump lips in anticipation. You finally undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor at your heeled feet. There you were, standing stark naked in front of your fiancé. A wave of confidence flowed through your body.

You turned around and bent over slightly, giving Johnny a nice view of your glistening pussy. Johnny let out a soft “fuck”, much to your amusement. You walked back over, stopping right in front of Johnny. His hands automatically moved to your bare ass, rubbing it in appreciation. He looked up at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and it made you feel you alive.

As much as he loved your little peep show, his dick was going to bust through his pants at any second now. Without warning, Johnny stood up and pushed you back onto the bed, shoving his dress pants off and towering over you. You looked up at him dumbfounded, still amazed by the fact that he could manhandle you at any given second. “Babe—baby I’m supposed to be on top of you. It’s your night remember!” You pleaded. Surely he deserved to be the one serviced tonight.

“Shhh, you’ve done enough for me sweetheart. Just need be inside that sweet pussy now. Is that okay, baby?” Johnny looked down at you like the big bad wolf, ready to eat you whole at any moment. How could you resist an offer like that? “Yes daddy. Want you deep inside.”

With that, Johnny rubbed his leaking tip a few times and slowly sank into your dripping pussy. You both moaned in unison, relishing in the closeness of the position. Johnny gathered your thighs on his biceps and placed them around his waist. You locked your ankles in place, bracing yourself in preparation. He built up a strong, quick pace that had you moaning like a whore. “Fuckkkk John you’re so deep baby” you moaned out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Johnny sucked on your earlobe as he pistoned roughly into you.

He was grateful in moments like this to live in a house with just you two in it. Gone were the days of having to tip toe around neighbors and roommates and figure out sneaky ways to pummel your sweet little pussy. He didn’t have to share thin walls with anyone. He could pound into your hole without a care in the world. This is true adulthood, Johnny thought to himself.

Your whiney mewls brought him back to reality, and he turned his head to look down at your gorgeous, fucked out face. Your eyebrows were stitched together, looking up at him with large doe eyes. He loved when you got like this. “Feel good baby? You’re making me feel real good. Yeah that’s it, just lay back and take it.”

You threw your head back in ecstasy, digging your manicured nails into his shoulders. “Ooh daddy I’m so close.” Johnny snuck a hand down to your sex, and rubbed soft circles into your clit. He knew how much you loved a little extra stimulation when you were close to cumming. A couple more thrusts and you were creaming all over his thick cock. Johnny let out a long, deep groan and soon after, you felt warm spurts of cum deep inside you. Johnny thrusted a few more times before he completely stilled with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck baby, this has to be the best birthday I’ve ever had” Johnny said sincerely, playing with some loose strands of your hair. You giggled, still slightly out of breath. “Aw, honey. There’s plenty more where that came from.” You pressed a soft kiss to his nose, and Johnny smiled mischievously.

“I hope you’re not just talking about birthdays, my love.” And with that, Johnny rolled you onto your stomach for a celebratory round 2.

The end 🎂

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emmawithtwoms · 2 months ago

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Cuddles

@wolfstarmicrofic December 10th -364 words

Sirius never liked physical contact. Even with James, the other wizard always seemed to understand when Padfoot needed space, and he always made sure to refrain himself. Even though James loved to dispense hugs, he knew that Sirius didn’t appreciate them, made him feel anxious, instead. Obviously thanks to Walburga’s A+ parenting.

Sirius’ no-contact rule applied to everyone, all the girls he dated found themselves disappointed when he wouldn’t hold them or hug them. Celebrations were always high fives, fist bumps or hair rufflings, hugs were only for extremely special occasions, secluded to very few selected people (The Marauders, the girls and Regulus), and always very brief.

Padfoot was able to break this no hugs rule while dating Mary: he felt such a strong affection towards her, that he actively held her a couple of times during their relationship, but it was always awkward for him, he never felt good while doing it.

So he resigned himself into living a cuddle less life, or so he thought. When he started dating Remus, he started feeling a certain longing, something he had never felt before. He couldn’t quite understand what this feeling of uneasiness was, at first he thought it was just his internalized homophobia (again, thanks Walburga), but it wasn’t that.

It wasn’t until a couple of months into dating Remus that he found out: they were sleeping in Remus’ bed, or at least, Remus was sleeping, and the werewolf suddenly turned and slowly wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist, tangling their legs together and lowering his mouth on Sirius’ naked shoulder, just resting his lips on his skin. And that’s when he realised. The warm presence of his boyfriend around him calmed the sense of uneasiness that he was feeling, lulling him to finally sleep.

Remus didn’t realize that he hugged Sirius during the night, and apologized profusely in the morning, when he woke up still holding Sirius.

But Padfoot just smiled and kissed him, engulfing him in a hug. He didn’t say a word, but Remus understood. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and lowered them back into bed.

From that day on, Sirius was always seen cuddling Remus everywhere he could.

#ao3 #marauders #remus lupin #harry potter #sirius black #wolfstar #fic #ao3 fanfic #sirius black x remus lupin #remus lupin x sirius black #padfoot x moony #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar microfics #microfics

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months ago

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March the 9th

Marc Spector x gn!reader 1.4k words, angst, sex is implied, no smut, tw abuse, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Your skin tingles as you struggle you steady your breathing. Pacing the floor for an hour does nothing to calm that fuzzy feeling in the center of you.

He’ll be here soon.

You’ve memorized the pattern on the ceiling over your bed, because you stared at it the entire night, never once slipping into blissful slumber.

Your phone never rings. No emails, no letters, no messages.

But he always shows.

Bouncing on your toes, you smooth your hands down the lines of your body, checking your reflection, which lets you know you look the same as you did five minutes ago.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The first year...

Your family moved onto the Spectors’ street when you were nine years old. You quickly befriended the Spector boys, often playing with them after school and on weekends.

Then, one day, Randall was gone. You were supposed to play with them that day, but you had the flu.

Marc was never the same and you didn’t see much of him, except at school. The Spectors didn’t throw him a birthday party and he didn’t show up at yours either.

So you created a handmade birthday card for him, making a point to cross his path at school. He was absent.

The next year approached, and you realized the Spectors once again would not be throwing a party, so you gave Marc his birthday card on March 8th. He jerked it out of your hand, eyes downcast, muttering, “thanks,” before shuffling away.

You called his name, scampering after him, but he never looked back. The two of you were in middle school now and Marc didn’t seem to have many friends at all. Hopefully he would read the card, which invited him over to hang out.

He did.

On the night of March 9th, he crawled through your bedroom window for the first time. Tears streaked down his cheeks as his body trembled.

“Can I sleep on your floor?” He brokenly whispered.

You had a queen sized bed, so, of course you didn’t let your clearly devastated friend sleep on the hard floor.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured drowsily, once he slid beneath the covers. “Please, they’ll kill me.”

You didn’t understand and he wouldn’t explain. You were only twelve years old. You squeezed his hand and let him rest.

He talked to you after that, only sometimes.

The next March 9th, you gave him another card, with another invitation to come over. He did. Your fingers tangled with his.

Again at fourteen, when, after swiping the tears from his eyes, he kissed you. He kissed you for a long time and you thought you’d never felt anything so magical.

At fifteen, he kissed and touched you all night long. Your heart was his now.

Still, he kept to himself for most of the other 364 days a year.

At sixteen, he climbed into your bed and the two of you lost your virginity. Neither of you had a clue what you were doing - clumsy and wild and sweet. But he kissed you and held you and he tried. You loved him and you had never felt so close to anyone in your life.

He flinched away from your touch several times, so you thought you must be doing something wrong.

It wasn’t until seventeen that you saw his well-hidden bruises and red welts by your bedside lamplight.

“Who did this to you?” Tears streamed down your face as your fingertips traced lovingly around anger and drunkenness unleashed on his beautiful body.

His eyes met yours and you knew. He came to your bed a lot more after that.

Then came eighteen. Three months before graduation. You asked him all the time where he wanted to go to college - where the two of you could go together, but nothing ever came of it. He only answered, “I have to get out.”

March the 9th of year eighteen was the last you saw of Marc Spector for a long time. He didn’t make it to graduation.

He sent you a letter in year nineteen.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all it said.

Year twenty passed. 21, 22, 23…

You graduated college and met someone. But every March the 9th, your fingers would trace his picture, so your "someone" didn't last.

More than a few March 9ths ago, you somehow wished him right back to you. He knocked on your door, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot, swallowing hard and expecting rejection.

You threw your arms around him. “Happy birthday,” you whispered against his cheek before his mouth found yours.

He took you to bed and you knew then that your heart would only ever be his.

It wasn’t enough though. He granted you a half-hearted explanation about danger and old debts and how he was so messed up - he could never bring it all into your life.

You had enough dignity to refrain from begging him.

The next March the 9th was the same. And the next, and the next.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

This year, you’re resolute. It will be the last. It has to be. You can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t love you - not the way you love him. You’ll wish him happy birthday, take him to your bed, but - never again. It hurts too much.

A sharp knock jolts you out of your reverie, sending all the air rushing out of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you steady yourself, giving yourself one final moment to prepare for your last night with Marc.

You reach for the door and find him holding flowers. Irises.

“You like these…right?” Dark eyebrows shift hopefully.

You breathe his name, your heart flaming with adoration. You take the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck like always, whispering, “Happy birthday,” against his cheek as his lips seek out your own. He tastes you slowly…sweetly, his breath mingling with yours.

You lose your grasp on the irises, forgetting to care as they spill to the floor. Strong arms wind around you as his hands spread across your back, pressing you against the solid warmth of his chest. The kiss goes on and on until you’re dizzy and breathless and hot tears wet your eyes at the thought of never tasting him again.

You fight them back as the two of you finally make it through the front door and he kicks it closed. He takes you to bed and you drown in the essence that is Marc - unearthed secrets, soul-crushing burdens, beautiful desperation and a kind of hungry tenderness. You bury your nose in the crook of his neck, comforted and tormented as you inhale the spicy, sun-kissed scent of him, your lips tasting, committing him to memory.

Saltiness seeps into your mouth and you’re not sure if it’s the slight sheen on his skin as he works his way into you, or the tears slipping down your cheeks.

Your fingers twist through his dark curls as you pull your body flush against his - the heat of your tongue - the twist of your body - the scrape of your fingernails desperately attempting to communicate your need for this man.

He’s been your birthday wish most of your life.

He holds you against him until the calendar turns to the 10th. The sun rises and you realize he’s never stayed this long.

Which will make the speech you’ve planned so much harder. You shuffle to the bathroom while he sleeps, steeling yourself for the heartbreak. As you stare into the mirror, tears burn your eyes and you wonder if you can go through with it. The thought of never seeing him again is crushing, but you can’t go on like this.

Finally, you straighten out your appearance and freshen up, fighting like hell to keep your composure.

Marc is awake, sitting on the edge of your bed in only his boxers. You expect him to be dressed and ready to walk out the door, but as his warm, coffee colored eyes find yours…

He gently smiles.

“Marc?” You whisper, slowly approaching him.

“Come here,” he softly instructs, reaching for you. You sink down beside him, your foreheads touching sweetly as he grips your arms.

“Could…do you think I could stay?”

Tears trickle down. Again. “I don’t know,” you whimper. “I-I can’t-"

“I know.,” he nods, pressing an urgent kiss to your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

He’s off the bed and reaching for his clothes before you can blink, but you don’t let him get far. “Stay,” you urgently plead. “Stay with me.”

He freezes, eyes wide and hopeful. “F-for tonight, or…”

“Stay,” you repeat, pressing your palms to the heat of his bare chest. “Stay or go. Just decide.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next March the 9th…

“Happy birthday, baby,” you murmur against his lips as he rolls you underneath him.

“Happy anniversary,” he returns, sealing his mouth to yours.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc Spector-Centric stories

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#happy birthday marc spector #angst filled baby boy #we love you #marc spector #moon knight #mcu #oscar isaac characters

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