#also you can access anywhere by walking!

[blackamite]

I can’t remember if I’ve posted my minecraft cathedral here but here ya go :)

[tkbrokkoli]

been scrubbing these damn shoes w the white soles for eternity

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[finelinevogue]

bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

[lovingseventeen]

Hiii could you pls write about how seventeen gets their s/o to sit in their lap?? Thanks so much

svt getting their s/o to sit on their lap

a/n: i hope this is sufficient for my very delayed return (please).

seungcheol: 

✿ it's truly just second nature for him at this point

✿ he'll just casually guide you onto his lap and you don't really question it either

✿ say you're about to sit next to him on the couch

✿ as you're about to sit he'll just lightly pull your wrist in his direction and there you are

jeonghan:

✿ loves to rest his head on your shoulder when you sit on his lap

✿ the simplest "come here" and you're following

✿ he loves this because you don't even have to pay attention to him but he has all the access to wrap his arms around your middle

joshua: 

✿ pats his leg when you want to show him something on your phone

✿ "josh look at this thing i just saw-"

✿ immediately, he's sitting up and spreading his legs so you can walk in the space between them and sit on one of his thighs

✿ "let me see, pretty"

jun: 

✿ will gradually shift you onto his lap over time absentmindedly

✿ neither of you two really notice but you just wind up there

✿ you were watching a movie on opposite ends of the couch (which is fine) but now you're there??? (no one is complaining)

hoshi: 

✿ so annoying about it (i mean this in a loving way)

✿ why should you sit anywhere else when his lap is literally right there??

✿ even if you sat somewhere else without thinking about it he's jokingly scoffing "so you hate me"

✿ (it's okay, just go sit on his lap and peck his cheek and he's all giddy again)

wonwoo: 

✿ pulls you towards him by an article of clothing

✿ it could be your pants loop, the sleeve of your hoodie, or the back of your shirt

✿ he doesn't need to ask you twice :')

woozi:

✿ always asks for your opinion when he makes a new beat or writes new lyrics

✿ "i want you to listen to this" he says with a hand stretched out

✿ he likes to have you sit on his lap while he places the headphones around your ears

✿ he gently presses his forehead to your back as he waits for your thoughts

dokyeom: 

✿ perpetually wrapped around you anyway (his love language is physical touch)

✿ it doesn't take long when an arm around your shoulder as you're sitting next to each other moves to your waist

✿ then he figures this isn't close enough and he'll also maneuver you so you're eventually on his lap. he'll quite literally wrap his arms around your middle so he can move you

✿ "this is better" as he nudges his face into your neck

mingyu:

✿ will manhandle you if he has to

✿ you try teasing him just to see him get pouty and as you're trying to get away from him, he uses a little bit more of his strength to pull you towards him

✿ but as you're sat you feel him mumble against your shoulder "do you actually not want to?"

minghao:

✿ i think he's a pretty straightforward person

✿ a simple tucking your hair behind your ears and he's caught your attention

✿ "i want you closer" as he holds your arm to help you move

seungkwan: 

✿ dances around the subject instead of just telling you what he wants lol

✿ "did you know that sitting on wooden chairs is actually bad for your back? there's no cushioning"

✿ "oh really? should we order cushions then or-"

✿ "you could sit somewhere else"

✿ "but i need the table for my laptop and i get so lazy on the couch-"

✿ "then maybe you could just sit here" he offers, moving his chair back to welcome you. then it all clicks (he's a dork)

vernon: 

✿ also probably someone who just tugs you gently in his direction

✿ i don't think he'd need to use words for you to get it either

✿ even if you're standing around him doing anything else and you feel him lightly pull the back of your sweater you follow him without giving it much thought

chan:

✿ as long as you're in his vicinity he pulls you with him as he sits down

✿ both of you just came home from work? he's dropping himself down on the couch and you're coming with him

✿ has most definitely missed at least once and you both landed on the floor

[kodaswrld]

tips for depressed, chronically ill, & disabled littles.

please reblog to help spread awareness!

it can sometimes be hard to feel little when you spend a lot of time in pain, bedridden, dealing with scary big thoughts, or any of the other things that can accompany mental or physical disabilities so these are things u can do to feel small with little effort.

ᯓ★ keep soft blankets + stuffies near you

literally what’s smaller than having your soft little comfort plushes with you? this is probably the easiest thing u can do that will make you feel at least a little smaller.

ᯓ★ download mobile games for kids

if you aren’t someone who can get up and down off the floor or if you’re in a lot of pain, or if its just a rough day and you want to stay in bed little kid games are good for feeling tiny.

ᯓ★ play baby music or soft lullabies 

if you’re not feeling up to playing at all and just need to rest, lullabies and nursery rhymes are rlly good for helping you rest and helping you feel tiny.

ᯓ★ age regression fanfic

this might sound silly but for littles with chronic pain something that genuinely can help is mood boards, one shots, etc. about ur favorite fictional cgs.

ᯓ★ think of your ‘lazy’ clothes as baby clothes

toddlers and babies are almost always dressed in comfy soft clothes so if you’re always in your soft sweatpants or cozy pjs to alleviate discomfort it’s just like little kids getting dressed in their soft little clothes!

ᯓ★ middle regression is always an option

if you’re worried about regressing because you have to take care of yourself (ex. handle a walking aid, medicine, etc.) middle regression is super accessible because you can be regressed and do a lot of the things big you can already do

middle regression can also entail less rambunctious/active play (videos games, reading, coloring, etc.)

ᯓ★ audio books 

if you look up ‘audio kids books’ or some form of that on youtube you can find kids stories read aloud! its something super fun that can make you feel small and you can do it anywhere at anytime.

ᯓ★ calming kids activities 

there are a whole bunch of websites that have ‘calm down’ activities for when kids are winding down from rambunctious play (playing with play dough, sensory toys, singing abcs/nursery rhyme games)

ᯓ★ remember not all regression looks the same

you don’t have to do anything to be small or to be valid as a regressor, regression looks different for everyone. there are ppl who regress and watch horror movies or ppl who regress while doing big kid things like going to the store or to school. your disability, no matter what form it comes in, does not invalidate your regression.

if you’re a little with disabilities, mama koda loves you!!

[tinyowlthoughts]

The EC-Theobromine: Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

EC Theobromine Character & Worldbuilding Notes

Original Reddit Prompt:

[anonymousicecream]

(Not) Sober (Yuna x M Reader)

Day 13: Drunk Sex

"NOT SHY, NOT ME!" You struggled to get your friend off the table, who was singing her ass out to one of her songs. "YAH SHIN YUNA GET THE FUCK OFF THE STAGE!" "NO WAY Y/N!" Yuna continues singing her heart out, now joined by Yeji and Ryujin. The four of you decided to party as a "final hangout" before Yuna and her friends will focus on their comeback. It's safe to say that you're the closest with Yeji, and you knew the other two by just being friends with Yeji. You didn't know them well enough personally, but you knew enough about them to know how and what to do when and if they're drunk.

The night goes on and so does the party. You continued downing shots as the night goes on, and so does your friends. The alcohol starts to affect your words, slurring random words, making it hard for you to focus. It took even more effect on you as you start to take note of what the girl in front of you, Shin Yuna, is wearing, which were black leather pants with a crop top, exposing her curvy figure, as well as her toned midriff.

It took you a few seconds before Yuna caught you checking her out. She responded with a chuckle and smirked at you, before you throw your face away, looking anywhere else but her. You observed from the edge of your eye as Yuna walked over towards you, sitting down next to you at the sofa.

"Checking me out huh?" Yuna asked you, and for the first time, you hesitated, not knowing what to answer. "Uhhh...." "It's alright. People check me out a lot. It's just rare for someone I know check me out THAT lustfully." Yuna told you before downing a shot. "Tell me, what did you thought of me?" Yuna asked you. In normal situations, you would've backed out, or show her signs that you're uncomfortable. But, since you're intoxicated, and so is she, you might as well shoot your shot.

"I think that you're cute and soft on the outside, but when you want to, you can be the sluttiest and horniest girl in the world." Yuna chuckled after hearing your words. "That's it?" You shift yourself closer before adding "I also wanna fuck you senseless, ripping your trousers and fuck you with your clothes on, cumming on your shirt and body, before stripping you naked and fucking you again until I cum inside you." You saw the shift in her, making her show her more lustful side. "What's stopping you from doing that?" Yuna asked, before you replied with one simple word. "Nothing."

You immediately leaned in to kiss her, putting your hands on her cheeks, caressing them as the kiss resumes. Her immediate response was to reply to the kiss, tilting her head to give you more access while also wrapping her hands around your neck. You decided to not use your tongue, instead using it as you pulled out of her lips and moved your kisses onto her jawline, moving the kisses onto her neck as well. "Mmmmhhhh that's it baby boy, touch my pussy, please."

You followed her wishes, moving your hands onto her midriff, sliding it down onto her crotch, rubbing it through her leather pants before you unbuttoned her pants and then inserting your fingers under her panties. "Mmmhhhh fuckk your hands are so cold." "No worries, you'll help me warm them up." With that, you insert two fingers into her mouth, making her moan suddenly, before she bit your shoulders, making you hiss.

"Careful baby." You say as you start fingering her slowly. It soon turned into another make out session as she now starts the kiss, not hesitating to use some tongue this time round, making it more passionate while also increasing your fingering pace. Soon after, you felt juices starting to leak from her pussy, allowing you to finger her faster due to her slickness. "Mmmmhhhh fuck that feels soo goood." Yuna's moans echo in your ears. "I know, just imagine my cock that deep inside you." You said as you brushed her g-spot, making her shake in shock. You brushed her g-spot again a few times before you hit her g-spot hard and fast with your fingers, triggering her orgasm.

"MMMHHHHH FUCKKK FUCKKK FUCKKK" Her moans echo in the room, but was covered by the loud music, as she came, squirting hard onto your fingers. Her body shakes violently after each squirt, which didn't really influence your actions as you continued fingering her through her orgasm, extracting all of the juices out of her.

"Fuck...." Yuna said. "Bathroom, now. I need you." You said, grabbing her hands and standing up, walking towards the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom, you locked the door before pushing her onto the sink, bending her over onto the sink. You lowered her jeans and panties, exposing her wet pussy. You kneeled down to suck the excess juices of her pussy, leaving her wanting for more as she shows through her moans.

You didn't take long though, before standing up and unbuttoning your jeans, lowering them before you stroke your cock to hardness. "No protections?" Yuna turned worried for a second. "I'll pull out." "Alright, just tell me when." You align yourself with her pussy, brushing her pussy a few times before you enter her. You immediately thrust hard and fast as you chase your orgasm. To make sure you do reach it in time, you tried to stimulate her more, fondling with her tits and pussy from behind, rubbing them twice as fast as your thrusts, letting her spill her moans. "Fuck that's it." Yuna's moans spill out.

You eventually slowed your thrusts down a bit, letting you thrust hard and deep inside her, before you reached her g-spot, brushing against it a few times. Soon after, you changed your thrusts into shallow and fast ones, hitting her g-spot repeatedly, causing a huge amount of juices leaking onto your cock, also tightening her pussy, which definitely got you close to your orgasm. "I'm close." You groaned.

Yuna then moved forward to pull your cock out of her pussy, before she turned around and kneeled in front of you. She grabbed your cock to start sucking it, while also unstrapping a part of her top and lowering them, exposing her small tits. She sucked you off hard and fast, going deeper into her mouth before your tip hit her throat. She deepthroated you multiple times before you start throbbing intensely. She pulled the plug and removed your cock from her mouth, instead stroking your cock fast as she maintains eye contact with you. "Cum on me daddy. Paint my body with your hot cum."

You immediately climaxed, reaching your orgasm as you came from your high, spurting loads of cum onto her body. "AAHHH" Her moans echo as the first load spurt on her face, while the next landed on her neck and tits, before the rest went into her mouth as she sucked your cum off your cock, making sure she extracted all of your cum. After you finished cumming, she sucked you off one last time before she scooped up your cum, swallowing them before moaning in pleasure and satisfaction.

[ashomodeus]

Hi all, it's been a minute... Work has been really rough. I promise I haven't disappeared again. Here's this.

Where is each brother + Dateables favorite place to... connect with Mc.

Gn!Mc, Smut warning, bad grammar, take a shot every time breeding is mentioned, food porn for Beel.

Why am I at work for 12 hours???

Thank you, Beyonce, for providing me with this phone to write. She's my ghost writer if anyone asks. If her lawyers ask, this is a joke.

Lucifer 》 His study

●With under the desk support from Mc all his stress is magically gone.

●No one bothers him when he's in his study, meaning hours... and I mean hours could go past and no one would question why he's in there so long.

●Would test Mc's limits, having them cock warm him as he finishes his last bit of work. Don't think that Mc is the only one being teased. Lucifer has always been able to focus on one thing at a time but with Mc there? Forget it. 'How would Mc look bent over there, How about on my desk, or right in front of the door for his brother's to hear MC is all his for the night'

●Mc giving him head while he's trying to have an important conference call.

●Having Mc lay on the couch exposing their filled holes threatening to drip out while he finishes his work.

●He has some things in his office for Mc like a designated drawer for Mc that only Mc and Lucifer can access like rope, towels, a change of underwear, some toys for Mc to use while Lucifer is busy.

Mammon 》His car

●Two things that he loves.

●His favorite thing is to recieve head while driving. He enjoys edging and pushing himself as far as possible until he has to pull over. He wants to pull over because he wants to be milked until he's weak.

● He would want to drive while pounding into Mc.He would never be able to drive without Mc again without having to pull over and masturbate to the idea of Mc being there.

●Mammon likes to convince Mc to go run an errand with him just for them to both to come back disheveled. Mammon doesn't want anyone to see Mc in that way and doesn't want anyone to hear them so he'll find a few places.

●Once Mc did a nude photo shoot in Mammons car and those photos will always remain in his empty wallet.

●Mammon hates messes in his car but he so his seats have waterproof covers for certain reasons...

Levi 》Anywhere with water

●Listen water can make you feel weightless. Since water is his strong suit he knows how to control water and make sure Mc doesn't drown.

●Beach trips normally involve Mc and Levi leaving for a swim and not coming back for hours. Mc would think the sand would get everywhere but devildoms sand is so much different.

●Levi loves sneaking into the shower while Mc is showering. Sometimes, he just loves to watch Mc. He especially gets turned on if Mc doesn't notice he's there watching. He slowly strips as he walks into the shower with Mc, only startling them for a second. He loves taking the shower head and putting it on sensitive places of Mc's increasing water pressure the more sensitive Mc got.

● He loves "accidentally" spilling water on Mc while gaming together.

Satan 》 Library

●Knowledge is power and just when he think he's read every book. There's a new series he can read. Once he met Mc it was a bit difficult to focus on both reading and Mc. He soon realized he can have it both.

●Having Mc read to him while he fucks them. He would stop everytime Mc would stop. He just loved felling Mc tense as he stopped.

●Another fun thing to him is that Mc would have to keep quiet since they were in a public place. The rush he got thinking of someone walking in on him having his cock rammed into the beloved Mc.

●He keeps a list of books to the said that he thinks would sound a lot better with Mc's breathy moans. He also finds it as great stress relief. They would sneak into the library after hours so Mc could make as much noise as possible.

●Sometimes when they're reading together Satan makes Mc wear a vibrating toy and silently turns it on and off when he pleases.

Asmo 》His bedroom

●Asmo is an expert when it comes to connecting. His room has all the necessities. Sound proofing, toys, ropes, leashes, wax, towels, everything. He could give Mc a facial mask after giving them facial.

●Theres a mirror on the ceiling that is right above the bed, mirrors everywhere. If Mc was having a low confidence day he would cover up the mirrors or fuck Mc in front of them in every position to show them how hot they truly are.

●Asmo room also has a camera that follows sound so he can record whenever they are fucking but of course that involves being loud enough.

●Sometimes Asmo will indulge in black coffee because he doesn't want to loose energy or stamina. He wants Mc to do so many things and make sure that Mc's mind is just full of how good they feel and how horny they are.

Beel 》 Kitchen or bedroom

●Duh

●Food play. He loves nyotaimori/ namtaimori; Body sushi, Human tray. He loves to layout his favorite foods on Mc, keeping them as protected as possible. He also would love to fuck Mc with a certain things then eat them. Ie: Cucumber. He wants to see how much of the thick cucumber Mc could take, licking the cucumber in-between tries. Then proceeding to eat it after.

●His fantasy would involve him coming down for a midnight snack and Mc is there surrounded by his favorite food. Mc being just as hungry for Beel as he is for them.

●Ever since the few nights Mc slept on Beels bed. He's been hungry. Their smell is permanently embedded into the bed. He would want to fuck Mc in that bed. He would give Mc a lot of oral. Making sure to taste every drop of them.

●He would to fill up Mc with his load to make sure Mc is as full as he is.Though he's very considerate Mc should expect a bit of soreness next day.

Belphie 》 Attic

●A place to be by himself in a cozy bed Mc riding him as he's slowly woken up.

●The attic is a quiet place. He normally dreams the most about Mc in this room. If anyone tries to interrupt their time together Belphie will quickly cum inside Mc and plug their hole with their underwear. He likes to see them squirm around at the discomfort of the underwear getting soaked with Belphie's juices.

●He likes waking up Mc with him about to cum on their face. He also loves sleepy horny sex where they can't even tell what's where.

●Belphie is extremely possessive so everything is on his stuff. It's not because he's lazy It's because their sent keeps him calm and makes him want- actually NEED them.

●He once used bedsheets to tie up Mc to the bed to overstimulate and exhaust them.

Solomon 》 Anywhere and everywhere

●Mc's room, his room, over here, over there, everywhere. Solomon is proud he scored the hottest human out there. He will fuck Mc when he wants wherever he wants. The idea of someone walking in on them makes him fuck Mc’s throat harder.

●One of his favorite places is the empty classroom right next to an active classroom.

●He admits to watching Mc change in their bedroom from an enchanted mirror he gifted them.

●He loves to tease Mc while they are out. Together they can make a single trip turn into an 8 hour errands day. Once he had Mc pinned in an alleyway while feeling them up and giving them aggressive hickies. He walked away as if nothing happened and Mc weak knees would struggle to carry themselves.Mc would get so desprate that they would drag Solomon to another alleyway and they would be at it for at least an hour.

Diavolo》 The balcony of the Castle or even hidden rooms

●He loves to show what he can offer Mc besides he massive cock. Of course he's anxious to rule devildom but he will do what needs to be done. Mc grounds him. What he doesn't tell Mc is that it's practically impossible to see that balcony. He would never jeopardize Mc or anyone's respect. The balcony gives him time to think a time to feel and reflect. Making Mc feels good makes him feel good.

●He loves exposing Mc's gaping hole towards the balcony. It shows everyone that only he can fill that hole.

●Diavolo is constantly hiding from Barbatos and he loves to drag Mc with him. Sometimes Diavolo forgets what rooms are in this huge castle so it's an adventure with Mc. Small rooms where Mc can barely move due to being pinned by Diavolo. He loves the rush of hiding and trying to be as quickly as possible. He wants to please every part of Mc.

●He loves when Barbatos finds themsawsee and he awkwardly leaves while Diavolo continues.

Barbatos 》 Mc's room

●He wants Mc to be as comfortable as they can be. He enjoys giving Mc massages. Waiting on Mc hand and foot. He wants Mc as comfortable as possible.

●He's more of a pleasure dom than anything. He gets off by just seeing Mc sprawled out on the bed shaking from pleasure. He could simply cum to the thought of it. It's private and quiet. He doesn't have to worry about anyone else except Mc. After he Mc into mush he'll be in the kitchen cooking them their favorite meal. Just to give them enough energy for a round two. He would snap photos of the exhausted Mc to keep for later just to stare.

●Mc's room is also good for Barbatos because Diavolo won't bother him as much. Barbatos only uses his demon form when he wants to fill all of Mcs holes.

●Any messes made in the room he'll clean it up. Since he knows he'll be cleaning anything that happens to get dirty. He's into a lot of WAM (wet and messy) Mainly with saliva, cum, sweat. The more the better it shows him he's doing a good job at pleasing Mc.

Simeon 》 Mc’s bedroom

●He wants Mc to be comfortable. He's never really felt as calm and confident ever since meeting Mc. When Mc looks like they are calm it calms him. Simeon feels safe to sort of lose control. He's a tease outside of the bedroom but now he can actually act out everything he wants to do. By everything, he means everything. Everyday he thinks of a new way He could fuck Mc or even have Mc fuck him.

●Mc's room feels familiar enough for the both of them. Of course it's a bit difficult when the brothers are home but that's when Simeon implements the quiet game. He slams himself into Mc and see how long it takes for Mc to almost give out.

●He loves texting Mc to meet him in their room. He's just so excited to be able to show Mc he's not just an Angel. He can make Mc feel things that they have yet to feel.

●They barely use the bed. Simeon likes to make sure there's a different position everytime. His mind is corrupted by how many positions or how many times can he make Mc cum that night.

[betterthanyalls]

hey betty wetty bo confetti

How’s about Ares x Reader in which she’s the daughter of Odysseus and and and she’s defending Telemachus & Penelope from the suitors and after getting into a fight with Antinous or however u spell his name, she meets Ares somehow?

BTW DONT FEEL PRESSURED OR FEEL THERES A TIME LIMIT - TAKE YOUR TIME 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

Okay love ya 🤩🤗

that nickname concerns me BUT HIIIII so ion know how good this is :sobs: , i made it in the span of like 2-3 hours from a burst of motivation. HERE YOU GO TAKE THIS AS A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

Masterlist

Warrior's Blood

Ares x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Action

Words: 1.4K

Published: 11-3-2024 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud belch sounded from the palace’s dining hall, followed by boisterous laughter and unorganized yells. The princess of Ithaca glared down the hallway while she stalked past the dining hall to her destination of the training grounds. “Men,” a loud voice called, the speaker standing up on a wooden bench, “we have been waiting for the throne for far too long. Can’t you see we are being played?”

Y/n slowed her pace, taking a peek into the crowded room to see the one suitor she hates the most speaking. Antinous. 

“I say, we take the throne. That boyish prince and his sister only stand in our way to the queen. Once we are rid of them, we shall have full access to the crown." Cheers and yells followed quickly. The onlooking royalty sneered in disgust. Normally, Y/n would only walk away and tell her mother about the new plan, but something inside her felt different—an urge to fight, a need for conflict. 

Taking a step into the light of the hall, Y/n cleared her throat.

“What would my mother think of this? Threatening to kill both of her children and then seizing her by force?" Y/n had to keep from gagging, not only at the idea of their threat but also the horrid stench of the room. 

Antinous turned to the princess with a look of pure murder and flame.

“Well, if it isn’t the weak girl. If you speak even a word of our plan, I will rip you limb from limb so you can meet your father in the underworld,” he stalked towards the younger girl with a vicious grin. “Now that I’ve thought about it, how about we begin that plan now? Starting with you.”

Y/n was wise enough to duck down, blocking an oncoming punch, only to be nailed in the gut with his knee. Falling to the ground with a sharp gasp, she was pulled to her feet by her hair. “Come on, girlie. You had the strength before to challenge me; where is it now? You’re as weak as your father.”

Staggering and getting out of his grasp, she pulled up a loose fighting position. The princess narrowed her eyes at Antinous’ insults while taking steps back to match his steps forward. Y/n tried to find some sort of strategy to take him down, like how Telemachus taught her. Her brother would always say to fight with wisdom, but there was no wisdom anywhere near this fight. Strategy only works if your opponent has strategy too. Antinous was anything but a planned fighter. 

So with her next best option, Y/n grabbed a nearby vase and chucked it at her rival's head. She missed, making Antinous even more angry. With a yell, a foot made contact with her stomach, throwing the princess to the floor and her head hitting a pillar. Pain shot through her entire body as she struggled to regain her breath. 

‘So, I did this easily. Thanks for the amazing lessons, Tele.’ Her mind wandered, forgetting about her approaching opponent as she took a glance at a nearby wall. There, up high, hung a tapestry by her mother. The twelve Olmpyians were displayed with divine glory. Glory that could help Y/n not die, if only they saw her. With nothing left to lose, the princess sent up a silent prayer before deciding to help herself.

With much pain and huffs, Y/n managed to stand on her feet once more with a sway.

Antinous offered a loud laugh, ricocheting off the stone walls.

“You just can’t stay down, can you? Do you not want to see Odysseus in Hades?”

“Don’t you dare speak my father's name,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She leaned onto the pillar with one hand while her other held her hurt stomach. Something other than pain burned inside her—a yearning to see him hurt, to see Antinous suffer. 

A new energy boosted her body; her muscles didn’t feel as sore, and the pain was dissipating. Deciding not to question this, Y/n dodged another punch aimed for her jaw. With fast footing, she grabbed a spear off the wall beside her and countered another punch.

Antinous grabbed the spear to rip it from Y/n’s grasp. Quickly, Y/n pulled the spear closer to her and kicked Antinous in the ribs. Instead of knocking him down, he only stumbled back. 

‘Left’ A voice spoke in her mind. Y/n was about to question the order until she noticed Antinous barreling towards her and instantly followed the demanded direction. 

Dodging a swipe of his sword, the princess swung her spear down at the man's knees, causing him to trip. Looking down to where he fell, a sudden push of rage flowed through her veins.

‘Blood’

She didn’t need to hear the voice again to know exactly what to do. With momentum, Y/n brought the weapons head down into Anitnous’ thigh, earning a scream from the male. She ripped the weapon from his flesh only to bring it down once more with another bloody cry. Her thoughts seemed barren except for a new order from the unknown voice. 

‘Stop’

That order only seemed to boost her adrenaline. Stop? She couldn’t. Not with all this pent-up anger and frustration she felt for Antinous. Y/n needed to make him learn where he stood as a guest in her kingdom. But as she raised her spear once more, the voice barked a command louder and all her pain and exhaustion rushed in.

‘STOP’

In an instant, her spear clattered to the floor as Y/n held her head with a groan. Antinous was being tended to by his fellow suitors, who had opted to stay on the sidelines. With labored breaths, Y/n managed to stumble away from the dining hall and towards the empty training grounds. 

Exhausted, she slumped to the sandy floor and leaned her back against a rack of swords. Her eyes shut against the glaring sun as the royal attempted to regain her breath. To her pleasure, the heat was blocked by a sudden shadow. The young adult cracked open her eyes to see a darkened figure wearing the full armor of a Spartan soldier. A mixture of emotions flooded into her soul as she recognized the nation's armor. Was this news of her father from serving beside the Spartans? But her hope was snuffed out as the familiar voice spoke.

“Stand up.”

She wanted to argue, but something in her felt compelled to follow the instructions. So, shakily, Y/n stood up in front of the warrior. From a new angle, she could see the stranger's identity. All breath escaped her lungs as she recognized the being from similar statues and paintings.

“Ares.”

The god, who towered over her with his divine form, smirked at the recognition.

“Indeed. I’ve seen your skill, princess of Ithaca. You fight well,” the god of war stalked around the girl in a circle, seeing her state after the fight. 

Finally, the two pieces connected in her mind as she turned to face him.

“It was you. The voice. The orders. That was all you.”

“You follow orders well, except for when you’re told to stop. I like that sort of fight.” Ares stood tall, power and bloodlust radiating off him as his armor seemed to brighten a bloody red in the sun’s light.

“Why’d you stop me anyway? You are the god of bloodlust, are you not? I could’ve killed him and solved the whole problem!” Y/n argued, upset at the missed opportunity.

“Have you forgotten the laws of hospitality? You would have been punished harshly by the gods had I let you continue. Not even I can defy those.” He glared down at her with warning. In response, she looked away with a defeated huff.

“Why’d you even help me then?” She grumbled, looking at the nearby swords; a few training weapons had begun to rust from limited use. 

"You have the ambition needed for the battlefield. Why would I let such skill go to waste with no proper mentor?” This caused Y/n to look at him instantly in shock, meeting the gaze of a grinning god beneath his helmet.

“Mentor?” 

“Y/n of Ithaca. You fight to protect. You fight to the last stand. That is a warrior’s blood. Like your father before you, you have the makings of a legend.” Ares held out his hand like he was shaking for a deal. “Become my champion, and I will help you become stronger than any opponent you shall face.” 

Y/n thought it over for less than a few seconds before grabbing the gods hand in her own and shaking them up and down. 

“Deal.”

[uravitypng]

bird creature/hybrid keigo takami x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: breeding (+praise)

word count: 3.0k words / mdni ! 18+ / this turned into a full on fic and is pretty fluffy tbh <3 it has more plot than porn sdfgjhbmfbxfvcbsxn and i haven't read it through properly but ssshhhh

being kicked out of your party sucks, 'you don't fill the roll of beast tamer' or something, they've found someone more skilled and experienced so now you're stuck alone in the middle of a forest after accepting a quest which you currently regret taking.

it should be a simple herb collection quest but it's being more of a hassle than it's worth, you shred off the top layers of your clothes and tie it around your waist, dropping your sheep hide bag and gulping down some of your water. after a while you stumble across a clearing with a lake and it looks like you'll finally be able to have room to properly set up your tent.

you don't realise but you're being watched. golden brown eyes piercing down at you, watching you with hawk-eyed vision on high alert to his surroundings. you met him the following morning, as you were leaving your tent something suddenly blocked out the sunlight before landing next to you. a bird creature was in front of you or maybe he was a hybrid, you weren't sure but he was rather intimidating. this man has bright red feather wings with a huge wing span and sandy blonde and white small fluffy parts on his arms and chest covered with a brown flimsy tunic with a handsome human face with golden eyes and blonde windswept hair. you're already quite fearful but after you spot his talons that look like they could slice you in half you really start panicking.

you were able to calm down when he smiled and held out his hand, you flinched first but in his palms where berries. you know those berries, they were edible, very rare and very tasty. later you found out his name was keigo but everyone call him hawks, when he told you this he also told you that he wanted you to call him keigo. he has limited human speech and it was hard to communicate with each other but you both tried your best.

you don't know this but when you accepted the berries he gave you in his mind that made you his mate, it solidified it in his mind and he was very happy that you accepted his advances. he's your provider and he has to look after you. you don't know that he thinks like that though.

you should of left the forest weeks ago, there was no reason for you to stay... well apart from keigo. you knew he would stay in the forest it's his home, you couldn't ask him to go with you and why would he? 'i probably care about him a lot more than he does me, which is fine! he likely has plenty of friends and his own kind in the forest, i just miss company after what happened with my old party... i like his company.' you can't bring yourself to leave, not yet, even if that means you're getting close to the rainy season, and it's always dangerous to be out in the wild in the rainy season. it's so easy to wind up dead, your body never found either downstream or at the bottom of cliffs that people can't access.

"shit!" you were foresting for some berries when you felt a drop of rain fall on your head, that drop turned into ten, then twenty, then fifty, all in a matter of seconds. you nearly fell as you tried to turn back to the somewhat safer option of your tent but the ground below you quickly became mud and slippy causing you to trip, luckily you were able to catch yourself on a nearby tree before falling face first and getting back as fast but safely as you can.

you're soaked to the bone and as the tent finally meets your eyeline it's getting you to walk quicker. you hear something above and you look up the best you can, covering your eyes with your hand but still somehow some water gets in your eyes, looking above you see hawks flying to you. "keigo, what are you doing?! go home, get in the tent, get anywhere. i know it might be different for you, i know you're less fragile than me but it's still raining heavily. what if there's lightning!" you shout at him to the sky.

keigo lands down, water slashing you in the process and getting mud on your trousers. he's careful as he pulls you towards him, making sure his talons won't hurt you and you're pressed against his body, "come." you're confused and you try to move so you can reach your tent but as you look behind you your back straightens as you see your tent. you don't even know if you could call it a tent anymore. the wind has blown it so much that it's just broken cut up fabric tied down by one singular peg, the others already blown away. "come," he repeats himself and pulls you closer towards his warm body before flying away, you can't help but scream as you lift up off the ground and you swear over the rain you can hear keigo laugh. you always wondered what it would be like if he took you up in his wings to fly, you've always thought they were so majestic but you never envisioned it going like this.

it's hard to hear and talk over the heavy patter of the rain but you try anyway. "keigo where are we going?"

"home," he replies and you hear him loud and clear, you don't know if that's because he's louder than the rain or leaning close to you or if you hear it loud and clear because your heart is just beating out of your chest at the answer.

it seemed like a long while of flying but when you finally reached the floor keigo carefully landed and put you down. looking around to where you are you see that you're outside a cave but you don't know that you can call it a cave anymore. at a quick glance from the outside it looks like it was originally a cave but the opening is covered by rocks, wood and other building materials, keeping the inside warm and dry. there's a wooden door to the side and you think you can see a lock on it. the outside reminded you a lot of your childhood home but you can't pinpoint why. "come," he grabs your wrist cautiously with his talons and leads you inside.

a blast of heat hits you when you enter and you immediately warm up, even if it's just a little bit through your wet clothes. it looks pretty barren apart from some small trinkets along the wall and the bed is covered in blankets and other fluffy comfortable things, definitely more comfortable than anything you've been sleeping recently. you stay where you are not moving from the door, not wanting to get everything wet. keigo leaves but comes back a minute or so after with a towel for you and second one in his hand for him.

"thank you," you say quietly and shyly taking the towel from him. after doing your best to dry your hair and dry the rest of your clothes keigo leans down to your neck and nuzzles you while cooing, heat quickly rises to your cheeks and he pulls back and takes you further into his home before dropping your hand and he goes back into one of his back rooms.

you miss his hand in yours but when he returns he's holding a shirt, "for you."

"me?" you point to yourself and he nods. "i don't know if it will fit, i might be a bit small." you tell him but he looks back at you with an easygoing smile that puts you at ease. you know it probably won't fit right, you're not exactly small but you don't have much choice with how wet your clothes are. "thank you," you return his smile. you feel small under his gaze as he looks at you, it seems like he has no plan to leave you alone to get changed or look away. "um, okay, i'll-" you turn away from him and lift up your top. when you take it off and start to fold it keigo holds you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, his wings softly fluttering. you get flustered and wonder what you should do, this isn't normal human behaviour but keigo isn't human maybe this is completely normal for him, although he's never done this before, but maybe he knows how cold you are.

"k-keigo i need to put this on, i'll get cold." he's slow as he takes his hands off you, making you shiver in the process. you quickly get changed pulling on the top that you've been given and pulling down your trousers. you were right about how it doesn't fit you but at least you're dry. the top is thin and covers up to your mid-thigh, the fabric tight along your waist, stomach and breasts but it's still comfortable. you turn round to look at him and twiddle with your thumbs, he smiles at you again and rubs his face against yours, making your cheeks heat up.

"drink?"

"huh?" you ask slightly distracted by how intimate this is.

"drink? keep you warm." he gestures to you and then gestures to another room. you nod your head, not knowing what drink you're saying yes to but happy to be warm and experience what drinks keigo likes and drinks, it might just be tea you'll have to wait and see.

you feel a bit uncomfortable just standing around and you don't notice any chairs so you perch yourself on the bed, hoping keigo won't mind. when keigo comes back he's wearing different clothes and he's holding two mugs, you smile at him and you notice he doesn't smile back. 'did i do something wrong? he's not smiling. maybe i was wrong about him not minding about me sitting down on the bed, i should of just stayed standing up.' keigo is holding onto the mugs so tightly that his hands are turning white. "i'm really sorry keigo, i didn't mean to make you angry," you rush out as quick as you can, hurrying to get up but as you start lifting off the bed two feathers rapidly leave keigo's wings and pins you down to the bed by the top you're wearing. you've never seen him do that before so part of you is thinking about how impressive it is, the other part of you worried and confused hoping he'll forgive you for whatever accidental mistake you made.

keigo places the cups down on the side. "i'm sor-" before you can finish your sentence, he moves on top of you, making your eyes widen, at that moment you see his eyes, heavily dilated looking down at you tenderly but hungrily.

"do you like?" he asks stroking your chubby cheeks.

"like?" you ask confused.

"nest." he kisses your nose.

you're not one hundred percent sure what you're saying yes to but you think he's talking about what you're laying on and you do like it, it's warm and cosy and you could stay here for ever. "i like it very much. i could stay here forever."

keigo trills when he hears you say that, "did a good job?"

you never thought keigo would be one for seeking approval but you suppose everyone does. "amazing job." you nod your head and lift your hands up to his wings and run your hands through them making him shiver. after all that's happened you're still surprised as he gently bites your lip, a silent request for you to open your mouth and you grant him access, parting your lips, keigo taking the lead controlling the movement as your tongues intertwine and you kiss. you have no idea how much time goes by, so caught up in the moment, it could of been three minutes or thirty for all you know, all you know is how good everything feels.

as you move apart you open up your eyes to see him smirking at you, your cheeks are hot. he kisses the corner of your mouth and squeezes your plush thighs before gently trailing his knuckle up and down your inner thigh, slowly inching up your, his, top. keigo brings both his hands to your outer thighs and slivers up the rest of the top until he sees your hips, eyes practically glowing as he nuzzles your neck again.

at some point while all of this was happening he started rubbing his hard dick along your thigh, getting precum everywhere, you had no idea when was able to take off his clothes.

this time he uses his talons as he rips up your underwear leaving you bare and maybe you should be scared of how close his talons were to you but you weren't. he uses his knuckles again and brushes along your opening, he thrills when he feels how wet you are and before you even realise it he's slowly pushing himself into you. he sees you wince and kisses all along your neck and pauses for a second, then continues just as slow as he was before not wanting to hurt you. when he's fully in he waits and kisses you all over, touching all over your body, your hips and stomach especially, groping and squeezing. keigo feels you start relaxing around him and starts moving, slow thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you.

keigo's thrusts start to speed up uncontrollable as he kept feeling you clench around him and how wet you are, almost feral, animalistic. a white creamy ring forms at the bottom of his dick and he becomes more and more feral. you moan loudly and bury your head into the soft blankets and materials. "feel so good!" you cry out mumbled against the pillows. you ball your fists up into the covers, holding onto them tight and keigo goes harder.

"you feel good too. i'll keep making you feel good," he leans down to your ear and kisses your cheek. you nod your head even though it wasn't a question and keigo's eyes dilate even more than they have been. he touches you very gently, circling against your clit and kisses your pulse point, delicately sucking a mark on your neck. his pace stays the same, still fast. your back arches and you feel the coil in your stomach winding up more and more, so close to snapping. you whine as the coil in you snaps and you cum, body tight in an arch before shaking.

keigo smirks as he watches your body fall and go limp. he picks up your legs and folds you in half, gripping hold of your thighs tightly and his pace increases so fast that it leaves you breathless, your body bounces and he watches you ravenously. "gonna give you my seed, gonna make you a pretty mummy." keigo chokes a groan and holds onto you tighter. you should be trying to move away and tell him no but you don't, instead you clench tighter around him and nod your head rapidly in desire, you've never wanted something so badly. warm ropes of cum spills into you filling you up. keigo smirks and peppers your face with kisses.

"keigo have you seen how messy tsunagu's clothes are! it's a nightmare washing them all the time!" you complain scowling as you pick up your youngest sons shirt.

keigo chuckles and comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you behind you ear, "he's such a troublemaker." you shiver as you feel his breath against your skin and his voice so close to you, he smirks.

it's been five years since you first stepped foot in your home, it's been five years since you and keigo first had sex. in those five years a lot has changed, your relationship included. you and keigo have no problem communicating anymore, both now speaking the same language with keigo learning how to write and read everything too. you have two boys together and they're wonderful. you got married and it was one of the happiest days of your life. you've practically abandoned human civilisation, by your own choice. occasionally you'll go into town if you need something but you stay in the forest most of the time. you've met keigo's friend and they all call him hawks, even the ones he's known since children. you asked him why he told you to call him keigo when you first met especially since everyone calls him hawks and he told you it's because he knew as soon as he met you that you were his mate and you would spend the rest of your life together.

"i know a way to calm him down." you hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

you play along, "oh?"

"i think he needs to be a big brother." he pulls you closer to him and rubs your soft stomach.

grinning wide, "really?"

keigo hums and kisses your neck. "yeah birdie, a little one he can help and look after will keep him out of trouble." he nuzzles against you and plays with your stomach. he turns you around to look at him, holding onto your hands and smirking. nonchalantly asking, "what are we aiming for this time? a girl or another boy?" he taps his finger to his chin, "i'm thinking girl."

"i'm thinking a girl too," you smile fondly and kiss his nose. keigo's wings flutter out when you kiss him and you giggle.

"i'll lock the door."

[rstarsims3]

TS3 - Eve Set - Download

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[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy?

chapter summary: Things are back to normal at the X-Mansion, other than the new, permanent addition of Logan. But he's not here for anything other than you.

word count: 18.1k+ (total 36.6k+)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: honestly, i got carried away with the slow burn, and i genuinely mean that cause how is this just 36k+ words of pure fluff?? i think i just clogged myself up with so much pain and angst that i needed nothing but happiness???

also, this is only part 1, it was meant to be one chapter but since it was 36k+ it didn't fit in one post, so go read the next chapter for the full story!

(if you want easier access, you can read the chapter on ao3)

warnings/tags: fluff, reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, logan pining, soft!logan, slow burn (like... slow. burn.), one bed, brief sickness, brief insecurities, almost too much fluff holy sh-, reader has slight backstory, mention of twirling hair, brief injury

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 8.5

The students walked out of the classroom, chatting amongst themselves until there was only you and the sound of you straightening the stack of papers in your hands before walking out yourself.

You stepped out of the classroom, the chatter of students fading behind you as you turned right, eyes down on the stack of papers in your hands. Only to bump straight into someone, the impact making you look up, surprised to find Logan standing right in your path.

“Whoa there,” he murmured, catching you by the arms just long enough to steady you before letting go, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess you’re still not watchin’ where you’re going.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you mumbled, “Sorry, Logan. Lost in thought, I guess.” You gave a small, self-conscious smile, unsure whether to meet his gaze or look anywhere but at him.

Logan’s eyes softened as he took in your flushed expression. “Not a problem,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. He nodded to the papers you were holding. “You really take this teaching thing seriously, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, shrugging with a shy smile. “I’m kind of… the physics teacher, so I have to.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Right. Wouldn’t want to let the kids think they could slack off, now would ya?” His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, something warm and thoughtful in his gaze. “Never took you for the shy type, though,” he said, almost to himself.

The comment caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow, trying to make sense of the meaning behind it. “Is that a… problem?”

“Nah,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Actually… kinda nice.” His voice softened as he added, “Makes you different. But in a good way.”

For a moment, you stood there, unable to quite find the words to respond. Logan didn’t often compliment people, and even if he did, it was usually with a dry remark and a half-smile, not this almost tender edge. You felt your heart skip, but the butterflies in your stomach were quickly interrupted as a few students walked by, nudging each other and glancing at you and Logan with barely disguised amusement.

Logan seemed unfazed by the sudden audience, though. He just glanced at them with a raised eyebrow, making the students scurry off with stifled laughs.

“They’re onto you,” you said, amused despite yourself.

“Oh yeah?” He tilted his head toward you, his smirk widening just slightly. “And what exactly are they onto?”

“That you’re… softer with me,” you admitted, a bit nervously. “I mean, you’re usually not, well, nice.”

Logan let out a small huff of laughter. “Maybe I just don’t see the point in givin’ you a hard time. ‘Sides,” he leaned in just a fraction closer, “I’ve got my reasons.”

You couldn’t hide your flush this time, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to form any coherent response. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but then Jean’s voice rang out from the hallway, breaking the moment.

“Y/N! Hey, do you have a second?” She sounded friendly, as usual, but there was a flicker of something else in her tone—an undercurrent of urgency that made you glance over.

You cleared your throat, stepping back from Logan. “I should… probably go.”

Logan nodded, but you noticed the way his hand brushed against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he finally let you go.

Jean approached, offering you a warm smile that turned curious as she looked between you and Logan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she teased lightly, though her expression wavered slightly. Her eyes seemed darker somehow, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

“No, no, you’re not interrupting,” you said quickly. “Logan was just… giving me a hard time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sure, make me out to be the bad guy.”

Jean laughed, though it sounded slightly forced. “We all know that’s not true, Logan.” She turned to you with a softer expression. “Walk with me? I had a question about one of the classes.”

You nodded, giving Logan a small, shy smile before walking off with Jean. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you walked away, though you didn’t dare look back.

Once you were out of earshot, Jean sighed, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “You know, he’s really different around you,” she observed quietly. “I mean, he cares about all of us, but… it’s different with you.”

You felt a pang of curiosity mixed with uncertainty. “Different how?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Jean said, pausing for a moment as she thought. “It’s like there’s a part of him that comes alive only when you’re around. A gentler side.”

“Logan? Gentle?” you asked, laughing a little despite yourself.

Jean’s expression turned somber. “You’d be surprised.” Her gaze flickered with something that seemed… almost ominous, though it passed quickly. She offered you a reassuring smile, but there was still a hint of tension. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You frowned, taken aback by her shift in tone. “Careful of what?”

Jean shook her head, waving off the question. “It’s nothing, really. Just… I think he cares about you a lot more than he lets on.” She hesitated, then squeezed your hand lightly before heading down the hall.

You stood there for a moment, trying to piece together her words, her cryptic expression, and the tension that seemed to hang in the air, almost like a storm was waiting just beyond the horizon.

---

Logan hadn’t stayed long enough before to know what normal days were like at the mansion. Now he did. After classes, students filled the halls with laughter and chatter, some rushing off to the next thing, while others wandered outside. He watched as they sprawled across the lawn, huddled over comics, or playfully sparred with their mutant powers, while others claimed the common room and TV with that strange, easy camaraderie that he hadn’t known in a very long time.

And, he realized, it wasn’t so bad.

He was leaning back against a wall in the hallway, lost in thought, when he spotted you walking toward him, papers and a thermos tucked under one arm, your focus somewhere else entirely. His lips quirked up as you grew nearer, completely oblivious to his presence until he let out a low whistle, causing you to stop short, looking up at him with that small, startled smile he’d come to recognize—complete with a glossy shine to your lips.

“Deep in thought there, aren’t you?” Logan’s voice was a mix of teasing and warmth as he raised an eyebrow, watching as you took a quick, steadying breath.

You gave a shy laugh, a flush heating up your cheeks. “Sorry, I was just… thinking about today’s class.” You shrugged, gaze darting away briefly, only to return to his with a shy, half-curious look that gave him pause. “The students had questions about particle physics, and I… well, I didn’t expect so many, honestly.”

Logan’s smirk softened as he watched you. “Not surprised they keep you on your toes. You get all animated when you’re in teaching mode.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to that low, familiar tone that always seemed to linger just for you. “Must be why the kids don’t skip your classes.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh, sure, I’m just the highlight of their day.”

“Yeah, don’t sell yourself short, Y/N.” Logan tilted his head, his gaze holding yours just a moment longer than necessary. “You’re kinda the highlight of mine.”

Your heart skipped, and for a split second, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. You mumbled, “You’re… not so bad yourself, Logan,” giving him a soft smile that seemed to settle his expression into something gentler than usual.

Before either of you could say more, Kitty zipped past, phasing halfway through the wall and glancing between you two with a cheeky grin. “Just passing through! Don’t mind me,” she called over her shoulder, sending a wink your way.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Logan just shook his head with a slight, bemused smile. “Kids,” he muttered.

Still flustered, you cleared your throat. “So… got plans for the rest of the day?” you asked, attempting to regain your composure.

“Thought I might head down to the Danger Room,” Logan replied, eyes twinkling slightly as he glanced at you. “You’re welcome to join me. Unless you’re too busy grading.” He nodded at the stack of papers under your arm.

Your laugh was soft. “Grading or Danger Room training? Such a tough choice,” you said, your voice teasing. “Guess I could spare an hour.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a full, almost mischievous smile as he straightened up, giving you a nod. “Good answer.” He turned and started walking toward the elevator, his stride easy and sure, and you followed, still clutching your papers but already half-forgetting about them.

As you both walked through the main hall, a few younger students glanced at you and Logan, exchanging knowing glances and whispers. The whole mansion seemed to have picked up on this unspoken…something between you and Logan, and though no one dared say it aloud, you couldn’t quite ignore the amused glances.

In the elevator, you finally dared a glance at Logan, noticing the faint grin on his face. “I think the kids are starting to make bets on us,” you murmured, half-embarrassed.

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a sideways glance. “Oh, yeah? What’re the odds?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling they’re rooting for you.”

“Smart kids,” he replied with a wink.

Your heart gave an involuntary flutter at the easy way he teased you now, each small interaction charged with a warmth and a familiarity that you were still getting used to. Yet, there was something else too—an intensity in his gaze that lingered, something that spoke of memories and past lives you didn’t know you shared. It made you wonder, in quiet moments, just how long he’d felt this way, as though you were a mystery he was determined to keep close.

When you arrived at the Danger Room, he shot you one last playful glance before stepping inside, holding the door open for you like it was the most natural thing.

You hesitated at the door, glancing over at Logan with an uncertain smile. “I’m not sure if I’m the best partner for this,” you said, shifting your weight as you adjusted the stack of papers in your arms. “I don’t really know how to fight.”

Logan shrugged, his lips curling into an easy smirk. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To teach you.” He stepped inside and gave a nod for you to follow, his expression softening as he watched you. “Besides, with that time-bending power of yours, you don’t really need to know how to throw a punch, do you?”

You chuckled, shyly pushing your glasses up on your nose. “Yeah, but it’d be nice to do more than just freeze people in place. You know, in case I need it someday.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you, warm and a bit amused. “Good point. Never hurts to be prepared.” He walked over to the center of the room, beckoning you forward with a slight tilt of his head. “Alright, Y/N, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You hesitated for a second, clutching the stack of papers and your thermos, until he chuckled and reached over, taking them from you. “I’ll hang onto these. Can’t have you distracted,” he said, setting them on a nearby bench. His hand brushed against yours, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine. You looked up, catching his eye, and felt the now-familiar flutter in your chest as he held your gaze, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright,” he started, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the room. “First lesson in not gettin’ hurt—learn to dodge.” He flashed a quick grin. “Figured we’d start there, since, y’know, might keep that pretty face of yours from getting bruised up.”

You couldn’t help but smile, nervously adjusting your glasses as you let out a soft laugh. “Dodging sounds like a safe place to start,” you agreed, glancing around the room, which hummed with potential energy, screens and obstacles waiting to spring to life at Logan’s command.

“Good.” He took a step closer, his gaze flickering over you with a warm familiarity, one you couldn’t quite place but found oddly comforting. “Just follow my lead.”

With that, Logan gave the signal, and a few small projectiles began to emerge from hidden panels along the walls, firing in your direction. They weren’t dangerous, just enough to test your reflexes. You shifted, trying to move away from them as they came, but missed dodging a couple, barely able to sidestep in time.

Logan let out a low chuckle, stepping in to help as he guided you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re overthinkin’ it,” he murmured. “Trust yourself—move with the flow of things.”

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but his words were steady, grounded, like he was trying to give you a part of himself that made all of this seem so natural to him. You nodded, focusing on his voice rather than the projectiles, and found that dodging them came a little easier, your body moving in sync with his instructions.

“Good,” he praised, his voice softening as he stepped back to give you space. “See? You’ve got it. Just takes a bit of trust.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I… guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you said, your voice quiet, but he caught the shy smile on your face, and his eyes softened, almost as if he was seeing something more than just you standing there in the Danger Room.

“Yeah,” he replied, that lingering look in his eyes returning. “Been waitin’ for this, believe it or not.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion tugging at you. “Waiting for what?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held your gaze, something unspoken passing between you both before he finally shook his head, breaking the tension with a smirk. “For you to stop bein’ so serious in class,” he teased, lightening the moment. “Takes a bit to get you to relax, doesn’t it?”

You felt your face heat, and you laughed softly. “Guess I’m still getting used to… all this.” You motioned to the Danger Room and then to him, and Logan nodded, his expression unreadable for a second.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said softly, that nickname slipping out as naturally as if he’d used it a hundred times before. “We’ve got time.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the Danger Room doors opened, and Scott stepped inside, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you and Logan standing close, with you looking flushed and Logan wearing a rare, softer expression.

“Didn’t know you were takin’ up teaching, Logan,” Scott remarked, a hint of a smirk in his voice.

Logan just shot him a lazy glare, but you could feel the warmth of Logan’s lingering gaze on you even as Scott’s teasing drew your attention. "Someone's gotta keep ‘em on their toes," he replied, his voice gruff but playful.

Scott nodded, giving you a smile. “Well, keep it up. We could use more of that around here.” He nodded to Logan before leaving, leaving you alone with Logan again.

Logan let out a small chuckle, glancing at you. “Guess word’s out I’m takin’ the ‘soft’ approach with ya,” he said, his voice a bit lower as he took a step closer, his gaze settling on you with a steady intensity that made your heart race. “But maybe they don’t need to know everything.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you felt something pull you closer to him, something you didn’t understand but couldn’t deny. And Logan’s expression, a mixture of longing and patience, made you feel like he was waiting—waiting for a moment only he understood.

---

Logan had been looking everywhere for you—your room, the library, your office, your classroom, but he couldn’t find you. He finally walked into the kitchen, Scott was rummaging through the fridge while Jean and Ororo talked by the island.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

Ororo glanced out the window, “it’s raining,” she stated.

“And?” Logan frowned at the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass.

He barely caught the hint of a smile Jean gave as she said, “She’s outside in the back. Probably reading.”

Of course you’d be out there. He nodded a quick thanks, stepping through the back door and into the soft drizzle. A few steps down the porch, he spotted a faint light coming from the field. He walked across the grass, the rain matting his hair and soaking his clothes.

Logan stopped a few feet away, taking in the scene. You were sitting cross-legged on the damp grass, a book open in your lap, oblivious to the world around you. Above, raindrops hung frozen in the air, suspended like tiny prisms under the glow of your lantern. It was like you’d created your own little world, untouched by the rain.

“Interesting reading spot,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of a smirk.

You glanced up, startled, but relaxed when you saw him, pushing your glasses up. “I just… like being outside,” you mumbled, glancing away. “It’s quiet.”

He stepped closer, hands still in his pockets, the rain parting above him as he entered your time-slowed bubble. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, a hint of that rough charm lacing his tone.

You nodded quickly, shuffling over a bit. Logan sat beside you, his broad shoulders just inches from yours. He looked up at the still raindrops around you and let out a low chuckle. “Nice trick. Keeps the rain out and all.”

You bit your lip, glancing down at your book to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “Just… didn’t want the pages getting wet,” you murmured. “Or my glasses fogging up.”

“Guess I’d never thought of glasses as somethin’ that needed their own bubble,” he replied, amused.

You finally dared to look up at him, meeting his gaze for just a moment before shyly looking away again. “You’re drenched. I didn’t… I mean, you didn’t have to come out here.”

“Didn’t have to,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours just enough for you to notice. “But I wanted to. Figured I should see what’s so important about readin’ out in the rain.” He glanced at the title of your book. “What’re you readin’?”

You held it up, realizing he was genuinely interested. “The Da Vinci Code,” you said softly, almost embarrassed. “I don’t really like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “you’re more than halfway done.”

“I don’t like not finishing books.”

Logan gave a soft chuckle, glancing from your face to the book. "Guess that makes you pretty stubborn, huh?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the corner of the page. “It just feels… wrong to stop halfway. Like I’d be giving up on it.”

"Giving up, huh? I don’t see you as the quitting type.” He leaned back, resting his hands in the damp grass, completely unfazed by the rain still dripping off his hair. “So, what’s got you so unimpressed?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I think it’s trying too hard. Like it wants to be smart, but it just feels… obvious.”

“Guess it’s good I didn’t pick that one up.” His lips curled into a grin. “You always pick out books you know you’ll hate?”

A quiet laugh escaped you. “No. But sometimes I get curious, and it doesn’t always pay off.” You glanced sideways at him, pushing your glasses up again. "Not like I expected you to be much of a reader, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You just seem like the… outdoorsy type?”

He gave a low chuckle, leaning a bit closer. “I’m full of surprises.” The warmth of his gaze lingered on you, holding your eyes just a second longer than you expected.

You looked away quickly, biting your lip. "Maybe you can recommend me something better next time," you said, feeling your cheeks warm under his stare.

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing. "And maybe I’ll bring you a book worth readin’ in the rain.”

You hid another smile, turning back to your book. But Logan didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, just sitting there beside you, letting the quiet settle between you both.

---

“I rewired them and added a few more breakers. I think you should be all good now,” you said, standing up from the floor and dusting off your hands. “Jean?”

Jean looked up from the workbench she’d set up in the corner, an appreciative smile crossing her face. “Thanks, Y/N. I swear, some of this equipment’s older than I am.”

“Just needed a bit of extra care,” you shrugged, glancing at the exposed circuits. "Or maybe some serious replacement," you added with a grin. "Hopefully, that’ll keep it from sparking every time someone uses the projector.”

Jean chuckled, brushing her hair back as she leaned against the bench. "We’ll see. You’ve got the touch, though—half the mansion would be out of power by now if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure Scott would’ve figured it out eventually,” you teased, earning a snort from her.

“Scott knows how to flip a light switch, but you?” Jean shook her head. “It’s like you speak machine.” She tilted her head, a hint of curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… reading in the rain again?”

“Um… yeah,” you replied, pushing your glasses up self-consciously. “I like the quiet.”

“That I understand,” she said warmly, but then, for a brief second, her gaze flickered. Her smile stayed, but something in her eyes looked distant, almost… wary. The change was so subtle that you almost thought you imagined it.

“Jean?”

She blinked and the moment passed. “Hmm? Sorry, I spaced out for a second. Must be all those late nights.”

“Yeah, you’ve been pulling a lot of shifts,” you said, watching her closely. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, you know… just the usual.” She waved a hand, brushing it off with a small laugh. “Professor’s been on my case about resting, but there’s so much going on.”

You offered a soft smile. “Maybe he’s right. You can’t be everywhere at once, Jean.”

Jean’s expression softened, a hint of something wistful touching her features. “Sometimes it feels like I have to be, though.” She looked down, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the workbench. “With all that’s happening… it feels like I need to be ready. Prepared.”

There was a quiet intensity in her voice that gave you pause. “Prepared for what?” you asked gently.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting yours with an almost searching look. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, but her tone had an edge of urgency. “Sometimes it’s like… there’s something inside of me, something I can’t quite understand. And it’s growing.”

You hesitated, then reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, Jean. You’ve got me, the Professor… all of us.”

Her expression relaxed, and she covered your hand with hers, giving it a grateful squeeze. “I know. I’m lucky to have you, Y/N.” Her gaze softened further. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one around here who isn’t constantly asking if I’m okay, like I’m some fragile thing.”

“Well, you’re not fragile,” you said firmly, earning a grateful smile from her.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jean said, her voice a little lighter now. “And if you ever want to get away from Logan’s constant staring contests, I’m always around.” She raised an eyebrow playfully.

You blinked, your cheeks instantly warming. “Logan? Staring?”

“Please,” she teased, laughter dancing in her eyes. “He’s been all over you since you got here. I mean, he’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

You tried to shrug it off, though you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of warmth in your cheeks. “I don’t know… I guess I just thought he was… friendly.”

Jean laughed softly, nudging your arm. “Friendly? Y/N, I think he’d growl at anyone who tried to interrupt your time-bending reading sessions.”

“I’m sure he’s like that with everyone,” you replied, though the thought made you feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Sure, everyone,” Jean said with a smirk. “Except… you’re the only one he follows into a storm just to sit beside in silence. I’d say that’s more than ‘friendly.’”

You bit your lip, looking down as you tried to stifle a smile. You’d always thought there was something about Logan that made him linger around you, but hearing it from Jean made it feel… different. Like maybe you hadn’t imagined the little moments he stayed close or the way his gaze seemed softer when he looked at you.

---

You didn’t like meetings, and while you preferred being in the Professor’s office with everyone else over a one-on-one, it didn’t mean you liked it. The Professor was going over a mission debrief, his gaze sweeping across the team. You sat a little toward the back, trying to keep a low profile. Logan, who had come in just a few minutes before, took a seat close to you, his usual habit of hanging back subtly pulling him toward your side of the room.

As the Professor continued, you felt Logan's eyes on you, but every time you dared to glance his way, he looked like he was concentrating on something far away. It was small things like this that always made you wonder—little, lingering looks or quiet moments in the hallway where he’d pass by just close enough that his presence was hard to ignore.

You did your best to focus on what the Professor was saying, but after a while, you felt Logan shift slightly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, relaxed yet distinctly attentive. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you again.

Finally, you dared to meet his gaze, giving him a small, shy smile.

“What?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, still moving your pen back and forth between your index and middle fingers.

“Just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on in that head of yours,” Logan murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Caught off guard, you blinked, feeling your cheeks warm as you continued twirling the pen in your fingers. “Um… just… listening,” you stammered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Logan chuckled softly, his gaze steady. “Sure ya are.”

His tone held that familiar teasing edge, and you could feel him watching you even as you tried to refocus on the Professor’s words. The others in the room were paying attention to the debrief, but you had the odd sense that Logan’s attention was entirely on you, as if he could see through the quiet, reserved front you tried to put up.

Logan's teasing smirk lingered as you tried, and failed, to redirect your attention to the Professor's debrief. But as you continued twirling your pen, he leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Y’know,” he murmured, “that pen-twirlin’ of yours is makin’ me a little anxious.”

You stopped mid-twirl, blinking up at him, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Before you could apologize, he wordlessly reached over and took the pen out of your hand. But he didn’t give it back. Instead, he held onto it, letting his fingers linger on yours, and then, almost casually, his hand slid down to hold yours under the table.

You tensed at first, your eyes darting around to see if anyone noticed. But everyone else was absorbed in the Professor’s talk, completely unaware. Logan’s hand was warm, grounding, and despite your nerves, you felt a small surge of comfort. Slowly, you relaxed, letting your fingers curl around his.

He glanced sideways at you, a small smirk still tugging at his mouth. “Better?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, though you could feel your heart racing. Without your pen, you found yourself nervously tracing little patterns in the palm of his hand, letting your fingertips wander over the rough lines of his skin, tracing the knuckles and the faint scars along his fingers. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, just lost in the simple, steady motion.

Logan’s thumb brushed gently over your hand in response, his hold tightening slightly, and you swore you felt a quiet, satisfied hum rumble in his chest. Despite your shy nature, you couldn’t ignore the way he seemed to soften in these moments, as if he was just as reluctant to let go.

For the rest of the meeting, his hand stayed around yours, his thumb grazing lightly over your knuckles in a rhythm that was both reassuring and subtly flirtatious. You weren’t sure if he knew what his touch was doing to your already racing pulse, but from the quiet satisfaction in his expression, you suspected he did.

As the Professor wrapped up, some of the other team members glanced your way, but no one commented. Logan's usual stern exterior was unmistakably gentler, and a few of the younger mutants exchanged knowing looks, though they quickly looked away, perhaps sensing that it wasn’t something to tease you about.

When everyone started to disperse, Logan finally released your hand, slipping the pen back into your fingers with a slight, almost reluctant brush of his fingertips. He gave you a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “See? No need to keep spinnin’ that pen around.”

Your cheeks warmed as you fumbled with the pen, and you looked away, managing a shy smile. “Maybe I just need more practice.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on you as he pushed himself up. “Well, you know where to find me,” he said, his tone holding just a hint of something more. Then, with one last glance, he turned and headed toward the door, leaving you feeling like he’d stolen more than just a few minutes of your time.

---

Jones continued blinking, changing the channels on the small TV, until he landed on the nightly PBS station. Theresa huffed and folded her arms as you guided both of their focuses back to the cookies they had asked you to make with them.

"Okay, so, you take a little bit of the dough and roll it into a ball. It doesn’t have to be perfect," you said gently, showing Jones and Theresa the process with a small smile. Both kids looked on, wide-eyed and eager, Theresa’s fingers already sticky with dough, while Jones seemed more interested in sneaking bites than rolling.

“Like this?” Theresa asked, holding up her dough ball, which was more lopsided than round.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an encouraging nod. “They’ll all taste the same anyway, even if they look funny.”

Jones looked from his misshapen dough ball to Theresa’s, smirking. “Mine’s better,” he teased.

“Oh yeah?” Theresa challenged, nudging him playfully. "We’ll see whose tastes better!”

You chuckled softly, gently placing both of their attempts on the tray. “Alright, let’s focus on making a few more before you eat all the dough.”

In the background, you caught a glimpse of Logan lingering by the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the three of you with a quiet, almost nostalgic expression. You caught his gaze and gave him a small, shy smile, which he returned with a faint nod, his eyes softer than usual. It was a look you had started to notice more and more—a silent warmth reserved only for you, one that was almost protective.

Logan’s gaze stayed on you as you guided Theresa’s hands, helping her with another dough ball, and encouraging Jones to try shaping one like a star. You were so good with them, Logan couldn’t help but remember all the other times he’d seen you with kids in your past lives. You had always been gentle, patient, the type to make them feel safe and seen.

“Think they’re ready for the oven?” you asked, brushing flour from your hands.

Theresa and Jones looked from each other to you with eager nods.

“Yes!” Theresa chimed in.

“Finally,” Jones added, stifling a small grin as he looked at the tray.

You carefully put the cookies in the oven, setting the timer before turning back to the kids. “They’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, so no peeking!”

Jones pretended to be exasperated but nodded, and Theresa let out a small, delighted squeal, her mind already on tasting the finished cookies.

Logan watched the scene quietly, noticing how natural this was for you. This wasn’t just kindness—it was something deeper, a warmth that drew people to you without you even realizing it. He could see why the kids adored you, why others in the mansion sought you out for comfort, and why his own instinct was always to protect you, to be near you.

As you turned to put away some ingredients, Logan finally stepped forward, his presence a little more obvious now.

“Didn’t know you were such a baker, Y/N,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You jumped slightly, not realizing he’d come closer, and turned to see him just a few steps away. “Oh! Um… I’m not, really,” you replied, glancing down. “I just… Theresa and Jones wanted to make cookies, and I didn’t want to let them down.”

“Well, from what I saw, you did pretty good. They look like they’re havin’ the time of their lives,” he added, his gaze softer than usual.

Theresa, noticing Logan now, grinned up at him. “You’re just in time to taste them, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, crouching down to her level. “I wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

Jones, though pretending to ignore the adults, cast a knowing look between you and Logan. “Yeah, right. You’re just here to watch Miss Y/N.”

You felt your cheeks warm immediately as Logan gave Jones a look of amused surprise, lifting an eyebrow. “Watchin’ her bake isn’t as fun as watchin’ you two mess with the dough, kid.”

Jones didn’t look convinced, but Theresa gave a giggle, pushing her little fist up to her mouth. “Miss Y/N’s the best at baking.”

“Oh, really?” Logan said, his voice laced with humor, eyes back on you. “Didn’t know I was dealing with an expert here.”

You bit your lip, flustered by the attention and not quite sure how to respond. “I’m just… I’m just helping them. Nothing special.”

Logan stepped a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Seems special to me.”

You quickly looked away, busying yourself with wiping down the counter, feeling your pulse race under his gaze. The way Logan looked at you was different—intense, as if he could see right through every shy attempt to brush things off. And though his usual gruff tone was still there, there was a gentleness that only seemed to surface when he was around you. It was impossible to ignore how your heart jumped a little every time he was near, or how his subtle flirtations left you more flustered than you cared to admit.

After a few minutes, the timer beeped, and Theresa and Jones jumped up in excitement.

“They’re ready!” Theresa squealed, bouncing on her toes.

You smiled, moving to pull the tray out, but Logan was faster, reaching over your shoulder to grab the oven mitts, his arm brushing against yours as he did so. “I got it,” he said, his voice low and close enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pulled the tray out effortlessly, placing it on the counter with a smirk. “Better be good. Don’t wanna waste time tasting any duds.”

Theresa shot him a mock-scowl as Jones reached for a cookie. “You’ll love them, I bet,” he said confidently.

You watched as Logan took a cookie, biting into it with a skeptical look that quickly melted into a smirk. “Alright, kid, not bad.”

The kids cheered, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan glanced your way again, a knowing look in his eyes.

---

Dinner was quiet, though technically an understatement with kids running around, to Logan it was. You were nowhere to be found, and although you occasionally came to dinner late, never this late.

Logan leaned back, eyes scanning the crowded dining room for any sign of you, brows furrowing slightly when he didn’t see you among the younger kids or the teachers.

“Maybe she’s asleep,” Ororo said, noticing Logan’s expression. “She was up half the night after Artie had a nightmare.” She rounded the table, pulling a reluctant Jones back to clear his plate while Theresa ran to help with the dishes.

Logan grunted a reply, shifting his gaze down the empty hallway outside. You were dedicated—more than most. You made sure the kids felt safe, even if it meant running on little sleep. He considered waiting it out, letting you get some rest, but something made him push back his chair and step quietly out of the dining room, deciding to see for himself.

After a few knocks on your door and no response, Logan checked the usual places but still didn’t find you. Finally, he spotted you in your office, forehead resting on your arm, glasses crooked as you lay slumped over your desk, papers scattered beneath you. The light cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the stacks of student projects and physics diagrams you’d been grading late into the night. He sighed, leaning against the doorway for a moment, debating his next move.

With a quiet step, he entered the room and came to your side, noticing how your breathing was soft and even. Gently, he rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, “time to get you to bed.”

You didn’t stir, and Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. Usually, you were a light sleeper, sensitive to the slightest sound or shift. He tapped your shoulder a little firmer, but still, you didn’t wake. He huffed, a small, amused grin flickering over his face. “Out cold, huh?” he whispered.

At that moment, Jean appeared in the hallway, pausing when she noticed the scene. She tilted her head with a slight smile. “Want me to take care of it?” she asked, her voice hushed as she gestured toward you.

Logan glanced at her, giving a subtle shake of his head. “Nah, I got it.” He shifted his gaze back to you, his expression softening as he carefully slid one arm under your legs and another around your back, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. Your glasses slid a little, and he gently adjusted them, his face inches from yours as he whispered, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, alright?”

You stirred faintly in his arms, leaning your head against his chest with a quiet sigh but remaining asleep. Logan carried you down the dimly lit hallway, nodding to a few passing students who shot him curious looks, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement at seeing him carrying you with such care. He ignored them, his attention focused solely on you.

Reaching your room, he nudged the door open with his boot, stepped inside, and carefully lowered you onto the bed. He removed your glasses, then began taking off your sneakers while glancing around your room. Logan had never been inside before, only ever coming as far as your door, and he was surprised to find it… bare.

There were a few essentials: a neatly stacked row of physics journals, a small, worn plush that looked like it had seen better days, and a tiny hourglass that caught the light in an odd way, giving off a slight, shimmering glow. The space felt like yours in some ways—quiet, orderly—but the walls were nearly bare, with just a single calendar marked with scribbled notes. For someone who had been part of the X-Men for a while, you hadn’t left much of yourself behind in this room, almost as if you were ready to leave at any time.

Logan brushed his fingers over the small hourglass, the delicate grains slipping through it in slow, mesmerizing intervals. It reminded him of you somehow—the way you seemed caught between moments, present yet not fully anchored, as though you were perpetually passing through.

As he adjusted the blanket over you, his hand lingered a moment, thumb brushing softly along your shoulder. You shifted slightly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning toward him, a faint smile ghosting over your lips. Logan felt a tightness in his chest he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge in years, a warmth that reached beyond the fleeting attraction he could brush off. This was something else, something that had lingered across time and lifetimes.

In the dim light, he could make out the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, the way a strand of hair fell across your cheek. It struck him how familiar this all was—the softness of your expression, the quiet trust in your sleep. He remembered a hundred small moments like this, times when he’d watched over you, sometimes even held you like this in his arms. He’d seen you fade away in all those lives before, but here you were, whole and breathing, even if you didn’t remember a single moment of those past lives. He was the only one who did, the weight of those memories settling heavily in his chest.

The door creaked, and Logan looked up to see Jean standing there, a soft smile curving her lips as she observed the scene.

"She works harder than most of us," Jean murmured, her voice almost reverent. “You don’t see her resting very often. Guess she trusts you, though.” There was a look in Jean’s eyes, something Logan couldn’t quite place, a flicker of warmth edged with something almost... distant, like she was there but not entirely present.

“She’d trust anyone if it meant looking out for the kids,” Logan replied, his voice low, glancing down at you before looking back at Jean. “Guess she pushes herself harder than she needs to.”

Jean nodded thoughtfully, crossing her arms, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to turn inward, distant. “She does,” Jean said slowly, “but there’s more to it, I think. She… well, it’s like she feels she has to prove herself, even if she’s already earned everyone’s trust.”

Logan’s jaw tightened subtly. That sense of needing to prove yourself, even when it was clear to everyone else that you’d more than done so, was all too familiar to him. He could see it in the way you volunteered for every duty, looked after every stray kid with barely a complaint, and stayed up late grading assignments, wanting to do right by everyone in the mansion.

Jean’s eyes softened as she took in the way Logan still watched you. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said softly, lingering in the doorway for a moment. She tilted her head, an almost curious look in her eyes. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Jean’s words lingered as she walked away, her footsteps fading down the hall. Logan let out a breath, looking back down at you with a mixture of tenderness and frustration. You’d been lucky in so many ways and tragically unlucky in others—dying each time he found you, leaving him with nothing but memories of those fleeting moments.

He brushed another stray lock of hair back from your face, his thumb lingering near your cheek as he spoke quietly to you, “One day… maybe one day, I’ll get to keep ya.”

After a moment, Logan gently placed the small hourglass on the bedside table, right where you’d see it when you woke up, before rising and heading toward the door. He cast one last glance back at you, reluctant to leave you alone even now. But he knew you needed the rest more than he needed to stay. Besides, he’d be just down the hall if you needed him.

---

There was one thing Logan had been wanting to know for some time—something that at times kept him up at night.

That damn glossy lip of yours. He knew it was either cherry or strawberry flavored, but other than that, he was clueless. It didn’t help that one of your nervous ticks, other than twirling your pen in hand, was rolling or biting your lip while in thought. Sometimes you bit your lip to try and hide a smile or laugh, like now, as he watched you and Jean walk down the hall.

“Empire Strikes Back is the best sequel ever made!” you declared, nudging Jean as you strolled down the hall together. “It’s everything you want in a sequel—a better story, more character development, actual stakes…”

Jean laughed, her eyes sparkling. “You do realize it’s just a movie, right?”

“Jean, please,” you said, feigning offense. “This is Star Wars. ‘Just a movie’ doesn’t apply.”

Jean held her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine,” she said, suppressing a smile. “But A New Hope started everything! You have to respect the original.”

“I do,” you insisted, adjusting your glasses and smiling up at her. “But just because it came first doesn’t make it better. Empire has that… well, darkness. It’s iconic.”

Logan was a few paces behind, arms crossed, a subtle smile tugging at his mouth as he watched the back-and-forth between you and Jean. The way you grew animated when you were comfortable, your enthusiasm spilling over in debates like this, wasn’t something he saw often. There was a quietness to you, a gentleness—qualities that seemed to draw people in without you even trying.

It was no wonder the kids gravitated toward you, or why Jean looked at you like a sister she’d known her whole life. Logan found himself watching you more than he’d ever let on, his attention caught on those small, unexpected things.

“Fine, Empire wins, A New Hope second,” Jean conceded. “But I draw the line at Return of the Jedi. Those Ewoks were pushing it.”

You laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “I’ll give you that.”

Logan shook his head, stepping a bit closer. “Gonna let me in on this debate?”

You jumped slightly, turning to look at him with a surprised smile, cheeks coloring faintly at how close he’d gotten without you noticing. “Oh! Um… Well, we were just arguing the merits of Empire Strikes Back over A New Hope.”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Arguing is putting it lightly.”

“Some of us just have good taste,” you teased, looking at her before glancing back up at Logan.

Logan smirked. “Good taste, huh? Alright, which one’s your favorite then?”

Without missing a beat, you answered, “Empire. No contest.”

“Smart choice,” he said, his voice lower, eyes lingering on you a second longer than usual. There was a softness in his expression, an ease that wasn’t there with most people, like he was letting a bit of his usual guardedness fall away when it was just you. And it didn’t go unnoticed; Jean caught the subtle exchange, a knowing smile slipping onto her face, though she kept quiet.

“See?” you said to Jean, feeling a little surge of confidence with Logan’s agreement. “Logan gets it.”

Jean gave a mock sigh. “Well, I guess I’m outnumbered,” she said, looking between you two with a slight smirk. “I’ll just have to wait until I find a couple of people with my taste.” She shot you both a teasing look before starting down the hallway.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find any,” Logan called after her, making you chuckle.

You and Logan fell into step together, and you felt a little flustered, not entirely sure what to do with the silence that followed. Logan’s attention was a bit overwhelming—yet strangely comforting at the same time. He had a way of looking at you, like he was noticing details even you hadn’t paid attention to, and it left you a bit tongue-tied.

He gave you a sidelong glance, his expression softening. “Didn’t think you’d be into sci-fi movies.”

“Oh, I—well, yeah,” you said, giving a small, bashful smile. “I guess I’m full of surprises.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that somehow made you feel warm inside. “Yeah, guess so.”

The hall was quieter now, most of the students already heading to their rooms or the common areas for the night. You pushed your glasses up, looking down as you fiddled with the strap of your watch. “I guess it’s just, I don’t know, nice to get lost in a different universe sometimes. It’s a little easier when there’s lightsabers and the Force involved, I guess.”

Logan nodded, his gaze drifting over your face, as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “You ever feel like you’re still in a different universe when you’re here?”

You thought about it, then nodded. “Sometimes. It’s… hard to explain.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, voice soft. “I get it.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. He held your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically gentle, almost as though he was sharing in that quiet space with you. There was something in his eyes that felt like familiarity—a feeling of being seen that made you shift nervously, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said softly, a shy smile touching your lips.

“Anytime,” he replied, the words seeming to carry a weight you couldn’t quite place.

---

Some of the kids were training with Ororo and Scott in the Danger Room, while you sat on the sidelines, observing intently. The kids were sparring, testing their powers in controlled scenarios, but it was more intense than you’d expected. Even from the sidelines, you felt a little thrill from watching their dedication.

You’d learned to dodge and block a bit from Logan about a month ago, but that was the extent of your training. Though your time-manipulation abilities offered you certain advantages, you still felt unprepared when it came to hand-to-hand combat. After all, a time freeze was helpful, but it couldn’t teach you how to throw a proper punch. You adjusted your glasses, watching as Scott demonstrated a move for Jones, who was trying to keep up, determination written all over his face.

“Ya look like you’re itching to join ‘em,” Logan’s voice came from behind you, low and teasing. You hadn’t noticed him enter, but his presence felt natural by your side. You looked up, feeling your cheeks warm as he met your gaze with a familiar glint in his eye, one you’d come to recognize as playful but warm—especially when it was directed at you.

“Well,” you admitted, shyly tugging at your sleeve, “I feel like I should know more. I mean, just in case.” You glanced back at the training session, feeling a little vulnerable for admitting it, especially to him.

Logan gave a small chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall beside you. “In that case, why don’t I show you a thing or two? You’re not gonna get there just watchin’.” His gaze softened. “If you want to, that is.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” Your voice was quieter than you’d intended, a little unsure, but there was something reassuring about the way he looked at you that made you want to try.

Logan led you to an empty part of the training area, away from the others. “Alright, first things first,” he said, taking your hands and guiding them into fists, his touch careful. “A punch isn’t just throwin’ your fist forward. You want to aim with your whole body—so start by grounding your feet.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and your heart skipped a beat. He guided your arm into position, his touch steady and sure as he moved your arm, ensuring your wrist was aligned.

“Now, try to punch me,” he instructed with a small grin, stepping back and raising his hand to form a target.

You glanced at him, nervous but determined, and took a swing. Your punch landed, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Not bad for a first try. Try again, but this time put your weight into it. Use your hips,” he suggested, moving closer to guide you through the motion again.

Taking a breath, you tried again, focusing on his advice. This time, you felt the force of your punch increase, though he still didn’t seem fazed. Logan nodded approvingly. “There ya go, that’s it. Now, keep practicing that. Remember: control, not just power.”

As you kept practicing, Logan’s focus remained on you, his gaze warm and encouraging. You caught Ororo and Scott exchanging glances, a knowing smile on Ororo’s face, though neither said anything. You brushed off your flustered thoughts, managing to hold Logan’s gaze with a shy smile.

Eventually, after a few more attempts, Logan put his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Alright, I think you’re ready to take on the universe,” he joked, his eyes crinkling with that soft smile that seemed to be reserved just for you. “Now, don’t go punchin’ the wrong people, alright?”

You laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll try not to.”

As you both headed out of the training area, Logan walked beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours. His tone was playful, but there was a tenderness in his gaze, and you felt a connection you couldn’t quite explain—something you couldn’t put into words but could feel, lingering between you.

---

You zipped your suitcase, a small carry-on for your few-day trip to California. The upcoming Quantum Information Science conference had you both nervous and excited, though you'd never been all that eager to travel alone.

Jean poked her head in, her expression soft but amused as she saw you standing by your suitcase, taking a breath before the journey. In her hands was a wide-brimmed sun hat, clearly out of place for the mansion but perfect for a California trip.

"Since you're heading to sunny California, I got you this," she said, plopping the hat onto your head with a grin. “Just because you're going to a conference doesn’t mean you can't look like you’re on vacation."

You adjusted the hat, laughing softly, though the nervous energy still lingered. “Thanks, Jean. I’m sure it’ll come in handy,” you replied, a little shy, but you knew she was only trying to lighten the mood.

Just then, Logan appeared at the doorway, crossing his arms as he leaned against the frame. His eyes held that familiar glint as he took in the scene, though there was something else—a flicker of protectiveness, one you’d come to recognize. Logan was rarely this obvious about it, but when he looked at you like that, it was hard to ignore.

“So, all packed?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze serious.

“Just about,” you nodded, glancing at the suitcase before looking back at him. There was a strange ache in your chest, almost like you were about to leave behind something important. But it was only a short trip. You didn’t expect to feel this way.

He gave a quick nod, then shrugged as if trying to brush off a thought. "Mind if I tag along?" He asked it casually, but the tension in his posture said he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.

“Oh—uh, well, I mean, if you want to,” you stammered, caught off guard. “But, Logan, don’t you have training and—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t sit right with me, you crossin’ the country all alone.” His voice softened. “Call it me lookin’ out for ya.”

Jean smirked, rolling her eyes as she slipped past him. “Well, you two have fun in California,” she said with a wink, clearly in on the unspoken connection between you and Logan.

As she left, you tried to push down your shy smile. “You know, I’ll be in a conference room most of the time,” you teased him. “Not sure it’ll be much fun.”

Logan just shrugged. “Yeah, well, I can think of worse ways to spend a few days.” He bent down, hoisting your suitcase up with ease, then gestured with his head for you to follow him.

---

The flight was uneventful, but you found yourself hyper-aware of Logan's presence beside you. Each time he glanced your way to check in, your heart skipped a beat. Eventually, you arrived at your hotel, a sleek conference venue just a short walk from the beach.

Logan was grabbing the bags from the cab as you checked in.

"Yep, a single room—" the woman began.

"Oh, uh—actually, I called earlier and upgraded to a double," you interrupted.

The woman at the front desk popped her gum, gave the computer screen a flat look, and then glanced back at you. "Yeah, the single is the only room available," she said, unfazed by your surprise.

You bit your lip, stealing a glance at Logan, who had just entered with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His expression didn’t change—casual as always—but you could sense a flicker of discomfort beneath the surface.

“Guess that means we’ll be getting cozy,” he said, deadpan, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” you managed, offering the desk clerk a smile before accepting the key. Logan followed you to the elevator in silence, though you could practically feel him smirking beside you.

Once you got to the room, you stepped in and took in the minimal space: one bed, no couch. A tiny table with one chair was pushed against the wall. Logan set his bag down by the door, glancing around before turning his attention to you.

“Looks like I’ll be takin’ the floor,” he said, already half-kneeling to lay out his bag.

“Wait,” you protested, shuffling closer and folding your arms. “You can’t just sleep on the floor. It’s… well, I don’t know what’s been on it,” you finished with a grimace, barely resisting the urge to pull a face.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes meeting yours, and something softened in his expression. “Couldn’t let you sleep there. Besides,” he added, with a faint smirk, “I’ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re both adults. We could… share.” You kept your gaze on the floor, hoping he couldn’t see the flush creeping up your cheeks. “I mean, just sleep,” you added quickly, regretting the bold suggestion the moment it was out.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but he didn’t make a joke at your expense, which you appreciated. “Sure, if you’re comfortable with that.” His voice was softer, reassuring even, which only made your heart pound a little faster.

You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady, and took a seat on one side of the bed, facing away from him. You could hear the soft rustling as Logan removed his boots and jacket, settling onto the other side of the bed. The silence was almost tangible as he lay beside you, and your senses were suddenly on high alert—aware of every small shift he made, the warmth of him radiating just inches away.

After a few moments, Logan’s voice cut through the silence. “Nervous about this conference?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, grateful for the distraction. “It’s… a lot of pressure. Presenting in front of so many people. I know I’m prepared, but it’s hard to shake the nerves.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. You know your stuff better than anyone, from what I’ve seen. Besides,” he added, his tone softening, “you got me around if you need backup.”

You smiled, glancing over to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Logan. Really.”

He shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “S’what I’m here for.”

The two of you lay in silence after that, but you could feel the faint pull of sleep starting to settle in.

---

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he woke up like this—his arm draped loosely around your waist, your hand resting on his, and your back pressed against his chest. Logan’s breath was steady, brushing against the crook of your neck as the early morning sunlight filtered faintly through the hotel curtains. For a moment, he just lay there, motionless, taking it all in.

It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up tangled with you—not in this life or the ones before it—but it still hit him differently every time. That same ache, deep and persistent, stirred in his chest. The sense of déjà vu was almost unbearable, made worse by the fact that you didn’t remember any of it.

Logan’s thumb brushed the back of your hand, and he let his gaze drift down to where your fingers loosely curled around his. Even in your sleep, there was trust in how naturally you leaned into him, as if some part of you, deep down, remembered too.

“Darlin’, you’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Logan murmured softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it too real. He knew you couldn’t hear him—not like this—but the words still felt heavy on his tongue.

“You’re always slippin’ away from me. Feels like I’m just chasin’ ghosts,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “But not this time. Not this time.”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your neck, just above your shoulder. The gesture was fleeting, tender, but it made his chest tighten. It was a moment he couldn’t allow himself to linger in—because if you woke up like this, he knew it would mess with your head, and the last thing he wanted was to throw you off before the conference.

Carefully, Logan began to shift, untangling himself from you with slow precision. He froze as you stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but your breathing evened out again, and he exhaled quietly in relief. Once he was free, he moved to the other side of the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hotel carpet.

Leaning against the dresser, Logan ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft sigh. He glanced over at the bed, watching as you turned onto your side, still deep in sleep. You looked peaceful, content even. It was a rare sight, and he found himself unwilling to look away for a long moment.

The guilt clawed at him, as it always did. You didn’t ask for this—for him to carry around the weight of all your lives while you got to start fresh every time. He wondered if you’d even want to know if you could, or if you’d see him as just another piece of baggage tying you down.

Shaking off the thoughts, Logan turned his attention to the clock on the nightstand. It was just past 7 a.m., and the day would start soon enough. If he wanted to make sure you were ready for it, he needed to keep his distance—for now, at least.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped out onto the small balcony, letting the cool California air clear his head. The streets below were already bustling, the morning hum of the city a sharp contrast to the quiet of the room. Logan lit a cigar, taking a slow drag as he leaned against the railing.

No matter how many lives you lived, some things about you never changed—the way you tilted your head when you were lost in thought, the soft curve of your smile, the determination in your voice when you talked about something you were passionate about. It was those small consistencies that kept pulling him back to you, no matter how hard he tried to stay away.

When he finally reentered the room, the sunlight had grown brighter, filtering through the sheer curtains and spilling across the bed. You were starting to stir, your hand brushing against the pillow where his head had been moments earlier. Logan sat in the chair by the small table, keeping a casual distance as he watched you slowly blink awake.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low but warm.

You stretched slightly, rubbing at your eyes before adjusting your glasses. “Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still laced with sleep. You glanced over at him, your cheeks flushing faintly when you noticed how closely he was watching you.

“You ready for today?” he asked, his tone deliberately casual. He leaned back in the chair, the cigar long gone, but the faint scent of smoke still lingered around him.

You nodded, though there was a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. “I think so. Just… need a little coffee first,” you added with a shy smile.

Logan stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll get us some,” he offered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You just focus on getting ready.”

You watched him as he moved toward the door, your smile growing a little softer. “Thanks, Logan.”

He paused, glancing back at you with that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

---

You took another glance at Logan, who was seated beside you, looking ahead at the stage where Roger Koch was going to talk about dc SQUID Qubit’s.

“You didn’t have to come with me to see these talks,” you said, tilting your head slightly to look at Logan.

The two of you were seated toward the back of the conference room, a relatively quiet spot where Logan could stay unnoticed while still keeping a clear line of sight on everything. Not that anyone here would recognize him—he doubted quantum physicists ran in the same circles as mutants with claws and anger issues—but old habits died hard.

He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out in that effortless, Logan way, arms crossed. His eyes flicked to yours, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “Didn’t seem right, lettin’ you fly cross-country alone,” he replied, his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear over the murmur of the crowd.

You blinked, a little surprised at his candor. “It’s not like I haven’t done things on my own before,” you said softly, adjusting your glasses out of habit.

Logan shrugged. “I know that.” His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that always sent a little flutter through your chest before you could tamp it down. “But maybe I didn’t feel like sittin’ around the mansion while you were out here. Figured someone oughta keep an eye on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the small smile tugging at your lips. “Keep an eye on me? Logan, this is a science conference, not a battlefield.”

“Still plenty that could go wrong,” he said, the smirk fading as his voice took on a softer, almost serious edge. He didn’t elaborate, but the meaning lingered between you.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to respond. You weren’t used to this kind of protectiveness—it wasn’t overbearing, exactly, but it felt... personal. A little too personal for someone you’d only known for a few months.

“Well,” you said finally, keeping your tone light, “I hope you don’t regret it. Physics lectures aren’t exactly your scene.”

Logan gave a short, quiet laugh. “I’ll survive.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before drifting to the front of the room. “Besides, not like I’m here for the science.”

Your cheeks warmed at the implication, and you quickly turned your attention back to your notebook, pretending to jot something down. Logan didn’t need to know how those little comments of his threw you off balance.

The lights dimmed slightly as the speaker, Roger Koch, took the stage. You straightened in your seat, trying to focus on the introduction, but it was hard to ignore Logan’s presence beside you—the subtle way his shoulders shifted, the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

It wasn’t fair, really, how easily he unsettled you. And yet, somehow, it felt... familiar, even if you couldn’t place why.

As the talk went on, Logan didn’t make a sound. But every so often, out of the corner of your eye, you could see him glance your way. It was subtle—nothing anyone else would notice—but it sent a quiet thrill through you every time.

By the time the presentation ended, the room buzzed with quiet chatter as people began to stand and stretch. Logan leaned closer to you, his voice low. “You catch all that?”

“Most of it,” you said, closing your notebook and giving him a small smile. “You?”

His smirk was back, teasing. “Not a damn word.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising even you. “Why’d you even come, then?”

Logan shrugged, standing and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Told you. I’m not here for the lectures.”

You shook your head, but the warmth in his tone lingered, chasing away the awkwardness.

“And the next one is…” he looked down at the pamphlet but didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend the words on the paper.

“Rabi Oscillations in a Large Josephson Junction Qubit,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice. Your eyes flickered back to Logan, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You really don’t care about that talk, do you?”

Logan just shrugged, unfazed, his lips curling into a grin that made your heart skip. "Nah," he said simply, as though that was all there was to it. "Not my thing."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a soft warmth in your gaze as you looked at him. You had to admit, it was hard not to be aware of him, even in the middle of a room full of physicists discussing things you could barely wrap your head around. It wasn’t just that Logan had a presence that drew attention. It was the way he made you feel seen, even in a crowd.

Still, you tried to refocus on the upcoming lecture, shifting in your seat and tapping your pen against your notebook. The faintest flicker of discomfort crossed your mind as you realized you had no idea why you were even thinking about him this much, especially when you needed to be thinking about work.

Logan, meanwhile, seemed to have a permanent attachment to his casual indifference, but you noticed his gaze flicker to you again as you adjusted your glasses. His smile, small and knowing, stayed just at the edges of his lips, a quiet contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

"So," Logan began, stretching his legs out even more, "what else is on your little agenda for today?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how interested he seemed in your plans, despite the fact that he'd already admitted this wasn’t his idea of a good time. “You really want to know?”

“Why not?” He gave you a small shrug, making it clear he wasn’t just asking out of courtesy.

You hesitated. Your typical habit was to keep things close to your chest, but for some reason, you felt a little more open with him. Maybe it was the fact that you’d been awake for the better part of the night on the flight out, or that Logan, for all his gruffness, wasn’t like most people you met. And it wasn't just because he was a member of the X-Men—there was something more. Something you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I think there's a session on quantum coherence in the afternoon," you said, glancing down at your schedule. "And then the poster session afterward. You’re probably gonna get bored quickly with all of that."

A slight laugh rumbled in his chest. "Guess I’ll have to keep my eye out for any... interesting distractions," he said, his voice low and just enough to send a shiver up your spine.

You pretended not to notice the way his words lingered in the air between you, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight flush that creeped up your cheeks. It was... impossible not to notice him when he spoke like that.

The conversation drifted back to the talk as the lights dimmed once again, signaling the start of the next presentation. Logan’s eyes never fully left you, even as the speaker began his complex talk on quantum information systems. His gaze, though, was softened now, absent of the usual intensity. It was as if, in the span of a few moments, he'd gone from being the aloof, silent protector to someone who just... wanted to be near you.

The thought crossed your mind unbidden—Could he be like this with anyone? Or was it only you?

But before you could chase the thought any further, the speaker’s voice became the focus of the room again, and you pushed the lingering thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

---

After what felt like hours—though you knew it had only been a couple—you were finally able to slip out of the conference hall. The speaker had wrapped up, and you both decided it was time for a break. The session wasn’t your favorite, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved to step out into the cool California air.

“You don’t need to keep me company, you know,” you said, a little sheepishly, as Logan followed you down the hallway, close enough that his shadow loomed over yours.

His hand brushed against yours lightly, almost absentmindedly. “Figured it was the least I could do.”

“Least you could do?” you chuckled, giving him a teasing look over your shoulder. “You’re already here. What more could you possibly do?”

Logan’s lips curled into a faint smile at your teasing tone, though there was something different in his expression. "Maybe I just like being close to you."

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned your gaze forward, your cheeks warming despite your best attempts to hide it. “You sure it’s not just the coffee you're after?”

“Could be," he replied, his tone low but warm, almost as if he didn’t mind the teasing. "Could be.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of something unsaid, but you didn't push him on it. Instead, you focused on the coffee stand ahead of you, grateful for the distraction.

---

The week was over, and you both made it back to the mansion late in the evening. You stepped through the double doors of the X-Mansion, feeling the warmth of familiarity wrap around you after days of being surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Logan trailed behind, carrying both your duffle and his, despite your protests on the ride back.

“Seriously, I can carry my own bag,” you muttered as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Don’t mention it, darlin’,” Logan replied casually, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He didn’t bother to look back as he headed toward the main staircase, your bag still slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, pulling into a small, amused smile. It was hard to stay annoyed at him when he insisted on doing little things like that.

“Jean’s in the rec room,” Logan said as you both turned toward the hall.

“How can you possibly know that?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He just tapped his nose in response, grinning in that way he always did when he knew something you didn’t.

When you walked into the rec room, Jean was exactly where Logan had said she’d be—curled up on one of the couches with a book in her lap. She glanced up as you entered, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey! You’re back!” Jean closed her book and stood, crossing the room to pull you into a warm hug. “How was the conference?”

“Pretty great,” you said, grinning as you reached into the bag Logan had just set down. You pulled out a navy-blue baseball cap embroidered with the words Quantum Information Science in bold white letters and plopped it onto her head.

Jean laughed, adjusting the cap so it sat properly. “Oh, wow. I feel smarter already.”

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a quiet smirk on his face as he watched the two of you.

Jean’s eyes flickered to him briefly before settling back on you. “Did Logan behave himself?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, your cheeks warming slightly. “He was fine. Kept me company during some of the talks, even if I don’t think he understood a word of them.”

“I understood plenty,” Logan said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Like how coffee’s the most important part of any conference.”

Jean laughed softly and shook her head. “Sounds about right.”

You reached into your bag again, this time pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Oh, and I got you this,” you said, handing it to her.

Jean’s eyes lit up with curiosity as she unwrapped the package to reveal a sleek pen with her name engraved on the side. “This is beautiful. Thank you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing off her gratitude with a shy smile.

Logan watched the exchange quietly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned toward the door. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Jean turned to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “He’s been hanging around you a lot lately.”

You busied yourself with unpacking, trying to ignore the faint heat creeping up your neck. “We were just at the conference together. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” Jean said, her tone teasing but not pushy.

“Don’t start,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

Jean laughed softly, giving you a look that said she wasn’t going to let this go so easily. But for now, she dropped the subject, slipping the cap off her head and setting it on the coffee table.

“Alright, I’ll let it slide—this time. But only because I want to hear about all the science stuff I missed.”

You smiled, settling onto the couch beside her and launching into a recap of the conference, doing your best to keep the focus on the lectures and not the way Logan had stayed by your side through it all.

---

You were sitting on the bed with Jean when the first sneeze happened. You had just been telling her about how you were up with Jubilee last night since she caught a cold from Kitty, and now you hoped you weren’t getting sick.

Jean raised an eyebrow from her dresser, where the soft glow of a candle flickered against the room’s walls. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her expression shifting to mild concern as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’re catching what Jubilee had,” she said, folding her arms as she leaned back against the dresser.

You sniffled, rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t know. Maybe? She sneezed on me last night, and I don’t have a healing factor like Logan.”

Jean grimaced in sympathy and gestured for you to sit. “Well, you’re not about to suffer alone. Sit. Let me check.”

“Jean, I’m fine. It’s probably just a tickle.” But you obediently perched on the edge of her bed, watching as she crossed the room with her usual calm precision.

She pressed the back of her hand to your forehead, her cool touch a stark contrast to the faint warmth radiating from your skin. You crinkled your nose at the sensation, and she laughed softly. “You’re warm. Not quite a fever, but you should rest. I can cover your classes tomorrow if it gets worse.”

You started to protest, but she waved you off. “Don’t argue. If you’re sick, the students will survive one day without you explaining quantum mechanics.”

Your lips quirked up in a small smile. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.”

“Always,” she replied lightly, moving back to the dresser. As she fiddled with the candle wick, she glanced at you. “Do you need anything? Tea? Soup?”

You shook your head, but just as you opened your mouth to respond, another sneeze caught you off guard. Jean sighed dramatically. “I’m taking that as a yes to tea.”

Before Jean could head to the kitchen, there was a knock at the doorframe. Both of you turned to see Scott leaning casually against it, arms crossed as a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you caught it now,” he said, nodding toward you.

“Caught what?” you asked, sniffling as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue.

“Whatever Jubilee had. She’s been sneezing all over the place like it’s her mutant power,” Scott replied, stepping into his and Jean’s shared room. He glanced at Jean. “Is it serious?”

Jean shook her head, giving you a playful yet sympathetic look. “Not yet. She’s warm, but I don’t think it’s a fever. Just a little rest and tea, and she’ll be fine.”

“I’m fine now,” you muttered, though another sneeze betrayed you mid-sentence. You groaned softly and dropped your head into your hands. “Okay, maybe a little tea wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get it,” Scott said, surprising you. He glanced back at Jean, giving her a small smile. “You stay. I can handle tea duty.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “You? Making tea?”

“I’ve watched you do it enough times. How hard can it be?” he shot back, his tone light. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you alone again.

You leaned back against the bed’s headboard, glancing at Jean. “Is it just me, or was that oddly thoughtful?”

Jean shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Scott can be thoughtful when he wants to be. He’s just not great at showing it all the time.” She perched on the edge of the bed, studying you. “But enough about him. What about you? When did you start feeling off?”

You shrugged. “Probably this morning. I thought it was just because I didn’t sleep well. Jubilee was up half the night, and I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Jean smiled gently, nudging your arm. “You’re too nice sometimes, Y/N. It’s okay to put yourself first every now and then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time a student sneezes directly into my face,” you replied dryly, earning a soft laugh from her.

---

The soft clink of glass against your nightstand roused you from sleep. Blinking through the haze, you squinted at the figure in your room. Even in your half-conscious state, there was no mistaking the broad frame, the wild hair, or the quiet, almost protective presence.

“Logan?” Your voice was hoarse, barely more than a croak, as you shifted to prop yourself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, darlin’. It’s me,” he said, keeping his voice low. He straightened, setting down the glass of water and the small plastic cup with pills inside. “Figured you could use these.”

You blinked at the items, then at him, confusion mixing with an embarrassing sense of gratitude. “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning your face briefly before resting on the nightstand. “Jean mentioned it when I ran into her. Said you might need some downtime.”

“Oh,” you murmured, sinking back against your pillows. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to—”

“Didn’t say I had to,” he cut in, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Wanted to.”

That simple statement left you momentarily speechless. You weren’t used to this—the small, subtle gestures that showed he cared in his own quiet way. Finally, you managed a faint smile. “That’s... really nice of you.”

Logan chuckled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Nice, huh? Don’t let that get around. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound dissolving into a cough that you quickly muffled with the crook of your arm. Logan’s brow furrowed, the teasing edge slipping from his expression.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him, though your voice wavered just slightly. “Just need some rest. And maybe a hazmat suit next time Jubilee gets sick.”

That earned a low chuckle from him, and the sound sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. He pushed off the wall, his boots heavy but quiet against the floor as he approached your bed.

“Take the meds, Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “And drink the water. No arguing.”

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, though there was no bite in your tone. Reaching for the cup, you downed the pills with a grimace and a sip of water. When you glanced back at him, his gaze hadn’t shifted.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, setting the glass back on the nightstand. “Better.”

Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you weren’t bluffing. Finally, he nodded, stepping back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he said gruffly, though his voice held an unexpected warmth.

“Logan,” you called softly before he could leave. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling in from the hallway. His head turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking back to meet yours. “You can… stay if you want—or, uh, can you stay?”

The words tumbled out of you, shy but sincere, and you weren’t entirely sure what you expected. Logan hesitated, his fingers flexing slightly as they rested on the doorframe.

“I don’t wanna bother you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“You won’t,” you said quickly, the corners of your lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “I mean, unless you snore.”

That earned a faint chuckle from him. “You’re the one who’s sick, darlin’. Sure it’s not the other way around?”

You laughed softly, the sound fading into a sniffle. “Jean says I get cuddly when I’m sick,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Last time, she stayed in here with me instead of with Scott.”

Logan’s brows lifted at that, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his expression. He stepped fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Alright,” he said after a long moment. “But if I’m stayin’, you’re restin’. Deal?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the bed as Logan pulled up the chair from the corner of the room. He turned it backward, settling into it with his arms crossed over the back.

But the sight of him there—close, but not close enough—made you hesitate. Gathering your courage, you patted the empty space on the bed beside you. “You could sit here, you know. It’s more comfortable than that chair.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the spot, then back to you. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Logan studied you for a moment longer before nodding. He rose from the chair and approached the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat on the edge. When he didn’t move further, you reached out and tugged lightly on his sleeve.

“You don’t bite, do you?” you teased, the shyness in your voice tempered by a touch of humor.

That coaxed a smirk from him. “Not unless I’m provoked.”

You rolled your eyes but shifted to give him more room. What he didn’t expect—what surprised him to his core—was the way you shifted closer, curling into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head rested on his shoulder, and one of your hands lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.

“Jean was right,” you murmured sleepily, the warmth of him lulling you into comfort. “I do get cuddly when I’m sick.”

Logan swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as he glanced down at you. His arm, tentative at first, came up to wrap around your shoulders, his hand resting lightly against your arm. His heart, which had weathered over a century of battles and losses, seemed to ache in a way it hadn’t in decades. Not since the last time you’d smiled at him like that—lifetimes ago.

“You’re fine, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a rumble. “Get some rest.”

You hummed in response, already half-asleep, your breathing steadying as you settled deeper into his side. Logan leaned his head back against the headboard, the faint scent of your shampoo lingering in the air between you.

He couldn’t remember where he was born. Couldn’t remember the faces of his parents, or the details of any life he’d had before them. But he remembered you—every life, every smile, every loss.

And as you rested against him, Logan vowed silently that this time, he’d do everything in his power to protect you. For as long as he could, for as long as fate allowed, he’d stay by your side.

---

Logan opened the kitchen door, his palm resting against it until it clicked open fully. You walked through without hesitation, balancing a pile of graded papers in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. Your focus was elsewhere, likely on your day’s agenda, leaving you unaware of the small effort he made to keep the door steady for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured absently, not looking back as you continued into the hallway.

Logan followed behind, his boots a quiet, steady rhythm on the floor. He didn’t respond, didn’t need to—you’d said the same thing a dozen times this week alone, and each time, you hadn’t quite noticed who you were thanking. His lips tugged into a faint smirk as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

The hallway was bustling with students heading to classes, some chatting animatedly, others juggling books or laptops. Logan stepped closer to your side, subtly adjusting his pace to match yours as the two of you navigated the crowd.

One of the students, a wiry teenager with goggles perched on his head, nearly stumbled into you as he fiddled with a small gadget in his hands. Logan’s hand shot out, a firm but careful grip on your elbow guiding you out of the boy’s path.

“Eyes up,” Logan said, his tone gruff but not harsh.

“Sorry, Mr. Logan!” He called back, clutching his gadget and scurrying off.

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before flashing Logan a small, grateful smile. “That kid’s going to accidentally build a time machine one day.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. “Probably already did. Just hasn’t figured it out yet.”

You shook your head, your smile lingering as you shifted the papers under your arm. Logan stayed close as the two of you weaved through the remaining students. When you reached the door to your classroom, you paused, glancing at him as he leaned against the frame.

“You’re not my shadow, are you?” you teased, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Guess you’d know if I was,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged the door open with your shoulder, juggling your tea and papers. Before you could get too far, Logan’s hand darted out, steadying the door before it could swing back against you.

“Thanks again,” you said, the words automatic as you made your way inside.

This time, Logan didn’t reply, watching as you set your things down on your desk and began sorting through them. You were focused, your brow furrowing slightly as you pulled a red pen from the pocket of your blazer and began marking something on one of the papers. He didn’t interrupt, but he didn’t leave either, leaning against the doorframe and letting his gaze linger just long enough to notice, once again, the faint sheen of gloss on your lips.

Logan clenched his jaw, willing the thought away as he straightened and stepped into the room. “You eat anything yet?”

“Hm?” You glanced up, your pen pausing mid-sentence. “Oh, uh, not yet. I’ve got a granola bar somewhere.”

Logan raised a brow, unimpressed. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

“It’s close enough,” you argued, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

“C’mon,” Logan said, jerking his head toward the hallway. “Kitchen’s still got pancakes out.”

You hesitated, glancing between your papers and the door. “I should really get through these—”

“They’ll wait,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “And so will the kids. You’re not gonna teach ‘em anything on an empty stomach.”

You sighed, relenting with a small smile. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

Logan smirked, stepping aside to let you pass before falling into step behind you. As the two of you walked, he couldn’t help the faint sense of satisfaction that crept over him.

You might not have noticed the small things—the doors, the guiding hand, the way he made sure to keep you in his sight in a crowd—but he did. He noticed everything, because every moment with you, no matter how ordinary, felt like a fleeting gift.

And if there was one thing Logan had learned in the countless lifetimes he’d lived, it was how to savor the things worth remembering.

---

You sat on the bench in the Danger Room, the kids, Rogue, Bobby, Peter, and Kitty, had just left, Jean and Ororo behind them.

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your water bottle, clutched between your hands.

Jean leaned against the bench beside you, her expression calm but thoughtful as she took in your posture—the hunched shoulders, the downturned gaze on the water bottle cradled in your hands.

"Rough session?" she asked gently, her voice breaking the quiet.

You exhaled slowly, barely lifting your head. "Not rough. Just... pointless."

Jean frowned, shifting slightly to face you more directly. "Pointless? You’re one of the smartest people here, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you handle yourself in simulations. You’re anything but pointless."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "Simulations are one thing. But in real life, what can I do? Everyone else has powers that actually help in a fight. Logan, you, Ororo... even Bobby. And then there’s me—slowing down time but not actually stopping anything from happening. It’s like... I’m just a delay button, not a solution."

Jean tilted her head, her brows knitting in concern. "You don’t think slowing time is a solution?"

"Not when it’s all I can do," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t fight. I can’t stop an attack. I can’t... save anyone. Not really."

Jean was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening. When she spoke again, her tone was steady but full of warmth. "Y/N, the reason so many of us are still here—why we’ve survived the fights we’ve been through—is because of people like you. People who think ahead, who create opportunities for the rest of us to make it out alive. Slowing time isn’t just a delay; it’s giving us a chance to breathe, to act, to survive."

You didn’t look up, but her words seemed to reach you, making your grip on the water bottle loosen slightly. Jean shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

"You’ve saved people more times than you realize," she continued. "It’s easy to think that because you’re not throwing punches or shooting fire, you’re not contributing. But the truth is, without you, a lot of us wouldn’t have the chance to do those things in the first place."

You blinked, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. "I just... feel like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Jean’s hand squeezed your arm gently, grounding you. "I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not true. And I think, deep down, you know it too. It’s not about being like everyone else, Y/N. It’s about being you—and using what you have to make a difference. And you do make a difference."

Her words hung in the air, settling in your chest like a quiet reassurance. You nodded slowly, still unsure but comforted nonetheless.

"You’re not alone in this," Jean added softly, her gaze turning slightly distant as if searching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. "We’re a team, and we’ve got your back. Just like you’ve got ours."

You managed a small, grateful smile, finally looking up at her. "Thanks, Jean. Really."

She smiled back, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of something not quite Jean. It passed quickly, but not before you noticed it.

"You’ll see," she said, her tone steady again. "You’re stronger than you think."

And as she rose from the bench, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her words meant more than she let on. As if she knew something neither of you could quite explain.

---

You were making a simple pasta dish for yourself for dinner, it’s not something you do often, but since you didn’t have anything to do this Saturday night, you thought ‘why not?’

The pasta was almost done, the garlic and onions were caramelized in the pan, and now all you needed was the small can of tomato paste in the cupboard, way above your head.

You got on your tiptoes and reached up, your fingers grazing the can but unable to fully grasp it. You let out a huff as you stood back on your feet, frustration bubbling.

“Fine,” you muttered, glancing at the counter. Climbing up was starting to look like your only option.

You grabbed the edge of the counter and were just about to boost yourself up when a low voice from behind startled you.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?”

You spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Logan leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He looked like he’d been there for a moment, just watching.

“I—uh,” you stammered, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Logan pushed off the frame, walking toward you in that unhurried way of his. “Not my fault you’re so focused on... whatever it is you’re makin’ over there.” His eyes flicked to the stove before landing back on you. “What’s goin’ on? You stuck?”

You folded your arms, trying to mask your embarrassment. “I can get it. I was just about to—”

“Climb up there like a squirrel?” Logan teased, one brow arching. Without waiting for your reply, he stepped closer, his hand settled on your lower back as he reached over your head. Logan held the can of tomato paste out to you, the smirk still lingering as his eyes scanned your face. “There. Easy enough, yeah?”

You took the can from his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers brush against yours. “I had it under control,” you replied, though your tone lacked conviction.

“Sure, sweetheart.” His voice was low and teasing, but not mocking. “Looked like you were about to break out a ladder for that one.”

Your cheeks flushed as you turned toward the stove, trying to focus on your cooking rather than the way his presence seemed to fill the room. “Thanks, though,” you muttered, keeping your back to him.

“Don’t mention it.” Logan didn’t move away, instead leaning against the counter beside you, watching as you added the paste to the pan. “So, this what you do for fun on a Saturday night? Whip up a fancy dinner for one?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “Not exactly. Just didn’t feel like the dining hall tonight.” You stirred the mixture, trying not to let his teasing tone get to you. “Besides, it’s not that fancy.”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Smells pretty damn good for ‘not that fancy.’”

You felt your lips twitch into a small smile despite yourself. “It’s just pasta.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still impressed.” He nodded toward the pan. “You always this good in the kitchen, or is this a one-time thing?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Definitely not a regular thing. Usually, I stick to coffee and toast.”

“Figures.” Logan reached over, snagging a piece of garlic bread from the plate on the counter before you could stop him. He took a bite, his smirk deepening. “Not bad, though. You might be sellin’ yourself short.”

“Hey!” You playfully swatted at his arm. “That’s supposed to go with dinner.”

He held the bread just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’m just helpin’ you taste-test. Gotta make sure it’s up to standard.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Fine. Just don’t eat all of it.”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, raising his free hand in mock sincerity before taking another bite.

You turned your attention back to the stove, but you were acutely aware of Logan’s lingering gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was grounding, like he was anchoring you in the moment. Still, it made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less teasing. “What’re you doin’ with the rest of your night?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the bubbling sauce. “Probably nothing. Maybe read a little.”

“That Physics of Time book you’re always lugging around?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to.” He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to that rough, intimate tone that always seemed to make your pulse quicken. “You carry it like it’s part of you.”

“Well, it’s... interesting,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And, you know, kind of relevant.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess it is, huh? Still, doesn’t sound like much of a Saturday night. You ever think about takin’ a break? Havin’ some fun?”

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the question. “I... guess I just don’t think about it much.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a look that felt uncomfortably close to knowing. “Maybe you should. Life’s short, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help the small, ironic smile that tugged at your lips. “Coming from you?”

His expression softened, something almost wistful flickering in his eyes. “Even for me.”

The moment hung between you, quiet and heavy, until the sauce began to hiss and pop, snapping you back to the present. You turned to the stove, giving the pot a quick stir. “You staying for dinner, or was this just a drive-by teasing?”

Logan smirked, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Depends. You invitin’ me?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him over your shoulder. “Maybe.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you saw something behind it—a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to say. “Guess I’ll stick around then.”

You turned the burner off before going to a bottom cabinet and pressing the wall inside, revealing five wine glasses and a bottle of wine. You grabbed two glasses and the bottle before placing them on the counter.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “so there is alcohol here.”

You chuckled, “it’s mine and Jean’s secret. We had Scott build a secret compartment a while ago for us.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk as he reached for the wine bottle. “Scott, huh? He’s got a soft spot for his favorite students, I take it?”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a corkscrew from the drawer. “More like Jean batted her eyelashes, and he caved. I’m just lucky to reap the benefits.”

“Smart move.” Logan opened the bottle with ease, the cork popping with a soft thwip. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Logan poured two glasses, sliding one toward you. “Don’t sell yourself short. A secret wine stash, cooking skills you claim are ‘basic,’ and a brain that can bend time—pretty damn impressive if you ask me.”

You laughed softly, taking the glass. “When you put it like that, it sounds cooler than it is.”

Logan lifted his glass, his eyes meeting yours over the rim. “Trust me, it’s cool.”

For a moment, you were caught in his gaze, the easy confidence in his expression making your pulse quicken. Then you shook your head, breaking the moment. “Okay, well, to secret wine stashes and mediocre pasta.”

Logan clinked his glass against yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

You both took a sip, the smooth wine adding a warmth that settled over you as the night unfolded. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you plate the pasta and sauce. You felt his presence like a magnet, steady and impossible to ignore. When you finally handed him a plate, he took it with a nod of thanks, heading toward the table without being asked.

“You always this much of a gentleman?” you teased, carrying your own plate to the table.

“Depends who I’m with,” Logan replied, pulling out your chair. His voice was casual, but there was a weight behind the words that made your breath hitch.

You settled into your seat, trying not to overthink it. “Guess I should feel special then.”

“You should,” Logan said simply, taking the seat across from you. He didn’t elaborate, but the look he gave you said plenty.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a moment before Logan spoke again. “Jean know you’re hiding wine from her boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your pasta. “She’s the one who helped me hide it! I’m not about to risk her wrath by spilling the secret.”

Logan chuckled, his grin wide. “Good to know you’ve got a rebellious streak.”

“It’s not rebellion,” you said, twirling your fork. “It’s... strategic resource allocation.”

He laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, ranging from light teasing about your cooking to him recounting a story about a bar fight he once got into over a bad jukebox selection. You found yourself relaxing, the usual shyness that often held you back melting away under Logan’s steady, easy presence.

After dinner, you leaned back in your chair, sipping the last of your wine. “Thanks for sticking around. It was... nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Logan leaned back, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “High praise.”

You laughed softly. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” His tone softened, and his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary. “You’re good company, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short on that either.”

You ducked your head, hiding your smile behind your glass. “Thanks.”

Logan stood, gathering both plates before you could protest. “I’ll get these.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut you off gently, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You watched him move to the sink, his broad shoulders a comforting presence even as he washed the dishes. A warmth settled in your chest that had nothing to do with the wine.

For the first time in a long time, the quiet of a Saturday night didn’t feel so lonely.

And Logan had to ignore the faint pink stain on your wine glass in the shape of your lips.

remember to go read the next chapter for the full story!

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[atzloverr]

Seonghwa - NSFW alphabet

@hwxbibi (+ 1 anonymous asker) ask and you shall receive

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’ll praise you sooo much until you practically have to beg him to stop. He’ll spoon you while whispering sweet nothings into your ears, his deep and rich voice soothing you to sleep. He’ll only leave you once you’ve fallen asleep, only to get a towel for you so he can make sure that you’re all clean. He’ll always make sure you feel at peace and loved.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

There’s something about your cheeks that he just can’t get enough of. He’ll squeeze them and squeak at your cuteness, kissing them over and over again. He also loves your hands. Tracing your palm lines slowly and then intertwining your fingers. He’s a romantic, so he loves to just hold your hands anywhere, anytime. Be it on a walk, when you sit next to him or when he slowly rocks his hips into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He doesn’t mind where he comes, but he doesn’t want to make a mess in any way, so he’ll make sure to either cum in you or on you, not wanting to get the sheets all dirty. You however, can make as big of a mess as you want to. He loves the feeling when you cum in his mouth, your fingers desperately gripping his hair, and your thighs clenching together around his head. He’ll shakily grab his aching cock and pleasure himself when he hears your sweet mewls when you orgasm on his tongue.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The thought of you dominating him turns him on embarrassingly much. He has yet to admit it, but as much as he enjoys your submissive side, he really wants you to just dominate him. He even fantasizes about you degrading him, telling him nasty things as you torture him sexually. One time when the two of you were in bed, you decided to tease him just a little bit, telling him how much of a desperate mess he was.

“What?” you smiled, seeing as Seonghwa had stopped working. You saw the way his cheeks heated up at your little comment, and the way he let out a small whimper. He quickly composed himself, going back to where you left off. He still thinks about this moment, jerking off to the thought of your voice telling him that he’s been a bad boy.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think he’s fairly experienced. He absolutely knows what he’s doing to say the least, but he hasn’t tried everything. Tbh, when you heard his body count for the first time, you were shocked at the number.

“What? I’ve heard that’s pretty high?” Seonghwa reasoned, smiling at your shocked expression. “Yeah but, for you, I expected you to have pulled at least a hundred people, I mean just look at you!” you answered, gesturing dramatically with your hands. Seonghwa just laughed at your compliment.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s tied for him between missionary and mating press. He loves positions where he can force you to keep eye contact with him as he’s fucking you. He also loves having easy access to your face and neck, being able to plaster kisses and bites on you when he’s deep inside you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think he’s not particularly goofy, but he doesn’t mind if you are. Sometimes, he’ll humor you during sex, teasing you and making you giggle. But sometimes, he’ll be completely serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It really depends honestly. At times, he’ll keep himself very well groomed down there, not letting the hair grow too long, but if he doesn’t find the time to fix it, he can let it grow pretty long. That’s usually if he has a lot to do and is very busy in his everyday life.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Seonghwa can be very romantic at times, telling you how much he loves you, holding your hand while slowly kissing you. But when he can tell you’re in that mood, and he is too, he can be pretty rough and ruthless in bed. He knows you love it when he denies you, overstimulates you, degrades you or makes you work for it, so at those times he’ll save the romanticism for afterwards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s not the type to want a “quick fuck” so if he feels horny and wants the job done quickly, he’ll excuse himself to go jerk off in the bathroom, breathing heavily as he thinks of what he wants to do to you.

If you’re away from each other, he might jerk off almost every night, missing you so dearly, desperately wanting to feel your soft hands on his body. He’ll slowly run his hands up his stomach, imagining that it’s your hands instead of his.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a master/slave kink, and will happily indulge in it if you are up to it. He doesn’t want those dynamics to be permanent in your relationship, but the thought of you calling him master, being on your knees and ready to serve him turns him on a lot. He’d ask you a 100 times if you were sure you were up to it, not wanting to make you feel entitled to say yes to making his obscure fantasy a reality.

He also has a huuuge thing for watching you masturbate. Forcing you to look into his hungry eyes as you eagerly pleasure yourself;

“Faster,” he commands and you can’t help but whine at the order, but comply without thinking twice about it. “There you go,” he coos. You see the tent forming in his pants as he wiggles around in his spot. Just as you’re getting close to the edge, Seonghwa gives you your next command with a strict voice. “Slow down.” “But Seonghwa please I—“, “Did that sound like a request?” he asked, smirking slightly. You whimper as you force your hand to go slower, your legs shaking as you edge yourself once again. “So good, so obedient,” Seonghwa smiles fondly.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He wants to keep it in the bedroom, at least for the full thing. Sure, he can get you off if you get extremely needy somewhere else, but he’s not fond of not having privacy, safety and time.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Even though he likes being dominant, he gets weak in the knees when you compliment him. When you tell him that he looks beautiful, or compliment his outfit or hair, his heart will flutter, but he might also become rock hard.

Also, I believe he loves seeing you all dressed up. As much as he loves you when you’re comfy, seeing you in a form-fitting, beautiful outfit (maybe even picked by him) will make him want to rip it off you any second. Seeing you shying away from his compliments makes him want to ruin you on the spot.

On that last topic, I believe he gets incredibly horny when you act shy and cute, blushing at his hands roaming your body. He’ll rile you up or shower you in compliments just to see that cute little look on your face. He wants to reveal a dirty little secret of yours someday, just so see your flustered reaction when he tells you he knows about your true desires.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t want anything to do with any other bodily fluids than yours or his cum. Yes, that also includes blood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He 100% prefers giving. He lives for the sounds you make when he uses his skillful tongue on you. He’ll look up at you just to see your face contort in pleasure, and if you try to hide your cute face from him, he’ll make sure to pin your hands down, (maybe even tie them up if he has to). He’ll pound his fingers into you as he works his mouth on your sex, making sure to curl his fingers just right to give you all those sensations you crave for. Some nights, he’ll gladly just bury his face between your legs for as long as you can take, and when you ask him if he wants you to repay the favor, he’ll just shake his head lovingly, reassuring you that he needs no such thing from his lovely doll.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Seonghwa wants to take things slowly, making sure you feel everything thats happening without having to rush it. I believe he goes pretty slowly, and right when he’s about to burst inside of you, he’ll speed up in desperation, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He’ll do everything very mindfully, kissing you so slowly while his hands roam your body. If you try to speed things up, being way too eager to take things slow, he’ll scold you, telling you to be patient and let him take his time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He hates them. As mentioned, he really wants to take his time, cherishing every moment and making them last for as long as possible. He’s okay with giving you pleasure quickly, if you really beg him for it, but he won’t go further than that.

“Seonghwa, please,” you look up at him, snaking your hands around his waist in some sort of attempt to win him over. He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Love, we’ll be home tomorrow, then I’ll give you what you need,” he says, placing a kiss on your cheek. After looking up at him for about five more seconds, you give up, sighing heavily. He just laughs at your grumpy face. “There there.”

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes to experiment in bed, trying out different positions, toys etc, but nothing too extreme. He wants to please you in any way that he can, so he’ll want to indulge in your fantasies as much as you want to indulge in his.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is pretty good, but since he doesn’t go at a fast pace, he can hold out for a very long time. He doesn’t need stamina, he just needs patience to be able to go for hours with you. But his stamina is very high, so if you were to go at a faster pace sometime, he’d still be able to hold out for a long time, still going even when his body can’t keep up with his horny mind.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think Seonghwa owns quite a few toys, and he’s probably fascinated with different toys, and the effect they may have on his and your body. He loves to try out different toys and combinations of toys on you, just to learn for future times what makes you lose your mind the quickest. You’ll moan out in overstimulation from all the different sensations as Seonghwa presses his new toy deep inside of you, while pressing another one to your most sensitive spot. He’ll look in awe as you jolt your hips upward at the sensation, mentally noting to use that toy when he really wants to make you desperate.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you like no one else. He licks his lips in excitement when you squirm at his teasing words.

“What’s wrong? You seem so embarrassed, my love,” he whispers in your ear as his hands slowly rub your inner thigh. You were simply scrolling on your phone when your boyfriend started to tease you, kissing your neck slowly, moaning lowly in your ear. He knows exactly what gets you going, so when he wants you to get in the mood, he’ll succeed. Your thighs close up as he kisses around your ears, his deep voice sounding out small moans and laughs as you squirm.

You try to reach out for him, making him kiss your lips instead, or just stop whispering nasty things into your ear, but he just moves your hand away, unfazed by your attempt at getting what you need. “Seonghwa, stop that,” you whine, giggling as his tongue finds your neck. “If you want me to stop, why are you rubbing your thighs together, hm? Why are you making such lewd sounds? I think you like this, don’t you?”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can be pretty vocal, letting out deep moans as he’s inside of you. He’ll have his head close to your ear, making you hear every little sound he makes, he knows how much it turns you on after all. He’ll let out low whines when you clench around him, and oh, when he finally comes, his moans go up an octave and turn into whimpers. He smiles in satisfaction when he notices the way your hips buck as he moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has very high expectations for himself in bed, and is worried he’s not enough for you. He wants to make sure you get all the love and pleasure you deserve, so he’ll try everything to make you feel good. When he told you about these thoughts, you immediately comforted him, assuring him that he’s so good and that you appreciate him so much. He gently cried in gratitude in your arms as you affirmed him. “I love you,” he mumbled into your neck, but you heard it nonetheless. “I love you too, Seonghwa.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s pretty big down there, and it’s more on the longer and thinner side. (I know I’m not really good at describing this ahaha)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I would say his sex drive is pretty high, but he doesn’t want to do it every night. He wants to make your moments together special, so he doesn’t want it to become too casual for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep

He always makes sure you fall asleep first, and he wants to clean himself off before he falls asleep. He’ll take the quickest shower in the history of showers, just to feel fresh, just because he doesn’t want to leave you all alone in bed. He himself can’t handle feeling neglected after sex, so he would never want to make you feel that way.

masterlist

Hope y’all enjoyed this one!!!!

PSA: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for potential language errors and such.

Requests are ofc open!!!! Which member should I do next? And do y’all want someone from another fandom??? (bts/svt/txt), please tell me what you guys thinkkkk!!!

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ places they love to kiss — RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

genre fluff, suggestive ?

pairing bf!riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

Shotaro is obsessed with your cheeks. He loves to caress them, stretch them, bite them, but above all, kiss them.

He often gives you hugs from behind, and during those moments, he takes the chance to kiss your cheeks.

Sometimes he just walks up to you, grabs your face in his hands, and starts showering your cheeks with kisses while you laugh. Sometimes, while doing this, he also leaves a few kisses on your nose, which he loves just as much.

“How can they be so addictive? If I could, I’d eat them up.”

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

I’ll always say it, but Eunseok loves to tease you. And what’s the best way to do that? Kissing your neck.

He loves to do it at unexpected moments: while you’re watching a movie at the cinema, while you’re waiting in line at the supermarket, or even when you’re having dinner with friends.

He just leans into your neck, leaves a small kiss there, and then watches how you get flustered.

“Your cheeks are red, doll. You look so cute like that.”

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

I mean… he’s tall, so the most accessible spot for him is your forehead. Whenever he’s near you, he’s hugging you, so he loves giving you forehead kisses every now and then. Plus!!! he adores the way you close your eyes and smile.

On the other hand, I feel like he’s also obsessed with your neck. Whenever you’re lying on the couch or his bed, and you’re leaning against him, he carefully moves your hair aside and leaves several kisses on your neck.

ᯓ★ WONBIN

Wonbin loves resting his head on your shoulders when you hug, which makes your shoulders his favorite spot to kiss. It’s too comfortable for him.

He loves being cuddled up and snuggled with you. But there are also times when, after resting on your shoulder for a while, he starts leaving kisses along your shoulders until he reaches your neck, where he leaves a few more gentle kisses before hiding his face there.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

he. loves. your. lips. you could say he’s obsessed with them

He could be kissing them all the time, anywhere, and in any situation. He just does it whenever he sees the chance.

Did you get something on your lips after eating? He kisses them.

Did you put on lipstick? He kisses them.

Do you look adorable? He kisses them.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

Sohee isn’t very physically affectionate, especially when you’re around friends, which doesn’t bother you since you know how much he loves you anyway.

Still, you’re almost always holding hands, even if it’s just by the pinky, and from time to time, Sohee brings your hand to his lips for a kiss, which you find to be the sweetest thing in the world.

ᯓ★ ANTON

Like Sungchan, he’s tall, but instead of your forehead, he prefers to kiss the top of your head. He loves resting his head on yours while you hug, and then leaves a kiss on it while stroking your hair.

But he also has another favorite spot to kiss: your cheeks. These kisses usually catch you off guard because even he doesn’t plan them. He just feels the impulse and leans in to leave a quick kiss on one of your cheeks.