#and he definitely hates it at first and is not particularly good at it

[beomcoups]

Stupid Cupid

➻❥ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are madly in love with your best friend and it's eating you alive. One day you will tell him how you feel, but you have to deal with his girlfriend first.

➻❥ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: best friend!hansol x reader

➻❥ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, roommates au, best friends to ?, angst, fluff, smut

➻❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, jealousy, fight is kind of intense, kissing, protected sex, nipple play?, fingering, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, missionary, multiple orgasms?

➻❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 9.1k

➻❥ 𝐀𝐍: This for the collab "Lonely Hearts Cafe", hosted by @camandemstudios. This story truly stressed me out and I couldn't have gotten through it without @yoongihan, @seokgyuu, @okiedokrie and & @haologram for looking at this for me. I don't do well with deadlines and the words just weren't coming to me naturally. It was eating me up and giving me headaches lol. I hope despite that, you all like this labor of love 😭

You are in love with Hansol. 

Hopelessly, stupidly, trip over your feet when he’s around, butterflies in your stomach kind of love. He’s everything you could want in a guy and your best friend, someone you can just chill with no expectations. You both love Star Wars, attend anime cons together, and are allergic to peanuts. You share a home with him and it feels like home in your heart when he’s near. You’re in love with Hansol. There is only one problem: he has an on-and-off girlfriend. 

A girlfriend you particularly hate. 

Kelsey is always around, taking up your space, and it’s aggravating. You wish you could say that it’s not serious, but to your chagrin, they have been on and off for a couple of years. It’s bad enough that you can’t tell Hansol how you feel, but then you have his girlfriend, a huge social media influencer, always at your condo every time you’re there. You would think she would like to take her “influence " elsewhere. It’s exacerbating. 

“Hey there girl,” Kelsey calls out as you walk to the kitchen. She is sprawled out with her laptop on your living room floor rug, wearing a cut-off shirt, the tiniest shorts you have ever seen, and knee-high socks. Where does she live again?

“What’s up?” you respond, barely hiding the irritation in your voice. 

“Oof, you’re definitely not a morning person,” she scoffs. “Do you think you can stay out tonight? Vernon has this Hollywood thing he has to attend to tonight, and he is stressed about it. So I want to help him relax if you know what I mean.” 

You raise your eyebrows at her referring to him as Vernon, which he only tells his coworkers to call him. Hansol is a cinematographer, and a damned good one. He works for a major film studio and is invited to parties all the time. He only goes for the free food and booze, he says, because those people don’t care about anything but themselves and their pockets, let alone pronouncing his first name correctly.

Kelsey is not a coworker; she is, unfortunately, his girlfriend. Why doesn’t she call him by his preferred name?

“What does you wanting to help Hansol relax have to do with me being here?” you ask, making yourself a cup of coffee. 

“Well.” She clicks her tongue. “It’ll be pretty awkward for me to be blowing his brains out while you’re here, ya know?”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from saying what is on your mind, instead focusing on making your elaborate coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup on top. This girl really has some nerve. 

“Kelsey,” you let out a small sigh. “I’m not leaving my house because you want to fuck. Do whatever you please.” You slam the whipped cream can on the container. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” 

Irritated, you walk past her and speed into the hallway, almost running into Hansol, who is leaving his bedroom. Wearing a red shirt and pajama pants, he has bedroom hair and a hint of sleep in his eyes. He looks adorable. 

“Where are you running off to?” His voice is deep and groggy. 

“I am running away from that peach of a girlfriend you have in there.” You roll your eyes. “Plus, I have to get ready for work.” 

“Oh no, what did she do now?” 

“Nothing, aside from asking me to stay out of the condo that I pay for tonight so she can fuck you as loud as she wants,” you say bluntly. 

Hansol’s eyes widen in shock, the little sleepiness he had evaporated. “She didn’t say that?” 

“She just about said that,” you sigh, leaning on the wall. “Look, I have to get ready for my day, but we have to have a conversation later. Not tonight, because I know that party is happening. But at some point, we do.” 

“Okay,” he says, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry,” you sigh again, deeply this time. “Let’s just chat soon, okay?”

You step into your room and shut the door, your heart beating out of your chest. That was not a conversation you want to have early in the morning, and Kelsey being around more and more makes you erratic. Eventually, a conversation will have to be had about how much time she is spending here and everything. But right now, you will sip your elaborate coffee and try to get through the day. 

You met Hansol on the first day of college. You needed help finding your classes and ironically you shared some classes required for your majors. You wanted to be a film director and figured a film studies degree would get you there. Hansol loved being behind the camera, recording the magic in front of him. You shared the same study group and met your other best friends, Minghao and Wonwoo. Minghao has a good eye for design and wanted to work on set designs and costumes while Wonwoo is equally obsessed with cameras, often geeking out with Hansol about the different models they wanted to collect one day. You even lived together at one point, your friendship group known as the “core four”, until one by one, everyone moved out and it was just you and him. 

You didn’t fall in love with him right away. It was a slow, simmering thing that snuck in and robbed your heart and mind before you realized it. You were together all the time and enjoyed the same things. You’ve seen each other at your worst, depended on each other, and celebrated your successes together. Hansol was your go-to for everything, and you didn’t realize until he started dating Kelsey that you were in love. But how can you tell him that?

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Minghao sits next to you during your lunch break the same day, bringing you meat and stir fry that he brought from home. His girlfriend, Mei, who is an excellent cook and very sweet, sent you a text this morning that she was bringing some with him to the studio today. You worked for a major studio as an SFX artist, falling in love with prosthetics and makeup in one of your courses and deciding to pursue that instead. You still have your bachelors in film studies and your love for film hasn’t changed; you just went on a different path. You’re happier for it. 

“Thank you for the food,” you breathe, purposely dodging his question. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing you Tupperware of colorful stir fry. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything is wrong with me?” 

Minghao raises an eyebrow with a familial side-eye as he distributes utensils, the kind of look parents give you when they know you’re telling a lie. He knows you so well, and he has always been good at reading people. You can talk to him about anything, and he is going to give you the hard truth, even if you don’t want to hear it. After a moment, you tell him what happened this morning and he is silent, taking it all in.

“She is really getting on my nerves,” you huff, accidentally slamming your plastic fork on the table. Your colleagues around you look in your direction nervously, and you are mortified, wishing you could wiggle your nose and disappear like the genie on the old TV show. 

“Are you sure it’s because of her, or is it because of him?” Minghao asks casually, taking a sip of his tea. 

“W-what do you mean?” you play aloof, not wanting to open another can of worms. “This has nothing to do with Hansol, though I wish he would tell her to not come over to our place all the time. I don’t get what he even sees in her.” 

“Sure,” he says with a smirk, barely containing his amusement. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you are in love with him.”

“Ugh,” you groan, sliding further in your seat. “I wish I never told you that.” 

“You didn’t have to.” His smile widening into a teasing grin. “Even the blind could see your bleeding heart for him.”

“Yeah, apparently everyone can but him,” you mutter, taking a stab at your food. 

Minghao chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Well don’t take your frustration out on the food. Mei put a lot of love into that.” 

You mumble “sorry”, feeling guilty and eating your food in silence. If it were another day and you were in a better mood, you would savor it more. But all you want is for the work day to end, so you can curl in your bed and figure out how to navigate this unrequited love. 

“What if I told him how I felt?” 

You look up slowly at your friend, gauging his reaction. He already has the look of disapproval, and your stomach is in knots. 

“Yeah, that’s a terrible idea,” he says firmly. “Do you really want to start drama in the middle of the busiest season for us? Not to mention Kelsey will blast this all over social media.”

“I’m not scared of her,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms. 

Minghao chuckles again, but it is lighter and paired with concern in his eyes. “Just think it through okay? Things are already complicated, and I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

He places a supportive hand on your shoulder as he packs up what’s left of his lunch and goes back to work. You sigh, knowing that he’s right, but it still doesn’t make it easier to hear. 

You planned to sleep through whatever escapade Kelsey had in mind with Hansol. You had your nightly tea with cinnamon horchata and set your phone to play ambient/vaporwave music to drown out whatever noise they might bring. They aren’t exactly the quietest people when they are in the mood, and you have been dreading it since this morning. 

A lot of times you have wondered what it would be like to experience him for the first time. You’ve heard enough of them to have an idea of what he is like, but it’s different from actually feeling him inside you, with his hands caressing your body. You want to feel his lips on yours and your skin against his. Is it possible to crave something that you’ve never had? You are tired of hearing the headboard banging against the wall and the moans that follow soon after. You are irritated with it all— You wish it were you instead. 

You heard the security system beep when the front door opened, and you lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable shuffling of feet and sloppy kisses that would follow after. Your stomach turns at the thought of her hands all over him, whispering sweet things in his ear that have no meaning. Silence ensues, leaving you confused, and your nosiness gets the best of you. Slowly getting out of bed, you slip into your house shoes, exiting your room quietly as you brace yourself for the grand display of affection you were used to seeing. Instead, you find Hansol on the couch, taking a hit of his vape, tiredness etching around his eyes. 

“How was the party?” You probe, taking a seat next to him and crossing your legs. “You look partied out.” 

“It was alright,” he mumbles, taking another hit of his vape. 

“Alright?” You quirk an eyebrow. “You have been talking about this party all month and it was just alright?”

You noticed his disposition and you don’t want to pry, but his nonchalant attitude is eating at you. Hansol can be hard to read sometimes, but you know him. He’s quiet with everyone else but not with you—he tells you everything. 

“Tell me what’s happened.” 

Hansol reluctantly answers, sighing heavily as he takes one more vape hit before setting it on the armrest. You move closer to him, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“Kelsey and I broke up again,” he said, the heaviness of his words linger in the air. The sadness in his voice is clear, and it hurts you to see him upset. “She wanted to bring a friend to the party and you can’t exactly do that. So when I told her no, she got all pissed at me, we argued and she broke up with me.” 

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I’m really sorry, Hansol. Despite how I feel about her, I know you really love her, and being broken up with sucks.” 

He looks at you, his brown eyes reflecting a mix of tiredness and frustration. “She said it was more than just not letting her bring her friend to the party. She says I never consider her feelings and that’s not true. It just feels like we’re always going in circles. One minute, we’re good; the next, it’s like… it never even mattered.”

“Yeah, that can be exhausting,” you pause, wanting to say more but unsure how to articulate the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. This is not their first break up, but it affects him all the same. Seeing Hansol be madly in love with someone who keeps taking advantage of him burns you to your core. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who will take care of him with love and respect. Someone who values his ideas and cares about him as a person. You would give him the world if you could. 

“I hope I am not overstepping,” you say cautiously. “But this isn’t your first rodeo. Why do you keep going back?” 

His silence is deafening, and he has an uncomfortable expression on his face as he tries to find the right words to say. “Look, Kelsey can be a lot and full of herself, but she cares in her own way. When it’s just us, she is so attentive, funny, and warm—sort of. She has her moments,” he sighs again. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has. I love her.”

Hearing him declare his love for her leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth. It’s bad enough that you didn’t realize you were in love with him until after he started seeing her, and now after hearing this, you can never tell him how you feel. It’ll fuck up everything, despite it gnawing at you inside. 

“For what it’s worth, I hope that you two will be able to talk it out and figure out what you want to do.” You tell a strong lie, but you don’t want to hear more about his love for her. You can’t take it. “Do you want to chill for a bit? We can watch Revenge Of The Sith if you want.” 

He cracks a small smile, and for a moment, the weight in his eyes lightens. “Yeah, let’s just chill for a bit. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” you reply, scrambling from the couch. “I’ll make some popcorn.” 

Tears threaten to break free as you beeline it to the kitchen, your heartache paining worse than before. “She makes me feel good in a way no one else has… I love her.” You keep replaying it in your head over and over. You almost wish you never left your room, and went to sleep like you planned. At least you would still have a bit of hope, instead of a cracked heart. 

A few weeks pass, and as the season change, so does the light in Hansol’s eyes. He is getting back to his normal self and is laughing again. As happy as you are for him, it feels like your heart is being pierced by shards of glass. It was foolish of you to think you could ever be with him, and Minghao was right: it will just complicate everything.  

You know he isn’t completely over Kelsey, and it’s going to take more than a few weeks to get over someone you love deeply. You used to have daydreams of cuddling with Hansol on the couch, watching horror movies, and being madly in love… you have to put it to bed, for good. You start distancing yourself, little by little. Whether it’s staying late at work or finding different excuses to be out of the house, it doesn’t matter. You’re still there for him as a friend, but you want to be free from this unrequited love. It was fucking with you. 

So here you are, at a bar, sitting with your date Seungcheol, who you met on a dating app. You just wanted a quick fix for your heartache, and they say the best way to get over someone is to get under another, right? He’s the one to fulfill that. 

Within an hour of talking to him, you learned he was the typical tech bro who went to an Ivy League school, liked to mansplain everything, and thought he was God’s gift to women. Whatever. It’s not like you planned on seeing him again after tonight. 

“You look real nice in that outfit,” he says, practically drooling over your little black dress and heels. 

“Do I?” You flirtatiously quirk an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol nods, taking a sip of his gin. “I can’t wait to see what you look like underneath.”

It takes every fiber in your being to roll your eyes and walk out of there. Guys like Seungcheol annoy you, and you deal with them in small doses and go about your business. But he is a means to an end, and you will bat your eyes and tell him what he wants to hear to get what you want. You will deal with the consequences in the morning. 

You gaze at the clock displayed on the wall and it’s a quarter till eleven. Tired of hearing him talk, you lean in and whisper in his ear, your lips barely touching him. “Do you want to get out of here then? You said your place isn’t that far, right?”

His eyes are lit with desire, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom while he settles the bill. Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, you take a good look in the mirror, adjust your dress, and apply the last bit of cherry red lipstick. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminates the traces of perfectly good makeup that you only bring out for special occasions. 

“Is this really what you want?”

Your words echo against the walls, your question answered by silence. With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, taking one last look before exiting the bathroom. Of course, this is what you want— you wouldn’t have gone this far if you didn’t. Seungcheol waits for you at the bar, biting his plump bottom lip as he scrolls through his phone. Seungcheol is as hot as they come, and it certainly makes this decision a bit easier. 

“Are you ready to go?”

He looks up as you close in on him, linking your arm through his. “Of course, I’m going to pull the car around front.”

You watch him walk away, twiddling your fingers as you wait in suspense. The bar smells of wood and stale beer, the heat pushed on blast to counter the cold outside. You slip on your coat, walking towards the front door when you hear laughter, a familiar one that brings butterflies to your stomach. Turning to your left, you see Hansol, walking into the same bar you’re leaving, with Wonwoo and a girl you don’t know. He was always a simple guy, wearing jeans and his favorite “Revenge Of The Nerds” hoodie with a goofy grin on his face. It’s your favorite thing to see.

All the feelings you keep trying to push aside rise in you at once, and when your eyes lock with this, you feel warm. Getting over him will not be easy. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Hansol says curiously. 

“She probably has a hot date,” Wonwoo teases and nudges your shoulder. 

“Well actually… I do.” 

Wonwoo’s mouth spreads into a wide grin, happy to be right. His girl companion tugs onto his coat, mumbling that she is freezing. She’s a short thing with jet-black hair and wears a nice shirt and a skirt that shows off her legs. Wonwoo isn’t the serial dater type, so it is a high possibility he’s on the same mission you were: fuck and move on. 

“Really?” Hansol’s voice peaks an octave higher than normal. “Who’s the guy?”

“O-oh, um, you don’t know him,” you stumble through your words. “He’s just someone I met. We are heading to his place actually.” 

“W-what?” Hansol looks surprised, his expression etched with concern. “Are you sure it's a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, looking down at your heels. “I’ll send you my location when I’m there, okay?”

In the nick of time, Seungcheol pulls up in his Mercedes, opening the car door from his seat to let you in. 

“There he is,” you announce, walking towards the luxury car. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

Hansol stares intently at Seungcheol before looking at you, his eyes softening as you get into the passenger seat. You wave as he pulls off, the bar becoming out of view as you drive through downtown. Your nerves are shot, and you feel rattled. Of all the places to be, you had to see him at the bar? The universe has a sense of humor. 

“Who were those people back there?” Suengcheol’s deep voice breaks through your thoughts. “The one with the hoodie looked like he was going to pound me.” 

“Oh they are my best friends from college,” you say casually. “Well, I don't know the girl but yeah. Besides, Hansol, the one with the hoodie, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

You can confidently say out of all the years you have known him, Hansol, you have never seen him get aggressive with anyone. The most emotion you see from him is when he talks about cameras, film, or his love for Kel—. 

“I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

Shaking your head and changing the mood, you strategically place your hand on his thigh, smiling mischievously. “Now are we going to talk about my friends all night, or do you want to do something more exciting?”

To say Hansol is bothered is an understatement. 

You didn’t come home last night and even though he knew where you were, it still gnaws at him. It was unlike you. You always came home. It’s irking him. You are always there. 

Hansol noticed that you hadn’t been around as much, and he assumed it had something to do with work, which he understood since you both work in the same industry. But seeing you with that guy with the fancy Benz, dressed in clothes you rarely wear and your hair different from your usual look—it was all he could think about. You looked beautiful last night, and he wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. What maddened him the most was that he couldn’t figure out why. He just knew that you were not there, and it didn’t feel right. 

Hansol slowly got out of his bed and checked the time on his phone, 9:37 am in bold letters on his lock screen. His head raged from the hangover he caught from last night’s drinking. He is a lightweight and he knows he drank more than he should, but he was still dealing with the aftermath of the breakup with Kelsey. It’s been a few weeks and though he was feeling better, he still cared about her. He just wanted to not think or feel for a few hours. Now his thoughts are plagued by you. 

He sauntered out of his room, the sunlight hit him like a wall, momentarily blinding him. He reached for a bottle of water, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. A few moments later, Wonwoo opened the spare room, yawning and adjusting his glasses. Hansol was too drunk to drive, and Wonwoo was sober enough to take him home. The date that he brought last night, who he learned was named Jules, sheepishly appeared behind him, adjusting her dress as she took her walk of shame. Hansol heard murmuring but couldn’t make out what they were saying, but shortly after the door shut with a click, with Wonwoo leaning against it, an amusing grin on his face. 

“Is that your next victim?” Hansol teased. 

“Eh, maybe,” he shrugged. “She is more tolerable than the others.” 

“Uh-huh,” he surmised, drinking the last bits of his water. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.” 

Wonwoo is a notorious dater if you want to call it that. He has always had the philosophy that being tied down isn’t for him and he would rather run through the mill than be with someone he always likes. He is a fine art photographer who travels quite a bit, and he is always bragging about how it wouldn’t make sense for him to be in a relationship. He blows where the wind goes, and Hansol has always respected that he stayed true to himself. 

Wonwoo chuckled as he grabbed the water next to Hansol, clutching it as he drank it empty. He looked at your closed room door, his eyebrows raised curiously. 

“She isn’t here?” Wonwoo probed, pointing at your door. 

“No,” Hansol mumbled, followed by a slight ping in his chest. “She might still be out.” 

“Uh, huh,” Wonwoo concluded, eyeing him oddly. “Sounds like she had a good night.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Hansol said bitterly, his fingers rubbing his right temple. “It’s not like her to stay overnight at some douche’s house. Something is up.” 

“A douche, huh?” Wonwoo curved into a sly grin. “How do you know the guy is a douche? He could be a cool guy.” 

“Come on, he drives an S-class Mercedes and wears an Apple watch. I’m willing to bet he’s some tech bro.”

“And?” Wonwoo challenged. “That doesn’t make him a bad guy. If I don’t know any better I would say you are jealous.” 

Hansol rolled his eyes at his accusation, though the thought of you canoodling with the tech bro made him feel a certain way. “I’m not jealous. I am just… concerned, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, let’s call it that.” 

The alarm beeped from the front door and you walked in slowly, looking as put together as you did last night. Hansol paled as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Wonwoo looked amused, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter. 

“Oh hey, party girl,” Wonwoo greeted you. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you now?” You said with raised eyebrows, slowly taking off your heels. 

“Y-yeah, we were wondering if you made it home,” Hansol said nervously. “Well, you’re here now so.”

“Did you have a good time?” Wonwoo probed you further. “Will you see him again?

You look down at the floor, your face heating up from embarrassment. They typically don’t ask about your dating life, so why does it matter now?

“Maybe,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I’m going to go shower and get out of these clothes.” 

Hansol watched you as you walked into your room, shutting the door behind you quietly. He is relieved that you made it home safe, but he still feels conflicted about how he feels. Is he in fact, jealous?

“I’m going to go home and get some sleep,” Wonwoo announced, clapping a hand on Hansol’s shoulder. 

He let himself out and Hansol went back to his room, collapsing on his bed. Stirred emotions and thoughts rumbled through his head, and he closed his eyes, determined to think things through with a clearer head. 

His phone buzzed on his nightstand, and he sluggishly grabbed it, groaning at his notifications. A new message from Kelsey flashed as he swiped up on his screen. “I miss you.”

It’s been over a week since you saw Hansol, and you would be a liar to say that you were fine. You miss him. 

Your night with Seungcheol was fun, and he was a good fuck, but your mind kept drifting back to Hansol… imagining it was him. Seungcheol was nice enough to let you sleep in if you wanted and made sure you were good before you left, but you know it’s not going to go anywhere. Deep down he knows that too. 

God, you are a mess. 

You decided to keep busy with work and find things outside of your condo that made you happy, and that’s what led you here tonight, at the local movie theater. Around this time every year, they play five showings for free as a thank-you for the community supporting the theater for the past ten years. Princess Mononoke is the movie of the night, and you are standing in line, waiting to buy your ticket. It’s one of your favorite comfort movies in the world, and you never miss a chance to watch it, especially when you are feeling down. 

The weather is cooler than what was forecasted, and the slight breeze makes you tug on your coat tightly. You and Hansol did this every year together—and it feels weird alone. Unnatural even. You remember having long discussions about the movies you saw and what made them great. You love seeing the twinkle in his eye when he talks about the type of camera lens that was used and what it took to get certain shots. In return, he would listen to you vividly as you rambled about the time and craft it took to create special effects or a certain mask. Those times made you feel connected with him in a way no one could understand, and it's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. 

You purchase your ticket and walk inside the old building, the smell of buttery popcorn attacking your senses as soon as you open the door. The interior has been the same since you have been coming here, with high lights in the ceilings, vintage movie posters, and the same plush crimson carpet that matches the drapes on the windows. It has character and it feels cozy, like you are a kid again. 

You give the attendant your ticket and he rips the lower stub, pointing you in the direction of which theater room you need to go to. Your stomach rumbled with a slight ache, reminding you that you have not eaten since this morning. You were never really the breakfast type, as you normally just wake up and go about your day. You have a million things on your mind, and just for a little while, you want to shut it off. Princess Mononoke usually does that. 

Your phone buzzes slightly in your jacket and you look at Hansol’s name on the screen, hesitant to answer. It wouldn’t hurt to hear his voice for a little bit, right?

“Hey, you,” you say, biting your lip. 

“Hey, turn around,” he replies, his voice sounding louder than it should. 

Turning around slowly, you watch him walk through the doors, the sunlight trailing behind him like a halo. He sports an old college hoodie, faded jeans, and a smile, and in this moment, he almost takes your breath away. 

“I would ask what you are doing here, but I know better than that,” you joke lightheartedly. 

“Yeah, you know I’ll never miss this,” Vernon says, looking around at the theater. “Man, this place still looks the same.” 

“I know,” you agree, fidgeting with the ticket in your hand. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Because I know you,” he shrug. “I tried calling you to see if you wanted to come tonight, but you never picked up. So I came here.” 

“You called?” You give him a puzzled look. “I don’t remember you ca—”

You scroll through your notifications, seeing the three missed calls from him throughout the day. Even texted you but you didn’t see it. You had your phone on do not disturb mode, and you didn’t think to check any of your messages. Maybe you are just being childish. 

“See,” he nudges your shoulder playfully. “I told you.” 

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes teasingly. “Are you watching Mononoke too?”

“You know it,” he nods. “I’ll grab the popcorn and nachos. Go find us a seat?”

You watch him make his way to the concession stand, butterflies swirling in your stomach as the familiar feeling of home swells in your chest. You head to the third room on the right, snagging seats in the middle row that give you a perfect viewing of the movie. The lights dim as you sit down, with the old previews from 1997 playing on the screen giving you a major flashback to the past. In this moment you feel good and content, despite wanting to come here alone and avoid Hansol at all costs. You wouldn’t call yourself a fickle person, but you are glad your plans did change. Being around him feels just right. 

The movie starts a few minutes later, and Hansol appears right as it starts, searching the rows until he finds you. His face softens and his lips curve into a smile, taking a seat next you and handing you a popcorn and a cherry coke. 

“I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

You shake your head softly, avoiding his gaze and the pitter-patter he gives your heart. 

“No, you made it just in time.”

Hansol had a good time with you. 

It felt comfortable and familiar to be with you while he watched one of his favorite movies. He didn’t actually know that you were going to be there; he just took a chance and hoped you would be there, and like fate, you were standing in the middle of the theater. There was no awkwardness, he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells every time he had something on his mind. You just got him, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

It’s been a couple of weeks since then, and you have been hanging at the house more. Before he was lucky to catch you in the mornings when you left for work or you would come home late at night when he was already asleep. Even though things were getting back to normal, his thoughts of you continued to grow, and even though he wasn't sure of a lot of things, he knew one thing: he had missed you. 

“Earth to Vernon, hello?”

Hansol snapped out of his thoughts, refocusing on Kelsey as he sat across from her at her house. She asked him to come over and talk, and after thinking it over, he agreed, setting up a time to talk when she came back in town. Kelsey looked beautiful, sporting a white halter top and blue jean shorts, her skin sun-kissed from the vacation she took to the Cayman Islands. Her raven-black hair fell past her shoulders, swaying slightly as she talked about her trip. 

“Where is your head at today?” Kelsey pouted, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I feel like you aren’t listening to me.”

Hansol shook his head, shaking you out of his mind. “I’m listening. All I do is listen.” 

“No, you don’t,” Kelsey retorted. “You didn’t listen to me about the party or kick that girl out of your condo—”

“I already told you, that’s not happening,” Vernon pushed back. “ And that girl has a name. Why would I kick her out? It makes no sense.” 

“You know why Vernon.” 

“No, I don’t. You’re being unreasonable.” 

Kelsey rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. “We have been together almost three years and you haven’t asked me to move in. I asked you plenty of times to think about our future and to limit your time with her. You refuse to do it. Why is that?”

“Whoa, that’s bullshit!” Hansol’s anger rose through his chest. “You have never said “let’s move in together” or anything like that. If anything, all you have talked about lately is getting you into industry parties to build your brand. Also, I did start spending less time with her. What are you on about?”

“Because I am supposed to be your best friend!” Kelsey shouted. “You don’t even do the same things with me that you do with her. I bet she leaps with joy every time we have a break.” 

“She’s not like that,” Hansol said defensively. “She’s always been there for me and encouraged me to work it out with you. To your other point, every time I ask you to do something with me, something I want to do for once, you say it’s childish and that I need to grow up” 

“Because Vernon, who the hell still watches Star Wars?” Kelsey scoffs. “You are not a nine-year-old boy. You’re a grown man. Fucking act like it.” 

Hansol sighed, feeling drained and defeated. Star Wars meant a lot to him, as it was the main inspiration for why he wanted to get into cinematography and study film. It’s how he bonded with his dad. She knew that and still decided to insult him about it every chance she got. He wasn’t sure what the future looked like before he arrived, but the tension he felt in his chest and the ache in his heart made things a lot more clear. He still cared about Kelsey, more than he should, but it’s time to move on

“This… isn’t going to work,” Hansol rubbed his temple. “The fact that you still call me Vernon, knowing how formal it makes me feel, says a lot. I don’t know what happened to the girl I fell in love with, but clearly she’s gone. We’re done.” 

“Yeah, right,” Kelsey said incredulously. “You aren’t leaving me—”

“Yes, I am.” Hansol resolved. “This relationship has been one-sided for a while now. I’m sick of this.” 

Hansol got up from the table and handed her his copy of her apartment key. Kelsey looked bewildered, realizing that he was serious, and he wasn’t coming back this time. 

“So that’s it? You are just going to throw this all away? For her? She’s in love with you and you don’t even see it. All the times you have let her disrespect me and put up with her crap. I bet this was her idea.”

“You weren’t exactly nice to her either,” Hansol retorted, his heart beating out his chest. “She has been there for me when you weren’t. She cares about what I’m interested in. We like the same things. I don’t have to wonder if she cares about me and my family loves her. She’s smart, kind, beautiful and I love he—”

He stopped himself before he completed his sentence, shook at what was about to come out of his mouth. He was still grappling with his feelings for you and what that meant, and he still couldn’t put any words to what it all meant… until now.

“It’s not just about her,” Hansol said. “It’s everything with us, and the fact that you still don’t get it, tells me everything I need to know. Take care, Kelsey.”

He left the apartment before she started her next tirade, with a storm brewing in the night sky. He hated the way she talked about you like you were insignificant. You didn’t deserve the vitriol Kelsey spat every time you came up in conversation. You weren’t the warmest person, but you always made him feel seen and were there for him no matter what. You got his humor and his late-night thoughts about the latest webtoon he just read. His thoughts of you biting your lip when you’re nervous or the quirky thing you do with your eyebrow when you tell a story; he loved it all. It took for this to happen to see what he had in front of him all this time. He missed you when you aren’t around and it drove him crazy to see you on a date with that tech bro. 

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut as he turned the ignition: he’s been in love with you this whole time. Now how the hell does he tell you that?

The harsh sound of thunder makes the hairs on your neck stand up, dropping your iPad on your lap. It’s suddenly dark in your room, light from the partly cloudy day gone and replaced by storm clouds and flashing lightning. Your condo sits on the 10th floor, and the sound is much more elevated, sending chills down your spine. You hate being alone when it storms. 

You heard Hansol leave earlier and you wanted to clear your head, and so you decided to work on some sketches for a project that is happening at work. You are creating a few masks for an upcoming horror movie, and you are throwing out a few ideas that may interest the producers. The only problem is that you never got around to actually work; instead you were drawing doodles around you and Hansol’s name like a teenager. 

Every attempt you have made to distance yourself from him has become futile, and you decide to just accept the situation for what it was. Maybe one day you will work up the courage to tell him how you feel, but not being around him is agonizing, and you would rather have your best friend back than not have him at all. You can’t help the way he makes you feel, and until something changes, you’re okay with where things are… for now. 

Another crackling sound of thunder makes you yelp, knocking your iPad on the floor and cracking the corner of the screen. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking at the damage. 

Your nerves are shot, and you decide to make some tea to calm yourself while the storm rages outside. You place your iPad safely on the bed and slip out of your room, heading to the kitchen as the wind picks up and hurls rain against the windows. It amazes you how the day can go from sunny and hopeful to dark and tragic within a few minutes. Mother nature must be on one today, you think to yourself. 

The alarm door beeps and Hansol walks in, completely unscathed by the storm. He slides off his black beanie that covers his short brown hair and lets out a sigh of relief as he locks the door behind him. His eyes met yours, and a small smile spread across your face. 

“You made it just in time,” you say, pouring water into your teapot. “It’s about to get ugly out there.” 

“Yeah.” he nods, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows. 

You could tell something is bothering him, as you watch him take off his shoes and put up his jacket, but you don’t know what to say. Things have been so good between you two, yet the last time he opened up, he shared something you weren’t ready to hear. Despite everything, your concern for him remains strong, and you can’t help but ask, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Hansol replies, lost in thought. “Kelsey and I are done for good.” 

“Oh?” you exclaim. “What’s changed?”

Vernon sits on the couch and you follow him, sitting cross-legged and across from him as he shares his feelings. “I went over there to talk to her, and I just realized that she just used me. She didn’t care about me or what I liked. It was always about her and what he wanted… plus she said some ridiculous things about you.”

“Did she now?” You quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “What did she have to say about me?”

You aren’t surprised that she probably said some rude things about you. It’s not like you were her biggest fan either and you didn’t hide it. Kelsey wouldn’t ever say it to your face though, and that always made you chuckle. 

“She said you were in love with me and that you were happy every time we broke up.” 

The words don’t register right away. You can’t have heard him say what you think he said. “She said what now?”

“She said that you were in love with me,” his words tumbling out like a confession.

Your heart starts racing, the feelings of disbelief and anger stirring in your chest. That wasn’t her secret to share. “I.. can’t believe she said that.” 

“Neither can I,” Hansol sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not like you have feelings for me, and wouldn’t tell me… right?”

Your breath catches, a deep ache forming in the pit of your stomach. This is something you longed for and dreaded for a long time. You could deny it and keep things the way they are, or finally tell him how you feel and change your dynamic forever. 

“Hansol, I—”

“Are you in love with me?” He interrupts, his gaze intense. “I need to know if this is real.”

“What do you mean? And why does it matter?” You say bitterly. “ You are in love with Kelsey and will just go back to her. You always do.” 

“What if I don’t?” 

Your heart is pounding, and you take a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything. “What do you mean if you don’t?”

“I told you, I am done with her,” Hansol reiterates. “These past few weeks without her opened my eyes to a lot of things, and while I have been thinking about her less, you’ve been on my mind more.”

“What are you saying, Hansol?”

“I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you.”

The air is thick with uncertainty as his words echo in your head. You should be happy, relieved even that he wants to be with you. But in the midst of that, you are scared. What if it doesn’t work? What if he regrets all of this in the morning and decides to take it all back? You couldn’t handle that. 

“I… Kelsey wasn’t far off,” you admit, biting your lip. “I wasn’t necessarily happy when you were sad about her, but I have always felt like you deserved better.” You pause to gather your thoughts. “I am in love with you, Hansol.  I tried to put my feelings away and move on, date, or whatever. But every time I’m near you, it just hurts.”

Hansol pulls you into a warm hug, and you fully embrace his scent and the comfort you feel. You’ve imagined times like this when he would hold you in his arms and caress your face. You craved it even, wishing you could hear his heartbeat and feel him in ways you haven’t. But this feels too good to be true, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is real, or another dream. 

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” you speak up. “You just broke up with her and I don’t want to be some rebound you’ll regret later—”

He kisses you. His soft lips press against yours earnestly, and you melt against him, losing the remaining inhibition you had in you. He leans you back against the couch; his kisses becoming deeper, igniting a fire in you that you thought would stay dormant forever. 

“Does that feel like I’m unsure about what I want?” He breathes heavily. 

“I don’t know,” a smile creeps on your lips, a mix of joy and relief flooding through your veins. “I think I might need another one just to be sure.”

He kisses you again and you return his vigor, your fingers entangled in his hair as you savor the moment. His hands glide down to your waist, touching the hem of your shorts that you hope he’ll tear away. You pause, nodding that it’s okay, watching him slowly slide your shorts down your legs. 

“No panties?” His need is evident, almost salivating at the mouth. 

Your face heats up as you briefly become shy. “It’s laundry day,” you mumble. 

You gaze at each other before erupting into laughter, any remaining tension that was there gone immediately. This is how it always is with him, easy and light. He doesn’t have second or third questions, he just immediately understands. You couldn’t have fallen in love with a better person. 

“I-I love you, Hansol,” you managed to say. “You don’t have to say it back yet, I know we have to figure this out. But just know, I love you.” 

Hansol leans in for another kiss; this time it’s sweeter, tender, with enough meaning to know what it meant,  “Don’t worry, I love you too.” 

And with that, he stands up, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Kicking the door shut, you tear off each other's clothes, excitement and lust pouring through you as you lay on his bed, watching him climb over you. His body presses against yours, your arms wrap around his neck and back, your need for him growing stronger as he leaves kisses on your neck. “I need you so bad.” 

Hansol groans as his hands grab your breasts, mesmerized by your hardened mounds. He sucks on each other carefully, his eyes closed as if he is savoring the taste. He worships your body, his tongue trailing down your stomach until he reaches your core, spreading your legs apart. You’ve played so many scenarios on what your first time with him would be like, and what kind of lover he would be. This is better than you’ve imagined. 

“You’re so wet… for me?” he says in disbelief. “I get you like this?”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly as you anticipate his next move. He slips a digit inside of you, watching you squirm as he fingers you slowly. 

“Oh god,” you praise him as he adds another one. “Just like that, please.” 

Hansol leans down and lashes his tongue against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. The sheets bunch in your fists, your knuckles stretching out as his relentless mouth laps up your essence, savoring every drop. He explores every inch of your softness, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. His hands stroke his cock which is leaking with precum. You are ascending to a high that you never want to come down from. 

“H-Hansol,” your voice is grained with need. “I’m so close.”

He moans in response, his breath hot against your skin, and the sound vibrates through you, intensifying the coil of tension within. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of bliss completely taking over you, whimpering his name as your legs tremble around him. White starts clouding your vision and you feel like you are on air, floating away into paradise. You feel him groan against your thigh, and you look down slightly, his cock dripping with his load as it coats his hand. You collapse on his pillow, trying to catch your breath, slowly coming down from cloud nine. You hear him leave and come back a few moments later, wiping you down with a warm rag. 

“Aww, that’s sweet of you,” you tease him, closing your legs slightly. 

“I’m sorry for that being short,” he says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I usually can last longer than that, you know… I don’t know what happened.”

You prop yourself up, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

You pull him into a hug, softly kissing his cheek and motioning for him to lay down with you. He climbs over you and hugs you from behind, cradling you so close you can feel his heartbeat. The sunlight peeks through the window, a sign that the storm finally passed. Happiness can’t even describe the word you are feeling right now.

“Fuck. R-right there.”

Hansol wanted to make up for last night’s performance, so he woke you up with kisses to your face, your neck, the curves on your body and most importantly, in between your legs. The way you grabbed his hair went his tongue went deeper, or the way you begged for him to fuck you. He was addicted to all of it. It was like he was making love for the first time.

“Please Hansol, I need you.”

He quickly slipped on a condom and slowly entered you, watching the way your lips parted as he inched in a little more.

“Are you okay? I am not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head slowly as you held onto his arms, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” you bit your lip. “I can take it.”

He almost came right then and there, hearing you talk like that. Feeling safe with him. He never experienced that with Kelsey, the feeling of being wanted, and truly loved.

He moved slowly, wanting to make sure you could handle it, and he was mesmerized by the way you looked when you were being pleasured. You goaded him for more, and he did that, stroking deeper while your nails dug into his back. You were tight, warm and welcoming like you were made for him. He loved the way your breasts bounced when he thrust harder and the blunt curses that left your lips when he lifted your legs. 

If Hansol could, he would fuck you all day and night to make up for the past time wasted. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, and he wasn't the best with words, so this would do… for now

“I’m gonna cum—”

His mouth covered yours as your legs shuddered underneath him, your orgasm ripping through you like a hurricane. Your body glistened with sweat, your eyes wet from tears from being fucked out and he couldn't hold back anymore, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself into the condom.

Hansol thought he was in love before, and maybe it was because it was you, but he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. You were precious to him, and all he wanted to do was lay with you and watch movies all day, talk about mundane things…it didn't matter as long as he was with you.

“I… have a confession to make,” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah?”

“I always wondered… what it would be like. With you.”

He watched you bury yourself in his sheets, feeling shy about your confession. Hansol chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and riding himself of the condom. 

“So, did I live up to your expectations?” He asked tentatively.

You gently pull down the covers, smiling at him softly. “This is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

tagging: @heechwe @junniesoleilkth @iheartnonie @jaeyunsprincxss

[alfascorpiionux]

Ascendants: How to recognize them

Aries:short-tempered and impulsive are the first words that come to my mind. They are direct in speech and appreciate having friends around though they might not be the friendliest and at times they like drawing into themselves. They are self-sufficient and stick to their point of view. Could be ambitious, energetic. They are likely lean/atletic or if they are not into sports then on the lighter side. Fast walkers or talkers. They give off the air of an independent/confident person. Sharp facial features.

Taurus: chill, laid-back, well-dressed, agreeable. They like to take their time doing things. Hate being rushed. Are likely stubborn and would rather be coaxed than forced into doing things. They appreciate the fine things in life: good food, nice clothes, aesthetic stuff etc. Not particularly confrontational; could have problems bottling up feelings and then explode. As about body type - they are probably on the curvy/chubbier side. Expressive eyes and soft, rounder cheeks. Probably brown/darker hair and eyes. Should take care not to overeat.

Gemini: meet the charmers/socialites! These natives probably have a good number of friends or at least acquaintances. They are good speakers, with intellectual air to their communication. Can fit in with almost any group. Likely doesn’t struggle socially or if he/she does will quickly find a solution. Since it’s an air sign, traits such as open-mindedness, inquisitiveness, curiosity and friendliness will most likely be used to describe this individual.

Could become a great teacher or writer. Highly intelligent, probably has many hobbies. Is quite energetic and restless.

As body type - tall and on the leaner side. Long or elegant fingers. Expressive, mischievous eyes. It’s said that the Gemini rising is a desirable position as it is associated with a youthful appearance, regardless of age.

Cancer: shy, reserved, protective are all words that would describe them well. They are people who value privacy a lot and for whom family plays a crucial part in their life. They like looking out for people and definitely notice the little details (ex.cat hair on your new jeans, the subtlest shift in the tone of your voice).

Not the most social but there are likely many people who’d like to get to know them as their aura is very comforting and warm.

Might be prone to mood swings or be sensitive to changes of scenery/season.

As about body type - look for soft features, big and expressive eyes, pale or sensitive skin.

Leo: charismatic, stylish, outspoken & generous. Much like the Sun itself, this native’s presence can be felt whenever he/she enters the room. They dress to the latest fashion trends or have their own particular sense of style that makes them distinctly stand out. Can definitely stick up for their idea and will. Could have the tendency to be dictatorial or controlling but are generally very friendly and pleasant people to be around. Very protective of their children especially. Generous and direct, sometimes a little too trusting. Leadership qualities are very likely. People see them as trustworthy and worth listening too. Probably is well-liked and has a supportive circle of friends he/she regularly keeps in contact with.

As body type - broad shoulders or strong frame. Very well-kept hair. Good posture and expressive eyes. Radiant smile.

Virgo: graceful, observant, analytical and conscientious are the key words here. These people don’t typically like being in the spotlight. They are helpful, polite and practical. They pay attention to their health and are probably in a good shape. They like having routines and take special pleasure in completing daily tasks or could not do without them.

They don’t go for flashy styles of clothing and are all about looking neat and well-put together.

As body types - they are medium or on the petite side. Could be athletic too. Youthful. Long fingers, delicate hands. Graceful or measured movements.

[heich0e]

mentor!Sukuna probably sits Yuuta down and holds an initiation ritual through 盃事 and Yuuta just goes, “S-sir, I can’t drink alcohol yet 🥲🥲”

and then he does this again after he’s mentored Yuuta for a few years, but this time, it’s a succession ceremony :’>>

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE!! HE'S LIKE A SECOND LITTLE BROTHER TO HIM!! IM GONNA CRY

[sincerelyneo]

diet pepsi | n.jm

“losing all my innocence in the back seat”

📀now playing: diet pepsi by addison rae

❯ summary: Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.

❯ pairings: jaemin x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: brother’s best friend, smut, racing!au

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, jealously, pet names, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, virginity loss, slight corruption kink, bit of angst, ‘daddy’ mentioned once but not in a kink way?, jaemin is lowkey a dramatic asshole in the first half, mention of marking, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just a jealous brother’s best friend trope because it eats every time

Jaemin’s blood runs cold when he sees you—wait, what are you even doing here?

He’s never been so tense in the driver’s seat before. He’s usually all calm and controlled, razor-focused on the track, with only one thing on his mind: winning. And he’s pretty damn good at it. But today, he can’t seem to focus. Not with you—Jeno’s little sister—standing right there on the sidelines, sticking out like a beacon in a crowd of rowdy onlookers.

So out of place, timid and awkward. Normally, he’d find it cute if he wasn’t so pissed that you’re even here. You don’t belong among his reckless racer friends, the ones with wandering eyes; and the girls with short skirts, heavy perfume, and sharp eyeliner.

He’s never been this distracted at the starting line before, never found anything particularly interesting to gaze at through his freshly cleaned windshield. But there you are. 

Ripped blue jeans clinging to every curve that he’s spent years thinking about—too many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining how his fingers would mold and print into the soft flesh of your skin. And those cherry-red lips—they make pride swell in his chest, a small thrill from knowing he’s the only racer here with a red car. It’s probably just a coincidence, but Jaemin lets the possessive part of his mind take over, because he wants nothing more than to see that red smeared around your cheeks as he kisses you—wants it to stain him like a claim.

God, what’s he even thinking?

You’re his best friend’s little sister. Off-limits.

Speaking of which, why are you here? Jeno’s not racing tonight, and he’d kill you if he found out. Actually, Jeno would kill him, even though Jaemin had no idea you’d even show up. Jeno hated you being at the races on a good day, let alone when he wasn’t here to keep an eye on things.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time, Jaemin’s gaze drifts to his side mirror as he speeds off. Because Jeno’s not here to watch over you—so he has to. Yeah, that’s it. It’s for Jeno’s sake. Definitely not because he’s worried about you. And definitely not because he likes the way your cherry-red lips part in a cheer—a cheer he likes to imagine is all for him.

Who’s he kidding? Jaemin loves knowing you’re here, watching him race. Honestly, it’s the biggest rush he’s ever felt—the purest shot of adrenaline—and he’s never pushed this hard on the track. But right now, he only wants to win for you.

And he does, slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt the second he crosses the finish line. A few friends clap him on the back as he gets out of his car, congratulating him, but he doesn’t care about them. He only wants you—to hear you say he did great, to see that proud look in your eyes. He wants you to beg him not to yell at you for sneaking in tonight… or worse, promise he won’t tell Jeno.

Except, Jaemin’s not so sure he can negotiate on the “no yelling” part of that deal. Not when he spots you in the crowd, looking up at Jisung. Jisung, who’s got your attention on him instead of his win. Jisung, who’s making you laugh—and Jaemin knows he’s not that funny. Jisung, who’s handing you a can of Diet Pepsi—and you’re just taking it, smiling at him with those red lips, lips that don’t belong to him. 

Jaemin knows Jisung doesn’t have a bad bone in his body—Christ, the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s one of his racer friends. Still, he doesn’t like the way you lean in when you laugh or how you’re looking up at him with pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes something stir in him, something sharp and possessive. Without thinking, he storms over, snatching the damn can from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

You gasp, the sound almost too soft, "Woah, Jaem–"

"What are you doing here, Y/N?

You stumble back, heart skipping in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you whole. Gaze locked with yours, primal and urgent, scanning you with a heat that makes your breath hitch, throat going suddenly dry. You came here to see him—no one else. But the way his eyes are on you now...you don’t know whether telling him that would be a good idea. 

You swallow hard, feeling small beneath the weight of his stare. “I—uh, I—I’m just… here to watch,” you mumble. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal..."

Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as they flick over you, then over to Jisung, then back to you. "Alone?" he finally asks. "You just showed up here by yourself?"

“Well yeah–I didn’t think anyone would mind..."

"Jeno’s gonna fucking kill you when he hears about this," he mutters exhaling sharply, the tension in his jaw is visible as he crosses his arms. "You know he doesn’t like you being here.” His eyes flicker to Jisung for a moment before they shift back to you, a little colder. "And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know you’re accepting drinks from other racers, huh?”

Your brow furrows, a tinge of annoyance creeping in. "It’s just a can of Diet Pepsi, it’s not—"

Jaemin cuts you off. "It doesn’t matter what it is," he snaps. "What matters is that you’re here, without telling anyone where you were going. Without Jeno knowing." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

You scoff. "I’m an adult, Jaemin. Jeno’s not my keeper, and neither are you–"

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—something dark. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. "That’s not the point, Y/N," he growls, his voice lowering. "The point is you’re here, at a street race, by yourself. You think that’s smart? You think that’s safe?" He takes a step closer.  "What if something happened to you?" 

"I’m fine, Jaemin. I can take care of myself, okay?" Your voice cracks, frustration spilling out, but the sound doesn’t make Jaemin soften like it usually would.

He steps even closer, towering over you, his presence dominating, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and quick. “This—this shit—" he gestures around to the crowd, the cars, the racers that surround you both, "this is not safe for you. You shouldn’t be here."

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, jaw set as you refuse to back down. "Why? You and Jeno come here every other weekend?” What’s the big deal?" 

"The big deal, Y/N, is that you're a pretty girl, surrounded by a bunch of horny assholes who'd love nothing more than to corrupt a sweet little thing like you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as his words hit you like a punch. You blink, trying to process, but the anger in his eyes is enough to make your pulse quicken. Jaemin must realize what he’s said because there's a brief moment of hesitation. He clears his throat, trying to regain control.

"And you never told anyone," he tries to add, his voice a little less steady now, "And you're letting random guys buy you drinks—"

"I already told you. It was just a Diet Pepsi, Jaemin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!" You cut him off. 

You don’t even know what you’re arguing about anymore— and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t either—it’s like he’s mad for the sake of being mad, the two of you going around in circles.

And frankly, you're tired of it. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You’ve always had a thing for Jaemin, and now was supposed to be your chance—your shot to make him see you as more than just Jeno’s little sister. You knew he’d be distracted with the race, but you thought if you showed up, maybe he’d finally notice you, really see you. But instead, he’s making it perfectly clear that you’ll never be anything more than that girl he feels the need to protect.

“Stop treating me like a child, Jaemin,” you sigh. “I’m not some fragile little girl who needs you to babysit her." 

You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from him, but before you can take more than a few steps, Jaemin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No. We’re not done talking."

He steps forward again, grip on your limbs tight but not painful, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward the exit, the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement is far too loud in the heavy silence that’s settled. 

"Jaemin, wait!" You tug against him, stumbling slightly, trying to free your wrist from his grasp. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I told you, I don’t need you babysitting me—"

"I’m not asking." His voice is low and final. "You’re going home, and you’re going with me."

"Let go of me!" You hiss, still trying to yank free, but he just tightens his grip, pulling you with him as if you’re a ragdoll.

Jaemin finally stops, turning to face you, his eyes sharp with frustration. He growls at your protesting, stepping into your personal space. "I’m taking you home, Y/N. Don’t argue with me."

You stare up at him, chest heaving with anger and something else—something you don’t want to admit to yourself. "You’re insufferable," you mutter, but it’s weak. 

You know you’re defeated. There’s no point in fighting him anymore. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, and every fibre of your body knows he’s not going to let this go until he’s got you back home. You have no choice but to comply really. And you groan whilst slipping into the passenger seat of his car, imagining the story he’s going to muster up for your brother. 

Jaemin gets into the driver’s seat, his body tense and irritated, and you almost feel bad that he can’t celebrate his win—almost. He places the can of Diet Pepsi in the cup holder, the soft clink of the can echoing through the car. Then, without breaking his focus, his gaze flicks to you, his voice low and commanding.

“Seatbelt.”

You huff, rolling your eyes as you slide it on. “Yes, daddy.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, Jaemin’s jaw tightens, the muscle flexing under his skin. His eyes darken for a split second, a dangerous glint flashing, something that makes your pulse stutter for just a moment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it a little tighter than necessary as he tries to compose himself.

He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat, nostrils flaring. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”

You sink into your seat with a sigh. The silence in the car hangs as he drives, thick with awkwardness and annoyance. Your throat still feels dry from the argument, and before you can even think about it, you reach for the can. The cold metal soothes your fingertips. But the second your lips brush against the rim, you can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you—hot, intense, and focused.

You can feel him watch your every move, and as you pull the drink away from your lips, his eyes narrow in on the red stain your lipstick left on the silver rim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, jaw tightening with it, his gaze flickering between your lips and the can in your hand. Without warning, he snatches it from your fingers, one hand still on the wheel, eyes focused and full.

Then, Jaemin presses his own lips against the spot where yours just were, right over the mark you left. Sipping the drink slowly — savouring it.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice a little breathless, startled.

Jaemin’s eyes widen, and for a split second, his grip tightens on the can before he abruptly pulls it away from his mouth, tossing it into the cup holder without a second glance. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of his own actions, as if he’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look. His mind is reeling—over a simple lipstick mark on the rim of a can. Something so innocent, yet it’s driving him crazy.

He clears his throat, trying to regain an ounce of composure, but his voice cracks slightly. "I was, uh..." He hesitates, biting back a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to the road before snapping back to you. "Just making sure it wasn’t spiked…?"

It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he knows you’re not buying it. The way your lips part tells him everything. You narrow your eyes at him, a little too sharp for comfort. 

“Spiked?” You glance at the cup holder, where the can now sits innocently. “How would you even know from the taste, Jaemin? Not to mention Jisung gave me this, that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Jaemin knows that. Still, he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the frustration builds in his chest. His entire excuse is a mess, just like the thoughts spinning in his head.

"Look, let’s call it precautionary, okay?" His voice is clipped and there’s a tightness to it. "Don’t make it a big deal."

You lean back in the seat, a small bitter laugh escaping you. “Me making things a big deal? Oh, the irony.”

He doesn’t respond or bite back or try for the final word and it makes the silence thicker. Jaemin’s grip on the wheel is so tight his knuckles are white, and honestly, you don’t know how long you can keep doing this.

“You're impossible, you know that?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and your chest tightens as soon as they do. "I didn't come here for you to babysit me or make me feel like I need your protection. I came here because I—" You stop yourself. 

Jaemin's head snaps to you, "Because you what?" 

For a second, you can’t speak. The words are right there, but they feel too big, too much to let out. You’re caught between the urge to spill it all or keeping it hidden, scared to change the dynamic. But you’ve been pretending for too long, playing by the rules, and now, you want to stop hiding.

“I came here because I wanted you to see me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not as Jeno’s little sister. Not as some kid. I wanted you to see me… as me.”

Jaemin doesn’t react, not at first – well, he does, but it’s subtle. His hands go completely white around the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear it. Without saying a word, he pops the indicator on and pulls over, the tyres screeching slightly as he brings the car to a sudden stop.

You freeze, and a small wave of panic bubbles up inside your chest. Did you say the wrong thing? Did you make it weird? He’s your brother’s best friend, and now you’ve crossed that weird line that’s bound to make everything awkward. Jeno’s gonna kill you.

You swallow hard, waiting for him to snap, to tell you how messed up this whole thing is.

But he kisses you. 

His hand on your cheek, without warning, pulling you into him, and consuming your lips with a force that steals the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle like you expected him to be. He’s typically always gentle with you — unless he’s mad, which right now, he is. This kiss is desperate. Hungry. And you like it because it’s the kind of kiss that makes your body forget how to breathe. The kind of kiss that tells you he doesn’t see you like a kid – like Jneo’s little sister.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” Jaemin growls, nudging your noses together. His hands find your waist, to grip it. “You walk around in those jeans clinging to your ass, with your cheeks flushed, and that fucking lipstick the same shade as my car.”

You giggle softly against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You noticed?”

“Of course I fucking noticed,” he groans.

Jaemin’s lips trail down your jawline, each kiss slow, and teasing, and needy. The desperation in his movements is evident like he’s trying to savour every inch of your skin. The feeling is foreign to you—each soft press of his lips sends a rush of heat through your body. The simple touches make you gasp, drawing a low, satisfied groan from him as he feels the reaction in your body.

His breath catches, lips brushing softly along the sensitive curve of your neck as he pulls you closer. His hands tighten around your waist, and the pleading in his voice intensifies, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in it. He’s holding back, trying to keep his composure.

“Tell me this is a bad idea, Y/N,” he whispers, his lips grazing your skin with kisses. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Your breath is shallow and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The way your hands find their way into his hair, fingers threading through it as you desperately tug on it, unsure of what else to do. 

“Please, angel, you have to say no,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and desperate. 

“Don’t want to,” you whimper, shaking your head again. “Want you, Jaem. Always wanted you. Only you.”

"Fuck..." he groans, his lips trailing away from your skin to look at you.

And what a pretty sight you are. Eyes glazed with lust, pupils blown wide, dilated with something raw and needy. So innocent, so forgiving, so eager – so fucking his. It’s enough to make him painfully hard, though he was already straining. Hearing you say you've always wanted him – and only him – had already sent a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Jaemin can’t help himself. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek again, his thumb teasing the softness of your bottom lip. You gasp, and his pupils darken, fixating on the way your mouth parts, the red colour staining his thumb. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of—a perfect fantasy. 

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, gorgeous.”

He’s still hesitating, and you can feel it — you fucking hate it. Something takes over you, and without thinking, you take his thumb into your mouth, deep, sucking hard. Jaemin practically growls, his lips parting as a hiss escapes him from the sight. 

A switch flips, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he yanks his thumb from your mouth, kills the engine, and climbs into the backseat. His eyes are sharp as they focus on you, which tells you to follow suit. He doesn’t care that on paper this is a ‘bad idea’. His cock is telling him it’s the best one he’s ever had.

It’s clear the moment you climb into the backseat, the way his body shifts into something animalistic. You try to settle beside him, but Jaemin doesn’t let that happen. He grips the hem of your shirt, yanking you down and onto his lap. The heat from his body radiates through the thin fabric of your clothes, his chest pressing hard against yours as his hands slide possessively around your waist.

His hands roam down your back and you can feel the hard press of him against your ass. It makes your pulse spike and your sweet red lips fall open for him, making him smirk with pride. His lips trail down to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs your name, low and rough.

It’s all-consuming. Hot and desperate. Panting and breathless. Bodies moving in sync. The car heats up from your bodies softly grinding against each other. His hands are everywhere. 

“Angel,” he growls, his voice low with restraint, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t be able to stop.”

You bite your lip, keeping your rhythm steady, your hips pressing into his. “Good.”

Jaemin catches a hand around your jaw pulling you away from his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure you want this?”

You nod, your gaze heavy with need.

He shakes his head, “I need words, gorgeous.”

“I want this.”

Such a simple phrase shatters his restraint, unravelling him completely. With a growl, he tosses you onto the back seat, lips trailing hotly down your body until he’s between your legs. His fingertips graze the waistband of your jeans, and he leans in, voice a low whisper.

“Can I?”

You nod, but he shakes his head, his eyes dark with hunger. “Say it.”

“Yes...” You breathe, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s all he needs.

The jeans slide down your hips and ass, past your thighs, until they’re bunched around your ankles. Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, landing on your panties—darkened with dampness.

"So wet from just a little grinding?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So fucking cute."

A rush of heat floods your chest. You’ve never done this before. And suddenly, it’s all too much, too fast. His words, your own desperate need, the car, the argument... everything crashes together. Without thinking, you press your legs closed, embarrassed by your body's reaction.

Jaemin's brows furrow as he watches you closely. "You okay?"

Your cheeks burn with a blush, stuttering as you struggle to find your voice. "I-I-uh," you falter, hoping he’ll say it, ask you the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to say it.

"I’ve never done this before."

Jaemin’s eyes flicker with something dark before he hums lowly. “You still want this?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“Words, Y/N.”

“God—yes.”

A satisfied smirk curves on his lips. “Good,” he murmurs. “Your body’s a fucking work of art I’ve been dying to see, and I never want you to feel embarrassed about showing it to me—and only me, yeah?”

This time, you don’t nod. You meet his gaze, voice steady as you tell him, “Yes. Only you.”

He smiles, hands resting on your knees as he gently eases them apart, his gaze fixed on you, completely mesmerized. If someone had told him this was how he’d be celebrating his win tonight, he’d have laughed in disbelief.

But now, his knuckles brush over the front of your underwear, a feather-light touch that sends a spark through you. Your hips react on their own, bucking slightly as his fingertips tease your sensitive nerves through the thin damp fabric.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

He drags his fingers to your waistband, sneaking underneath to run a soft finger up your slit, drawing a gasp from your lips. He takes that as permission to slip the pair down your legs, meeting the same fate as your jeans somewhere in his car. 

Jaemin keeps his eyes dead set on you as his fingers work to find your clit. The moment he does, he starts working slow, taunting patterns against it, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sensation is leg-numbing, sending waves of pleasure through you—so much better than when you do it yourself. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, “I wanna know how I’m making you feel. Tell me.”

Your mind is spinning, words slipping through your grasp, and all you can manage is a choked, incoherent moan. It’s not enough for him. Dissatisfied, he sinks his middle finger into your pussy at your silence. You jolt at the intrusion, the feeling intense and foreign, but his eyes stay locked on you, waiting.

“Tell me,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of how tight you grip around his finger.

“F-feels good,” you manage to stammer.

“Yeah?” he taunts, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly picks up the pace. “Want more?”

“Yes–” you nod eagerly. He wastes no time, slipping his ring finger inside to join the first, matching the rhythm, savouring the warmth encapsulating around him, and you unravel beneath him.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow and quick, completely undone from the tortuous pace of his fingers. Jaemin’s expression softens as he takes you in, a quiet, satisfied coo slipping from his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, “So sweet… so vulnerable just for me.”

A low chuckle escapes him as he feels your walls threatening to tense, wanting to flutter around his fingers, and it sends another wave of pride through him. He shifts his eyes down, and without hesitation, takes your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, devastating circles.

If he’s going to make you cum for the first time, it’ll be on his fingers and his mouth—he’ll make sure of it.

“S-so good, Jaem—” you gasp, voice trembling as his mouth and fingers work in perfect sync, pushing you closer to the edge.

He hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin. “Gonna let go for me, huh? Let me feel it.”

His words, his touch—it’s all too much, and you can feel every nerve on fire as he coaxes you over the edge until you’re cumming from the steady rhythm of his fingers and the relentless, teasing laps of his tongue. You're a shuddering mess beneath him from the orgasm he’s given you. 

He fucking loves it, looking in complete awe.

As you start to come down, muffled whines still slip from your lips, riding out the aftershocks of your release.

“What is it?” he prods, his voice smooth but persistent, but all you can manage is a frustrated sigh, annoyed with his stupid teasing tone. “Angel..I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

"All I want is—" You gasp when he lightly brushes your sensitive clit again,"—your cock."

A smug smirk tugs at his lips. His hand slides to rest possessively on your hip as he moves to hover above you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Are you sure?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering with need, and he takes that as permission to rid himself of his pants, his hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. He positions himself carefully, just at the edge of your pussy. 

It’s not how you’d pictured your first time—definitely not the romantic, cute scenario you’d always fantasized about. But one thing was certain: Jaemin was here, and that’s all that really mattered. Though, you hadn’t expected him to be this… big.

He picks up on the hesitation in your eyes, sensing the tension coiling tight in your chest.

With deliberate slowness, he slides his length teasingly between your drenched folds, making your breath catch as your nerves tense.

“I’ll take it slow,” he pulls down to murmur against your lips. 

You nod, your lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard enough to taste the metallic tang as he presses his tip against your cunt. His other hand grips your hip, his fingers digging in as he applies pressure, holding you in place. He stays perched above you, eyes fixed on your face. 

"Keep looking at me," he says, watching the way your face squirms. "Please."

His begging has you fighting to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, staying locked on him as you watch the way his pink lips part, the way they twitch, holding back a moan when he inches forward just enough to feel his tip slip past the threshold.

He pushes forward in a slow, savouring motion, and when he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. Your brows furrow, caught between the sting of pain and the rush of pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip, holding it there as a low, skin-tingling moan rumbles deep in his chest, his body staying still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Please move,” you beg, barely able to get the words out, desperation lacing your voice.

He struggles to keep his breathing steady as he watches your face, studying it for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he begins to draw his hips back slowly, his movements deliberate and deep, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again.

Your eyes want to flutter shut, the bliss almost too much to keep conscious but you want to please him. Jaemin pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into it, the sound pulling a breathless, stomach-knotting whine from him.

He increases his pace, and you cry out, your head falling back as your hips begin to meet his. One of Jaemin’s hands tightens around the side of your waist, grounding you as he drives deeper, faster, harder — greedy. 

You move feverishly, hips bucking wildly as you try to take him deeper, craving the way his cock stretches you, hitting every nerve with overwhelming pleasure.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "Keep looking at me. I wanna see how pretty you look when I’m making you feel good."

You can only respond with a breathless gasp that catches in your throat as he buries himself deeper, rolling against you whilst your nails dig into the fabric on his shoulders.

His hand slips from your hip for a moment, reaching for your fingers to guide them down where your bodies are connected. His fingers curl around yours, bringing your hand to your throbbing clit. You take the hint, fingers moving instinctively to find the sensitive bundle, desperate to ease the tightness building in your abdomen.

"Not gonna last long, angel," he breathes, his voice ragged. "But I need you to feel good."

"Fuck," you whimper. Your hips begin to writhe, chasing the pleasure as every part of your body burns with need.

“So fucking warm and wet and tight,” he groans, forehead slick with sweat. 

Your bodies feel like they’re burning, the car steaming up with heat, the windows fogging so thickly that you leave a handprint on the glass as you steady yourself against Jaemin’s building deliberate thrusts. 

He’s fucking into you with an erotic urgency, as if he’s trying to spill out every fantasy he’s ever had about you since Jeno introduced you. It’s like he’s remembering, all at once, that he’s broken all the rules—off-limits, bro code—and he doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t regret it one bit. Because the feel of you on his cock is totally worth it.

Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, your muscles contracting and fluttering around him. The feeling overwhelms you, and it only encourages him to slow his rhythm, to drag out your orgasm as long as possible. 

Jaemin finally caves, moving his face to nuzzle against you. Your hands find his hair, tugging him up so you can kiss along his neck, your lipstick staining his flesh, marking him with that signature red colour.

You keep your hips rolling with his, even after the earth-shattering orgasm he’s just given you. Every cry, whimper, and moan spills from the back of your throat at the force of him, your voice chanting his name in a string of desperate mumbles. Your body convulses and shakes as you clamp around his length, and he grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.

He snaps his hips upward, grinding his body against you to savour the feeling. His muscles begin to shudder, jolting as he gasps for air, his own orgasm hitting him hard.

Hearing and feeling him lost in so much bliss only stretches the aftershocks of your release, both of you a mess of limbs and shameless sounds. Then, you feel him still completely, his release erupting in warm spurts, filling you and making you feel full of him. He’s everywhere—his scent, his kisses, his cum.

You’re left utterly spent, like a limp puddle, but Jaemin stays closely intertwined with you. You both inhale ragged breaths, neither of you daring to break apart. You’re reduced to fluttering glances weak panting and slick skin.

Jaemin’s eyes shift toward the side window, his fingers gently combing through your hair before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

And when he finally tries to move, there's a sudden clink, and the faint sound of liquid splashing. You both glance down at the Diet Pepsi can now toppled over and spilling its contents all over the car seat. A muffled chuckle escapes Jaemin's lips as he shakes his head.

“That stupid fucking drink,” he mutters with a grin. 

“You should be grateful,” you hum, “Without it, we probably would never have fucked.”

Jaemin shakes his head and laughs, but the humour quickly fades as his expression turns serious. He leans in close again, his lips brushing yours. 

“Not true,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you ever since I met you. I would’ve made a move eventually.”

“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing him. “What’s been stopping you?”

“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, and it’s like it hits you both at once.

Your stomach twists in knots, the mention of your brother, Jaemin’s best friend, suddenly making everything feel... wrong. 

“What are we gonna tell Jeno?”

[bikananjarrus]

vel vel vel vel veeeellllll beloved vel!!!!!!!

this will be another seat of my pants essay so let’s see if i can keep it somewhat coherent.

first off, what a way to introduce a character! the first glimpse we get of her is through luthen’s eyes (and it’s not even a direct line of vision shot because he’s looking through a scope, but i’ll come back to that), and the first lines we hear about her is “you’ll be working for her” … “she’s going to hate this idea to start. she’s going to argue with me.” this sets vel up as someone who is stubborn, and knows what they want, especially in terms of leadership. we find out soon enough that this is very likely her first major leadership position (“you wanted to lead!”) and the way she’s been doing it so far has been working, and she doesn’t bend easily on what works. but she will concede if she knows it’s the best option, which is the case with bringing cassian clem on the team. and this quality of her leadership is absolutely one of my favorite things about her. she will bend and compromise when she needs to (even if sometimes it takes a bit more convincing); but she is also firm and will stand by what she believes. she doesn’t take the nonsense from her team when they start questioning her - she is the leader, and there’s a reason for that! she tells luthen that bringing clem on will tear the team apart, but it doesn’t, and that’s because of HER!!! she keeps them all focused, gets them back on task, and even though the team can tell she’s lying about clem always being part of the plan, she stands firm with the lie and doesn’t rat cassian out. even if she doesn’t trust him, she trusts the rest of her team, and she trusts herself. and this also demonstrates her loyalty, her commitment to other people.

and as a leader, i appreciate that it was clearly a role she wanted, and it’s equally clear that it’s a role she’s good at, but that doesn’t mean she’s not without doubts (see: the scene at the top of the dam). but when we see her have these doubts, it usually comes back to her own abilities, or her own care for the people around her getting in the way, not doubts about her team (again, she trusts them!). even when cassian tells her that skeen wanted to take off with the money, she says he wouldn’t do that - she defends him even though she knows cassian is right.

her loyalty, her leadership, and how much she cares, and cares deeply, for those close to her, are absolutely some of my favorite vel traits, which are particularly demonstrated in the aldhani arc.

now going back to the first shot we see of her + rich chandrilan girl vel. vel, like luthen and cassian, has these layers of masks and personas that she wears. the fact that the first shot we see of her is through a scope that luthen is looking through, that’s not a true image of her. and when we first see vel after the aldhani heist, all dressed up and glamorized, it’s the lifestyle she was born into, but it’s not truly her either. (i think there is definitely a part of her that is inextricably tied to that life of privilege, namely at times when you can tell she wants to be a little selfish, but i will come back to that.) but overall, the rich girl persona is not one she’s most comfortable, for sure not anymore. But she’s still very good at it! she can play the part high society expects of her! and i don’t think her ability to be a chameleon just as well as luthen and cassian is acknowledged nearly enough.

to add, vel says, “we all have our own rebellion.” i think one of vel’s rebellions is being true to herself, and her values, and being a rebel (not a rich girl) allows her to do that. part of her rebellion comes from merely existing, which is so beautiful and incredible.

going back to vel being selfish at times, which isn’t so much selfishness as it’s typically thought of in a negative way, but rather it’s want. it’s desire, and her caring for others, and it sometimes comes wrapped up in these selfish wishes (particularly with cinta) to just leave it all behind.

and to talk about this with cinta, because that’s definitely where we see it the most in the first season, vel wants. she wants cinta so deeply. vel comes from a comfortable background; she has never gone hungry a day in her life before all this, but she’s hungry for cinta. she wants cinta. and i just love that there is a strong, balanced partnership between vel and cinta, they love each other, there is a give and take, but sometimes, vel can’t help but want more. and while she certainly wants it for herself, I think it also comes from a desire to give cinta a life where she can finally be at peace and stop fighting. but vel wants that now; she wants to take cinta and just leave it all behind. and i love that cinta has to remind her that the rebellion comes first, stopping the empire comes first. because they are equal partners, and vel is committed to the rebellion. but this is where vel’s background comes in again—she hasn’t had to fight the empire for so long, from such a young age, in the way that cinta has. for cinta, this is all she knows. they are both equally committed, but sometimes i think vel forgets, slips up, probably thinks she’s asking cinta for more than she should (even though cinta absolutely loves her just as much, but just can’t stop fighting long enough to really show it), and i love that vel still says what she wants. it maybe comes off a little selfish, but it makes her infinitely more interesting. she knows what she wants (cobra & a peaceful life) and she’s not afraid to show it (and i have no idea if that all makes sense, but in short: vel’s “selfish” desires, particularly when it comes to cinta, is one of my favorite things about her.)

and since i am struggling to keep things coherent, i’ll just list a few more things i love about her: running into the smoke (!!!!); her “thank you for trying” to dr. quadpaw after nemik dies; her relationship with mon and leida; her sad little face. like has anyone ever had a face as sad as hers? i love it so much.

i could go on it to sum up: i love her and i can’t wait to see her again in s2 <3

Character Appreciation Friday - Vel Sartha

Name: Vel Sartha Played by: Faye Marsay Appearances: Aldhani, The Axe Forgets, The Eye, Announcement, Narkina 5, Nobody's Listening!, Daughter of Ferrix, Rix Road

Happy Friday and happy VELENTINE'S DAY, gang!!! Look I'm not gonna act like this is a normal one because that would be very dishonest of me. This is the most important day of the year for me, and I'd really really really love if everyone would help out with spreading appreciation and love for my number one sad girl rebel.

Please let me know what you appreciate about dear Vel in a reblog, comment, or ask!

Next week: Brasso

[fairestwriting]

Reader sleeping on the couch after an argument w/Dorm leaders? How they would react w/happy endings?

this got super long so i decided to change up the post layout so longer stuff would look nicer. But im also posting from a new device so if this goes up and theres any formatting fumbles then uhm. you didnt see anything

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Despite how hotheaded and stubborn he is, it’s actually really rare for you two to really argue. He values your opinions on everything, and he’d hate for you to feel like he doesn’t hear you or care about your feelings. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like doesn’t care.

That, however, is something he’s still learning. It’s not very easy to let go of the habits he developed growing up— Especially if he thinks what he’s doing is best for you. He doesn’t know how to convince people, so he ends up coming off forceful and inconsiderate. It might even happen without him noticing he messed up, if you’re not extra straightforward about it.

So he knew you weren’t happy with him, but really didn’t think it was that bad, seeing you asleep on the couch is the last thing he was expecting. Even more if it’s the first time it happens, it makes him freeze go into panic mode.

You’re woken up to a really shaken looking Riddle, asking you what you’re doing on the couch at this time in very genuine confusion. He might not even have considered it was because of the argument, too focused on trying to figure out what’s up with you. And it’s hard to stay upset at him when he so readily listens to whatever you have to say, apologizing profusely and making a promise to not do it again that he’ll always keep. His intention from the start was to do what’s best for you, after all— So if he turns out to be wrong, the first thing he wants to do is to correct it.

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Arguing with Leona is… definitely a situation. It might have you wondering if it even counts as an argument at all. Sometimes he just doesn’t seem to even react to what you have to say, sometimes he straight up states he can’t be bothered to argue. He’s not as stubborn towards people he really likes, but he’s still very proud.

He can actually tell that he messed up very quickly, pretty much in the middle of whatever interaction went wrong, but can’t bring himself to actually back down and admit it. He doesn’t even bother trying to convince himself that he’s right or anything, he’s just that allergic to saying the word “sorry”.

When he walks past you, his first thought is that he should just “let you sulk”. It’s probably not the first time it happens to him in a relationship— And the same routine plays out every time. He wants to walk away, but he can’t. He eventually does, then he comes back and stares for minutes. Regret starts to really sink in then.

You have a blanket draped over you the day after, and Leona just so happens to be around to ask, much more tentatively than usual, if you’re coming with him to get breakfast. It’s his version of an apology, kind of. He’ll actually say it out loud if the subject of the argument was more serious, but that’s rare. He’s not very good at this and the both of you are aware of that, but he still cares, and he’ll get there eventually. Maybe.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he might actually have the lowest argument rate out of all dorm leaders? He owes a lot of it to just being good with words, he pretty much always manages to bring up his disagreements in a really non-confrontational way, they’ll barely even register as disagreements at all. If he can’t find a way to seamlessly compromise, he often just keeps his thoughts to himself.

...Mostly because he gets too anxious at the possibility of you rejecting him. Even if it’s something small, it’ll stay inside his head and refuse to leave, getting dwelled on when life starts to get particularly stressful. If you two argue, the likelihood is that he actually started it, because some other minor issue came up and the pile he was mentally stacking ended up falling apart.

Things can get really messy in the moment. Everything sounds offensive to him when he’s freaking out, while at the same time he’s painfully aware that he’s being overly emotional and causing problems that didn’t exist before. He stops his rant suddenly when self control manages to return to him, but at that point things were already said, and you’re walking separate ways after he awkwardly suggests you two just take a moment to cool off.

He might not even see you on the couch, being too ashamed to leave his office, but Jade will let him know either way. Azul won’t disrupt your sleep, and he’ll even try to give you enough time in the morning to get through your usual routine, but as soon as it’s possible he’s looking for you to privately apologize. He takes care to clear up any misunderstandings before voicing any of his worries, even though it’s visible how nervous he is. It comforts him just to see you looking at him with fondness again, seriously relieved that he won’t be losing you over the situation.

𐙚 Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is another one who doesn’t really argue, but that’s not to say he doesn’t voice his disagreements, because he does, and he does it very often. It happens as soon as the thought pops up in his mind, spoken all lightheartedly. Regardless of what the subject being talked about is.

…Which can very easily become a problem. He does take all your boundaries very seriously, but you need to be very straightforward about them. So if it happens that you two get into a topic he doesn’t know is touchy for you, he might say something that comes off insensitive. And yes, he will ask you as soon as he sees the change in your expression, but the lack of tact doesn’t mix well with you already being upset, and you end up just walking away.

Only then he stops talking, freezing up completely. He can tell, that you probably want some space now, and he’ll honor that— but the whole thing doesn’t leave his mind for hours. He has no clue of when he should go look for you to try to talk and apologize, no clue of how he should even word it all when he doesn’t know what he did wrong. His heart shatters when he sees you sleeping on the couch.

He probably asked Jamil for advice, then heard that he should really give you your space, but he just can’t take it. You get shaken awake and he’s tearing up while he apologizes, saying he really didn’t mean to make you upset, that he’ll do his best to be more careful if you tell him just what went wrong, but also that you don’t need to talk right now if you don’t want— He’s a little clumsy, and very emotional, but you know he means well, and that he loves you very much, which he’ll be sure remind you of over and over again.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

It’s no secret that he can really nag people, but Vil really doesn’t like to actually argue— He’ll say it every time a disagreement or misunderstanding starts to get tense. Partially a self-reminder, he’s aware that he doesn’t have nearly as much patience as he would like to. It can take a decent amount of effort to keep himself in check.

You two do successfully compromise very often, but sometimes even his suggestions can come off very harsh. It’s no secret to anyone who knows him. His peacemaking attempts are still pretty blunt, and his opinions are never held back. It can easily get upsetting, going as far as feeling like he’s judging you even though he’s not.

Vil actually takes a moment to tell that he might have said the wrong thing. He’s not so proud he’ll refuse to admit his own mistakes, but he’s just… used to upsetting people. You can outright leave mid conversation and it still won’t be his gut reaction, he always believes whatever he’s saying and only wants the best for you. It can take a good few moments until he realizes you’re not just “sulking” the way his underclassmen at the dorm do when he scolds them. Finding you asleep on the couch can honestly shock him.

He won’t wake you up right away— It’s still important for you to get your rest, and he wants to really think about what happened before he says anything— but there’s no way he’ll let you spend the night there. His voice is really soft when he calls your name, waiting for you to gather yourself before he tells you he’s sorry. Gently reassuring you in whatever you need while he explains himself, he’ll make sure everything is okay before he touches you at all, wrapping you up into a hug when everything is finally settled.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

He’s freaking out, full stop. He didn’t even think he’d ever get far enough with someone to be in this position. Since when does he even have the audacity to argue with a partner he never even believed he’d get? Whatever he did, he wholeheartedly believes he screwed up big time.

...And even though it’s his anxiety talking first, he might actually be right. He’s usually really passive, doesn’t even voice disagreements beyond maybe just whining about not wanting to go somewhere with a lot of people. And even then, he might be willing to try, just for you — So what went wrong? Probably a messy misunderstanding, where he said a lot of things he doesn’t mean…

He’s honestly just expecting it to be over. Believing that you’re going to block all his socials and never speak to him again. The second you walk away, the only thing in his mind is the absolute worst, so when he sees you on the couch he’s… relieved? But just for a second. It means there’s still hope for him! You would have just disappared if you wanted nothing to do with him, right? But he also recognizes the trope, he knows he’s going to need to work to be forgiven—

Idia is just standing there when you wake up. Pacing around the living room and losing his mind. He gets startled when he sees you’re awake, like he’s terrified of what will come next. At least he’s had (more than) enough time to think about what happened… the apology you get is very much sincere, even if it gets rambly at certain parts, ending with the two of you comforting each other.

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

For obvious reasons, things can get tricky with Malleus. Whenever you feel like you’re really starting to understand him, something strange will happen again, it’s a real cycle. All the factors in his upbringing connect with each other to build a very specific kind of character. Even if it looks like you two are really similar, there’s going to be a minimum of a handful of details that just change everything.

He’s always careful with his words, with basically no exception, but sometimes he just doesn’t know what the “right” thing to say would be, or he doesn’t know what a certain cue could mean in the moment, or whatever he knows is something that doesn’t apply outside of specific context of the royal family he’s a part of— The possibilities are endless, but a lot of the time, it’s more likely that things will just chalk up to the fact you don’t understand each other’s perspectives.

He might notice something is off right away, he might think nothing wrong happened at all, it can be wildly different depending on the topic at hand. He’ll ask what’s wrong if he does notice, but even if you do try to explain to him why you’re hurt, it may not make sense inside his head right away. And even though he’s genuine and fast to apologize, it can feel cold when he clearly can’t tell what’s actually wrong.

When he walks by the couch you’re asleep on, it doesn’t even register as being related to the argument right away. He shakes you awake to tell you it’s not a good idea to sleep there because it gets really cold later in the night. Right now, he’s had enough time to process and understand the situation, quickly giving you a new, truly heartfelt apology. Even if in the whole thing, in retrospect, was a pretty minor issue — And if it isn’t, or you’re just not ready to forgive him yet for whatever reason, he doesn’t push it. The only thing he’ll insist on is having you sleep somewhere more comfortable, really.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[miyukisu]

NSFW Alphabet | Sae Itoshi .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Sae Itoshi from A to Z~ ╰ feat. sae itoshi x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare Decent. Bare minimum. Not over the top. At the very least he would wipe you down and clean you up without expecting you to move an inch. He'll even guide you to the bathroom if you plan to shower together (there are times when he carries you, but that's reserved for days when he REALLY goes all out on you). You have to specifically request for things if you want him to do it. Otherwise, that's all you're getting.

[B] Body Part Sae's canonically into ass. But it's important to note that he cares more about shape rather than size. He'll subtly ogle at your ass even in broad daylight, especially if you're wearing tight clothes that showcase it. On himself, however, he's aware of how nice his thighs look. Sometimes he'll pass by a full-length body mirror in just his boxers and he'll stand there for a minute to admire his legs. Partially, this is why he enjoys working out his legs.

[C] Cum Cums a lot, but not thick. It's more on the translucent side. He maintains a healthy diet so you can expect the taste to be bearable. Of course, he likes to release on your ass, but sometimes it gets on to your back as well. It's a sight he never gets tired of.

[D] Dirty Secret Even with his partner, he would hate to admit that he likes taking nude pictures of himself. It's not like he's going to send them out or that he gets off to it; he's no narcissist. But there's just something inexplicable about doing it. He'll snap a few, look at them, then delete them. He isn't sure why. But if you're into receiving nudes, he'll gladly comply (that is, if you've been together long enough).

[E] Experience Despite his good looks, it's surprising to know that he hasn't done it with a lot of people. He only does it with someone he's in a relationship with and even that rarely happens. He's a busy person and it takes longer for him to develop trust for anyone compared to the normal person. But you could say that he's a natural. He can make you cum at least a couple of times through instinct alone.

[F] Favorite Position He has a hard time picking between plain ol' doggy and reverse cowgirl. See any similarities? Yeah, both positions just give him a nice view of your behind. It allows him to grope, squeeze, and slap it any time he wants. He particularly likes watching it jiggle at every hard thrust that he does. Although, he might prefer doggy a little more as he can have most of the control in that position. But it's trivial to pick. He'll just have you in both positions each time you decide to do it anyway.

[G] Goofy The man doesn't smile, let alone laugh, during sex. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but he doesn't find the act to be humorous at all. He finds it weird to call it "fun". He'd rather describe it as passionate and intense which is why he's serious. However, there are VERY rare moments when he cracks a small smile, but it only happens in highly emotional moments (like your first time having sex as a married couple, for example).

[H] Hair He trims it, but not for sexual purposes. He's an extremely hygienic man, so he does it out of self-care. In reality, he doesn't care too much about what their partner thinks of his hair. If they like it; then great. If they don't; they can deal with it. Besides, he doesn't care about his partner's hair. He'll take whatever's waiting for him down there. He'll never go fully bald because he finds it odd. He'll trim it a bit regularly and that's about it.

[I] Intimacy A very passionate lover; that's for sure. As I've mentioned, he finds the act to be something serious. He'll only do it with you out of love and care. So even if he doesn't outwardly seem like a romantic person in bed, he definitely is. He likes to keep it fair in the bedroom. So if he's enjoying, you should be enjoying it just as much as he is. Although, he doesn't speak much, but he'll call you "Amor" sometimes. Sae will whisper that name in your ear gently.

[J] Jack Off As you might expect, he doesn't do it a lot. For one, he's too busy doing or thinking about something else. It's something that he can only think about doing when he's lying in bed at night with a blank mind. Sae mostly does it out of frustration—if he wants to release pent up emotions without lashing out on someone else. He's quick and likes to get the job done as fast as he can. Can you blame him? It relaxes him after all. Though, he isn't immune to temptation either. If you send him jack off material, he'll gladly use it.

[K] Kink Sae discovered it a bit late, but he likes brat taming. He doesn't even know that it's a thing. He just knows that he likes putting disobedient girls in their places. He'll act annoyed or pissed off at your insolence, but deep down, he's craving that you do it more. Something about feeling that his authority is being challenged, excites him. Of course, it adds some spice to your bedroom activities. But maybe it has to do with him proving to you over and over again that he's the one in control—he's the one holding the reigns. He especially loves it when you eventually become obedient in the end. But keep being a tease; he eats it up.

[L] Location Anywhere as long as it's inside the house/apartment/hotel. He likes the privacy and comfort that those places offer. He can't be bothered to think about the possibility of getting caught. As thrilling as it might be, he has a reputation to uphold. The impending PR work is not worth the orgasm, at least for him. He also would hate to do it in a place that would force you into a weird position. At least at home there's a bed, a couch, a chair, or a counter for you to use. Again, he's a hygienic guy, so the dirty outdoors is a huge no for him.

[M] Motivation First of all, he has to be either extremely relaxed or incredibly frustrated—there is no in between. But once either condition is met, it's not that hard to get him in the mood. In fact, he likes to hear how eager you are. Simply asking him if he wants to do it would be more than enough. Even better if you express how much you've been needing him throughout the day or week. There are times when he initiates things, but that usually happens when you're already touching each other (like while cuddling). You'll know because he'll grind his hard on against you or deliberately take your hand and place it there.

[N] No Anything extreme is off the table for him. In many ways, he's quite vanilla. The farthest he'll go would be a little bit of bondage and usage of toys. But if there's extreme pain, blood, piss, and things beyond that involved—consider him out.

[O] Oral Again, he likes to keep things pretty equal, so likes both giving and receiving. Although, you might notice that he'll go at your pussy first before letting you suck him off. It gets him into the momentum apparently. Plus, most of the time, he already gets you to cum from his tongue alone. You swear that he gets better each time he does it. You can never last long since he likes to suck on the clit, oop. When you suck him off, he'll tangle his fingers in your hair and guide you lightly. He lets you do your thing, pretty much. The only exception is when he's really stressed out—expect him to tug at your hair a little harder then.

[P] Pace He usually likes it slow and sensual. Sex is the only time he feels relaxed and in control of his time. Why would he want to rush it? The atmosphere also feels different for him when he goes slow. Furthermore, Sae uses this as a way to observe you properly—which spots to hit, which points to stimulate at the same time, and so on. It gets him off knowing that he can get better and better at providing pleasure. Consider it as part of his ego as well. He might take it slow, but there are definitely moments when he pounds you hard and steady. The type of pounding that needs you to hold on for dear life or else you'll fall.

[Q] Quickie Not really a fan of it. But it's not like he would never do it. Sae will only resort to quickies when absolutely necessary. Those kinds of situations are mostly when both of your schedules are packed and there is literally not enough time to have proper sex. That or when both of you feel incredibly frustrated and nothing else will satiate you but each other. Another reason why he doesn't do this as much is that it leaves him wanting more. He hates feeling like a needy idiot, so he avoids quickies as much as he can.

[R] Risk He'll try anything not-so-extreme at least once, especially if you ask him nicely. Though he has shown interest in experimenting in bondage a bit, more specifically, in shibari. It's a bit intricate and it might hurt you a bit if not done right, but if you're willing to share that risk with him—he's game. From the Sae perspective, I'd say a risky thing that he does is whispering things in your ear he wouldn't normally say. He just likes to keep you on your toes and the way you clench down on him is just way too good. Besides, you'll most likely forget he said it anyway because he fucks you dumb most of the time.

[S] Stamina His endurance and stamina in general are certainly well-trained, but he is just a man. His dick needs to recuperate at its own pace. Maybe he can last two rounds for the most part, but there are days when he can only last for one. But it's not much of an issue. In that one round, he can last for so long. He can take advantage of that time and make you cum over and over again. Besides, even if you've milked him for the time being, he can still go at it with his mouth and fingers. You'll never catch him breathless after a few measly minutes.

[T] Toys He doesn't own any. He feels silly spending money on such things and using it on himself. But if it's for you; he'll gladly spend as much as he needs. He just doesn't see the appeal of using it on himself. Pocket pussies? Cock rings? Seems a bit ridiculous to him. But if you happen to own a vibe or two, he'll definitely use it. There's no harm in heightening your pleasure anyway. He's also chill with a bit of bondage rope and handcuffs. He's a bit iffy about using dildos though. Maybe it's because of his pride, but what's the use of it when you can have his dick instead?

[U] Unfair He's a tease without even trying. The snarky remarks that he makes comes out of his mouth naturally. "Oh, you're cumming again? You're too easy," and he'll say it with a straight face. Sometimes when you do ask him to fuck you faster, he'll ignore you on purpose. The man wants to hear you beg so nicely for him after being such a brat earlier. Although, he's surprisingly less of a tease as you'd expect.

[V] Volume Mostly grunts and groans. He claims that you will never hear him whimper, so of course, you make it your life's purpose to get him to whimper. It has yet to happen. And he does find it amusing that you think that you can make THE Sae Itoshi whimper like a bitch. Aside from that, the sounds he makes aren't so loud. He makes sure the grunts near your ear, containing it there. BUT, a little quirk of his is that he lets out a long sigh once he cums. It just feels so relieving that he can't help it anymore.

[W] Wild Card He thinks he'd bust right away sometimes whenever you stare up at him while you suck him off. Seeing you servicing him so eagerly while on your knees does things to his brain. It makes his ego swell like insane. "You're such a good girl, amor. You love me alot, don't you?" He'll wipe away the tears that threaten to fall because your jaw's so stretched out. Sae knows you're struggling a bit, but hang on for now and he'll reward you plenty afterwards.

[X] X-ray Not that girthy, but loooooong. He has quite a pretty dick, especially since he keeps it neat down there as well. It doesn't curve that much, but it is quite veiny. You can see the veins because of his pale complexion. There's one particularly thick vein that feels the best when rubbing against your walls. He's also cut, so you know that he has a light pink tip. Definitely a shower.

[Y] Yearning He's definitely more inclined to have sex than jacking off. That's because he'll actually make time for it. Sae will find ways to clear up his schedule or at least have more time with you—to have sex and to do things other than sex, of course. It's an odd, but helpful, trait of his that he can easily match the libido of his partner. Unless if his partner has an insanely high libido, then you'd probably have to find even ground. But again, it's not hard to get him into the mood. So if you initiate or ask him, more often than not—he'll get down and dirty with you in a heartbeat.

[Z] Zzz He doesn't fall asleep right away because, A) he needs to clean up and take care of you, and B) he just isn't tired enough. Don't get him wrong—good pussy pushes him to the edge, but being well-trained just helps him to not pass out immediately after busting. However, he will fall asleep right away once you're all cleaned up and the bed (which presumably got drenched) is all tidied up. Once you're sleeping soundly in his arms, he'll let himself be consumed by slumber as well.

❤︎ Overall: Sae's quite a good lover in that he puts effort and meaning into sex and that he's constantly improving. He genuinely cares about making it an activity both of you enjoy. 10/10 experience.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Actually a bit terrified that I might have butchered Sae Itoshi in this one

[euphoricimagination]

𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵

Feat. Nekoma & Inarizaki -> Part 2 [Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani]

Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her

Nekoma

You arrived later than you expected, just on time for the club, So you didn’t get to see your dear team until much later

When you enter the gym, you see a…strange view

No one in the team was happy

Yaku and Kai didn’t have any expressions on them, Lev was pouting aggressively, Fukunaga had a frown, Yamamoto was mumbling words and Kenma was nowhere to be seen.

The girl that was supposed to replace you for the week was walking besides a very annoyed Kuroo, who was pushing the cart with the balls

Weird, considering that doing that was the basics for being a manager

They were so out of it that none notice the sound of your shoes, weird considering how attentive they are

“Ah Kuroo senpai, thank God you helped me! I’m so small and weak that I wasn’t able to push it over” you heard her say, making you cringe at the sentence

“Yeah, whatever” said a disinteresting Kuroo

And that’s when you confirm that something was really wrong, Kuroo was never this dismissive

“What’s happening? Everything ok?” you asked making Kuroo turn around with a relief smile on

“Oh hi, Kuroo senpai was just helping me since you know, I’m so small and weak” says fluttering her eyes at him

“It’s just pushing the cart. It has wheels on it…” You gave a disbelief look to Kuroo, who just rolls his eyes “it’s not that hard”

“Maybe for someone as big as you it wouldn’t be so difficult!”

That was it for Kuroo, who quickly move to your side giving you a hug

“Well, guess you can leave now that our manager is back. Bye”

"Kuroo-senpai!! Stooop! I can stay here too!” says stomping her feet

The whole commotion cause everyone to look at you, and you swear you heard a collective sigh full of relief

Quickly enough you felt a bunch of arms around you, a bunch of head pats and a ton of screams of your name

Which quickly was interrupted by a loud scream by the girl “KYANMA!!”

You look at the stairs where Kenma was standing shaking slightly with big eyes. The girl tried to get close to him, yelling “They are being mean, Kyanma!” but he just runs away towards you

Yes. Run. He hated her, she was so loud and desperate, Kenma literally couldn’t stand her.

“You’re back” says Kenma hiding behind you, showing more happiness that you ever have seen from him

So happy that he went to hug you tightly, he really missed you

“Anyways, now that our team is finally complete you can leave. Please go out” says Kuroo

“Agh! Fine! I’m way too good for you anyways!”

She sends you a look full of venom, but you didn’t really notice it

After all, you had a clingy Kenma hugging you tightly and the rest of the team waiting for one

Inarizaki

After your small break reached an end you finally were ready to go back to your boys

They were having a small hangout in the Miya household

They tried to be sneaky about it, not wanting to invite the girl that was replacing you

But sadly for them, she somehow knew and crash into them before you could arrive

She’s the first person you see when you enter their house with the spare key they gave you

“Who are you?” she asks with her eyebrow raising

“Ehh…I’m Yn, their manager. You helped them while i was out?” You ask back, confused at her sudden presence

“Yes…I actually think I should be the new manager! After all I play like 17 sports and definitely know more than you about sports. What do you think this is? Cheer? Not like it’s a sport, but whatever” she says with a overconfident smirk

In the meantime the guys that were already in the house starting to appear into the hall, confused at how loud her voice was being

“Anyways! Why don’t you leave? A girl like you probably doesn’t even know a thing about sports! We’re gonna play videogames while you probably just want to paint your nails or whatever!”

“Who says you’re staying?” Atsumu says, frowning

“Ha Ha, you’re so funny Atsumu! Of course I’m staying” she says nervous

“No, you’re not” Osamu adds

“I’m sure we can all hang out tog-” you try to say

“You shut it! I bet you don’t know anything about the sport!” She says to you despite you trying to help her

“Really? You barely even know what we play, you just join because you wanted to see hot guys” a voice behind you says, Suna entering the house as he passes his arm through your shoulders

The girl immediately went pale, stammering the next sentence “well…well, I mean, of course I know!”

“Sure, that's why you asked 'if we knew' the rules of basketball yesterday. Just leave, nobody wants you here anyway”

She scoffs annoyed, looking at the rest of the team as if asking for help, which she doesn’t receive. She scoffs one more time, walking towards the door and leaving as she shoots a glare towards you

“You guys are so mean” you say, receiving a chuckle

“She deserved it, if anything she just hinder our practice” Osamu adds

“Besides, nobody talks about our beautiful manager like that” Atsumu hugs you along side Suna

The rest of the team also comes to hug you, and while they were a bit rude, you knew that they only had good intentions

You love this foxes too much

----

Note: a little something about my boys, also, I cringed way too much while writing this

[theodorenmyth]

Little Loveboy

Pairings; Mattheo Riddle x GN!reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been hopelessly in love with you since third year, but he refuses to admit it. He dates around, flirts with random girls, and scoffs whenever his friends bring you up—but he just can't shake his feelings. His jealousy is uncontrollable, and his friends never let him hear the end of it. Eventually, even professors start teasing him, much to his dismay.

A/n : starting from today to the 16th of February, I'm gonna make Valentine themed fanfics so no angst.

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 900+

Mattheo Riddle was, as Theodore put it, fucking doomed.

He had been doomed since third year, when he first saw you absolutely wreck the entire class during a debate with Snape about the properties of Amortentia. The way your eyes gleamed with passion, the way you sat so effortlessly confident, the way you were just so fucking smart—it made his heart do something weird. Like it wanted to jump out of his chest and roll across the floor.

And that? That wasn’t normal.

So, obviously, he did the only logical thing—he ignored it. For years.

Instead of admitting that he found you painfully attractive, he spent his time flirting with girls, dating left and right, pretending like he wasn’t being driven up the wall whenever you smiled at someone else.

But the problem with having a hopelessly obvious crush was that Mattheo’s friends were absolute menaces.

“You’re staring again, Little Loveboy,” Pansy sang, flicking his forehead.

“I’m not staring,” Mattheo grumbled, leaning back in his chair, definitely not still looking at you.

“Right,” Blaise drawled, looking over at where you were sitting by the window, absorbed in a book. “That’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N for the past—what? Fifteen minutes?”

“I don’t like him,” Mattheo snapped, but the moment he said it, he glanced at you again.

And just like that, Theodore fucking grinned.

“Oh, mate,” Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You are so gone.”

Draco, sitting beside him, smirked. “It’s honestly embarrassing at this point.”

“You know what’s embarrassing?” Mattheo scoffed. “The fact that you all have nothing better to do than bother me.”

“You make it too easy,” Lorenzo snickered. “Little Loveboy.”

“I will throw you out the fucking window.”

And then, as if the universe hated Mattheo, you looked up from your book. Your eyes met his for half a second, and you smiled at him—a simple, small thing, but oh my fucking God.

Mattheo nearly choked on his own tongue.

His friends exploded into laughter.

“Oh, he’s red!” Pansy gasped. “He’s actually blushing!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mattheo hissed, yanking his hood over his face.

But the teasing didn’t stop there.

No, it got worse.

Because apparently, his suffering was entertainment to not only his friends, but also his professors.

During one particularly terrible Potions class, Mattheo had spent a good portion of the lesson staring at you. Not that he noticed. It just kept happening..

And Snape, ever the observant bastard, took full advantage of this.

“Mr. Riddle,” Snape drawled, interrupting the entire class, “perhaps you would find this lesson more engaging if you spent less time gazing longingly at Mr. Y/L/N and more time focusing on the assignment?”

The entire class turned to look at him.

Mattheo’s jaw dropped.

Even you looked over, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mattheo muttered under his breath as his friends burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell,” Draco wheezed, gripping the edge of the table. “Even Snape’s in on it.”

“I hate all of you,” Mattheo gritted out, slamming his book shut.

Snape smirked. “Detention, Riddle.”

Mattheo groaned.

But it didn’t stop there.

Because McGonagall got involved too.

During Transfiguration, Mattheo had, once again, found himself subconsciously staring at you instead of his assignment.

He was trying—he really was—but you had this habit of biting your lip when you were focused, and it was distracting as fuck.

“Mr. Riddle,” McGonagall said, sighing dramatically, “if you’re quite done swooning over Mr. Y/L/N, perhaps you’d like to contribute to the class?”

The Gryffindors howled with laughter.

Mattheo buried his face in his hands. “I’m actually going to die.”

And, of course, the final nail in the coffin was Hagrid.

It was during Care of Magical Creatures. You were partnered with some random Ravenclaw—too close, too friendly, and Mattheo hated it.

He stood there, arms crossed, glowering at the poor guy.

“Merlin, that’s a death stare if I’ve ever seen one,” Theo muttered.

And then, loudly, Hagrid chuckled, “Oh, don’t be jealous, Mattheo, ‘s not like Y/N’s runnin’ off to marry ‘im.”

You turned to look at Mattheo.

Mattheo, absolutely horrified, turned and ran into the fucking woods.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

After that, Mattheo’s denial crumbled like a cheap pastry.

He liked you. He liked you so much it physically hurt.

And after weeks of torment, he finally decided—fuck it.

So, he found you sitting by the Black Lake one afternoon, reading as always, and he sat down beside you.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hey, Mattheo.”

Mattheo almost short-circuited.

Your voice. Your fucking voice.

“Hey,” he muttered, trying to act casual, even though his entire body was buzzing with nerves. “So. Uh. I—uh.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You okay?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. Just do it, Riddle.

“I like you, okay?” he blurted out.

You blinked. “You—what?”

Mattheo groaned. “I like you. I’ve liked you since third year. I tried to ignore it, but—Merlin, you’re just so fucking cute and smart and perfect and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your face slowly turned red.

“Oh,” you said.

Mattheo stared at you, heart pounding. “Oh?”

And then, after several painfully long seconds, you smiled.

Smiled.

“That’s funny,” you murmured, “because I’ve liked you since third year, too.”

Mattheo’s brain broke.

“…You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

And then, without thinking, Mattheo grabbed your face and kissed you.

The moment your lips met, his entire world tilted.

You kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and everything felt right.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was breathless, staring at you like you hung the bloody moon.

“Little Loveboy,” you teased.

Mattheo groaned. “Not you, too.”

You just laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

And for once, Mattheo didn’t deny it.

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[dark-lord-tom-returns]

So I'm reading Witches Abroad and the first time we see Granny use magic is in Desiderata's cottage. Desiderata (deceased) was a big proponent of everyday magic. She was also quite blind. So when Granny and Nanny check on her cottage and definitely are not looking for her wand, there are no matches for the fireplace.

Granny doesn't like everyday magic. She says so. She even tells Nanny that if they found the wand she wouldn't use it, emphatically. She doesn't like the habit. But she's annoyed and wants her tea and needs a fire for that. So she uses magic.

But then she sees the mirror. And the face looking back isn't hers but Lilith's. Heres a quote about Granny:

"Very few people in the world had more self-control than Granny Weatherwax. It was as rigid as a bar of cast iron. And about as flexible."

And she smashes the mirror immediately and without hesitation.

Now we don't know who Lilith is to Granny at this point but upon reread this is a particularly interesting passage. By the end of the book we know Lilith is "the bad witch" and because she is Granny "had to be the good one".

Granny hates the fact she has to be the good one. She knows that if she was the bad one she'd be the most terrifying witch the Disc has ever seen. But she has to be the good one. That's her responsibility since Lilith turned out bad. She has to be good and she has to be responsible, especially since she has the power to be so evil and do so much damage if she ever lost control.

And I think that's why Granny smashes the mirror right then. She was annoyed at the lack of matches, she wanted tea, she used magic to get it. And that's not responsible witchcraft in her mind. So when she find Lilith looking at her through the mirror, she sees the person that forced her to have that self control. That made Granny Weatherwax a good witch when she wanted to be the bad one. And that hurt her.

This is also interesting when you consider Sam Vimes relationship with alcohol. Vimes used alcohol as a way to deal with a feeling of helplessness and lack of control. That addiction numbed the emotional pain and he had to be so careful in later books not to fall back into that habit.

Granny is the opposite. Her power is, maybe not addictive, but something she takes immense pride in. She wants to use it, she became the most powerful witch (not the most talented, that's Nanny) through hard work and dedication. But she can't use it because that wouldn't be responsible. Because everytime she uses it, it becomes a little easier to justify using a little more until she's using it for everything. Or anything. And she can't because she has to be the good one.

How much self control must that take? Granny spent her entire life becoming the best at what she does. Decades of mastering her craft and when she reaches the top she had to essentially stop. To put it aside and only use it in the most responsible way possible because if she slips, it's a long long way to the bottom.

Cast iron indeed.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I just imagined if batchild who favored Tim being Bruce bio-child. Damian so jealous and angry because his blood sibling chose Drake over him? This is too personal. Poor Tim will not have peace. I can imagine Damian trying to prove himself to his little sibling.

But the question is, does Damian even really give a flying fuck about this kid? Or does he just hate Tim and wants to destroy any ounce of happiness this boy has? Questions. Questions. Questions. lol.

Idk I love Damian being a little shit,,, he's something a little silly

Yes, Damian will terrorize Tim over this. He has such bad emotional regulation and he doesn't fully understand why he's so angry. He doesn't particularly like children and all their crying and babbling..they're stupid and useless...

But it peeves him so much seeing Tim take on such a prominent older brother role in their life. Tim is tainting the kid, he's not teaching them properly. A child should be held this way, it should be taught this, you need to do this. That is what his mother did to ensure his proper development so it must be right!

I can just imagine Damian cringing at all the baby talk and stupid games Tim plays with them. At first he's such a hate watcher of them. He'll be in the corner of the room, glaring daggers into them. "hmph they're perfect for each other. Dumb and even dumber. Guess which is which..." He snickers in his mind

Then he resorts to insulting Tim and micro-managing him. His baby siblings doesn't need to play with rattles, they need to be doing more intensive activities....Ughh.. They're being so stunned right now.

Then...slowly when no one is watching, he might speak to it. He doesn't get down on the floor with his sibling, he's just looking down at 'em and low-key shit talking. They piss him off so much but still he's at a lost for why?? Why does he seem to care about them and their upbringing so much when he hates them?

It isn't until Tim leaves for a mission or something when Damian *attempts* to hold and play with batchild. The child just looked so pitiful that he felt compelled to entertain them. Batchild starts to unexpectedly grow on him...eventually he starts kind of...loving them...? He feels warm when they smile at him...and an intense passion to protect them...

He's shy about it but Damian is obsessed with that damn baby. He won't try to draw attention to it but that is his baby now.

He can't help but to feel so possessive over them too, he'll cross his arms and huff when someone picks them up...he's stealing them back after five minutess...

But here's where the issue arises, Damian finally is feeling super close with batchild and has created this secret bond that no one else understands. He's done this oath with them in a pillow fort and everything, he's confidently believes that he's the new favorite sibling.

"Okay, Now we will drink this grape juice as we are solidified as true bloods of the Wayne bloodline..."

*intense babbles and clapping*

"Yes, our superior lineage is something to celebrate."

But then Tim comes back and batchild completely forgets about Damian and rushes to Tim. Even refusing to be held by Damian later on. His heart is crushed and to him this is the ultimate betrayal.

If Tim didn't have peace before, he really won't have it now. Like Damian wants to duel over this, it's that serious to him.

The pure venom that Damian spews is so fucked up that I cannot even repeat it. Like Tim is worried for his safety at this point.

Damien would definitely steal batchild out of their crib at night and take them into one of the unused rooms in another wing of the manor. It's fully decorated with tons of things batchild loves, all necessities...even has tons of snacks and a fridge with goodies. Damian is fully prepared to be the sole provider for this baby. lmaoo. He's hiding this kid out there for a good couple of hours before everyone realizes where the two of them are.

Damian is fighting hard to keep from them taking batchild...but is defeated when batchild sees Tim and goes

"Timmy!!" and tries running to him. It's so hilarious. Damian is at his wits end. He's never going to stop though until he's number one. Even if "Timmy" has to go.

Dami is the most un-serious-serious person on the planet.

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A CLASSIC LITERATURE LOVER ── .✦ ( batboys with a s/o who loves/majors in literature )

a/n: this is requested by my amazing @kvfkas 🫶💕, I Lowkey for some reason also love literature too but like it’s hard for me to open a new book because I’m like so busy almost everyday but anywayss && I still can’t get over that one of my record players BROKE. So I can’t play my vinyls until I buy a new one which I ordered yesterday. Tags: (batboys x classic literature lover)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick thinks it’s adorable how much you love classic literature. He often finds you curled up with a book that looks like it’s been through several lifetimes, the pages dog-eared and filled with your meticulous annotations.

He loves watching you get animated when you talk about your favorite books, even if he sometimes gets lost when you start referencing ancient Greek tragedies or 19th-century poetry.

“Wait, so you’re saying Achilles was in love with Patroclus? Why didn’t they just say that in school?”

If you major in classics, Dick would try to support you by attending your lectures or even helping you prep for exams. He’d quiz you on authors and historical contexts, even if he can barely pronounce some of the names.

Romantic Moments: On your birthday, he surprises you with a first edition copy of your favorite book, complete with a handwritten note tucked inside the front cover. “I don’t understand half of what’s in this book, but I know it makes you happy, so that’s all that matters.”

He’d ask you to read to him sometimes, enjoying the sound of your voice as much as the words themselves. "You make these stories sound even better, you know that?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason is completely enamored with how passionate you are about classic literature. He gets it; books saved his life, too.

He finds your annotations fascinating and sometimes steals your books to read through them, not just for the story, but to get a glimpse into how your mind works.

“You think Heathcliff is a terrible person, but you still love him? Explain that one to me.” He’d genuinely love hearing your reasoning, even if it ends in a spirited debate.

If you’re majoring in classics, Jason would definitely tease you about it: “So, what, you’re gonna be the next Indiana Jones but with books?” But deep down, he’s incredibly proud of you. (He has dreams of being a literature professor)

Romantic Moments: One day, he surprises you with a day trip to a small, dusty bookstore he found, knowing it’s exactly your kind of place. “Take your time. I’ve got all day,” he says, leaning against a shelf as you lose yourself in the aisles.

He’d also write little notes on scraps of paper and leave them in your books when you’re not looking: “You’re way cooler than Jane Eyre.” “That’s a lie jason.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim would be absolutely in awe of your love for classic literature. He’s a voracious reader himself, so he’d immediately start asking for recommendations.

He’s amazed by how thoughtful and detailed your annotations are. He’ll flip through one of your books and go, “You should publish these. People would pay good money for your insights.”

If you’re majoring in classics, Tim would make it his mission to help you however he can. Need to translate something from Latin or Greek? He’s on it. Got a big paper due? He’ll proofread it for you.

Romantic Moments: On a particularly stressful day, he sets up a cozy reading nook for you, complete with your favorite snacks and a stack of books he thought you’d like. “Figured you could use some time to unwind.”

He’d get into the habit of reading the same books as you so he can discuss them with you. “Okay, but why does everyone hate Tess of the d’Urbervilles? I think she deserved better.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian would find your love of classic literature incredibly admirable. He appreciates intellectual pursuits and sees your passion as a sign of your depth and intelligence.

He’d be the one to challenge your opinions on certain characters or themes, sparking debates that sometimes last for hours.

“I fail to see why Mr. Darcy is considered romantic. He was insufferable for most of the novel.” But he secretly loves how animated you get defending your point.

(I’m gonna age him up for this one NO NSFW THOUGH HE’S STILL A MINOR BUT JUST FOR THE SAKE OF MAJORS) If you’re majoring in classics, Damian would take great pride in your academic achievements. He’d even start reading some of the books you mention, just so he can keep up with you.

Romantic Moments: He’d commission a custom leather-bound edition of your favorite book, embossed with your initials on the cover. “For someone as remarkable as you, only the finest will suffice.”

He’d also secretly annotate one of the books you’ve been wanting him to read and leave it for you to find. His notes are sharp, insightful, and, of course, slightly snarky.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce has always been a lover of knowledge, so he’d find your love for classic literature incredibly endearing.

He’d be genuinely impressed by your annotations and sometimes ask to borrow your books just to see your thoughts on them.

“You’ve given me a new perspective on The Great Gatsby,” he’d say after flipping through your copy.

If you’re majoring in classics, Bruce would offer to fund any research or study trips you need. “A visit to Greece would certainly enhance your studies. Consider it an investment.”

Romantic Moments: He’d host a quiet evening in the Wayne library, just for the two of you. The fireplace crackles softly as you sit side by side, reading and sharing passages that resonate with you.

He’d also make a habit of surprising you with rare editions of your favorite books, each one more breathtaking than the last.

[taesanrot]

[earrings] anton x f!reader | 1.5k words fwb!anton, secret relationship kinda, theyre in a bit of a limbo hehe syn. in which anton accidently leaves behind evidence of his stay last night note. first anton au hehe, also my first riize fic in a minute. hope u guys r enjoying this series so far :)

now playing: earrings by malcolm todd

"her love is your head, you lost your earrings in her bed"

anton was fucked, he was sure of that. it only took a glance at his reflection in the mirror to notice the jewelry he was missing, his usual earrings nowhere to be seen.

hand shooting up to feel his jewelry-less earlobes, he sighed and massaged his temples slowly. it was barely 10 in the morning, and he'd just trudged back to his place after being shooed out of your apartment.

you and anton were … complicated, for a lack of better terms. if the two of you were being honest, you'd say you were talking — although you definitely did a lot more than that when you were together.

anton didn't mind the slower pace; he wasn't itching to jump into anything super quickly, and he enjoyed getting to know you bit by bit.

what he struggled with a little more was you requesting to keep things between the two of you a secret. your friend circles were pretty much merged, and you weren't super keen on letting them in on your escapades with the taller boy just yet.

this meant quiet excuses away from larger functions, meeting up to walk to one of your places, and panicked morning afters.usually he had until at least noon to make his way back to his own place, but today you'd promised your friends that you'd study for a calculus exam with them.

anton groaned and whined when you'd shaken him awake at nine in the morning, saying something about some people coming over in an hour. he could barely hear over his exhaustion, eyes bleary as he looked at your face hovering above him.

you were trying to explain that his friends were on their way but all he could focus on was the strands of your soft hair falling in his face and how good you smelled. you eventually herded the poor boy out of your apartment, sending him on his way back home with a wet kiss to his cheek and a protein bar.

what neither of you seemed to remember were anton's earrings sitting in the small tray on your nightstand. they were the earrings he wore everywhere — gold links with his initials engraved on the front.

over time, anton made a habit of taking them off and placing them on your nightstand before getting in bed with you. the two of you learned the hard way that keeping them on in bed was not a good idea; the second time anton came over, your hair had gotten tangled in the metal and he almost lost an earlobe.

groggily pulling his phone out of his pocket, anton debated sending you a text. he typed it out before hesitating. what if someone looked at your phone screen and saw the text from him? how would you explain yourself? frustrated, anton shut his phone off and tossed it onto his bed.

god, anton hated sneaking around. but he liked you, more than he'd like to admit, and the last thing he wanted was go against what you asked of him. he just hoped that no one would notice the earrings before going to take a shower.

...

"morning." seunghan greeted you cheerfully as you answered the door. shotaro and sohee followed after, waving at you before walking into your apartment.

"sup, ning." as you shut the door you heard shotaro greet ningning, who had arrived 10 minutes earlier and was sitting in your living room.

eventually, the 5 of you migrated to your bedroom to study — you, ningning, and sohee were sprawled across the floor while shotaro and seunghan sat on your bed. your calculus notes were strewn about, having studied for what felt like days.

yawning and stretching his arms, seunghan sat up a bit, taking his attention off of the chapter you guys were reviewing. the rest of you were chattering with each other, reviewing a practice problem that was particularly confusing.

"ugh, what time is it?" he mumbled, leaning over to look at the clock on your nightstand. his phone was somewhere in your blankets and his notes, and he wasn't keen on looking for it.

before his eyes could drift to your alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, his attention was caught by something shiny glinting at his eyes.

your focus was pulled from your notes as you heard a soft gasp from the direction of your bed. looking up, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

seunghan had one of anton's earrings in his fingers, eyes squinting as he inspected it curiously.

"are these anton's?" he asked suspiciously, turning to look at you. his lips were curled slightly upwards, clearly amused by the discovery. your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you stumbled over your words, not knowing what to say.

"uh-" before you could deny it, sohee interjected.

"they totally are! he wears those like every day!" sohee exclaimed. shotaro and ningning also looked up from their work, both of them giggling at how obviously flustered you were.

"no they're not, those are mine." you mumbled unconvincingly, cringing at how bad your lie was.

"you're lying! i can see his initials on them!" seunghan was leaning across the bed to show the rest of your friends, all of them nodding in agreement.

"y/n why do you have those?" ningning's head tilted confusedly as she turned in your direction. after a beat of silence, a look of realization passed across shotaro's face.

"he was here, wasn't he?" he asked, the knowing smile on his face growing even bigger. you choked on your spit at his question, coughing lightly.

"what are you talking about?" sohee rolled his eyes and seunghan laughed loudly at your weak response.

"hyung's right, he totally was here!"

"did he spend the night?"

"oh my god y/n did you guys fuck?"

"ok, enough!" you spoke up, finally finding your voice. you gulped nervously before continuing. "yes, anton was here last night. we've been seeing each other for a while."

you let out the biggest breath, one you didn't even know you were holding as the words escaped your mouth. seunghan was the first one to break the silence following your announcement.

"i fucking knew it!" he exclaimed, taking you by surprise.

"huh?" you asked, perplexed.

"you know you guys aren't that subtle right?" ningning laughed as she spoke, ruffling your hair gently. "we all noticed you two leaving every function together."

"not to mention the way you basically eye fuck each other 24/7" sohee fake gagged, earning a punch in the arm from you.

…

after his whirlwind of a morning, anton decided to shower and take a well-deserved nap. unlike you, he did not have calculus test to study for, so after washing up he climbed into his covers and caught up on some much needed sleep.

a couple hours later, he finally woke up, groaning at the sun shining onto his face. it was late afternoon, and the light shined directly on his eyes, making going back to sleep nearly impossible. stretching his arms and legs, he rubbed his eyes and sat up groggily, grabbing his phone to check the time.

to his surprise, he was greeted by what seemed like 100 notifications from his messages. clicking them open, his eyes widened as the words came into focus.

it was in fact, your friends' group chat discussing the two of your and your not-so-secret arrangement. his eyes nearly popped out of his head reading the texts, still groggy from just waking up.

scrolling through the rest of his notifications quickly, he clicked on one with your name.

3 missed calls from y/n <3

[2:03 p.m.] y/n <3: r u asleep? call me when you see this

anton's fingers were practically shaking as he dialed your number, each ring making him wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. his anxious thoughts were interrupted by your soft voice.

"hey."

"hi."

"um… did you see the groupchat?" anton winced. straight to the point, then.

"yeah… i'm sorry. i forgot them in a rush this morning" he felt like he was holding his breath waiting for you to answer, until he heard you chuckle on the other end of the line.

"anton, it's okay."

"what? but i thought-"

"it's about time we told them anyways, i'm tired of sneaking around." you laughed as you heard anton stutter on the line.

"plus, i like you, a lot."

"me too." he spoke softly, his heart nearly exploding in his chest. you smiled on the other end; his timidness never failed to make you feel giddy.

"good, cause it would've been really awkward if you didn't" you giggled, fiddling with the end of your shirt.

"so … does this mean i can take you on a real date now?"

"hmmm i guess that's fine" you answered teasingly. anton sighed dramatically on the other end, slapping a hand over his chest so loud that even you could hear it.

"in that case, what are you doing tonight?"

…

[bonus] the groupchat

[twistedpink]

Mc inserts x TWST characters pt.2 (OG post) (Pt.3)

(non-yuu pairings that fit into the plot of twst, if you like this then you might want to look at the first part!)

Savanclaw!Mc x Cater Diamond

Enemies to lovers with your favourite diva!! The two of you compete constantly through magicam and spelldrive, getting progressively pettier until the only solution is to kiss it out.. You’re trying to keep an ear out for your junior, and it just so happens Cater’s sniffing out your plan to go for gold in this year’s tournament. You might as well take the chance to mess with him! It’s so easy to love the face he makes when you give him the slip, and you’re totally making it your wallpaper when this is all over.

“Yo, Babe! If you’re in the same dorm, then you know Ruggie, yeah? We need to have a chat”

“Ohmigod you totally think all beastmen know each other, don’t you?? cancled :)”

Shroud!Mc x Vil Schoenheit

Ids attached himself to engineering and gaming pretty early, but your passion is fully unattainable. You’d clung onto pop idols and the art of stage makeup from an early age. Your longest running interest by far is Vil Schoenheit,, He rescued you from destructive habits and encouraged you to value self improvement. You’ve probably invested millions into his career (every thaumark sent anonymously, you’d die if he started to recognize your attached messages). Supporting Ortho in his SDC audition is your official reason to talk with him, and all the teasing from Idia will be so worth it when your Schoenheit debut palette gets signed! You’ve kept it in mint condition behind glass for years admiring it- and waiting for THE day.

“Mr. Schoenheit? My younger brother performed for you today, and uh, your signature please?”

“Normally I’d send both of you home for this. I’m sure you’re well aware of my paparazzi policy, However, I haven’t seen this particular relic in years! Just what have you done to preserve the quality?”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ruggie Bucchi

You’re #1 in the business of pissing off your parents- shopping copious amounts and then going to school across the country satiated you for awhile, but they’ve done something particularly revenge worthy now. The best scandal you can think of is getting a trashy boytoy to bring home for the break, but you’re not really into idiots.. Ruggie can be a very good actor given the right motivations, and he might even fool you into a real relationship before next semester.

“C’mon it’s not like I’ll need a script, sugar. I’m a natural, scout’s honor!”

“Either way, it won’t hurt to rehearse for convenience :/ Kiss me now so we don’t look stupid later.”

Scarabia!Mc x Floyd leech

God you hate that fish faced idiot >:( It’s bad enough that the housewarden’s moodswings guaranteed your holiday plans were all shot, but now Jamil’s getting hounded by the mafia! It’s your responsibility to get them off his back, but it’s not like you’re enjoying it. Somehow it’s even worse to watch Floyd when he’s playing dumb, and his emotional roller coaster keeps you walking on eggshells. The show must go on though, and if you’ve gotta play “wrestle until the biting stops” then you’ll do it :/

“Floyd, it’s dinner time, and I will tear you a new one if it means you’ll get moving.”

“PLEASEEEE tiger sharky just one more round :( I’ll even give your pen back!!”

Octavinelle!Mc x Kalim Al-Asim

You’re probably one of the most talkative of octavinelle students, and definitely a solid salesman. Kalim’s a prime target for resales and marketing practice, so naturally you join the pop music club. A year of “playing nice for the jackpot” leads you to lie awake at night, terrified that he’ll see through your facade and ditch you- it would cut off your best friendship, you’d be forced to leave the club! At some point you realize you’d stopped selling him things months ago, and your worst nightmare happened right under your nose. You fell in love.

“Hey, that solo was so inspiring! You’re really making progress!”

“It still isn’t on par with yours, though. Are you available to keep practicing after school? I’m sure Jamil would appreciate the break, and I would enjoy the company..”

Staff!Mc x Lilia Vanrouge

Of course your first job would come with some pet bat, it was too good to be true :( Full time at a bits and bobs shop near one of the best schools in the country WITH flexible hours? You must’ve been desperate to accept without reading about your babysitting in the footnote. He comes in everyday during your shift (regardless of the hours you take, it’s like he has a sixth sense), and has the audacity to exist in your space! It’s not like he even does anything to get banned!! He just stands there. Menacingly. You’re waiting for the day where he leaves convincing evidence that he’s there to traffic you or something- because if you didn’t know better you’d think he has a big, fat crush on you.

“Darling, how is the shop? I’ve taken care of those juvenile delinquents for you!”

“Taken care of? Whatever. Get back to class, kid.”

[areyouwell]

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations. 

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck. 

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel. 

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously. 

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids. 

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck. 

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one. 

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath. 

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child. 

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever. 

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine. 

“Rough–” 

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket. 

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse. 

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about. 

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on. 

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things. 

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.” 

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability. 

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you. 

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…” 

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing. 

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now. 

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count. 

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side. 

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly. 

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep. 

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm. 

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots. 

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest. 

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo. 

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks. 

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up. 

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short. 

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern. 

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky. 

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic. 

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another. 

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building. 

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic. 

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out. 

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile. 

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end. 

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood. 

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now… 

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face. 

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body. 

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information. 

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you. 

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination. 

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge. 

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission. 

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his. 

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too. 

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen. 

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face. 

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.” 

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding. 

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye. 

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here. 

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling. 

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay? 

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

 toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition. 

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed. 

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight. 

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod, 

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing. 

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now. 

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?” 

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest. 

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent. 

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips. 

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright. 

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake. 

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks. 

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief. 

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head. 

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind. 

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for. 

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it. 

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory.  “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question. 

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply. 

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips. 

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.” 

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation. 

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world. 

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers. 

Obviously. 

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did. 

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you. 

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’   

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?” 

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable. 

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition. 

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it. 

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers. 

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest. 

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips. 

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle. 

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further. 

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly. 

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate. 

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you. 

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”