#and if it's just barely raining? perfection

[minniesfiles]

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 0

After years of heartbreak and disappointment, you and your husband’s dream of starting a family seemed out of reach. But miracle was a beautiful thing.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, smut

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; heavy angst in this chapter, arguing, lots of tears, mention of blood, mention of miscarriages, mention of fertility issues, generally very sad and emotional chapter, wonwoo being a caring hubby :( , penetrative sex, missionary, squirting, creampie, love-making

❧ WORDCOUNT; 8k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍24 MAY 2025 — [present]

You always thought your life was the kind people envied. You had the checklist: a career you enjoyed, a loving husband who kissed your forehead every morning, and a circle of family and friends who were there for every celebration and every stumble. It was the life you dreamed of when you were younger, the one where you imagined adulthood to be a smooth, perfect path.

Yet there was a piece of puzzle that seemed to leave the entire picture of your life incomplete, and without it you couldn’t rest.

You’ve been searching for it for three years, but it was buried somewhere deep in the unknown. And the longer you desperately tried to dig through every corner of the earth, the more exhausted you grew — physically and mentally.

Yet still, you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t give up.

It was midnight, and you were sitting by the window for hours with your knees to your chest, watching the rain pour heavily. You didn’t bother to turn on more lights or even check the time because your mind was elsewhere. You were waiting for something — anything — to break the silence that had grown deafening over the years.

And just then, you heard the sound of the front door opening. Your body stiffened, and your head snapped towards the source of the noise. He was finally home.

You watched your husband step into the house and noticed that he was slightly soaked. He must have walked from the car to the house in the rain without an umbrella, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he had even cared to shield himself.

But your anger was quicker to rise. Three hours. He finished work three hours ago. You were sitting here, waiting, as you did so many nights before, wondering where he was and why he didn’t come home. The excuses were always the same — delays, errands, last-minute shoots.

But a human could only sit and endure for so long before they reach their breaking point, and tonight was it.

You stood up abruptly and made your way towards him. Your bare feet made no sound against the floor, but your furious presence was loud. “Where the hell were you?” you barked.

Wonwoo stopped in his tracks, his wide shoulders sagging as he let out a tired sigh. He placed his keys on the table by the door, but he didn’t dare to meet your gaze. His exhaustion was imprinted onto his face, in the slight droop of his eyelids, the heaviness in his movements. He rubbed the back of his neck as water dripped from his fingers onto the floor.

“I don’t want to do this right now,” he muttered with his deep voice.

Your eyes narrowed and your anger flared hotter. “You don’t want to do this right now?” you repeated as your voice rose.

“You think I wanted to sit here for hours, wondering where you were? You finished work three hours ago. What the hell were you doing?”

“I was driving around,” he admitted after a moment, his voice barely audible over the rain hitting against the glass windows. “I needed to clear my head.”

Your laugh was short and bitter, and filled with disbelief. “Clear your head? Must be nice, having the luxury to escape whenever you feel like it while I sit here drowning in everything that’s wrong with our lives!”

Wonwoo’s head snapped up at your words, and for the first time, he looked at you directly. His eyes were tired, but there was frustration in there too.

“Don’t make this about me,” he said with a sharp tone. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel the same things you do?”

“Then why don’t you act like it? Why don’t you talk to me instead of running off and leaving me here to deal with it alone?” you questioned as you stood with a defensive posture.

“Because every time we talk, it turns into this,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “A fight. Blaming each other for something neither of us can control.”

As the unspoken truth was finally exposed, the silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Your once-bright vision of starting a family turned into a relentless cycle of pain and resentment. The hope that had once bound you together now only reminded you of what you both couldn’t have.

Three long years of trying had left its mark — never-ending doctor’s appointments, treatments, and reassurances that never felt enough. Your patience had been tested at every social gathering where friends shared pregnancy announcements, and with each passing year, the gap between your expectations and reality widened.

You both endured the isolation and the pain of waiting together, hoping for something that stubbornly refused to arrive. And now, in the wake of another failed attempt, your shared grief threatened to consume what little remained of your hope and connection.

You felt your throat tighten as your anger threatened to give way to tears. But you refused to cry, refused to let yourself appear weak. “You’ve given up,” you said quietly. You tried to sound firm but your trembling voice betrayed you. “You’ve stopped trying.”

Wonwoo’s expression softened slightly as he stepped closer to meet your eyes properly. “I haven’t given up,” he said. “But what do you want me to do? Keep pushing until we destroy what’s left of us? We’re tearing each other apart over something we can’t change.”

You shook your head, and your hands trembled as you tried to hold onto your anger. However, you knew he was right, so his words struck a deep chord within you. Both of you were worn out and, in your own ways, broken. Neither of you could seem to get around the distance left by the dream that once united you together.

In the end, the tears you were holding back finally spilled over.

“You don’t get it,” you said with a whisper. “I feel like I’ve failed. Like I’m the reason this isn’t happening for us. And every time you pull away, it just makes me feel more alone.”

Wonwoo’s face softened further, and he reached out for your hand, but you stepped back. “Don’t,” your voice cracked. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. It’s not fine.”

“I know it’s not,” he said as his hand dropped to his side. “I’m not pretending it is. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix us.”

The rain outside seemed to grow louder, and the intensifying storm reflected the emotions between you both. You turned away and wrapped your arms around yourself as your body shook with silent sobs. You felt him watching you, felt the space between you that grew wider as each string of hope was cut off.

“It’s not supposed to be this way,” you whimpered. “We had plans. We had dreams. We were supposed to have a family by now, to be happy. But everything feels…broken.”

Wonwoo stood there for a moment, watching you as if he were searching for the right words. Then, slowly, he dropped the bag he was holding and stepped forward. You didn’t hear him move, didn’t feel him until his arms wrapped around you from behind.

His hold on you was warm and strong, and his muscular arms wrapped around your small frame as if he was trying to hold you together when you couldn’t.

At first, you tensed up, taken by surprise, but then you turned around and melted into him, letting your tears soak his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair, “I’m so sorry baby.”

You shook your head as your sobs muffled against his chest. “I’m scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared we’ll never get to start a family like we dreamed. I’m scared we’re never going to be okay again. That we’re never going to be enough for each other.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, feeling his own tears rolling down his cheeks. “But you’re enough for me my love” he said, his voice breaking. “You’ve always been enough for me. I just…I don’t know how to make this better.”

As much as Wonwoo wanted to comfort you with reassurance, he could keep his feelings locked away all the time. This was the honest he could get.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him through your tear-streaked face. His red and glistening eyes met yours, and you saw the pain, the love, the desperation in them. Like your own.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you cried silently.

“You won’t,” he promised as his hands cupped your face. “We’re in this together. No matter what. Remember the promise we made on our wedding day?” he asked, and you nodded slowly,

“We’ll be okay”

You went to sleep that night, with your head resting on your husband’s shoulder while his arms were securely wrapped around your waist, thinking back to the day when everything started to fall apart. The memories played over and over like a cruel loop.

How badly you wished it was just a bad dream, a sickening nightmare that you’d shake off upon waking. But it wasn’t. It was real. The pain was too sharp, too vivid to be an illusion. And as much as you wished to escape it, every time you closed your eyes you were forced to face the harshness of it all.

▍1 JUNE 2022 — [3 years ago]

You hummed to yourself as you sliced through a bundle of fresh spring onions. It was a peaceful evening, and you were excited for your husband to come home from his photoshoot. He’d been working so hard lately and you wanted to treat him with his favorite dish — a noce pot of kimchi jjigae.

Cooking has become your comforting hobby lately ever since you found out you were pregnant. While Wonwoo was out for his clients’ photoshoots, you would stay at home to make his favourite meals so he could enjoy them when he returned home.

As you stirred the pot on the stove, your free hand instinctively went to your small, round belly. At twelve weeks pregnant, you had just begun to notice the subtle changes in your body. It was a surprise you didn’t expect, a blessing you both dreamed of.

As you reached for the ladle, a sudden sharp, searing pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your hand flew to your stomach, and you doubled over, gasping for air. The ladle slipped from your hand and clattered onto the floor.

It was just a cramp. That was what you told yourself. The pregnancy books said cramps were normal. You leaned against the counter and tried to breathe through the discomfort. But then it came again, this time sharper, radiating down your lower back. Your knees buckled, and you had to grip the counter to keep yourself upright.

The warmth between your legs came next, and it was unmistakable and terrifying. You staggered back and looked down to see blood staining your leggings. A wave of panic overtook you.

“No, no, no,” you whispered with your trembling voice. Your breathing became ragged, the pain was becoming sharper and incessant. The blood was so red, so graphic against the kitchen tile.

Your phone was on the table, a few feet away. You shuffled toward it with your blurring vision. With your hands shaking uncontrollably, you tapped on Wonwoo’s number and held your breath as the phone rang.

Once. Twice. Six times. No answer.

You knew Wonwoo barely checked his phone while working, but this was urgent. You needed him badly.

Your chest tightened. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, and your voice cracked as the call went to voicemail. You tried again, but the phone rang endlessly. The pain grew worse, and tears blurred your vision almost completely. The world around you felt like it was spinning out of control.

On the third try, he finally answered. “Hey babe, sorry I was busy. What’s up?” Wonwoo said with a casual voice. You tried to speak, but the words were choking inside your throat.

“Babe? Are you okay?” his voice shifted, becoming tense.

“Y/n?”

“I—” your voice was barely a whisper, and the effort it took to speak felt huge.

Another wave of pain crashed over you that pulled a strangled cry from your lips. You couldn’t hold the phone anymore. Your phone slipped from your hand and fell onto the floor. You tried to pick it up, but your vision darkened around the edges, and before you could say anything more, everything went black.

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the overwhelming brightness. The sharp light in your eyes made you wince and turn your head. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, and your limbs stiff, and a dull ache throbbed in your abdomen. When the sterile smell of antiseptic hit your nostrils, you realised that you weren’t at home.

“Honey?” Wonwoo’s voice was hoarse, and it was filled with a mixture of relief and anguish.

He was sitting beside your bed with his hand wrapped tightly around yours. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. His usual calm and confident demeanor was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a fragile, broken man. Something you haven’t seen in a long time since his grandmother passed away a few years back.

You swallowed hard, but your throat was dry. “Wonwoo?” you rasped.

“Hey, I'm here,” he said quickly and leaned closer. “I'm right here baby. You're okay. You're safe.”

You tried to sit up, but the effort made your head swim. “What…what happened?” you asked.

Wonwoo’s face crumpled, and he squeezed your hand tighter as he used his other hand to brush a strand of hair from your damp forehead.

“You called me,” he began. “I-I didn't know what was wrong, but when you stopped talking, I rushed home. You were on the floor, Y/n. There was blood everywhere” his voice cracked as he spoke, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

“I called an ambulance, and they brought you here.”

The air felt heavy after that. Heavy with something unsaid. You could feel it — his silence, the pain etched into every line of his face. Then, your hand instinctively moved to your stomach, feeling dread creeping into your chest.

“The baby,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “Wonwoo…is the baby okay?”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched as he froze. For a moment, he didn’t answer. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he let out a choked sob, and his body shook as he leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His tears were warm against your skin, almost like you could feel his grief soaking into your skin.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heart stopped, and your whole body went cold as the meaning of his words sank in. “No,” you said, shaking your head. Your voice rose in panic and disbelief.

“No, that’s not true. Don’t say that Wonwoo. Don’t you dare say that.”

He pulled back with his face streaked with tears, and tried to cup your cheeks, but you pushed his hands away. “No!” you cried. “The baby’s fine. The baby has to be fine. Tell me the baby’s fine!”

Your hands moved to your stomach, feeling for something — anything — that would prove him wrong. But there was nothing. The flatness of your abdomen, and the emptiness you felt, confirmed the truth you desperately wanted to deny.

“Y/n,” Wonwoo said softly, his voice pleading, “please…”

“No!” your scream echoed through the hospital room. You began to sob uncontrollably, shaking your head as if doing so could erase the reality of what had happened.

“No, no, no! I can’t…I can’t lose the baby!”

Your husband reached for you and pulled you into his arms as you fell apart. You hit his chest weakly with your fists as your sobs muffled against him.

“It’s not fair,” you cried, “why did this happen? Why?”

Wonwoo’s own grief broke free, and he began to cry loudly, his body shuddering as he held onto you. His cries were unfiltered and guttural, the kind of pain that came from losing something that could never be replaced.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered through his tears. “I’m so sorry my love. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save our baby.”

▍31 DECEMBER 2024 — [ 5 months ago]

It felt like deja vu, but worse. You sat on the hospital bed as you blankly stared out of the window. You could hear the monitors beeping and the muffled voices of nurses outside the door. To you, it might as well have been the exact one where your heart had broken all those other times.

You were supposed to be celebrating New Year’s Eve with your friends and family, hoping and praying the new year to come would be filled with joy you deserved with your baby. Yet, here you were, in the same room you were in all these years ago — the same white walls and the same faint scent of disinfectant.

The world outside carried on like nothing happened. The snow continued to drift down from the sky, covering everything in white. Somewhere out there, people were laughing, drinking, counting down the hours until midnight. They were making resolutions, clinking glasses, kissing and hugging their loved ones.

But here in this suffocating space, you felt as if time was frozen. There was no celebration, no fresh start. Just loss.

For the sixth time.

But you didn’t cry. You had no tears left. You didn’t scream or wail or ask why like you did all those other times. The grief settled into your bones so deeply that it didn’t need to be expressed anymore. It became a part of you, as much as your blood and breath.

Across the room, Wonwoo sat in a chair with his face buried in his hands. His body shook as he silently sobbed, and his fingers gripped his hair as though he could somehow pull himself back together. He had always been your rock, the one who always reassured you even when his own voice cracked.

But it all seemed too much to keep himself together. He was completely torn.

“I don’t understand,” he choked out between sobs, “why does this keep happening?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t move. You just kept staring out at the snow with your hands resting limply in your lap.

This was supposed to be the one. The doctors said this pregnancy was strong, that the baby’s heartbeat was steady, that things looked promising. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope — really hope.

And now, that hope was dimmed. Again.

The door opened softly, and Dr. Jung stepped inside. She was your doctor through all six pregnancies. Each time, she was the one to deliver the devastating news, and each time, her expression had grown wearier. Now, she looked almost as broken as you and Wonwoo did.

Wonwoo wiped his face and sat up straighter. His hands were still shaking as he reached for yours, but you didn’t react to his touch.

Dr. Jung hesitated for a moment before speaking, like she was trying to find the right words. But there were no right words.

“Y/n…Wonwoo,” she began gently. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”

Wonwoo inhaled a sharp breath and blinked back fresh tears that threatened to fall. But you didn’t blink.

Dr. Jung shifted in her chair as her hands clasped together tightly. “I know you’ve been through this so many times before,” she continued, her voice laced with sorrow. “And I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in right now. But we finally have some answers.”

Wonwoo’s body stiffened, and his grip tightened on your lifeless hand. “What do you mean?” he asked with his hoarse voice.

Dr. Jung exhaled softly. “The tests we ran after your last miscarriage, and the scans we did earlier this time, have given us a clearer picture. Y/n, your womb has an abnormal structure. It’s something we hadn’t been able to see before with certainty, but now we can.”

The words floated in the air like smoke, curling around and suffocating you. Wonwoo frowned and shook his head as if trying to make sense of the given information.

“What kind of abnormality?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Why didn’t anyone see this before?”

Dr. Jung’s expression softened. “It’s not something that always presents clearly in routine scans. But in Y/n’s case, the shape of her uterus makes it difficult for a pregnancy to progress past a certain point. The risk of miscarriage is significantly higher.”

Wonwoo felt his breath get caught in his throat. He the. turned to you and searched your face, but you were still staring out the window. And for the first time since he had known you, It was hard for him to read what you were feeling. And it broke him.

“There are treatment options,” Dr. Jung continued softly.

“In some cases, surgery can help. But…I need to be honest with you both. Even with intervention, the risk of miscarriage will always be there. It may be lower, but it won’t disappear completely.”

Wonwoo let out a shaky breath as his hands tightened into fists. “So you’re saying...it might never happen for us?”

Dr. Jung hesitated. “I’m saying that it will be much more difficult than for most couples. And I want you both to be prepared for that reality.”

You finally blinked. Your lips parted slightly, but you still didn’t speak.

You should have felt something — anger, sorrow, frustration — but there was only a vast emptiness inside you. You always thought you were cursed the second time it happened, that you were just unlucky, that fate was cruel.

But now that there was a medical explanation, you understood that it was your body. Your own body had been betraying you all these years.

Dr. Jung reached out and placed a hand over your cold one. “I know this is a lot to process. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just take the time you need to grieve.”

You slowly turned your head towards the doctor, and your voice finally surfaced after what felt like an eternity. “So, you’re saying I was never meant to be a mother?” you whispered. The words were quiet, but they cut through the room like a knife.

Wonwoo’s face crumpled. “No, honey, don’t say that—”

Dr. Jung shook her head quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Many women with uterine abnormalities go on to have successful pregnancies. It’s just more complicated, and we would need to explore options very carefully.”

You absorbed the words, but they felt far like they were being spoken through a fog.

Wonwoo reached for your hand again and squeezed it tightly. “We’ll find a way,” he pleaded. “Even if we have to try again, even if it’s hard, we’ll find a way.”

Your eyes met his then, and for the first time all night, you let yourself feel the burden of his sorrow. His hope. His desperation.

“We said that last time,” you murmured.

Wonwoo’s face crinkled, and his body shuddered with another silent sob. He didn’t argue, because he knew you were right. You both said it last time. And the time before. And the time before that.

Dr. Jung sighed softly as she stood up. “I’ll leave you both alone for now. If you need anything, just call.”

She left the room quietly and closed the door behind her. The silence that followed was unbearable.

Wonwoo finally stood up and paced towards the window. He placed a hand against the glass and looked outside at the city below. The sky was glowing with fireworks, filled with explosions of red, blue, and gold painting the night. The world was celebrating the new year that just began.

People were cheering and kissing as they welcomed the new year with laughter and joy. And here you were, drowning in loss and misfortune.

You watched the fireworks for a moment, then turned back to your husband. His shoulders were shaking again while his forehead was pressed against the glass. You should have gone to him, should have wrapped your arms around him.

But you couldn’t move.

“I don’t think I can do this again” your voice came out flat and emotionless.

Wonwoo turned to you with his eyes filled with grief. “Y/n—”

“I can’t Wonwoo” you whispered through your cracked voice. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hoping just to have it ripped away. I can’t keep watching you fall apart because of me.”

He was in front of you in an instant, kneeling beside the bed as his hands cupped your face. “Baby this isn’t your fault. It’s not because of you.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. “But it is. My body…it’s broken Wonwoo”

His own tears fell freely as he kissed your hands, your forehead, your cheeks, and lastly your pale chapped lips. “You are not broken, my love” he whispered.

“And we will figure this out. Even if it’s different than what we imagined, we will figure it out together, okay? Please don't give up.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was still something to fight for. But as the fireworks exploded outside, all you could feel was the weight of six losses.

You didn’t know how to carry it anymore.

▍30 MAY 2025 — [present]

The sun was warm against your skin, while the gentle breezes swayed your brown locks all over the place. It was a beautiful day, the kind of day that should have made you feel light and at peace. But peace was hard to find for the past few years.

You sat cross-legged on your checkered picnic blanket, your fingers absentmindedly running through your husband’s hair as he lay on his back with his head resting on your lap.

Wonwoo was talking with his deep comforting voice, he was weaving stories from your past. He talked about memories of when you were both younger and happier. He spoke about your first date and how you were nervous as you sat in the tiny café, your hands inches apart as both waited for the other to close the distance. He reminded you of your honeymoon in Singapore, especially when you would both run into the ocean at midnight.

But you weren’t listening.

Your eyes were locked on a family that you noticed walking down the paved path in front of you. A man and a woman were holding hands, and between them were their two children.

The older girl, no more than five, pointed excitedly at something in the distance, and her laughter rang like wind chimes in the warm summer air. The younger boy, perhaps two, held to his mother’s side with his tiny fingers gripping her dress as he looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes.

You felt your chest tighten. It was the kind of family you always dreamed of having for yourself and Wonwoo. But fate had other plans.

Your fingers in your husband's hair came to a halt as your touch grew still.

The familiar suffocating ache settled in your chest, and it made it hard for you to breathe. Your throat felt constricted, and before you could stop it, a single tear rolled down your cheek.

Wonwoo’s voice trailed off. He had been mid-sentence as he told you about some ridiculous thing your neighbour did last week, but when he felt your fingers go still, when he noticed the shift in your breathing, his body tensed.

“Baby?” he called softly, tilting his head slightly to look up at you. But you didn’t respond. Your gaze remained locked on the family with your glassy eyes.

Wonwoo sat up slowly and shifted his weight until he was kneeling in front of you. His hands cupped your face and gently turned you away from the sight before you could spiral again further into pain.

“Hey,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears that escaped. “Look at me.”

You blinked as your focus shifted to him, but the sadness in your eyes remained. Wonwoo swallowed a hard lump, feeling his own chest tightening. He saw that look too many times before. He had felt that pain too.

The past five months were a battle — a slow, painful process of trying to piece yourselves back together after yet another devastating loss.

Six times. You lost six babies. And this time felt different. It was heavier, as if something inside you shattered beyond repair.

Wonwoo took time off work, just for you. And he planned this picnic in hopes — praying — that it would be a step toward healing. But now, as he looked at the sorrow in your eyes, he knew that no amount of warm sunlight or gentle breezes could erase the pain you carried.

He let out a slow, shaky breath and pressed his forehead against yours. “Please baby,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You closed your eyes as more tears slipped free. “I thought I was doing better,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I thought I was learning how to live with it.”

Wonwoo tightened his hold on your face a little. “You don’t have to pretend with me, love.”

You exhaled shakily. “I see them, and I wonder if that will ever be us.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I wonder the same thing,” he admitted. “Every single day.”

You let out a soft, broken sound — half sob, half sigh. “I hate feeling like this,” you confessed. “I hate how every happy family feels like a reminder of what we’ve lost.”

Wonwoo’s hands trailed down your waist, squeezing gently. “I know baby, I know.”

You then met his sad gaze, and looked for something — reassurance, hope, anything that could ease the ache inside you. “Do you ever think we should stop trying?”

The question was sharp and straightforward that made Wonwoo mentally wince.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. He asked himself that question before in the quiet hours of the night when he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to your soft, uneven breathing beside him. He thought about what it would mean to let go of the dream you had held for so long.

But letting go felt impossible.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I do know that I don’t want to lose us.”

Your breath hitched. “I don’t either.”

Wonwoo reached for your hands and laced your fingers together. “Then we take it one day at a time. We stop thinking about what’s ahead and just focus on now. On us.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, and then back up at him. “And if we never get there?”

His throat tightened. He didn’t have an answer for that.

But instead of speaking, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Then we figure out what ‘there’ looks like for us,” he whispered against your skin.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, but this time, you didn’t try to hold them back. You let yourself lean into him, let yourself be held.

▍1 AUGUST 2025

The motion of the crochet hook moving through the soft pink yarn was almost hypnotic. Over and under, loop and pull. You worked in silence as your fingers moved with precision. It was a hobby that you picked up when you were ten, and you often praised yourself at how good you were at it.

You weren’t making anything for anyone in particular. There was no baby waiting for this tiny cardigan. No expectant nursery filled with soft toys and pastel colors. No little hands that would reach for you, no sleepy eyes that would blink up at you in the dead of night.

But still, you crocheted.

The soft yarn draped and pooled over your lap. The cardigan was small and delicate, made for a child who would never wear it. And yet, you kept going, because what else was there to do?

You stopped counting the days since the last you lost your baby, but the grief never truly left you. It was in everything you did, every thought you had.

When you cooked dinner, you thought about how you would have needed to make something different for a toddler. When you went to bed, you thought about how you would have been waking up to cries in the middle of the night.

Even now, sitting in your quiet home, crocheting, you thought about the tiny fingers that would have reached for the soft wool.

A deep sigh left your lips and your hands paused as you traced the fabric with your fingertips. The baby cardigan was almost finished. Just a few more rows, a few buttons to attach, and it would be complete.

But complete for who?

The unanswerable question kept lingering in your mind.

Before you could let your thoughts settle in too deeply, you heard the sound of footsteps out in the hallway. The door then creaked open, and you looked up, startled.

It was Wonwoo, standing in the doorway with a wide grin on his face. He was wearing a birthday hat that was slightly crooked on his head, and in his hands, he carried a cake. It was small, homemade, and slightly uneven, with a single candle lit on top.

His voice then began to fill the quiet dimmed room as he began to sing. Wonwoo made his way towards you as he sang, and his eyes were twinkling with love.

“Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday my dear Y/n.”

“Happy birthday to you.”

You blinked in confusion, and then realisation. Your birthday. You forgot — of course you did.

When he reached the end of the song, he knelt in front of you and held the cake out with both hands.

“Make a wish, baby,” he murmured softly.

A lump formed in your throat as you looked at the cake. It wasn’t from a bakery — that you knew was obvious by looking at it. The frosting was unequal, some areas were too thick, and others were too thin. There was a smudge of chocolate near the base where he likely tried to fix a mistake.

He made it himself, and it made you tear up even more.

Wonwoo must have noticed, because he shifted a little in slight embarrassment. “I, uh…I did my best,” he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. “I know it’s not perfect, but—”

“It’s perfect,” you cut him off with a broken whisper, and Wonwoo’s expression softened instantly.

You inhaled shakily as you stared at the candle’s flame. You hadn’t made a birthday wish in years. Not since the first miscarriage. Every year, you wished for the same thing. A baby. A chance to be a mother. A chance to keep what you lost so many times.

But the universe didn’t listen.

Your hands trembled a little as you closed your eyes. And then, for the first time in years, you made a different wish.

You wished for peace. For healing. For the strength to move forward, even when it felt impossible.

Opening your eyes, you leaned forward and blew out the candle. The flame flickered once, then disappeared.

Wonwoo carefully placed the cake on the coffee table before turning back to you. He noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks and frowned. Without hesitation, he reached warm hands for you and he cupped your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

His touch was so tender it made you melt into it. He knew exactly what was making you sad. He always knew. His eyes drifted downward for a moment, landing on the small pink cardigan in your lap.

His chest tightened.

You saw the way his expression changed — the way his own pain surfaced.

“Woo…” you started weakly. But he didn’t let you finish.

Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, full of love, and full of the things neither of you could always say out loud.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you felt his breath warm against your slightly swollen lips.

“I hate seeing you sad on your birthday,” he murmured. “I just…I wanted today to be a good day for you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “It is a good day” you replied.

He pulled back a little and stared at your face. “You don’t have to say that.”

You gave him a small, sad smile. “But I mean it. You made it a good day.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek which lingered just beneath your eye. “I just want you to be okay.”

You swallowed hard as you glanced down at the cardigan once more. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay,” you admitted. “Not completely.”

Wonwoo’s hold on you tightened. “Then I’ll stay with you until you are. For however long it takes.”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks again, but this time, they weren’t just from sadness. They were from love. From gratitude. From knowing that, even in the darkest moments, you weren’t alone.

Wonwoo exhaled softly, looking at the half-finished cardigan. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated, but then nodded. “I just…I don’t know why I keep making them,” you said, running your fingers over the fabric. “It’s not like anyone will wear them.”

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment before reaching down and picking up the cardigan. He turned it over in his hands and studied it carefully.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “It’s unfinished.”

“So?” he lifted it slightly and inspected the delicate stitches. “It still matters.”

“Why?” you looked at him with your heart aching.

Wonwoo met your gaze, “because it’s proof that you love them,” he said simply. “All of them. And that matters.”

You stopped breathing for a second. You never thought about it like that. For so long, you crocheted these tiny garments in silence, never daring to say what they truly meant to you. But Wonwoo always understood.

He placed the cardigan gently back in your lap and kissed your forehead. “We don’t have to figure everything out today,” he whispered. “But whatever happens next…we do it together.”

You nodded slowly as your fingers tightened around the soft fabric.

Together. For the first time in months, the word didn’t feel so heavy.

Wonwoo smiled as he brushed another tear from your cheek. “Now, come on. Let’s eat some of this cake before it completely falls apart.”

You let out a genuine laugh and shook your head. “I think it already has.”

Wonwoo gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”

You smiled, truly smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest felt just a little lighter.

Maybe you were okay just yet. But with your husband by your side, maybe you would be.

▍3 SEPTEMBER 2025

Your body trembled under the weight of his as he slowly sank himself into you. A low grunt could be heard as he pushed past the tightness he felt around your walls, and another whiny moan when he felt his tip kiss your cervix.

“Fuck” he swore under his breath as he adjusted his position while your legs and arms were wrapped around his broad body.

The weather was getting a little cooler these days, and Wonwoo could feel you slightly shivering beneath him. Grabbing the blanket that was discarded on the side of the bed earlier, he threw it over your naked bodies.

“You okay?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you. You slowly opened your eyes and gave him a weak nod.

Wonwoo cupped your face and his thumbs traced over your cheekbones, as if he was reassuring himself that you were real, that you were here, together, despite everything.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. Your lips parted slightly, like you wanted to say it back but couldn't find the words. Instead, you answered him with a kiss.

You bucked your hips upwards to motion him to move, and Wonwoo let out a small hiss as his one hand slowly trailed down to your hip while using the other to support himself upright.

Wonwoo pulled out just enough for the head of his cock to remain buried in, and then in one swift motion, he slammed himself right back in. Your mouth gaped, letting out a loud gasp.

He spread your legs wider and repositioned himself to give him better access. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, then leaning in to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

He began to thrust in a sickeningly slow pace, deep enough for you to feel his cock brush against your cervix. Wonwoo wanted you to know, to feel, how much he loved you. With every open mouthed kiss he peppered over your lips, every deep rhythmic thrust, he wanted you to understand that nothing in this world would ever separate you from him. That he’d love you till the world ended.

“I love you so much” he whispered against your lips. Silent tears rolled down in the corner of your eyes, both in pleasure and love. But you couldn’t deny the pang of pain you felt either. It followed you like a shadow in everything that you did.

“I l-love you t-too” your voice broke, followed by a moan you couldn’t contain.

“It’s okay sweetheart, don’t hold yourself back” he reassured as he slowly picked up his speed. You intertwined your fingers tighter with his as he leaned in to bury his face in your neck once again.

“M-More” you cried out in pleasure as you squirmed beneath him.

Wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his thrusts came to a halt as he pulled out completely. He pushed himself up on his knees, the blanket covering your bodies slipping off his back, and hooked his arms under your legs to pull you down closer.

And before you could comprehend anything, you felt him ram inside your tight hole in one go. You felt the air knock out of your lungs as you held onto his arm for dear life. Wonwoo only gave you a second or two to adjust before he began to pound into you mercilessly, the harsh sound of skin slapping and bed creaking filling your confined bedroom.

His fingers dug into your hips as he tried to maintain his pattern, but your cries and moans fed into his desire to go faster than he already was. The way your breasts bounded up and down, he couldn’t resist the urge to fondle with them. His slender fingers gently pinched at your nipple, causing you to let out a louder moan.

“D-Don’t stop b-baby” you whined.

Wonwoo leaned down and pecked your lips, “I wasn’t planning to sweetheart” he grunted.

Wonwoo knew you were starting to get overstimulated when your moans turned into sobs, and the way you pushed at his arms to beg him for a release.

You felt a tight coil form inside of you, ready to snap at any moment. “P-Please, I c-can’t. Fuck! Baby I-I can’t” you cried as you dug your nails into his biceps.

Wonwoo could feel the way your walls were clenching tighter which made it harder for him to control himself. “Let go baby” he said, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your trembling lips.

“Just let go”

And just like that, the coil finally snapped. Wonwoo pulled out just in time as you squirted all over this cock. Your screams filled the room, your hips shuddering as you continued to soak the bed sheets. Your husband watched with his hooded eyes as you unfolded, biting his lip.

It wasn’t often that you’d squirt during sex, but when you did, it was the hottest thing Wonwoo ever saw. And most of the time, he’d lose his sanity completely.

Wonwoo leaned down and gave you a sloppy kiss while his fingers trailed down to your soaked cunt. “Shh, you’re okay baby” he mumbled against your lips as he slowly rubbed your swollen clit in a circular motion.

When you finally calmed down, you let out a small sob, feeling overwhelmed. You never felt so good in a long time.

“You okay?” your husband asked, staring deeply into your eyes with a loving gaze. You gave him a nod and reached your hand out to caress his sweaty face.

With a soft smile and a peck on your lips, Wonwoo spread your legs wide once again. With one hand gripped on his thick shaft and the other resting on your cheek, he gently eased himself back inside you.

Your back arched and your arms flew to wrap around his muscular torso. His thrusts were more relaxed and slow than before, like he wanted you to understand the depth of his love for you.

“I love you” he whispered into your ear.

“And we’ll be okay.”

The world outside didn’t exist at that moment. There was no grief, no shattered dreams, no echoes of what you lost. There was only this — skin against skin, lips tracing, hands rediscovering the familiar dips and curves of each other’s bodies.

Wonwoo trailed kisses down the column of your throat, and paused at the rapid pulse beneath your skin. He lingered there and savoured the proof of life, the reminder that you were still here, still fighting, still capable of loving even after everything.

You let out a shaky breath as your hands roamed over his back, feeling the tension that lived in his muscles for far too long. You pressed soft kisses along his shoulder as a silent reassurance that you weren’t totally broken beyond repair.

This wasn’t just about making love. It was about finding your way back to each other. It was about healing in the only way you knew how.

“We’re okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Wonwoo swallowed hard as he rested his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he whispered back, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“We are.”

He continued thrusting into you until he felt himself reaching his edge. His moans grew louder the closer he got to his orgasm, his eyes clenching shut as he kept his face buried in your neck.

And then, he finally felt himself snap. His movements stilled as he bursted inside you like fireworks, painting your walls white with his hot sticky cum and filling you up to the brim.

“Fuck!” he dragged on the word as he collapsed over you.

You shut your eyes and and savoured the way his cum still spurted like it was never going to end. And when it did, you felt him slowly pull out. The arousal dripping from your swollen cunt was immediate. But unlike how he always did, Wonwoo didn’t gather his cum with his fingers to push it back in. Instead, he just let it flow.

The hopes of starting a family was dimming, but it didn’t diminish completely. But now, you and Wonwoo knew that you were at a point where you knew you didn’t want to force yourselves into anything. If the universe wanted to answer your prayer, it would.

As much as it hurt, you came to accept that this was what life was. Not every dream is fulfilled, but when you have someone who loves you right next to you, heartbreak and disappointment is a little easier to overcome.

And with Wonwoo by your side, sticking to his promise he made during your wedding, life wasn’t all that miserable. In the end, he was your happiness. He was your answer to your questions. He was your everything, and right now, that mattered to you the most.

a/n; I don’t know what to feel about the smut, it’s lowkey shit but hey I gave it a shot!

[lifefragments]

Chasing a Mirage

Pairing: Viktor x Reader Genre: Angst, Fluff, Longing, Bittersweet Romance Setting: Piltover, Post-Season 1, Viktor’s lab and your shared memories of what once was.

The rain tapped softly against the window of Viktor’s lab, a rhythmic, almost melancholic sound that mirrored the ache in your chest. You stood in the corner of the room, watching as Viktor worked tirelessly, his fingers moving with precision over his latest project. He barely looked up, his focus so intensely consumed by his inventions that it was as if you weren’t even there.

This had become routine—the silence, the distance. Viktor’s ambition had always driven him, but lately, it had felt like it was driving a wedge between you. The man who once found time for quiet moments, stolen kisses, and soft conversations now seemed unreachable, lost in his endless pursuit of progress. And yet, despite the growing chasm, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

Because no matter how far he drifted, you loved him. You always had. Even when it felt like loving him meant chasing something you could never quite catch.

You sighed softly, the sound almost drowned out by the hum of machinery. “Viktor,” you called out, your voice gentle but firm, cutting through the quiet like a whisper in the dark.

He didn’t answer right away, his head still bent over his work. For a moment, you thought he might not respond at all, but then he spoke, his voice strained and tired. “Yes?”

“I’ve been standing here for almost an hour,” you said, trying to keep the frustration from your tone but failing. “You didn’t even notice.”

Viktor’s hands stilled, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft sigh. He finally looked up at you, his golden eyes dull with exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, the apology sounding hollow, like it was automatic. His gaze flickered back to his work, as if the weight of your presence was a distraction he didn’t have time for.

The distance between you had been growing for months, ever since Viktor had begun his experiments with Hextech. It had started with late nights and missed dinners, but now, it felt like you were living in separate worlds—his dominated by invention and progress, yours left behind in the quiet spaces he no longer seemed to care about.

You stepped forward, crossing the room until you were standing beside him, your hands resting on the workbench as you tried to bridge the gap. “You’ve been working yourself to death,” you said quietly, your voice soft but pleading. “You never stop anymore. You barely sleep, you barely eat, and it feels like… like I’m losing you.”

Viktor’s jaw tightened, and he turned slightly to face you, his expression conflicted. “You know how important this is,” he said, his tone both apologetic and frustrated. “There’s so much at stake. I can’t just stop now.”

“I’m not asking you to stop,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “I’m asking you to remember that you don’t have to do this alone. That I’m still here. That I… I still need you.”

His eyes softened at that, but there was a weariness in them, a deep exhaustion that went beyond just the physical. “I know,” he whispered, his voice strained with guilt. “I’m trying. But there’s so much that needs to be done. Every day I feel like I’m falling further behind. Like I’ll never be enough.”

Your heart ached at his words. You knew how hard Viktor was on himself, how relentless his pursuit of perfection had become. But you also knew that it was tearing him apart—that it was tearing both of you apart.

Reaching out, you gently took his hand, the cold metal of his brace against your skin a stark reminder of the lengths he had gone to for his work. “You are enough, Viktor,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve always been enough.”

He stared down at your intertwined hands, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into his world of metal and machinery where emotions were secondary, where the only thing that mattered was the next breakthrough. But then, slowly, his fingers tightened around yours, a fragile acknowledgment of the connection he was so afraid of losing.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined to stay strong for him. “You don’t have to stop,” you whispered, stepping closer until your body was pressed against his. “I’m not asking you to give up on your dreams, Viktor. I just want to be a part of them. I want to be with you, not just beside you.”

Viktor’s breath hitched at your words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he turned fully toward you, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that cut through the layers of distance he had built. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve.”

You shook your head, your hand reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing gently against his cheek. “You’ve already given me everything I need,” you said softly, your voice full of conviction. “I just need you.”

For a long moment, Viktor didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite understand how you could still love him despite everything. But then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. It was the closest you had felt to him in weeks, and the sheer relief of it made your heart ache.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice full of self-doubt.

“Maybe not,” you teased gently, your lips curving into a small smile despite the tears in your eyes. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

Viktor let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips. It was small, barely there, but it was enough. Enough to remind you of the man you had fallen in love with—the man who still existed beneath the layers of ambition and exhaustion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, the world outside the lab fading away. It wasn’t perfect, and you knew there were still battles to be fought, both within Viktor and outside of him. But in that moment, you had each other, and that was enough.

Eventually, Viktor pulled back, his hand still holding yours as he looked at you with a mixture of love and guilt. “I’ll try,” he said quietly, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “I’ll try to be better.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “That’s all I need.”

[cherryxbooo]

Love is never easy

Summary: Meeting a certain footballer wasn’t on your bingo card, but falling in love with him was even more unimaginable.

Reader x Pablo Gavi

Genre: fluff/angst

They say love should be simple.

That when you find the right person, it’s effortless, like a perfect pass that lands gently at your feet, as if it was always meant for you.

A connection so natural, so fluid, that you don’t even have to think.

But what happens when love feels like a game you’re always one step behind in?

When you’re constantly chasing, reaching, hoping, only to feel the ball slip just beyond your grasp?

I met Pablo Gavi in the most unexpected way, by quite literally crashing into him outside the stadium on a stormy evening.

The rain had been relentless, the kind that soaks through your clothes in seconds and turns the world into a blur of grey.

I hadn’t even been at Camp Nou for football.

My best friend’s brother worked security there, and I had come to meet her, completely unaware that fate had other plans.

One moment, I was battling my umbrella against the wind, the next, I was colliding into someone with enough force to make me stumble back.

My breath hitched as I looked up, my heart pounding, not just from the impact, but from the realization of who I had just crashed into.

Pablo Gavi.

His brow furrowed as he rubbed his arm where I had hit him, a soft curse slipping from his lips.

"Joder…" His voice was slightly irritated, rough around the edges, but the second his eyes met mine, something in them shifted.

His frustration faded, replaced by something else, curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I could barely find my words. "Y-yeah, I think so. Sorry about that."

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"You put up more of a fight than most defenders I face."

I didn’t expect him to remember me after that.

But he did.

The next time I visited my friend, I felt a pair of eyes on me before I even saw him.

And when I finally turned, there he was, leaning casually against a railing, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Still fighting with the wind?" he teased.

That time, I laughed.

The time after that, we talked.

And before I even realized what was happening, he had become a part of my life.

It felt easy. Too easy.

Like a dream you don’t dare wake up from.

But love, love is never easy.

They say the best love stories begin with friendship.

That the strongest bonds are the ones built slowly, quietly, in the spaces between laughter and late-night conversations.

That was us.

For months, Gavi and I existed in a space that wasn’t quite friendship but wasn’t something more either.

A delicate balance of playful teasing and unspoken feelings, of being each other’s first call at the end of a long day, yet pretending we didn’t notice the way our voices softened when we spoke to one another.

It started with late-night phone calls.

"Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?" I’d ask when my phone buzzed at nearly 2 a.m., his name lighting up my screen.

"Can’t sleep," he’d mumble, voice groggy but warm, like he had already been dozing off.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

So I would. I’d tell him about my day, about a funny thing my professor said, about how my best friend had tried (and failed) to set me up with someone.

I’d hear him scoff at that, muttering something under his breath that I could never quite catch.

Sometimes, it was the other way around.

"Tough game?" I’d ask when he called me after a match, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yeah," he’d sigh. "I just... I don’t know. I should’ve done better."

I’d listen as he talked, let him get it all out, the frustration, the pressure, the weight of expectations that never seemed to ease.

And when he was finished, when there was nothing left but silence, I’d whisper, "You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?"

His response was always the same, a quiet exhale, a soft "Only you say that."

I never knew what to do with the way my heart reacted to those words.

Then there were the little things.

The way he always seemed to know when I was having a bad day, sending me a simple "You okay?" that somehow made everything feel lighter.

The way he showed up at my university when he had a rare afternoon off, waiting for me outside my lecture hall with a coffee in hand.

"You didn’t have to do this," I’d tell him, but he’d just shrug, like it was nothing.

"You always forget to eat when you’re stressed," he’d say, handing me a sandwich like he had memorized my habits better than I had.

We never talked about whatever this was.

Never acknowledged the way his hand always seemed to find the small of my back when we walked through a crowd.

Or how we lingered just a little too long whenever we said goodbye.

It was easier this way.

Easier to pretend we were just friends.

Even when everything we did felt like something more.

Even when I already knew, I was falling.

And then, without realizing it, I had already fallen.

I fell for the way he looked at me, like I was something rare, something worth holding onto.

I fell for the way his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on my palm whenever we sat in silence, as if memorizing the shape of me.

I fell for the way he always pulled me closer in a crowded room, his grip firm, protective, like he was afraid I’d slip away.

I fell, hard and fast, like I never had before.

But love, love is never just about falling.

It’s about what happens after.

And somewhere along the way, something changed.

It didn’t happen overnight.

There was no sudden, dramatic shift.

It was slow, subtle, the kind of change you don’t notice at first, like the days getting shorter, the cold creeping in before you even realize summer is gone.

It started with the little things.

The way his replies to my texts, once almost instant, started coming slower.

At first, I brushed it off he was busy, caught up in training, exhausted from travel.

But then, the messages themselves became shorter. A simple "Yeah." or "We’ll see." replacing the playful, teasing paragraphs he used to send me.

The voice notes that once made me smile, his laughter, the way he always seemed to have a story to tell, became fewer and fewer, until one day, they just stopped.

The late-night calls faded too.

"Are you awake?" I would text, staring at my phone, waiting for those three little dots to appear.

Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn’t.

When they did, it was always the same answer.

"Tired. Talk tomorrow?"

But tomorrow came, and we didn’t talk.

At first, I told myself it was fine.

I told myself I was overthinking it. That he was just busier than usual, that he was under pressure.

I made excuses for him, ones he never even had to say out loud.

"He’s training harder." "He needs space." "Nothing’s wrong."

But deep down, I knew.

I knew when he started canceling plans.

It wasn’t dramatic.

No last-minute apologies, no elaborate excuses. Just a quiet shift.

A "Can we reschedule?" here, a "Next time, yeah?" there.

Plans that were once effortless, ones he used to fight for, rearrange his schedule for, suddenly became too difficult to make.

I knew when he stopped showing up unannounced at my university.

When I stopped catching him watching me from across the room.

When his touch, once so natural, so certain, became hesitant, like he was holding himself back.

The first time I felt it, really felt it, was at a party.

It was crowded, loud, the kind of scene he usually hated but endured because I was there.

I saw him across the room, talking to someone, a teammate, a friend, I wasn’t sure.

He was laughing, the kind of carefree laugh I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. And then, for just a second, his eyes met mine.

A beat of silence.

And then, he looked away.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the sinking feeling in my chest. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.

Maybe I was imagining things.

But later that night, when I reached for his hand the way I always did, he didn’t pull me closer.

He let go.

And that was when I knew.

The boy who once fought for every second with me was now letting moments slip away.

The boy who once looked at me like I was his safe place now seemed distant, distracted, like he was carrying something he couldn’t share.

And then, one night, everything came crashing down.

It wasn’t one thing, it was everything.

A missed call that turned into three. A message left on read. An excuse that felt too rehearsed, too empty.

And finally, the truth, the thing I had been too afraid to admit to myself.

I wasn’t losing him.

I had already lost him.

Meanwhile,

The ball bounced off his foot awkwardly, rolling too far ahead.

Gavi cursed under his breath, sprinting to recover it, but his timing was off again.

The pass he attempted was sloppy, the kind of mistake he never made, and when he looked up, he caught the coach watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Focus, Gavi!" the coach called out.

"Sí, míster," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Something was off with him today, had been for days, if he was being honest.

He felt it in the way his movements were just a fraction too slow, in the way his mind wasn’t fully locked into the game.

Football was supposed to be his escape, the one thing that cleared his head. But lately, it wasn’t working.

And the reason?

Y/n.

He had been trying not to think about her.

Trying to push away the ache that settled in his chest whenever he saw her name on his phone screen and didn’t answer.

Whenever he caught himself reaching for his phone, only to stop himself. Avoidance was supposed to make this easier.

It wasn’t.

He didn’t notice Fermin watching him until his friend nudged him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Alright, qué pasa contigo?" Fermin asked, keeping his voice low as they walked off the pitch for a water break.

"Nothing," Gavi answered too quickly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Fermin snorted. "Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been playing like absolute shit today?"

"Fuck off," Gavi muttered, but there was no real bite behind his words.

Fermin wasn’t having it. "Seriously, bro. What’s going on? You’re not yourself."

For a second, Gavi considered brushing him off again.

But something about the way Fermin was looking at him, genuinely concerned, made him sigh in defeat.

"It’s about Y/n."

Fermin’s eyebrows raised slightly in recognition.

"The girl you’ve gotten close with?"

Gavi nodded, running a hand over his face.

"I thought you two were good. What happened?"

Gavi let out a breath, shaking his head. "Nothing happened… that’s the problem."

Fermin frowned. "Okay, you lost me."

Gavi hesitated before finally admitting, "I fell for her." The words felt heavy, like they had been weighing on his chest for too long.

"And I don’t know what to do with that."

Fermin stared at him for a beat before laughing under his breath.

"Pablo, you’re acting like that’s the worst thing in the world."

"You don’t get it." Gavi exhaled sharply.

"I never had someone like her before. She’s… different. She actually knows me, not just the football part of me, but me. And if I tell her how I feel and it ruins everything, I lose that. I lose her."

Fermin tilted his head, considering his words.

"So what? You decided the best solution was to avoid her?"

Gavi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I thought maybe if I put some distance between us, it would go away."

Fermin blinked at him. "Go away?"

"Yeah—"

"Are you dumb?" Fermin cut him off, looking genuinely baffled.

"Like, actually, physically dumb?"

Gavi scowled. "Qué?"

"You’re trying to avoid losing her, but you are losing her. Right now. Because you’re pushing her away." Fermin threw his hands up.

"Bro, you’re literally doing the one thing you don’t want to happen."

Gavi clenched his jaw, looking away.

He knew Fermin was right, but hearing it out loud made his stomach twist.

"Just talk to her," Fermin said, his tone softer now.

"Be honest. If she doesn’t feel the same, then yeah, it’ll suck, but at least you’ll know. At least you won’t lose her like this."

Gavi sighed, staring down at the grass beneath his feet.

"And if she does feel the same?" he asked quietly.

Fermin smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Then you stop being a dumbass and finally do something about it."

Gavi rolled his eyes, shoving his hand off. "You’re annoying, you know that?"

"And you’re dramatic," Fermin shot back.

"Seriously, this is some novela-level shit."

Gavi groaned, tossing his water bottle at him. "Shut up, tío."

Fermin just laughed, dodging it easily.

"Nah, but for real, you owe me when you and Y/n get together. I'm talking VIP tickets, front row seats."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Gavi grumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips now.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he knew what he had to do.

He had to stop running.

And he had to tell you.

Pablo had called.

Twice.

And then he had texted. "Can we talk?"

But I didn’t answer.

I told myself it was because I was still mad.

That I wasn’t ready to hear whatever excuse he had for pushing me away like I meant nothing.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I was scared.

Scared that if I let him back in, he’d hurt me again.

That I’d start hoping, start falling again, only to end up in the same place, alone, confused, wondering where it all went wrong.

"You’re overthinking this."

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts.

My best friend sat across from me, legs tucked under her as she scrolled through her phone like she hadn’t just said something completely outrageous.

"I am not overthinking," I defended, arms crossed.

She gave me a pointed look. "Oh really? So what do you call ignoring him for days instead of hearing him out?"

"I call it self-respect."

"Mhm, sure," she said, unimpressed.

"Or maybe… just maybe, you’re terrified of whatever he has to say because it might actually make sense."

I groaned, flopping back against the couch. "Why are you on his side?"

"I’m not on his side," she argued.

"I’m on the side of common sense, which neither of you seem to have. Look, men are dumb, babe. They don’t know how to act. They get feelings and then short-circuit like malfunctioning robots."

That made me laugh.

"So what, you think he just malfunctioned?" I teased.

"Obviously," she said dramatically.

"Poor guy probably thought ignoring you would fix his feelings. Meanwhile, here you are, going through all five stages of grief in your pajamas."

I smacked her arm, but I was laughing now, the weight in my chest feeling just a little lighter.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"No, you don’t," she sang, standing up and stretching.

"Alright, I gotta go. Just… think about calling him, okay? At least to yell at him properly. You deserve that much."

I rolled my eyes but nodded.

"That’s my girl," she said before grabbing her bag and heading out.

The apartment was quiet now. Too quiet.

I sat on the couch, staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Pablo’s contact.

Should I call him?

My best friend’s words played in my head. "You deserve that much."

She wasn’t wrong. I did deserve an explanation.

But was I ready to hear it?

To let him back in when I wasn’t even sure I had fully healed from the way he had pushed me out?

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Maybe I’d sleep on it.

Maybe tomorrow—

Knock, knock.

I frowned.

Was my best friend back? Did she forget something?

I stood up, walking over to the door. "Did you leave your—"

My breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t her.

It was him.

Pablo stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair slightly messy like he had run his fingers through it too many times.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, neither of us spoke.

"Can we talk?" he asked, voice quiet.

I should’ve slammed the door in his face.

Or at least made him wait longer, the way he had made me wait for an explanation.

But I didn’t.

I stepped aside, letting him in.

Pablo sat down on the couch, his knee bouncing slightly like he wasn’t sure how to start.

"I know you’re mad at me," he finally said.

I crossed my arms. "No shit."

He sighed. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, you do."

Silence.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I messed up, Y/N. I know that. And I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care, because I do. More than I should, probably."

My heart clenched, but I kept my expression neutral.

"Then why did you push me away?"

Pablo hesitated, like he was still debating whether to be fully honest.

Then, he exhaled sharply. "Because I fell for you."

I blinked. "What?"

"I fell for you," he repeated, looking at me now.

"And I freaked out. I thought if I ignored it, if I put space between us, maybe I wouldn’t ruin everything."

I stared at him, waiting for the logic to kick in.

It didn’t.

"So let me get this straight." I leaned forward.

"You caught feelings… and your solution was to avoid me?"

"Yes?"

"Pablo, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

"Okay, Fermin already told me that, no need to gang up on me," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"No, because—" I let out a frustrated groan.

"Do you even realize how badly that hurt? You were my best friend, Pablo. And then you just… disappeared."

His eyes softened, guilt flashing across his face.

"I know. And I hate that I hurt you. But, Y/n, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve never had someone like you before. Someone who actually sees me. Not just the footballer, but me."

My heart skipped a beat.

"And I didn’t want to lose that," he continued, voice quieter now.

"I thought if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin what we had. But then, avoiding you just made me lose you anyway."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Yeah, it did."

Silence again.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "Can I fix it?"

I exhaled slowly. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

He cracked a small smile. "Yeah, I’m getting that a lot lately."

I didn’t even realize I was smiling too.

The tension in the room slowly shifted, the weight in my chest lifting ever so slightly.

"So what now?" I asked.

Pablo hesitated before saying, "I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Y/n. I want more. But if you don’t feel the same, I swear I’ll—"

I cut him off by grabbing his hand.

"You’re an idiot," I repeated. "But you’re my idiot."

His breath hitched. "So…?"

"So, you better not run away again."

His grin was instant, and before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my shoulder.

"I won’t," he promised. "Not again."

I let myself melt into his embrace, my heart finally at peace.

We broke the hug, but his gaze never left mine.

Before I knew it, I felt his hand on my cheek, gently pulling me in for a passionate kiss.

Damn. It really was worth the wait.

Eventually, we both pull away to catch our breaths.

"So, does this mean we’re together now?" Pablo asked, grinning.

"I don’t know," I teased. "Are you gonna ignore me and be stupid again?"

"No!"

"Then I guess so."

He smirked. "You could’ve just said you wanted to be my girlfriend, princesa."

"And give you the satisfaction? Never."

He groaned, flopping onto the couch dramatically.

"Great. I’m dating a menace."

I threw a pillow at him. "And I’m dating an idiot. Perfect match."

He caught the pillow, tossing it aside before grabbing my hand again, this time intertwining our fingers.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking at me with that familiar, warm gaze.

"Perfect match."

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

The end

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Blue Blood and Rain [4]

King John X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You're the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court with her son.

The King invites you on another ride, this one is much more private.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm trying to get my butt in gear and actually finish up some series.

Warnings: Kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), hand job, public sex (they're outside but not observed), reader is a virgin, overuse of italics, power dynamics because he's the king, pet names, I have totally made up servant/noble dynamics because I wanted to, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1617

Stefan whinnies softly as you move about the stable, despite being freshly brushed and being just served clean water and hay he still wasn’t satisfied until he had your undying attention. 

You tut playfully at him, stopping in your work to pat his side. “What is wrong, hmm? I thought you’d like a break away from Hugo’s less than perfect riding.” You smile and lean closer to the horse, a little conspiratory. “But don’t tell him I said that.” 

He whinnies again, almost sounding like a laugh. 

You stroke his neck absentmindedly. “You get to have nice food, in this nice stable and then go outside and pester all the other horses in the fields all day. Sounds perfect.” 

“Does it?” The King’s voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. He grins, pretending to look ashamed for a moment, his hands open. “I’m sorry to startle you.”

“No, you’re not.” You give him a playful look.

“You’re right,” he steps closer to you, lightly touching your arm. “I’m not.” 

You shake your head, pretending to be insulted. “I am outraged.”

“Outraged by the actions of your King?” He grins. 

“Of course.” 

His beam widens and he kisses your cheek quickly before ensnaring your lips with his and stealing your breath. 

He pulls back the smallest fraction, lightly nuzzling his nose against yours, “What about now?” His voice is soft and barely above a whisper. 

“Slightly less outraged.” You managed to say.

“Ah, I’m going in the right direction then.” He kisses you again, snaking his hand up to stroke your cheek. 

Stefan nudges King John’s shoulder gently and he turns to smile at the horse. “Someone seems to be warming to my presence.” He pats Stefan, much to his delight. 

You smile at Stefan, “He’s a good judge of character.” 

The King uses your brief distraction to kiss your cheek again. “I see that the Earl and the Countess are busy this afternoon.” 

You turn to look at him, amused at his choice of using their formal titles. “They are.” 

“So, you are free?” 

You shake your head, “I have many duties to attend to that-”

“Duties that can be taken care of, come,” he takes your hand in his. “Are you really going to disobey a request from your king?” His expression makes you giggle. “I will take that as a yes.” He lightly kisses the back of your hand as he leads you out. 

.

The King rode Guinevere, while you rode Alaric again. The ride was peaceful, just the two of you taking your time. John rode at your side, happily talking with you and it’s not long until you arrive back at the meadow he had shown you before. 

He stops and dismounts before holding out his hand to help you, happiness radiates out from his chest when you take his hand without pause. 

“The tree you used to read under as a child,” you smile and motion towards it as you admire its thick heavy bark and a wide canopy. 

The King preens, puffing out his chest a little, touched that you remembered. A small dusting of pink highlights his cheeks and he pauses, biting his lip as he has a small inward argument with himself. “I used to do other things under that tree.” 

You pause, giving him a sideways glance and chuckling at the blush on his skin. “Other things?” You tease. 

“Other things.” He lightly puts his hands on your waist and guides you under the leaves, walking you backwards until your shoulders hit the trunk. 

“I simply demand to know these other things.” You bite your lip and he groans. 

“Stop, you can’t be giving me such looks and expect me to behave.” 

“A King would behave.” You put your hand to your forehead dramatically, “Me, here, alone without a chaperone.” 

He chuckles and kisses you softly, pressing his chest up against yours. “I used to…” he pauses, kissing you again quickly. “Pleasure myself here, when I was older than a boy. I liked the quiet better.” He sucks lightly at your neck, smiling as your breath hitches. 

Heat floods your veins, the image of him bringing himself to his peak dancing in your mind and making you dizzy.

“I would read sinful stories,” he kisses along your jaw, biting softly between words, “and then, when I was overcome with thoughts and urges, I couldn’t resist.” 

He groans lightly as you tug on his shoulders, urging him closer. “I would spill myself all over my hand, imagining such debauched things.” He breathes heavily, pushing his thigh between your legs. 

“What debauched things?” You whisper, not trusting your own voice and his fingers flex against your waist. 

“I could,” he swallows, his cock hard and heavy between his legs, pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “Show you… if you wish?” 

You hardly finish your first nod before he’s throwing himself to his knees and pulling up your skirts. He bunches them around your hips with a desperate, crazed further. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he looks up at you, his skin flushed and eyes dark, “if you are uncomfortable or want me to stop for any reason. Promise me.” 

You nod, once. “I promise, your Highness.” 

He groans lightly as you speak his title, his eyes glazed. Then, lightning fast, he dives forward and tugs your undergarments down your legs. 

You gasp in surprise, the sound quickly becoming a needy moan when his warm tongue licks through your folds. 

He moans low in his throat as he laps and swirls around your clit, salvia and slick coating his chin as he feasts. 

“You taste divine,” he growls, licking his lips as he manages to pull himself away from you for the briefest moment, just enough time to pull your undergarments down and off your legs completely.

He hoists your left thigh onto his shoulder as he continues, eagerly sucking your clit into his mouth and snaking his hands up to hold and squeeze your ass.

Your back arches, tree bark digging in between your shoulder blades as pleasure tightens and pulses dizzyingly quickly. Your body moves of its own volition, your mind completely lost to the soft warmth of his mouth. 

“I…” You moan, your legs shaking from the onslaught. You try to grab onto the trunk for stability, but you can’t get a solid hold. Without thinking you sink your hand into his thick curls, but before you can pull back he whines desperately. He presses his left hand over yours and squeezes, urging you to hold him tighter, firmer as you writhe on his tongue. 

He sucks rhythmically, your cries spurring on every action. The idea of you coming undone and tasting your release makes his eyes roll back. The drawstring fastening on his trousers rubs against his cock, and he can’t help but buck, thrusting into the barely there pressure. 

“Your…” You bite your lip, breathing hard, trying to get some semblance of control over your voice. “Your Highness, I’m… please.” 

He groans loudly when you use his title again, his eyelids fluttering as he pushes his face closer, practically trying to suffocate himself. 

The feeling twists and curls, your muscles tense and shake. You’re sure you can’t get any higher, can’t feel any more pleasure. But each second he proves you more and more a liar. 

Your orgasm crests and blooms along your nerves, tensing your muscles and robbing you of all thought as you are consumed body and soul. 

He groans, watching you intently and eagerly drinking down your release. You writhe under him as he prolongs your bliss, pulling you apart expertly piece by piece. 

As your limbs slack he moves back a fraction, placing your leg back to the floor and taking hold of your arms to guide you down onto the grass. 

You breathe hard, resting against the tree as he kisses your temple. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I need to,” he swallows, his hands quickly undoing his trouser fastenings and pulling his aching cock free. It’s leaking and ruddy red, looking painful and desperate as he wraps his right hand around its thick length. 

He fists himself rapidly, angling his body away from you to give you time to recover. 

You swallow, moving closer to him, pressing your chest to his back as the sweat cools on your skin. “Let me help you, your Highness.” 

He groans, nearly coming on the spot. “Here,” his voice is strained and weak as he guides your hand to his cock, wrapping his fingers over yours and showing you how to move in the way he needs. 

You're shocked by how warm he is, how soft, like velvet on a chair by the fire; and how hard, like iron under your palm. 

You barely get to stroke him four times before he’s crying out your name and tensing. His cock pulses, his hips bucking as he comes robe after robe of silky white onto the grass and tree roots. 

It’s mesmerising, how his mouth opens and body shakes, and you can’t help but stare transfixed as he falls apart for you.

When his hand relaxes around yours you let go, smiling as he leans back onto you and grabs your wrists so that he can litter your fingers with kisses. 

“You are addictive,” he murmurs, twisting his body so that he can kiss up your arm. “I nearly came without touching myself with my mouth on you,” he gazes up at you with love sick eyes, his skin flushed. “Better than any saucy book.” 

You giggle and he grins, sliding his hand around your neck and kissing you deeply. 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine

 @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr 

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist 

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop 

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan 

@faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love  @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[pixiefelixie]

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "THURSDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out. 

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, blood tw! (nosebleed), extra long chapter this week important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

series masterlist

previous / next (let me know if you would like to be added to the series taglist!)

chapter under the cut! ~18k words

day 5 - 8:00

the rain wept against the windows, silver streaks tracing ephemeral paths down the glass, blurring the world beyond into a watercolor dream of grays and blues. the sky hung heavy, stretched like damp silk over the restless sea, the waves rolling in slow, sleepy undulations. you stood by the window, arms loosely folded around yourself, watching as droplets merged and parted—tiny rivers colliding and splitting apart, like the way your thoughts tangled, unraveled, and knotted again. the beach stretched out below, the waves churning softly under the darkened sky, a stormy beauty that still managed to captivate you. the world outside felt hushed, like the storm had pressed a finger to its lips, demanding quiet. 

felix had already been up, slipping away earlier to take a shower. you’d heard the faint creak of his door as he’d retreated to his room afterward. you found yourself moving, feet barely making a sound against the floorboards as you crossed the living room. when you reached his door, you hesitated, fingers ghosting over the wood before giving a soft knock.

“come in,” came his voice, low and familiar, slightly muffled by the barrier between you.

you pushed the door open, stepping into his room just as he was pulling a shirt over his head. the fabric slid down slowly, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach, the sculpted lines that had never caught your attention quite like this before. the shirt settled into place, hugging his frame, and your breath hitched. you’d seen him shirtless so many times before—at the beach, wandering casually around the house—but now, something about it felt... different.

felix ran a hand through his still-damp hair, stray droplets sliding down his temples, catching the light. he looked at you then, lips curling into that familiar smile. “hey.”

“hi, felix,” you said softly, your voice carrying an edge of shyness you hadn’t expected.

you crossed the room and when you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to his chest. his damp hair clung in wild streaks to his forehead, droplets sliding down his temples like they envied the way his cheekbones caught the light. the faintest sheen of moisture made his skin glow, and the cotton of his oversized t-shirt draped over his torso. you could see the faint trace of his collarbone, the way his neck tensed—was he always this... hot?

what was happening to you?

felix’s arms were around you before you could even register the shift, his touch feather-light but deliberate. his hands settled on your shoulders first, then slid up slowly to cup your face. his thumbs brushed along your jawline, his fingers curving to cradle you as though you were made of something fragile and precious. the way he tilted his head sent a ripple of heat down your spine—his lips parting slightly, his gaze flickering down to your mouth before rising to meet your eyes again. time slowed, and for a moment, you could feel the air shift between you, charged and heavy with something you couldn’t name but felt all the way to your core.

and then he leaned in.

his lips were soft, warm, and the gentleness of the kiss only magnified the intensity building inside you. you melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

it was innocent, a kiss that carried no expectations, but the effect it had on you was anything but. the room spun, every sensation heightened—his scent wrapping around you like a cocoon, the warmth of his hands against your skin, the steady beat of his heart you could still feel beneath your palms. your chest tightened, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you leaned into the kiss, letting it consume you. 

when felix pulled back, his lips curved up into a soft smile, his gaze catching yours for just a second longer than necessary, and then he straightened, letting his hands fall casually to his sides. he chuckled lightly, breaking the silence with a voice so effortlessly casual it almost made you doubt what had just happened. “good morning,” he said, his tone warm, like the kiss had been no more significant than a passing breeze.

your heart hammered against your ribs as you stared at him, blinking, trying to piece together how something so fleeting had felt like the ground beneath you shifting. he reached up, running a hand through his damp hair again, his eyes flicking toward the window where rain was softly streaking down the glass.

“looks like it’s been pouring all morning,” he said, his voice light, conversational, as though he hadn’t just stolen the breath from your lungs and left your world tilted on its axis. “i was planning to go for a run, but…” he gestured lazily toward the window, shrugging, the motion causing his shirt to ride up just enough to reveal a flash of skin.

“hmm?” you managed to murmur when you realized he was looking at you, waiting for some kind of response. his expression was relaxed, open, like nothing had changed for him. maybe it hadn’t. maybe it was just you, your every nerve ending suddenly tuned to felix, every touch, every word from him magnified to a point you could barely handle.

“yeah,” you said, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. 

felix chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it rippled through you like the aftershock of an earthquake. you wanted to say something, anything to fill the silence stretching between you, but words felt clumsy and irrelevant.

before you could gather yourself, a sharp crack of thunder split the air, so loud and sudden that both of you jolted. your eyes widened, and you caught felix doing the same, his hand instinctively shooting out to steady himself against the edge of the window ledge. he turned to look at you, his lips twitching into a crooked grin as he shook his head. “did not see that coming,” he said, his voice tinged with laughter.

the rain outside had escalated from a steady rhythm to a full-blown torrent. sheets of water streaked down the glass, blurring the world beyond into a wash of grays and blues with the palm tree fronds being violently pulled by the wind. felix shifted closer to the window, his brows knitting together as he peered out. you moved to stand beside him, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder, watching as the wind hurled rain against the window with an almost violent intensity. lightning lit up the sky in a brief, jagged flash, followed closely by another deep rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the very walls.

“feels like the kind of storm you’d see in a movie,” you muttered quietly, as if speaking too loudly might provoke the tempest outside. his hand brushed against yours where it rested on the windowsill, the contact so fleeting that it could have been accidental—but it still sent a spark racing up your arm.

felix’s eyes lit up so suddenly that it startled you. his mouth parted slightly, and he turned to you with an intensity that made your breath catch. you knew that look—the one he got when an idea hit him out of nowhere, so consuming that nothing else existed.

“what?” you asked, already wary.

he didn’t answer right away. his gaze flicked between your face and the window, as if piecing something together in his head. then, a slow grin spread across his face—one of those mischievous, boyish ones that always meant trouble.

before you could demand an explanation, felix grabbed the hem of his shirt and, without hesitation, yanked it over his head.

your brain short-circuited.

“what the—felix?!” the words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, your voice slightly higher than normal.

he shook out his damp hair like a golden retriever, completely unbothered. the stormy light filtering through the window cast soft shadows over his collarbones, the lean, toned lines of his stomach. a stray drop of water slid down his neck, tracing a slow, meandering path across his chest. you absolutely should not have been watching it.

but you were.

heat crept up your neck, betraying you completely.

“felix?” you blinked, trying to snap yourself out of it as he suddenly bolted for the hallway like a man on a mission. “what are you—?”

“we need to go out there right now!” he called over his shoulder, voice practically vibrating with excitement.

you frowned, still rooted in place. “huh?”

felix didn’t wait to explain. he skidded to a stop outside the storage room and flung the door open with a flourish, vanishing inside before you could get another word in. the faint sound of clattering echoed down the hall. seconds later, he reappeared, grinning like he’d just unearthed buried treasure. in his hands were two surfboards, one propped under his armpit and the other held out toward you like some kind of offering.

“the waves!” he said, his words tumbling out in an excited rush. “they’re gonna be amazing with this storm coming in! we can’t miss it!”

you stared at him, incredulous. “you want to surf? in this weather?” you gestured toward the window. the wind whipped through the palm trees with a ferocity that sent fronds flying, and the dark clouds above promised nothing short of chaos. it looked like the kind of storm that fishermen whispered about in seaside bars.

felix nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “exactly! you don’t get waves like this every day,” he said.

you let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “you’re insane,” you muttered, though the familiar tug of excitement in your chest was already betraying you. felix had this... thing about him, this ability to make even the most ridiculous ideas sound like the kind of adventures you’d regret not taking. and maybe that’s why you found yourself leaning into his chaos more often than not.

“come on!” he urged, bouncing on the balls of his feet now. he extended the second surfboard toward you, shaking it slightly like he thought you might be tempted by the sheer proximity of it.

you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “if we get electrocuted, it’s your fault.”

“deal,” he said immediately, his grin only growing wider as if you’d just signed up for the time of your life.

with a resigned sigh, you gave in, peeling off your t-shirt and shorts to reveal your swimsuit beneath. it has become second nature to wear it under your clothes while staying at the beach. the cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the way felix was looking at you.

his eyes lingered for a heartbeat too long, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. he opened his mouth like he might say something, then seemed to think better of it. instead, he simply leaned in, his voice dropping to a soft whisper, barely audible over the howling wind outside. “come on,” he said, the words carrying an almost conspiratorial tone as you took the board out of his hand.

felix barely hit the back door before it flung open, the wind catching it hard. the storm outside roared to life, rain hammering down in thick sheets. the second your foot hit the sand, the cold punched through you like a live wire, drenching your clothes in an instant.

"shit—!" the shock forced a yelp out of you, but then—then the thrill took over. the chaos of it, the sting of cold rain against your skin, the wildness of the wind tearing through the night. laughter bubbled up before you could stop it. the kind of laughter that made your ribs ache, that made the storm feel less like a warning and more like an invitation.

felix, already a soaked mess, chuckled back, his hair plastered to his forehead in dark, dripping strands. the rain didn't seem to faze him at all. it was as if the storm made everything more alive, more real. you followed him down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly on the wet steps as the rain came down harder.

felix was already running toward the shore, his enthusiasm infecting every step. the wet sand squelched beneath his feet as he picked up speed. he put down his board with a soft thud, tossing it onto the sand. his laughter rang out, mixing with the roar of the storm as he threw his arms wide to embrace the pouring rain.

"race you!" you shouted over the sound of the crashing waves, a wide grin spreading across your face as you strapped the leash onto your ankle.

felix looked momentarily caught off guard, his eyes widening as he tried to process your challenge, but it only took a second before he snapped back. “what?!” he yelled, barely able to finish the sentence before you sprinted ahead, the storm adding an extra layer of exhilaration to the race.

with a burst of energy, you made it to the water first. without hesitation, you threw yourself onto your board, the coolness of the sea making your heart race even faster. the board’s surface was slick beneath your chest as you paddled with determination, the saltwater splashing around you, urging you forward.

felix, now just a few steps behind, didn’t miss a beat. he threw his board into the water with a grunt and quickly followed your lead, paddling furiously to catch up. you could hear his laughter cutting through the noise of the waves, his joy contagious as the two of you battled the current together.

a massive wave loomed ahead, its towering presence sending a thrill of both fear and excitement through you. the sound of the ocean filled your ears, muffling everything else as you ducked beneath the water, your body moving with the rhythm of the ocean. for a moment, the world above the surface felt like a distant memory, replaced by the peaceful bubbling sounds of the stormy sea surrounding you.

when you surfaced, gasping for air, the storm felt almost more beautiful than before. the waves were relentless, but so were you. you glanced at felix, his face filled with a mix of determination and exhilaration. his eyes were wide with excitement as he nodded to you, signaling that another big wave was coming, and you both needed to get ready.

together, you turned towards the shore, the pounding waves pushing against you, urging you to move faster. you paddled with everything you had, your muscles burning with effort, but the water was relentless, its pressure urging you forward. your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your breath mingling with the storm.

at this point, the rain was the furthest thing from your mind. you could feel the pull of the water beneath you, the coldness of the sea threatening to drag you under, but you were determined to keep moving forward.

suddenly, you saw it. the perfect wave surged ahead, its towering form breaking the horizon. your eyes widened as you exchanged a look with felix. his face was a mask of pure excitement, his eyes sparkling with a thrill you could hardly ignore. without a word, he flashed you a grin, his smile wide and full of confidence, and that was all you needed. together, you turned away from the wave, both of you preparing for the ride of your life.

your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation thrumming through you. you arched your back, shifting your body on the board, your legs instinctively finding the right stance. the water surged beneath you, a powerful force pushing you toward the shore. your feet were unsure on the board at first since you haven’t surfed since last year, but with every passing second, you felt your body find its center. you spread your feet further apart, grounding yourself as the wave built behind you, ready to launch you forward.

the board glided smoothly over the water, the wave carrying you effortlessly toward the shore. your heart raced, adrenaline coursing through your veins as the wind whipped around you. felix’s laughter rang out behind you, and you could hear him urging you forward, encouraging you as you both rode the wave together. the thrill of it was beyond anything you had ever experienced, and you couldn’t help but smile.

the waves were enormous, driven by the fierce wind, each one towering higher and crashing down with a powerful force. the water beneath your board was alive, a swirling mass of energy that propelled you forward with exhilarating speed. the surface of the ocean undulated, creating peaks and troughs that challenged your balance and skill, but also filled you with a sense of wild freedom.

suddenly, you heard felix's voice cutting through the chaos, yelling out your name. you glanced over just in time to see felix attempting a 360 turn on his board. his movements were fluid and confident, but as he spun, the wave's powerful momentum caught him off guard. he lost his balance, his board slipping out from under him, and he wiped out spectacularly, disappearing into the churning water.

you couldn't help but laugh, the sound mingling with the crashing waves. you lay flat on your board, momentarily catching your breath and savouring the thrill of the ride. the waves continued to surge around you, their immense power a reminder of nature's raw, untamed beauty. you watched as felix resurfaced, shaking the water from his hair and grinning sheepishly.

the ocean swelled once more, the biggest wave yet forming in the distance. 

you knew you had to take this on. 

paddling forward, you felt the wave lift you up, its crest towering above you like a moving mountain. you rose to your feet, the force of the water beneath you a powerful, exhilarating rush.

the wave surged beneath you, pushing you forward with a force that made your heart race. you leaned into the movement, carving your board effortlessly through the water, each turn more fluid than the last. the sound of the ocean was drowned out by the rush of wind in your ears as you sliced through the wave, the water spraying around you in a dazzling mist. the thrill was electric, each movement feeling sharper, more connected to the pulse of the ocean.

suddenly, the air seemed to crack open. 

a lightning strike flashed right in front of your eyes at the shoreline, so close it felt like the air itself had cracked open. your expression went blank with shock, and you frantically looked over at felix. his face mirrored your fear, eyes wide with terror.

in that moment, every instinct screamed to keep moving, but all you could do was stare at the water beneath you, unable to tear your eyes away from the swirling depths. the waves, once thrilling and empowering, now seemed ominous, like a waiting predator. you had heard it over and over when you first started surfing—never look down—because the board will always follow your gaze. but now, your eyes were locked on the dark, churning water below, as if looking for an answer, or maybe a way out.

and just like that, the board slipped out from under you.

you didn’t wipe out in the graceful way you'd hoped for; instead, your board was violently thrown back at you, striking your face with a painful thud. the impact knocked the wind out of you, and before you could react, the force of it sent you hurtling downward, into the depths of the ocean.

the world above you faded away as you sank, the crashing waves muffled into eerie quiet. it felt like the water was swallowing you whole, the pressure building in your chest, the world spinning in slow motion. your nose throbbed with an unbearable ache, the taste of saltwater filling your mouth as you accidentally swallowed a mouthful of the briny liquid. panic surged through you as your vision blurred, and your mind screamed for air.

instinctively, you kicked your legs, swimming toward what you hoped was the surface, though everything felt like it was spinning out of control. you reached out, your hands clawing through the water, and for a split second, you couldn’t tell if you were swimming up or down. you didn’t have the time to think about that.

breaking through the surface, you gasped for air, coughing violently into your hand. blood smeared across your palm and mixed with the water, spreading out in tendrils. felix's voice cut through the chaos, shouting your name. "look, baby, i know this has been fun. but we seriously need to head home now, did you see how close that lightning strike was!" the panic in his voice was unmistakable, but he didn’t know what had happened to you.

you could barely register his words, your head still spinning. you were too disoriented to respond. instead, you kept your head low, one arm draped weakly over your board as the waves jostled you. the storm wasn’t just around you anymore; it was inside you, thrumming through your bones, rattling against your ribs like a bird trapped in a cage. the pain in your nose was sharp and unforgiving, a steady pulse of fire radiating outward, but it wasn’t just the pain that held you captive. it was the fear.

it curled around your limbs like seaweed, tightening, twisting, dragging you under. the ocean had swallowed your breath, leaving nothing but the taste of salt and blood on your tongue. it was in your throat, thick and metallic, coating your teeth, seeping into every exhale. your heart pounded erratically, beating out a frantic rhythm that didn’t match the rhythm of the waves. it was too fast, too uneven, like a drum with a broken cadence.

your body felt foreign, unsteady, like it no longer belonged to you. the water rocked you, gentle and violent all at once, the ocean playing with you like a predator that hadn’t decided whether to let you go or pull you under for good. your fingers curled weakly around the edge of your board, but the slick surface felt miles away, like something that existed in another world, a world where you hadn’t just been thrown under, hadn’t just stared into the dark abyss beneath the waves and wondered, for one terrifying second, if you’d ever see the surface again.

you couldn’t help it. the fear clawed its way up from the pit of your stomach, rising so fast you didn’t have a chance to brace yourself. your chest heaved, the breath hitching in your throat, and before you even realized what was happening, you broke.

a sob tore out of you, raw and uncontrollable, shaking your already unsteady frame. the sound was swallowed by the storm, but it felt like it echoed inside you, bouncing off every fragile part of your soul. tears mingled with the saltwater already streaking your face, but these were hotter, more insistent, driven by something deeper than the cold. you weren’t crying because of the pain in your nose or the ache in your muscles—you were crying out of pure fear.

through the haze, you saw felix paddling toward you, his face twisted with concern. his eyes were frantic as he called out your name again, his voice growing closer, more desperate. "what’s going on? why aren’t you—" he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on the streaks of red trailing in the water around you.

seeing the blood, the way you weren’t responding—everything in him screamed that something was terribly wrong. his eyes darted over your face, his mind racing to make sense of it, but everything felt distant, disconnected. you were barely holding it together, and felix felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him.

"everything okay?" he asked again, his voice trembling with raw fear. obviously you weren’t. but he needed you to say something. anything.

you didn’t answer. your eyes were unfocused, your head lolling to one side as the storm continued to rage around you. the pain from your nose, the overwhelming pressure of the ocean, the feeling of being lost in it all—it was too much. felix’s heart raced as he hovered over you, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. the way you shook with sobs, barely clinging to the edge of your board, sent a cold, unrelenting dread spiraling through him. 

"fuck!" felix cursed, his voice laced with fear as he saw the extent of your condition. with a sense of urgency he didn’t know he had, felix reached out, his hands steady but shaking as he gently helped you onto your board. the weight of the situation was crushing him, but he pushed it aside as he focused entirely on you.

“hang on,” he said firmly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue as his own panic threatened to break through. his voice stayed steady, even though every part of him wanted to scream, wanted to break down in fear. “i’ll get you back to shore.” he repeated it like a mantra, clinging to the words even though his heart was hammering in his chest.

but his thoughts were spinning, like a whirlwind of terror. his parents had trusted him to look after you, and so had yours. has he failed already? what if he doesn’t get you back by the time the next lightning strike comes down and hits you both? what if the blood in the water had already attracted sharks, and—

the waves, sensing your need, seemed to assist you, their powerful surges pushing you forward. you held your nose with one hand, trying to stem the bleeding, while paddling with the other. felix stayed beside you, occasionally giving your board a push to help you along. the shore drew closer, the tumultuous ride feeling like an eternity. finally, you felt the sand beneath your board. felix's voice cut through the noise of the storm. "leave everything here." he urged as he unstrapped the leash from your ankle and his own. “come on, come on!

the storm outside raged with a fury that seemed almost otherworldly, its howling wind battering against the walls of the beach house, a sound that felt like a warning from the sea itself. the rain came down in sheets, cold and merciless, each drop striking your skin like ice. felix's grip on your board was firm, his urgency evident as he turned toward the house, his movements quick and determined.

“go up, i’m right behind you,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm’s roar. he gestured toward the deck and nodded towards the beach house, his face set in a mask of concentration.

you stumbled against the fierce wind, its invisible hands pushing against you, forcing you to fight for every step. felix stayed close behind, his presence a solid anchor as you finally reached the porch, breathless and drenched. with a swift motion, he dropped the boards onto the deck with a dull thud, and his hand was at the door, pushing it open to reveal the warm, dimly lit interior of the house.

“get inside,” felix urged, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. you moved toward the door, your body shaking from the cold and exhaustion, and as you stepped over the threshold, the warmth inside hit you like a soft embrace. felix followed you in, quickly closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed almost surreal after the chaos of the storm. the sound of the wind and rain pounding against the windows became muffled, but the tension in the air was still thick, a reminder of how close you'd come to danger.

you hesitated, not wanting to leave a trail of water across the floor, but before you could even protest, felix was already moving. he quickly grabbed a thick towel from the nearby shelf and wrapped it around you, his hands warm and gentle against your chilled skin. the softness of the towel contrasted sharply with the harshness of the storm outside, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, closing your eyes as the warmth of the towel began to seep into your bones.

you removed your hand from your nose, wincing as the motion sent another sharp wave of pain through you. the blood was still trickling, staining the palm of your hand, but before you could react, felix was already there, gently placing the paper towel against your nose with a tenderness that belied the gravity of the situation. 

"hold still," he whispered. his touch was so gentle, almost reverent, as if afraid that the slightest pressure might make things worse.

felix gently helped you to the couch, his hands still warm on your shoulders as he guided you to sit. the storm outside raged on, but inside the house, everything felt calmer. the warmth of the living room was a sharp contrast to the chill that had settled into your bones from the rain and the shock. as you sank into the cushions, you finally allowed yourself to relax, your body unwinding after the chaos. felix settled beside you, his eyes still full of concern, but there was a quiet relief in his expression now, too.

the noise of the storm seemed to fade into the background as you both sat there in the cocoon of the house. the sound of the wind and rain felt distant now, almost like it belonged to another world. felix's presence beside you grounded you, and you began to feel your senses returning, the dizziness of the moment slowly fading away.

felix hesitated for a moment, watching you carefully, his gaze flickering from your trembling hands to the crumpled paper towel pressed against your nose. his jaw clenched slightly before he finally spoke, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"can i see it?"

you swallowed, still feeling the dull throb pulsing through your nose, but you nodded. slowly, you pulled the tissue away, wincing as the air hit the tender skin. the bleeding had slowed to a faint trickle, but it was still sore.

felix leaned in, his eyes scanning your face. you could see the worry still lingering in the furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together as if he were bracing himself for something worse. but then, his shoulders dropped slightly, and he let out a breath—long and slow, filled with relief. it wasn’t broken, luckily and all he saw was that cute nose he loved. he trailed off, his expression shifting as he took in the rest of you. your eyes, red-rimmed from salt and tears, the faint tremble in your hands.

felix’s stomach twisted.

but as the reality of the situation sank in, you couldn’t help but chuckle. "i cannot believe we did that," you said, your voice muffled by the tissue still pressed to your nose. the irony of the whole situation hit you in waves. here you were, sitting on felix's couch, soaked to the bone, and with a bleeding nose. you shook your head slightly, still processing what had just happened.

felix ran a hand through his wet hair, his expression a mix of frustration and worry. "i'm sorry," he said, his voice tight. "it was my fault. i shouldn't have made you go out there in that weather." he was still trembling, but whether it was from the cold of the water or the fear of what had just happened, you couldn’t be sure.

you shook your head, offering him a small smile. "it's fine, felix. i had fun," you said, your tone lightening. "the lightning just really freaked me out so i wiped out." you glanced down at the tissue, already soaked with blood. "ugh, this one's done for," you muttered, tossing it into the trash with a flick of your wrist before felix handed you a fresh piece of tissue to replace it.

“i should’ve—” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his frustration with himself evident. 

his eyes locked onto yours then, filled with a guilt so raw it nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

"i should've realized sooner." he shook his head, his grip tightening on your hands. "i kept telling you to hurry up like you weren’t right there, falling apart, and i—" felix’s expression tightened, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, his words coming out rushed. “my dad... he’s going to kill me if he finds out we did this,” he said, his eyes wide with a panic you hadn't seen before. “i never should’ve—”

you reached out, trying to offer some comfort, but he flinched, moving back. he was trembling now, his shoulders hunched, his face pale. his hands were shaking and you swore you saw the glint of unshed tears in his gaze before he looked away.

“felix,” you began, your voice soft and steady, “it’s okay. he’ll understand.”

he cut you off in a tight, strained voice, barely audible. “no, no, i... i can’t,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “i’ll never be trusted again. look at me.” his hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white as he looked down at them, avoiding your gaze. “you shouldn’t trust me. no one should.”

before you could find the words to reply, felix suddenly stood up, his movements sharp and abrupt. he turned away, his shoulders tense as if the weight of everything was physically pressing down on him. without another word, he strode toward his room, each step quick and purposeful, before the door slammed shut behind him. the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that followed. 

you had never seen him break like this. it was jarring, almost surreal. he was felix—the boy who was always so sure of himself, so steady. but he was still just a teenager. he wasn’t invincible, no matter how much he tried to be.

he had been left alone in this vacation home, trusted to hold it together, to prove himself capable of responsibility. of course, he had earned that trust. felix was the brightest boy you knew, kind and thoughtful to a fault, someone who carried the world on his shoulders without ever complaining. but there was pressure in that—an unrelenting, quiet pressure to show that he wasn’t abusing the trust.

you hated that he felt this way—that he doubted himself, even for a second. because to you, felix had already proven everything that mattered. he didn’t need to be perfect; he just needed to be him. but how could you make him see that?

fifteen minutes had passed since felix stormed off, and you had taken the time to settle your own mind. the warm shower had worked wonders, the steam filling the bathroom and calming your nerves as the hot water washed away the tension that had been building since the storm. you had sat with the nosebleed for what felt like forever, tissues piling up as the blood finally stopped after a long ten minutes, but the mess of it had left you feeling drained. 

you walked over to the window, your bare feet cold against the wooden floor as you pulled back the curtain. the storm had passed. the clouds were parting, revealing a sky that was now dark but calm. the trees outside swayed gently in the aftermath, and the world was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath.

the heavy rain had stopped, the rumbling thunder replaced by a gentle breeze. you could hear the distant crashing of waves, a soothing sound that almost made you forget about everything else for a moment. but felix still lingered in your thoughts.

you froze when you heard his voice faintly coming from behind the closed door. at first, you told yourself it wasn’t your place, that you shouldn’t listen, but curiosity got the better of you. felix had stormed off, and it had left you with a knot in your chest. hearing him now, hearing the strain in his voice, drew you closer.

you tiptoed toward his room, your steps soft against the wooden floor, and pressed your ear gently against the door. the sound was clearer now, enough for you to make out the words.

“appa,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing. “i was so scared.” 

then a pause.

“i don’t know how she’s doing right now,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “i panicked... and i just ran off.”

he wasn’t talking about the storm or the lightning. he was talking about you.

there was another pause, longer this time, and then felix’s voice came again, this time more tentative. “can you put mom on?”

you could hear the faint rustle of movement on the other end, and then a softer voice spoke. you couldn’t make out what she said, but felix’s reaction was immediate.

he choked out, his voice breaking. there was a sharp inhale, and you realized he was crying. “i messed up.”

you swallowed hard. deep down, you knew his parents weren’t going to be mad at him—not as much as he thought, at least. they’d understand. they’d remind him that the weight he carried didn’t have to be his alone. but right now, felix didn’t see that.

“i feel terrible,” he said, followed by a sniffle. 

felix’s mom began to speak again, her voice too muffled for you to make out the words. you strained to hear, but it was impossible. she must’ve said something fairly lengthy since felix went completely quiet.

“i’ll talk to her. okay… bye. love you.”

the sudden click of the phone hanging up startled you. you quickly moved away from the door, careful not to make a sound, and stepped back into the hallway just as you heard the rustling of movement inside his room. your heart raced as you stood there, debating whether to go in or give him space.

summoning your courage, you stepped up to his door and knocked gently.

there was a pause, then the sound of felix clearing his throat. “yeah, uh… come in.”

you pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his phone still in his hand. his hair was messy, and his eyes were slightly red, but he gave you a small, strained smile as you stepped inside.

“i thought i heard your voice,” you said softly, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of how he was feeling.

felix looked down, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “yeah, i was just, uh… calling my parents.” his voice was quiet, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to explain further. he paused, then looked up at you, his eyes tinged with worry. “i’m sorry. are you okay, first of all?”

you gave him a small smile, stepping further into the room. “yeah, i’m fine. it stopped a while ago,” you assured him, referring to your nosebleed.

felix exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted. “i shouldn’t have run off like that,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “i panicked, and i left you alone when you needed me. that wasn’t okay.”

you shook your head, your expression softening. “felix, it’s okay. i get it. i’m not upset at all,” you said gently, hoping to ease the guilt you could see written all over his face.

you walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed. the mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and felix looked at you out of the corner of his eye, his hands twisting together in his lap.

“i mean it,” you said softly. “you got us out of that storm, and you made sure i was safe. you’ve been so strong through everything.”

his lips parted slightly, like he was on the verge of saying something, but instead, he let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching tight. his eyes locked onto yours, glistening with unshed tears, but this time, there was no hesitation. he reached out, pulling you against him with a firm, unrelenting grip, his chin resting against the top of your head as if he needed you close to remind himself you were safe.

he didn’t want to cry in front of you. he was trying his best to hold it together, like a dam on the verge of bursting, his breathing shallow and uneven. but then, his body betrayed him. a shudder ran through him, his shoulders trembling as a silent tear slipped free. his arms around your waist tightened, almost possessive, like letting go would mean losing you entirely.

in his head, the storm of emotions raged—regret, guilt, love—each one crashing into the other. you. it was always you. the one who could read him like an open book, the one who stayed no matter how much he tried to hide the weight of his struggles. the one who made him feel whole, even in his most broken moments. the words were right there, at the tip of his tongue. i love you. three simple words that felt monumental, like they could shift the world if he said them out loud. but he couldn’t. not right now—not like this, with tears streaming down his face and his heart too raw to handle it. the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to say it made his chest ache, as he clung to you even tighter.

your voice broke through the silence, soft but steady, pulling him back to you. “you know…” you started, your hand tracing slow circles on his back, “i was scared out there too. i thought something was going to happen, something we wouldn’t be able to fix. but when you came to me i felt so much safer.”

he pulled back a little at your words, “i’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice unwavering now, grounded in the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt. “i’ll always be there for you. no matter what. you hear me?”

you nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “i hear you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached out to wipe the tear on his face.

felix let out a shaky breath and managed a small, almost timid smile in return. “i’m not making any stupid mistakes like that anymore,” he said firmly, his jaw tightening like he was sealing the promise in stone. “i mean it. i’m done being reckless.”

you tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “but what’s felix without a little recklessness?” you teased, your voice light.

for a second, he just stared at you, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “oh, so that’s how it is?” he said, his tone laced with mock offense. “you’re telling me you like it when i make impulsive decisions?”

you shrugged, feigning innocence. “maybe. it keeps things interesting.” then, with a softer voice, you added, “but only when you’re not scaring me half to death.”

felix stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, finally—finally—he smiled, the tension in his shoulders melting away. and then, without warning, his hands darted to your sides, fingers pressing into your ribs as he tickled you mercilessly.

a surprised squeal burst from your lips as you jerked away instinctively, but he was quicker, pulling you right back into him. “felix!” you shrieked between uncontrollable laughter, squirming in his grasp.

he only grinned wider, his deep, warm laughter finally breaking through the weight of everything that had happened. “you wanted reckless, didn’t you?” he teased, his fingers dancing over your sides with practiced ease.

you gasped between giggles, pushing at his chest, but he was relentless. “i take it back! i take it back!” you cried, breathless. and before you could protest, he started peppering kisses all over your cheek. for a second, everything was lighthearted—his breathless laughter mingling with yours, the warmth of his lips brushing against your cheek in quick, teasing kisses. 

you barely had a second to catch your breath before you twisted in his grasp, your laughter still bubbling out between gasps. his fingers faltered for just a moment—just enough. you seized the opportunity, grabbing his wrists and using all your strength to push against him.

felix let out a surprised grunt as you shifted your weight, catching him off guard. “oh?” he said, his voice quiet.

before he could react, you shoved him backward, sending him tumbling onto the bed with a soft thud. he let out a breathless chuckle, propping himself up on his elbows, his blonde hair slightly tousled from the sudden movement.

but then—

caw.

you both froze.

a second later, another call rang out—not the familiar, grating squawk of a seagull, but something deeper, more chilling. 

your eyes flickered to the window, your heart rate still unsteady from the tickle attack, but now for an entirely different reason. “felix,” you said cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper before you pushed yourself up. “do you think…”

his gaze followed yours, and before you could even finish, he filled in the rest. “ravens?” his voice was lower now, more serious.

you swallowed hard, the memory clicking into place at the same time for both of you. his father’s words from before he left echoed in your head—how ravens had a habit of stealing gull eggs, how they tended to come out when it rained.

and it had rained earlier.

a chill ran down your spine.

felix exhaled sharply, then pushed himself up. “come on,” he said, his voice firm. “let’s go check.”

he was already moving, reaching for your hand as he stood. you nodded, your fingers slipping easily into his grasp as you followed him to the door.

felix led the way, his grip firm around your hand as you both stepped outside. the salty air was thick with the remnants of the storm, the ground still damp beneath your feet. the sky had cleared, but the lingering gray clouds cast an eerie light over the beach house.

neither of you spoke as you rounded the corner, your eyes immediately lifting to the spot where you had first seen the seagull nest, nestled in the crook of the roof.

and there it was.

a massive black bird stood perched at the edge of the nest, its sleek feathers glistening under the weak sunlight. its talons curled tightly around the wooden beam, its head tilted ever so slightly as it regarded you both. the raven was larger than you had expected—far bigger than any gull you had seen.

its beady black eyes locked onto you, unblinking.

your breath hitched. there was something wrong about the way it stared—calculated, aware. it didn’t flinch, didn’t startle at your sudden presence. it simply watched.

felix’s grip on your hand tightened.

the raven’s head twitched, its sharp beak parting slightly as if it was about to make a sound—but it didn’t. it just stood there, unmoving, towering over the nest like a shadow waiting to descend.

your stomach twisted.

“felix…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he took a step forward, shifting slightly so he was in front of you, his shoulders squaring. his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the raven as if daring it to move. then the sharp, guttural cry tore through the silence, echoing against the house. you flinched. the raven didn’t move an inch. it just kept staring.

your heart sank as your gaze flicked to the nest. the thought was unavoidable—what if it had already gotten to one of the eggs?

“felix… do you think it—”

“don’t,” he cut you off gently but firmly, his voice low and steady. “don’t go there yet.”

before you could reply, felix’s eyes darted to the ground. he let go of your hand and crouched, grabbing a long, sopping-wet stick from the grass. it was drenched from the storm, muddy and slick, but he didn’t seem to care. straightening up, he held it like a spear, his shoulders squared, every muscle in his body tense.

it stayed perched, unmoving, as if it was trying to decide whether felix was a threat worth acknowledging. felix stepped closer to the corner of the roof, gripping the stick tightly in both hands. he tilted it upward, pointing the end directly toward the raven, his stance firm.

“go,” felix commanded, his voice sharper now, almost daring the bird to challenge him.

the raven cocked its head at the sound of his voice, the calculating look in its beady eyes making your skin crawl. the raven remained as still as a statue, its gaze locked onto felix with an unnerving intensity. then it let out another piercing caw, its wings unfurling in a sudden, jerky motion that made you flinch.

and finally—it took off.

the massive bird beat its wings hard as it launched itself into the air, its dark silhouette stark against the cloudy sky. you could feel the rush of air as it passed overhead, its cries echoing in the distance as it disappeared into the horizon.

felix lowered the stick with a long exhale, glancing back at you. “well,” he said, “i didn’t think that would actually work.”

felix’s gaze never left the nest as you both stood there in the aftermath of the raven’s sudden departure. something in you tugged at the unease in your chest, a hunch that maybe things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“i should check,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix didn’t hesitate. he nodded, crouching down in front of you, his eyes scanning the nest with a deep, steady focus. without a word, he motioned for you to climb onto his shoulders. you took a deep breath, your stomach twisted with a mix of dread and determination. as you carefully perched yourself onto his back, you braced yourself for whatever you were about to see. felix lifted you with ease, his hands steadying your legs as he raised you higher.

you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. please let it be okay, you thought. 

slowly, you opened your eyes, and your breath caught in your throat.

the sight was worse than you had feared. the eggs—most of them—were shattered, the fragile shells split open like broken promises, their contents exposed to the elements. your heart sank, a cold, tight feeling creeping up your chest. the raven had gotten to them, and now it was too late.

but there was one egg left. 

felix’s voice was tight with disbelief as he crouched lower, his hands steadying you. “what happened?” he asked, his eyes wide, scanning the damage.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, and it took a moment for the words to come. “he got to two,” you managed to say, voice barely above a whisper. “the raven… it must’ve eaten them.”

felix’s shoulders slumped, and his face tightened with guilt and sorrow. he set you down gently, his fingers brushing against your arm before he pulled you into his chest. you could feel his heart beating quickly, mirroring your own as you both stood there in a heavy, shared silence.

“i’m so sorry,” felix murmured, his voice barely audible. you could feel the weight of his words, like he was carrying the burden of something he couldn’t control.

you wrapped your arms around him. “the mom’s gonna come back,” you said softly, the words slipping out despite the lump in your throat. “and she won’t understand…” you bit your lip, trying to hold it together, but the lump in your throat felt too large to swallow down.

“i wish there was something more we could have done.” he exhaled slowly, like the air itself had become heavier. 

“let’s go back.” you said quietly, feeling that same heaviness in your chest that he did. felix’s hand found yours once again, his grip warm and steady as he led you back down from the roof.

the walk back to the house felt long and solemn, the world around you muted under the gray sky. there were no words exchanged, but there didn’t need to be. the silence between you was an understanding, a shared grief for something you both knew was beyond your control.

once inside, you both drifted toward the couch, where you sat side by side, close but not saying anything. felix sat a little farther from you than usual, his hands resting on his knees. but you could feel his presence, and that was enough. 

day 5 - 17:00

the kitchen was warm, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows. the smell of sizzling garlic and herbs mixed with the salty air, and the soft strumming of a guitar played from the speaker in the corner. you were focused on slicing the vegetables when felix sidled up beside you, leaning against the counter.

without shame, he snatched a piece of carrot off the cutting board, popping it into his mouth.

“felix,” you warned.

he just grinned, reaching for another piece. before you could stop him, he lifted a finger and gently booped your nose.

“ow,” you winced, pulling back. “it still hurts from earlier.”

his eyes widened. “oh—sorry, sorry!” his hands flew up like he’d just committed a crime, guilt flashing across his sun-kissed face.

you let out a small, pathetic whimper, holding your nose like it was broken.

felix blinked. then he narrowed his eyes. “wait—are you messing with me?”

you tried to keep a straight face, but when his suspicion deepened, your resolve crumbled, and you burst into laughter.

“oh my god,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “stop doing that! one day, i won’t believe you’re actually hurt, and i won’t show any compassion.” he pointed at you accusingly. “you’ve never heard of the boy who cried wolf?”

“it’s not my fault you choose to fall for it every time,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow as you started cutting the onions.

he scoffed, shaking his head. “well, obviously. you’re my girl, i care about you.”

you rolled your eyes at felix’s words, shaking your head as you focused back on the onions. but as soon as you sliced into another piece, the sting hit. it crept in slowly at first, then all at once—your eyes burned, your vision blurred, and before you knew it, tears welled up against your will.

felix gasped dramatically. “are you crying?” he clutched his chest, looking far too entertained. “was it that touching?”

you shot him a glare, blinking rapidly to fight the irritation. “no, you asshole, as if,” you snapped, voice slightly watery as you instinctively raised a hand to wipe at your eyes. and it happened to be the very hand you touched the onion with. before you could, felix’s reflexes kicked in, and he pushed your wrist out of the way just in time.

“oh my gosh, you dummy,” he muttered, exasperated but laughing as he reached for a tissue. carefully, he dabbed at the corners of your eyes, his touch gentle. “you know, i can take over,” he offered, nodding toward the cutting board.

you shook your head quickly. “no, no, it’s okay. i got this.”

felix raised an eyebrow as he finished dabbing your eyes and pulled back. “you sure?”

“i’m okay,” you insisted, blinking rapidly to clear the last of the sting.

he held his hands up in surrender. “alright, if you say so. i’m gonna go grab—” he paused for a second, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “the extra drinks from the garage. you know, since somebody is too stubborn to accept my help in the kitchen.”

you rolled your eyes but smiled. “okay, okay, go.”

felix grinned, but before turning away, he reached out and gently patted your head, smoothing out a stray piece of hair. 

“there,” he said, stepping back with a smirk. “looking good, chef.”

he held his hands up in surrender. “alright, if you say so. i’m gonna go grab—” he paused for a second, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “oh! i need to get the—uh, the marinade from the garage! i knew i was forgetting something.” you hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on the onions. before leaving, felix reached out and pet your hair, “try not to cry too much while i’m gone.”

you swatted at his arm, rolling your eyes. “get out of here.”

felix chuckled as he made his way to the front door, stepping outside. the air was cooler now, the sun dipping lower on the horizon. he jogged across the driveway, pulling open the garage door, and grabbed the marinade from a shelf near the back. with a quick motion, he shut the garage door behind him and turned back toward the house—

then he saw it. 

the beach house across the street. the one he has been staring at for the entire summer, wishing a certain someone was there.

chris’s house.

and a car.

not just any car. chris’s car.

felix stopped in his tracks. his heart did a weird little flip, and for a second, he just stared, trying to make sense of it. no, no, it’s impossible. chris didn’t tell him he was coming up. he said he was too busy this year. it’s probably just his parents. yeah, that’s it.

but the thought nagged at him. the hope.

and before he could talk himself out of it, he spun around and bolted back inside.

“baby!” he called, practically sliding into the kitchen. “you are not gonna believe this.”

you looked up from the cutting board, startled by the urgency in his voice. “what? what happened?”

felix stood there, wide-eyed, gripping the marinade like he’d completely forgotten he was holding it. his chest rose and fell like he’d just sprinted, his sun-kissed face a mix of shock and disbelief. his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. instead, he gestured wildly toward the front door, his fingers twitching like his brain was moving faster than his mouth.

“the—the—the—” he stammered, his hands flailing as if they could physically drag the words out of him.

you set down the knife, narrowing your eyes. “felix, what?”

but instead of answering, he surged forward and grabbed your wrist. his palm was warm, slightly sweaty, and buzzing with something electric. “come!”

you barely had time to register before he was tugging you through the house, his grip firm but urgent. the kitchen disappeared behind you in a blur, the scent of onions and garlic fading as he pulled you through the hallway and toward the front door. his excitement was contagious, sending a thrill of anticipation racing up your spine.

“felix, what is going on?” you demanded, breathless as you stumbled after him.

“just—just look!” he practically threw open the front door, the warm night air hitting your skin as he pulled you outside. the sky was streaked with fading pinks and oranges, cicadas buzzing in the distance, the salty ocean breeze rustling through the palm trees.

you stood there for a second, completely lost. your eyes darted between felix’s face—alive with barely contained excitement—and the house across the street, but nothing about it seemed unusual. it was just a house.

“…okay?” you said slowly, glancing at him. “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

felix exhaled sharply, shaking his head like you were missing something massive. “remember when you first came? i showed you where chris’s house is?”

you nodded, still confused. “yeah?”

he pointed aggressively. “that one. chris’s house.”

you followed his gaze, staring at the familiar structure, still unsure what he was getting at. “okay… and?”

felix turned to you, eyes wide, and gestured again like you weren’t seeing the obvious. “there is a whole car there. chris’s car!” his voice pitched higher, his hands gripping your shoulders now like he needed to shake the realization into you. “chris didn’t say he was coming up! why is his car here?”

you were still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. “well, then go say hi,” you said with a shrug, a hint of teasing in your voice.

felix’s eyes flickered to the house across the street, his expression torn between confusion and frustration. “no, no, what the fuck?” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further as he paced in a small circle. “he can’t just come without telling me! he’s not gonna show up like this and expect me to be all, like, welcoming and happy to see him after—ugh!”

his jaw clenched, his body tense as he turned his focus back to the car in the driveway. “you know what?” he muttered, shaking his head. “forget it. let’s just go back inside. i’m actually done here.”

you almost laughed at how furious he was. it was funny—and kind of adorable, in a way, how deeply this was getting under his skin. but at the same time, you could tell he wasn’t about to let this go anytime soon.

“felix, relax,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter as he threw an arm over your shoulders, practically dragging you back toward the front door. 

you were halfway through your meal, the plates piled high with the food you’d worked together to prepare. the light hum of the music in the background mixed with the occasional clink of utensils against plates, but something felt off. you glanced over at felix, who was sitting across from you, his fork hovering in midair as he stared at his food. his brows were furrowed in that familiar, deep thought expression, his gaze distant. you could practically see the gears turning in his mind, his mood clearly still rattled. 

“why do you think he wouldn’t tell me?” felix’s voice broke the silence, low and pensive. his question was almost like a challenge to himself, like he was searching for some kind of logical answer to the chaos in his head.

you paused, taking a breath as you set your fork down. “i don’t know,” you said softly, glancing at him. “maybe he wanted to surprise you?”

felix’s voice was tinged with dry humor, though it was clear he was still trying to work through the confusion. “well, he’s terrible at it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “cause i found out before he could even say anything.”

you couldn’t help it—you chuckled softly, the sound light against the tension in the room. it was amusing, really, how seriously felix was taking this, and how easily he’d figured it out despite chris’s attempt at a surprise.

“well,” you said, still smiling, “guess he’s not as sneaky as he thinks, huh?”

as you were about to respond, felix’s phone suddenly buzzed on the table, the vibration loud enough to catch both your attention. he glanced down at it, letting out a heavy sigh, then rolled his eyes dramatically. “of course,” he muttered, checking the screen with a look of exasperation.

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “who is it?”

felix held up the phone so you could see. chris flashed on the screen, making your smirk widen. “well, answer it then. looks like he’s finally ready to explain himself.”

felix hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen as he shot you a look. “fine,” he grumbled. “but if he thinks i’m going to just forgive him for this...”

with a dramatic sigh, he answered the call, tapping the phone to his ear and then switching it to speaker mode. “hi.” felix muttered.

chris’ voice cut him enthusiastically. “hey felix! how are you?”

felix wouldn't let his guard down. he needed to get straight to the point. “good, why are you calling?”

“i just wanted to let you know that my parents arrived at the beach house today. they’re planning on having you over today—they’d love to see you, especially your girlfriend. they’ve been asking about you guys.”

“dude, i saw the car. stop messing with—”

before felix could finish, chris’s voice came through, sounding surprisingly calm and apologetic. “oh yea, sorry about that,” chris cleared his throat to explain. “my parents drove up in my car since i’ve been using theirs to move into my dorm. it’s got more space for all my stuff, you know?” 

there was a brief pause, while felix blinked, his annoyance faltering as chris’s words sank in. “oh,” he said slowly, glancing over at you. “well... okay then.”

but even though he tried to mask it, you could see the shift in his expression—his shoulders sagged just a little, and his lips pressed together tighter than before. a moment of hope had flickered in his eyes, the thought that maybe, just maybe, chris had come to surprise him. but now that hope was gone, shattered, and you could practically feel the sharp sting of disappointment that he was trying so hard to push aside.

felix cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay even. “yeah, um,” he said, picking at the food on his plate. “we’re just finishing up dinner. we can swing by after.”

“sweet,” chris replied easily. “my parents will be thrilled to see you.”

felix hummed in response, but his usual enthusiasm was noticeably absent. you could see the way he pushed his food around, his appetite suddenly gone.

there was a brief pause before chris spoke again. “felix?”

“yeah?”

chris let out a breath, his tone softer now. “hey, i know it’s been a while, and maybe i should’ve called earlier. but just because things are changing doesn’t mean i don’t care, alright? i still got you. always.”

felix blinked, his gaze lowering to his plate. he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head slightly. “yeah, yeah. i know,” he muttered. felix toyed with the food on his plate for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “how’s moving?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

chris let out a dry chuckle on the other end. “hard,” he admitted. “so much packing, so much driving. feels like i’ve been living out of boxes for weeks.”

felix hummed in acknowledgment, nodding even though chris couldn’t see him. “bet your new place is a mess.”

“oh, it’s a disaster,” chris groaned. “my mom’s been on my case about organizing, but honestly, i don’t even know where half my stuff is. i think i lost my favorite hoodie in the process.”

felix let out a breath of laughter, but it was short-lived. he twirled his fork between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “guess it’s really happening, huh?”

chris was quiet for a second before answering. “yeah. it is.”

felix swallowed, nodding again. “right.”

without thinking, you reached out and took felix’s hand under the table, your fingers slipping between his. he exhaled softly at the touch, his grip instinctively tightening around yours. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, absentminded but grounding, like he needed something to hold onto.

chris, oblivious to the quiet moment between you two, let out a sigh on the other end. “alright, i gotta go,” he said, his voice lighter now. “but i’ll see you sometime, yeah? i’ll come visit in the winter.”

felix’s jaw clenched for just a second before he forced himself to relax. “yeah,” he said, his voice steady, but you could feel the slight squeeze of his hand around yours. “see you then.”

chris chuckled. “take care, man.” 

the call ended with a soft beep, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before. felix didn’t move for a moment, just staring down at the table. you gave his hand a small squeeze, tilting your head slightly as you studied his face. “you okay?”

felix scoffed, shaking his head like you’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “am i okay? of course, i’m okay.”

you raised an eyebrow. “felix.”

“what?” he let go of your hand to pick at the food on his plate, stabbing at a piece of chicken like it had personally wronged him. “i mean, whatever. it’s not like i was expecting him to actually be here.”

you didn’t call him out on the way his voice tightened at the end, or how his shoulders were still drawn up just slightly, like he was trying to brace himself. instead, you nudged your knee against his under the table. “you know it’s okay to be disappointed, right?”

felix huffed, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. “not disappointed,” he said around the food, voice muffled. “just... whatever.”

you nodded, deciding to let it go for now. if felix wanted to keep pretending, you’d let him—for a little while, at least. the two of you ate in relative silence after that, the occasional clink of silverware filling the space where words should’ve been.

felix barely touched his food.

you noticed, of course, but you didn’t call him out on it. he was in his head, and he’d work through it in his own way.

the sun had dipped lower by the time you both left the house, the sky now a deep shade of blue with traces of orange clinging stubbornly to the horizon. the warm air carried the distant hum of cicadas, the pavement cooling beneath your footsteps as you followed felix across the street.

he hadn’t said much since dinner, and even now, as he walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, he was unusually quiet.

the two of you stood in front of chris’s door, the porch light casting a warm glow over the entryway. felix let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back like he was bracing for impact.

as you approached the front door, a sudden wave of nerves crept up on you. you glanced at felix, hesitating just before stepping onto the porch. “what do i even say?” you murmured, glancing up at him.

felix scoffed, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “they’re literally the nicest people on earth,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “just be you, and they’ll love it.”

you nodded, swallowing your nerves as felix reached out and pressed the doorbell. almost instantly, the sound of high-pitched barking rang out from inside. felix’s lips curled into a small smile. footsteps approached the door, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal chris’s mom stood in the doorway, radiant in the golden glow of the porch light. she was beautiful in a timeless way, with soft, kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and rich, dark hair that framed her face in effortless waves. at her feet, a small cocker spaniel bounced excitedly, its tail wagging furiously.

“oh, hello, felix!” she greeted, her voice full of warmth.

“hi!” felix grinned before looking down at the dog. “and hi, berry,” he cooed, crouching slightly as the dog immediately leaped at him, little paws scratching at his legs.

you stepped forward with a polite smile. “it’s really nice to meet you.”

chris’s mom turned her attention to you, her smile widening. “so you’re the one felix has been telling chris about,” she said warmly, stepping aside to let you both in. “it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

berry was still jumping excitedly at felix’s legs, tiny paws scratching at his sweats as he wiggled his tail. felix reached down to ruffle the dog’s ears, laughing when berry tried to clamber up his leg. “still the same little menace, huh?”

as you stepped further inside, the warmth of the house embraced you, carrying the familiar scents of home-cooked food and something faintly floral—maybe a candle burning somewhere nearby. the living room was cozy, filled with framed pictures of chris and his family, soft, well-loved couches, and the kind of atmosphere that made it feel like home.

before you could fully take it in, a deep voice called from further inside.

“there he is! about time you came to visit, felix.”

you turned just in time to see chris’s dad, jack, approaching with a broad grin. he was a tall, sturdy man with a slightly weathered face, exuding the same easy warmth as his wife.

felix grinned as he stepped forward, meeting him with a firm hug. “hey, jack.”

jack clapped him on the back before pulling away, his sharp eyes shifting toward you. “and this must be the girl i’ve been hearing about.”

you smiled, shaking his hand. “nice to meet you.”

jack smirked. “how are you holding up with this one?”

without missing a beat, you deadpanned, “oh, he’s the worst.”

jack let out a loud laugh, while felix shot you an unimpressed look. “wow. betrayed immediately.”

“hey, i like her,” jack said approvingly.

felix rolled his eyes but tugged you toward the couch anyway. he plopped down, stretching an arm over the backrest behind you while chris’s mom sat across from you. the small cocker spaniel, berry, had finally calmed down, settling at felix’s feet.

felix leaned back with a sigh, shaking his head. “you know, i really got fooled by that car for a second,” he admitted, almost laughing at himself. “for a second, i thought chris was actually gonna be here.”

chris’s parents nodded along, but in the corner of your eye, something shifted.

a figure stood near the entrance to the hallway, moving so silently you almost didn’t notice.

your breath caught slightly, but you forced yourself to stay still. the man was wearing a black t-shirt, arms crossed, posture relaxed yet intentional. he was handsome, a bit buff, and even though you’d never met him before, you knew exactly who he was. he lifted a finger up to his lips when he saw you looking at him.

chris.

he looked exactly like the pictures felix had shown you—sharp-eyed, charming, with that same knowing smirk.

your stomach flipped, but you schooled your expression, keeping your focus on felix, who was still oblivious.

then, from behind you, a voice broke through the air.

“you really think i’d leave my precious car out of my sight?”

felix stopped mid-sentence.

visibly froze.

for a second, he didn’t move. just sat there, processing.

then, slowly—like he was almost afraid to believe what he just heard—he turned his head. 

chris stood there, leaning casually against the doorway with a smug grin, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes gleamed with mischief as he took in felix’s stunned expression. felix blinked once. twice. his brain seemed to short-circuit as he processed what was happening. “what the—”

chris barely had time to react before felix shot up from the couch. “you absolute asshole,” he breathed, staring at his friend like he was seeing a ghost. “you—are you kidding me right now?!”

chris burst into laughter, stepping forward just as felix launched himself at him. the hug was aggressive—felix practically slammed into him, shoving him back a step before gripping his shoulders tightly. “you—” felix’s voice cracked, and he pushed chris again, shaking his head in disbelief. “you fucking lied.” felix’s grip tightened before he pulled him in again, hugging him even harder this time. “you suck,” he muttered into chris’s shoulder, voice slightly muffled.

chris patted his back, clearly enjoying every second of this. “missed you too, man.”

you watched, a slow smile spreading across your face. felix had gone through every emotion in the span of five minutes, but the way he held onto chris—like he couldn’t quite believe he was real—made your chest ache.

chris pulled back just enough to look at felix, his grin stretching wide. “damn, i really got you, huh?”

felix scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “you’re such an ass.” he shook his head, exhaling sharply, like he was still processing everything. 

chris laughed again before shifting his gaze to you, his eyes lighting up. “oh my goodness,” he said dramatically, stepping around felix and throwing his arms out like he was seeing a celebrity. “it is so nice to finally meet you.” chris stepped back but kept his hands on your shoulders as he grinned down at you. “felix has told me so much about you,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

chris had pulled you into a quick hug, his enthusiasm overwhelming which you returned. “oh trust me, me too. you know, you’re kind of a big deal.” you joked.

chris raised an eyebrow, glancing at felix with a smirk. “oh, really?” without warning, he reached out and ruffled felix’s hair, messing it up completely. felix let out a squawk, immediately ducking away and swatting at his hand as he groaned, smoothing his hair down with both hands. 

chris just laughed, clearly pleased with himself. before felix could retaliate, chris’s parents stepped into the room. “we’ll go get things from the kitchen,” his mom said, exchanging a look with his dad.

felix stared at chris for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “wait, so what are you doing here? i mean, aren’t you, like, hella busy?”

chris shrugged easily. “i have some time before school starts, you know? figured i’d come see you guys.”

felix blinked. “but i thought you were still settling in—”

“yeah, i got that done already,” chris said, stretching his arms over his head. “took a lot shorter than i expected.”

felix stared at chris, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was still processing what was happening. “wow. what the hell.”

chris just laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “surprised?”

felix scoffed. “yeah, no shit. you made it sound like you were too busy to even think about visiting.”

chris shrugged. “i like to keep things interesting.” then, as if remembering something, he turned to you, his expression brightening. “so, is this place any different from sydney?”

you exhaled, looking around for a moment before shaking your head with a grin. “very much so.”

chris chuckled, nodding in agreement. “yeah, the beach is unreal.” he tilted his head slightly. “what have you guys been up to lately?”

felix groaned immediately, rubbing his face. “oh, dude. did you guys get caught in that storm today on your way up?”

chris made a face. “yeah, it was horrendous.”

felix snorted. “yeah? well, we went surfing in it.”

chris’s head snapped toward him. “you idiots.”

you laughed, raising a hand. “in our defense, we didn’t know it was gonna get that bad.” then, shaking your head, you sighed. “i might be traumatized, though. i wiped out so hard, and my board came right back and smacked me in the face. i almost passed out.”

chris hissed through his teeth, wincing. “that sounds brutal.”

felix let out a heavy breath, crossing his arms. “oh my goodness, i was freaking out so much. i saw her bleeding—” he cut himself off, shaking his head, like the memory was still too fresh. “i swear my heart stopped for a second.”

chris raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “you guys are cute, you know that?” he said, clearly enjoying the playful dynamic between you and felix.

felix groaned, rubbing his face in mock embarrassment. “oh, god. please, no.” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow.

just as chris was about to say something else, his mom stepped into the room, carrying a tray of snacks. “alright, who’s ready for something to eat?”

her husband followed behind, holding a pitcher of lemonade. “we brought the good stuff,” he said with a smile, setting the drinks down on the coffee table.

“perfect,” chris said with a grin, moving to sit on one of the chairs as his parents placed the snacks down on the table.

day 5 - 22:00

it was around 10 p.m. when you decided to step back, letting felix and chris have their chance to catch up without you. you didn’t mind. you could tell they had a lot to talk about, and you were more than happy to give them the space to do so. the night air had cooled down, the sky darkened, and the faint glow of streetlights cast long shadows along the sidewalk as they started their walk.

you stood back, leaning against felix’s front door as they walked away, watching the two of them in the dim light. it was nice, knowing that they were reconnecting like this. you’d never been one to cling to every moment, and tonight, it felt right to let them share some space.

the sounds of their footsteps and occasional laughter drifted over to you, but eventually, they faded as they walked further down the street, making their way to the familiar spot where you and felix had shared a bonfire just days ago. you couldn’t help but smile a little as you imagined the conversations they were having.

“you think anyone's gonna be at the bonfire tonight?” felix asked, his voice carrying easily in the cool night air as they walked along the street. he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his breath fogging in front of him in the chilly night air.

“not sure,” chris said, glancing around. “but if not, i’m cool with just talking, man. it’s been way too long.”

felix smiled, his expression softening. “yeah, it’s been forever.”

the two of them walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound being the faint rush of the ocean waves in the distance. felix glanced at chris, his face lighting up with a playful grin as the conversation shifted gears.

“so, did you make it to jenny and jake’s birthday party the other day?” chris asked.

felix nodded, letting out a slight groan. “yeah, i went. it was... interesting, to say the least.”

chris raised an eyebrow, curious. “interesting how?”

felix paused, letting the silence hang in the air before breaking it with a casual but telling, “we, uh... we hooked up.”

chris’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he stopped walking for a second, staring at felix like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing. “what the fuck, man. you and jenny?” he blurted.

felix’s eyes widened in horror, quickly waving his hands to clarify. “no, no, no, not jenny,” he said, his voice getting a little frantic. “i meant—god, no. i meant y/n.”

chris blinked at him for a beat, the confusion on his face only deepening. “your girlfriend?” he laughed nervously, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the whole situation. “okay, man, you gotta be clearer next time. i thought you were talking about the twins—now that would’ve been wild.”

felix let out an exasperated sigh, a mix of relief and embarrassment crossing his face. “i’m sorry, man, i didn’t mean it like that.” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “i meant my girlfriend. we... we hooked up at the party.”

chris let out a nervous laugh, still trying to process what felix had just said. “but what else would you be doing all week? holding hands and playing at the beach?” he nudged felix’s shoulder, expecting him to join in on the joke.

felix, however, stayed silent, his expression more serious than chris was expecting. his gaze locked onto chris for a moment, and chris’s playful grin faltered as the realization hit him. felix’s eyes were intense, almost guarded, like he was holding something back.

chris’s smile slowly faded, his expression turning more cautious as he finally got it. “oh.” he said bluntly, his tone shifting.

felix nodded, his voice quiet when he spoke. “yeah.” it was a simple answer, but it hung in the air with a weight that made the conversation feel heavier than it had moments ago.

chris’s eyes widened a little, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “wait, you... you haven’t...?”

felix shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “no. not yet. just… we’ve been taking it slow.”

chris paused, processing that for a moment before he gave felix a thoughtful look. “damn, man. i didn’t realize it was like that. you know, i thought you two were... well, really close by now.”

felix let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t entirely light. “we are close. it’s just… important to me, you know?”

chris gave him a knowing look, a slight smirk creeping back onto his face. “i got you, man. taking it slow... doesn’t mean you’re not thinking about it, right?”

felix’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the quiet smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “shut up.”

chris raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a little more teasing as he shot a quick glance at felix. “have you guys talked about it yet?” he asked, the curiosity evident in his voice.

felix’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “yeah... last night.” his voice was quieter now, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should even be saying this out loud.

chris nodded, his smile softening. “that’s great, man. i’m glad you two are communicating.” he gave felix a curious look. “but what’s holding you guys back, though? it seems like you’re both into it.”

felix let out a deep breath, his expression faltering as he thought about his words. he shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck again, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability of the conversation. “i don’t know… i just— it feels wrong, you know? we’ve only been exclusive for like a few months and…” he looked at chris, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “i haven’t even told her how i feel about her, like—really told her. it just doesn’t feel right rushing into anything.”

chris’s gaze softened, and he gave felix a serious look. "you haven’t told her you love her yet, felix?" he repeated, his tone quieter now, like he was trying to understand the hesitation.

felix exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before muttering, “well… i did.”

“when?”

felix let out a humorless chuckle. “the other night, when i was a little drunk, i told her.” he shook his head, as if embarrassed just thinking about it. “i don’t even remember how it came out, but i know i said it. and she—” he hesitated, his jaw tightening.

chris leaned forward slightly, watching him closely. “what did she say?”

felix sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “she told me to talk about it when i was sober.” his voice was quieter now, laced with something almost regretful. “and then from that moment on, i just… pretended like i didn’t remember anything.”

chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “felix.”

felix let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, i know. it was an asshole move.” he exhaled sharply, staring at the ground as he kicked a loose rock down the path. “i mean… i’ve been thinking about it so much, but every time i want to say it, i just—” he cut himself off, his jaw tightening. “i just can’t get it out. ”

chris was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable as he hesitated. he looked like he was debating whether or not to say something, his lips parting before he finally spoke. “do you think it might have something to do with… mabel?”

felix’s entire body stiffened at the name. his head snapped toward chris, eyes narrowing slightly—not in anger, but in something uncertain, something guarded. he didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stared at chris, his grip tightening in his pockets.

chris exhaled, nodding like he’d expected that answer. “you’ve told y/n about her, right?”

“yeah,” felix said quickly, before glancing away. “just… maybe not the specifics.”

chris held his gaze, watching him carefully. “i mean,” he continued, his voice gentler now, “it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

felix swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he turned his eyes back to the path ahead. “i don’t know,” he said, but there was a weight behind it, like he wasn’t sure if he was lying to himself.

chris didn’t back down, watching felix carefully. “i mean, think about it,” he said, his voice measured. “you and mabel—”

felix flinched. it was subtle, just the faintest tension in his shoulders, but chris caught it. he caught the way felix’s fingers curled slightly, the way his jaw locked for just a second before he spoke.

“can we just…” felix exhaled, forcing a short, awkward chuckle. “can we keep her name out of this conversation?” his voice was lighter, but there was something tight behind it, like he was holding something back. “i don’t wanna talk about her.”

chris immediately backed off, nodding. “yeah. sorry.”

felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not— i don’t feel anything for her anymore,” he clarified, shaking his head. “it’s not about that.”

“yeah, i understand. but, you know… just keep it in the back of your head. sometimes things stick with you more than you realize.”

felix let out a slow breath, staring ahead at the flickering glow of the bonfire pit in the distance. he knew chris was right. he just wasn’t sure if he was ready to face what that meant.

because if he admitted it—if he said that maybe, just maybe, what happened with mabel still had some kind of hold on him—then what did that mean? that he hadn’t gotten over her?

no. that wasn’t true. he knew that wasn’t true.

he’d be terrible not to, especially when the girl for him was you. it had been you from the moment he really let himself see it. mabel wasn’t in his life anymore. he never thought about her, never missed her, never wished for anything they had. he didn’t care.

and yet, every time her name came up, every time someone even hinted at what happened, there was pain in his chest.

like a ghost of something he’d already buried.

felix exhaled, forcing the thought away. he didn’t want to talk about her. he didn’t even want to think about her.

chris seized the opportunity to change the subject, clapping felix on the back lightly. “well,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more casual, “looks like we’re here.”

the distant crackle of the bonfire grew louder as they approached, accompanied by the hum of conversation and the strumming of a guitar. the music, slightly muffled by the night breeze, carried over to them, breaking through the tense silence that had settled between them.

felix’s lips curled into a small smile as they stepped onto the sand, the bonfire’s glow illuminating their faces. the crowd was smaller than when you and felix had come, but there were still plenty of people lounging on the logs, talking in clusters, and swaying to the music. some familiar faces turned toward them, offering nods or waves of recognition.

felix glanced at chris, then smiled to himself. “three…” he murmured under his breath.

chris frowned, tilting his head. “what are you doing?” he asked, chuckling in confusion.

felix didn’t answer, eyes scanning the group ahead. “two…”

chris narrowed his eyes, a laugh bubbling up. “felix, what—”

“and one.”

before he could question felix further, a voice cut through the music.

“oh my god, chris?”

a girl appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her eyes lighting up as she made a beeline for him. her voice dripped with excitement, and felix barely contained his grin as he watched chris’s reaction unfold.

felix, grinning shamelessly, leaned over just enough to murmur, “called it.”

chris barely had time to react before she was in front of him, flashing a bright smile. “i can’t believe you’re here,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “you look even better than i remembered.”

his lips curled into an amused smirk, eyes flicking over her face with that teasing glint. “better than you remembered?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “i mean, i’ll take the compliment, but now i have to wonder—exactly how bad was my competition?”

she laughed, rolling her eyes. “please. you know you weren’t competing with anyone.”

chris hummed, dragging his gaze away for just a second before looking back at her. “that so?” he mused. “good to know.” his tone was light, casual—but the way his words lingered, the way his eyes moved just a little slower, made it impossible to ignore the charge in the air.

felix barely contained his laughter, watching the exchange unfold. “i should start betting on this kind of thing,” he muttered under his breath, but neither of them heard him. 

chris chuckled softly, his smile still lingering, but he gave the girl a polite nod. “i’ll catch up with you later, yeah? it’s been a while, so i’ve got to make my rounds and say hi to everyone.”

she grinned, clearly not bothered by his subtle exit, and leaned in just a little closer, her hand brushing against his arm as she spoke. “of course, bang chan,” she said, his korean name slipping off her tongue in a teasing, flirty way. her fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, the touch almost electric.

“it won't take long.” chris promised, a light laugh escaping him as he backed off slightly before the girl left. 

felix, still standing off to the side with an amused look on his face, couldn’t resist. “you’ve always had a way of doing that,” he commented, nudging chris with his elbow.

chris smirked, shaking his head. “well, i don’t know about that.” he glanced at felix, amusement flickering in his eyes. “you’re the one in the committed relationship, my guy.”

felix rolled his eyes, shaking his head but laughing nonetheless. “you’re not wrong,” he said. he leaned in, mimicking the girl’s earlier tone in a teasing voice, “bang chan.”

“shut up, lee yongbok,” he said, a playful edge to his voice, knowing full well it was a name felix hated being called.

felix froze for a second, his eyes widening as he scowled. “hey!” he smacked chris in the back of his head, but only half-seriously. “that’s crossing the line, man.”

felix couldn’t help but smile as he looked at chris. his best friend was back, and for now, that was enough. and it all felt good.

day 5 - 23:59

you could feel every inch of it, the wetness of the waves wrapping around you, soaking through the thin fabric of your clothes. your arms were heavy, each stroke harder than the last as you paddled out, your movements frantic but sluggish. the water felt wrong, its temperature sinking deep into your bones, each pull more exhausting than the one before.

you looked around, your breath hitching, but the view was nothing but endless dark water. no shore in sight. no land. just the vast ocean stretching on forever, swallowing you whole. the silence of it, broken only by the distant roar of the storm above, was deafening. the air was thick with pressure, and your chest felt tight as the clouds above swirled ominously, dark and brooding.

you glanced down at the water, and that’s when you saw it—first just a strange shift in color, and then it was clear. the water was no longer blue, but red. the deep crimson color spread out around you like the ocean itself had been transformed into blood. it felt wrong, as if the very world around you had turned against you. the water, once so familiar, now felt foreign, alien. you shivered as the sickening sight of it pulled at your stomach, a growing sense of unease crawling over your skin.

then, a ripple broke the surface of the water, followed by a wave. not a typical wave, but something far larger—an immense, towering thing that seemed to reach toward the heavens. the scale of it was terrifying. it moved slowly at first, but you could feel the pull of it, drawing closer with every second. your heart pounded as panic set in. you tried to paddle away, but it was hopeless. the wave was too big, too fast.

your body moved without thinking, your breath ragged and shallow as you fought against the current, paddling furiously as the water seemed to push back with every stroke. the fear settled deep into your chest, a cold knot that tightened with every passing moment. you knew it was coming, the giant wave, and you knew you couldn’t escape it. the storm above raged louder now, the thunder crashing like a warning.

the wave loomed closer, its massive shape blocking out the sky above. it felt like it would swallow you whole, and you couldn’t escape. there was no way out.

and then, with a deafening roar, the wave crashed over you. the world was swallowed in darkness, the cold water engulfing you completely. it was as if the ocean itself had turned on you, and the weight of it pressed down with crushing force.

your body jerked up in bed, a strangled gasp escaping your lips as your chest heaved with panic. sweat slicked your skin, and your heart raced, every muscle tense and trembling from the aftershock of the dream. 

the darkness of the room slowly started to take shape as you tried to catch your breath. your heart pounded in your chest, but gradually, as the room came into focus, you recognized the familiar surroundings—the pale blue walls, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. the gentle rustling of the wind outside reminded you that you were still in the beach house, the comforting warmth of the room in stark contrast to the cold, oppressive weight of the dream.

the incident earlier that day had a grasp on you, wrapping its tendrils around your thoughts.

taking a shaky breath, you closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. but as soon as your eyelids fluttered shut, the nightmare flashed before your mind’s eye once more. the red water, the massive wave—everything came rushing back like a tide, threatening to pull you under once again. the fear surged within you, choking you, and your heart leaped into your throat.

you shot your eyes open again. you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t fall asleep again, not when you knew that the nightmare would be waiting, lurking in the dark corners of your mind, ready to drag you back into its depths.

rolling over onto your side, you stared at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, but sleep seemed so far away now. and with every second, the memories of the nightmare seemed to tighten their grip on you, keeping you wide awake.

you closed your eyes briefly, hoping to find some comfort in the dark, but every time you did, the nightmare flashed back into your mind, sharp and unsettling. you pulled the blanket up higher, trying to shield yourself from the thoughts, but it didn’t help. nothing felt right.

then, a sudden creak broke the silence.

your body tensed instantly, your eyes snapping wide open. the front door—just beyond the hallway—shifted in its frame with a soft noise. it wasn’t loud, but it was enough to stir a primal sense of unease in your gut. the sound was faint but familiar—the soft shuffle of footsteps in the hall. your heart skipped a beat as you realized it was felix.

you slowly pulled the blanket over your legs, trying to calm your nerves. the night still felt heavy, but you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet meeting the soft, plush carpet beneath you. slipping into your fluffy slippers, you took a steadying breath before standing, moving toward the door.

you could hear felix moving in his room, the sound of him adjusting things, probably getting ready for bed. but you weren’t ready for sleep—not with the feeling of the nightmare still lingering, clawing at your chest.

for a moment, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the door handle. should you go to him? you knew it was late, and you didn’t want to worry him, but you were in a bad state right now, and maybe... maybe being close to him would help you feel safe again.

you exhaled quietly, then pushed the door open, walking across the hallway to felix's room. the lights were on, and the brightness made you squint, your eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in light. felix was standing by his bedside, plugging his phone into the charger, his back turned to you.

once he heard your footsteps, he turned around almost instantly. felix’s eyes softened as he noticed the way you were standing in the doorway. his expression immediately shifted to one of gentle concern, his voice quiet as he said, “baby, i thought you’d be asleep by now.”

you didn’t respond right away, not sure how to explain the weight of the nightmare, the unease that still lingered. felix noticed your hesitation and immediately walked over to you, his movements smooth and careful. as he got closer, his eyes searched for yours, and the worry in his gaze deepened. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

you inhaled deeply, your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath as the fear still clung to you, making it harder to speak. felix’s hand gently rested on your arm, the touch light but grounding, as if he was trying to remind you that you weren’t alone in this moment. his eyes softened, and he waited for you to find the words, not pushing, just quietly offering support.

“i’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible, but the vulnerability in it was clear.

felix’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze filled with concern as he leaned in a little closer. “scared of what?” his voice was a soothing whisper, coaxing you to open up but still giving you space to process.

you swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. the nightmare felt like it had a hold on you—like the fear from it still clung to your mind, refusing to let go. it wasn’t just the dream itself, but the overwhelming feeling of being lost, alone, and helpless in the water. the dread that had flooded through you felt like it was seeping into every part of your body, even now, even with felix standing in front of you.

“i had a nightmare,” you admitted softly, feeling the weight of the words as they left your lips. it felt almost silly, but it was the truth. the dream had felt so real, the fear, the panic—it was hard to shake off.

felix gently squeezed your arm, his thumb moving in small circles as he listened to you. his eyes softened as he took in your words, his heart aching at how much distress you were in. he could feel the tension in your body, the way your breath was still a little shaky as you spoke.

felix's thumb gently stroked the inside of your arm, a steady, calming motion that sent warmth through you, though your heart still raced in a panic. he looked at you with concern in his eyes, his voice soft and reassuring. “what was it?”

you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing, but you needed to get it out. you took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself enough to explain the nightmare, but your words kept tumbling out in a rush, the panic seeping through. “it… it was like, i was in the water. but it felt like everything was wrong. the ocean was… different. it was freezing, and then it turned red. like blood. and there was this huge wave. just… huge. like the one in that movie we saw together…” you trailed off, trying to remember it.

“interstellar.” felix filled in.

“like the waves in interstellar.” you nodded and carried on. “i was stuck, and i knew it was going to crush me, and i couldn’t do anything.”

you took a shaky breath, feeling your heart race again as you relived the moments from the dream. the panic in your chest grew, and you tried to calm it, but it was like it was spreading, wrapping around your throat.

“i think it has to do with this morning,” you added, your voice growing frantic as you tried to piece together what was happening. “the wipeout. i… i was so scared when i hit the water, and then my board came back at me, and it… it almost knocked me out. and now it’s like i can’t escape it. the waves, the storm. it all feels so real, and i don’t know how to make it stop.”

your voice caught in your throat, and before you could stop it, you were shaking your head, your hands tightening at your sides. “i know it’s stupid,” you muttered, feeling like you were making a bigger deal out of this than it was. “i shouldn’t have come to your room. it’s just a nightmare.”

felix’s heart ached seeing you like this. he stepped closer to you, his hand gently stroking your arm, trying to soothe the panic that had taken over. “hey, hey,” he whispered softly, his voice steady and full of warmth. “you’re not bothering me, baby. you can always come to me. i want you to.”

he stepped even closer, his body offering warmth and comfort as he pulled you into a soft, reassuring hug. his hand moved to the back of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair as he whispered, “and it’s not stupid, okay? what you’re feeling is real.” he paused, running his hand up and down your arm as if to soothe you, trying to calm the panic that still lingered in your chest. “can i tell you a secret?” he asked with the softest voice possible while he guided down to sit on his bed, the one he always made neatly every morning..

you nodded, looking up at him, searching his eyes for comfort. the sincerity in his gaze made you feel a little safer, even in the midst of your panic.

felix gave a small, almost embarrassed smile, his voice soft as he began. “even when i was 13, whenever i had a nightmare, i would still go to my parents' room. you know what they’d do?”

you shook your head, not entirely sure what he meant, but listening intently.

“my dad,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “he’d tell me to get their bed and then they’d stay with me to talk about it until i fell asleep.”

a laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself, the image of young felix sneaking into his parents' room bringing a lightness to your chest. “that’s cute,” you said, trying to smile, though the remnants of the nightmare still clung to you.

felix's smile deepened at the sound of your laugh, his tone lightening. “so, i’ll tell you what, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? i’m gonna go wash up real quick, but in the meantime you can wait for me in bed. is that okay?”

you nodded, feeling a small sense of relief settle over you just at the thought of him being there, taking care of you. “yes,” you murmured, your voice still quiet but softer than before.

felix smiled softly, his hand still resting on your arm as you both stood up. “come on,” he said gently. his movements were careful and deliberate, as if he was trying to make the space as comfortable as possible for you. he pulled the duvet off the bed, giving it a quick shake before walking back toward you.

without saying a word, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, a soft, affectionate gesture that made your chest feel a little lighter. “i’ll be quick,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

you nodded and gave him a small smile, though you couldn’t help but feel comforted by the gesture. as he made his way to the bathroom, he turned the lights off on his way out, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window.

the sudden quiet was almost surreal. you moved down in the bed, curling up under the warm duvet. you pulled it close around you, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. the bed smelled like him—like the faint scent of his cologne, like warmth, like safety—and it was as if the world outside the room ceased to exist for a moment.

you leaned your head back into the pillow, your body melting into the softness as you closed your eyes, feeling the last remnants of tension from the nightmare slip away. the rhythmic sound of your breathing slowly became steadier, and the night seemed less intimidating with him so near, even if he wasn’t physically in the room.

it felt like time passed in the blink of an eye. your mind wandered in that dreamlike state, the world shifting gently as you teetered on the edge of sleep. everything felt so much easier now. the warmth of the bed, the sense of calm that only felix could bring—you could almost forget the nightmare, the fear, and just let yourself drift away.

you stirred awake again, the softness of the bed and the warmth surrounding you pulling you from your dreams. as your eyes blinked open, the first thing you saw was felix, his shirtless figure silhouetted against the dim light. his features were soft, and he had a gentle smile on his face as he watched you, his presence filling the space around you.

he moved closer, his body warmth radiating toward you. his eyes searched yours for a moment, a trace of concern in them as he asked, "are you okay with this?" his voice was soft, like he didn’t want to pressure you but wanted to make sure you felt comfortable.

you smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle in your chest just at the sight of him. "more than ever," you replied, your voice barely a whisper but full of warmth.

felix slid an arm beneath you with effortless ease, his movements gentle but sure, as if he had done this a thousand times before. his other arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in close until your body was pressed snugly against his chest. his warmth enveloped you instantly, a quiet reassurance against the lingering remnants of fear.

you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slow, rhythmic pattern grounding you in the moment. his scent—clean, familiar, tinged with the faintest hint of the ocean breeze—wrapped around you just as securely as his embrace. the soft fabric of his hoodie brushed against your cheek, and beneath it, the steady drum of his heartbeat thrummed against your skin.

felix shifted slightly, adjusting until you were tucked perfectly beneath his chin, your head nestled into the crook of his neck. his cheek rested against your temple, his breath warm as it fanned over your hair. one of his hands settled against your back, his fingers splayed lightly as if to shield you from the weight of the nightmare that still clung to your mind. the other draped over your arm, his thumb moving in slow, comforting circles against your skin.

his hold was protective but never constraining—just solid, just safe. his entire body seemed to curve around yours, sheltering you from anything that might still linger in the corners of your mind. the world outside ceased to exist in that moment. no crashing waves, no blood-red water, no looming shadows—just felix, warm and steady, anchoring you to reality.

felix didn’t hesitate. he slid an arm beneath you with effortless ease, his movements smooth and sure, as if it were second nature to him. his other arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in until your body was flush against his bare chest. the contrast between the cool air and the warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine, but felix was quick to notice, pulling the blanket up around you both like a protective cocoon.

the heat of his body seeped into yours instantly, his skin warm and soft against your cheek. you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingertips, strong and soothing, grounding you as the remnants of your nightmare slowly unraveled. his scent—fresh, familiar, tinged with salt and something uniquely him—wrapped around you just as securely as his embrace.

felix shifted slightly, adjusting you until your head fit perfectly beneath his chin, your face tucked against the curve of his shoulder. his cheek pressed lightly against your hair, his breath warm as it fanned over your forehead. one of his hands rested against the small of your back, his fingers splayed lightly, while the other draped protectively over your arm, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin.

felix let out a slow breath, his chin resting lightly against your hair as he listened to the quiet sound of your breathing. it had evened out now, softer, steadier, no longer carrying the weight of panic. that alone made something in his chest tighten—relief.

he tilted his head slightly, just enough to look down at you. the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the window, casting faint silver highlights across your face. your features were relaxed now, peaceful, your lashes resting gently against your cheeks. the sight of you—so close, so completely at ease in his arms—made warmth flood through his entire body, spreading from his chest to the very tips of his fingers.

god, he loved you.

the thought hit him with quiet certainty, like a wave rolling in, steady and unstoppable. it wasn’t sudden. no, it had been there for a long time, buried beneath fleeting glances, quiet moments, and every touch that lingered just a little too long. but now, holding you like this, feeling the way you melted into him, trusting him even in your most vulnerable state—there was no denying it.

he loved you.

and it terrified him.

because if he told you—if he let the words slip past his lips—what would it change? would you look at him the same way, or would you pull away? would the comfort you found in his arms disappear, replaced by the weight of something unsaid, something too heavy to bear?

his grip on you instinctively tightened, just slightly, as if he could keep this moment frozen in time, untouched by the risk of words unspoken. felix let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head to press the softest of kisses against your temple.

for now, he would keep it to himself.

for now, he would let you sleep, safe and warm in his arms, and he would hold onto this moment for as long as you let him.

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 3: Caught in the Rain

Fandom: ATEEZ

Sickie: Seonghwa (fever)

Caregiver(s): ATEEZ

Word Count: 1,359

Notes: There's more to this story, but I cut it where it felt natural to cut it. Maybe I'll release a part 2 in the future...

The photoshoot was supposed to be quick and easy. A luxury brand had asked KQ for ATEEZ to model for them, specifically requesting Seonghwa and Yunho. Their communication had been timely, respectful, and cooperative. The shoot was going to be Quick and Easy. That was the whole reason Hongjoong and their manager had ultimately allowed Seonghwa to go: the schedule was short and the required energy low, a perfect first engagement back after the eldest had just barely recovered from a nasty case of bronchitis. 

What actually ended up happening was neither quick, nor easy. 

The marketing associates who had previously been in contact with their managers are no where to be found on set. Instead, two company executives, clearly in the middle of some sort of power struggle, were running the show, and constantly trying to undermine one another. They nitpicked the stylist teams, unnecessarily extending the process. They kept interrupting the director of the shoot, asking the photographers ridiculous questions, touching equipment they knew nothing about, trying to chat with Seonghwa and Yunho when they were trying to listen to directions. They’d made it through a handful of pictures inside the studio before moving outside, like executive B had wanted, but by the time they got out there, the weather had stopped cooperating. A storm had begun to roll in, and while the photographers and managers pushed to go back in, both executive A and B had insisted they get the outdoor shots, assuring everyone that things would be ‘fine.’ 

They’d only been snapping pictures for thirty minutes before the downpour started. 

So now, ten minutes later, Seonghwa was sitting on a bench outside the studio, shaded somewhat from the rain under the large leaves of a tree, but still shivering from the chill of the wind against his soaking wet clothes. He wasn’t sure where Yunho or their manager were; the photographer had left him here a few minutes ago while the executives and director argued about what they wanted to do with the shoot. Seonghwa didn’t much care at this point. He was tired. He was cold. He was ready to go home. 

But he was also professional enough not to say anything until he was asked, so he simply sat shivering on his bench in the meantime. 

Seonghwa’s daze was broken when his shoulders dipped as a jacket was placed on his shoulders. He blinked up, shelling his eyes from the rain to better see Yunho. 

“No.” Shaking his head, Seonghwa began to shrug the jacket off. 

Yunho’s hands held the fabric in place. “No, yourself.” Seonghwa continued shaking his head, so Yunho kept his hands in place on his hyung’s shoulders. 

“You need your jacket,” Seonghwa insisted. 

“Not as much as you do.” Yunho shifted to sit next to Seonghwa, looping one arm around his shoulders. 

“Yunho, it’s raining. You’re all wet.”

A chuckle rumbled in the taller man’s chest. “So are you.”

Lightning flashed above their heads, a roll of thunder following lazily. Seonghwa’s head rested against Yunho’s shoulder. “I want to go home,” he said quietly. 

Yunho placed his head on top of Seonghwa’s. “Me too. This whole thing has been one big clusterfuck.”

“Don’t say that too loud,” Seonghwa warned. 

“Hyung, the closest person is more than three meters away, and there’s no way they could hear me over this rain.” 

“Still.” He paused, clearing his throat. Not quite a cough, but it made Yunho frown all the same.

“You feeling okay?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“Me too, hyung. Me too.”

*

“Oh my god.” San threw his book to the side, standing immediately when Seonghwa and Yunho walked into the den. The rest of the group, (minus Hongjoong, who was working at the studio,) were waiting patiently for the duo to watch a movie. But this was unexpected: while Yunho and Seonghwa had already removed their jackets and shoes, they were still visibly damp. “Wait, stop, why are you all wet?” He ran over to the pair, one hand running through Yunho’s hair, the other feeling Seonghwa’s shirt. He pouted in confusion, wide puppy eyes scanning between them. “Why are you all wet?”  

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, Sannie, but it’s raining,” Yunho replied with a good-natured smile. He readjusted his arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders, tightening his hold on the older man, who had yet to stop shivering since their moment on the bench two hours before. “And our photoshoot was, surprisingly, outside.”

“It was outside?!” Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Did you know that?”

Seonghwa shook his head while Yunho replied with a simple, “Nope.”

“And they didn’t take you inside when the rain started?” Wooyoung clarified. 

“Not for a good 45 minutes,” Yunho answered. 

“But you’re makeup and hair and stuff?” San asked, incredulous. “They didn’t think about all that hard work going to waste?” Yunho shrugged one shoulder, shaking his head. 

“We apologized to the stylists on their behalf,” Seonghwa spoke up. “Thanked them for working so hard despite… it getting ruined. It didn’t help that the one exec kinda liked it better messed up…” His voice trailed off, his eyes wandering away to the floor. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I would’ve fought someone.”

“Kinda hard to fight a high-profile brand executive.” 

Wooyoung scoffed, pushing off the couch, stomping to the kitchen and back to blow off steam. San had yet to stop pouting, running a comforting hand up and down Seonghwa’s arm (the one not currently smushed against Yunho). 

“It wasn’t horrible,” Yunho added, his voice placating. “The shoot director was really kind, and had some amazing ideas. He tried to get us back inside the minute the clouds rolled in. And the stylist team? I’d go back just to work with them again.”

“Stop all this toxic positivity.” Wooyoung crossed his arms over his chest. “You can be mad at people for treating you like shit, Yunho.”

“He called them a ‘clusterfuck’ earlier,” Seonghwa supplied unhelpfully. 

Yunho nudged him. “Of course that’s what you remember.” 

“Wait, hyung, you called the a clusterfuck to their face?” Jongho asked, shock evident on his face. 

“No, of course not, we were-“ Yunho breath caught, as he pitched to the side with a loud sneeze. He shook his head after, blinking in surprise. “Shit, excuse me. Didn’t expect that one…”

“Fuck! Now you’re sick too!” Wooyoung started pacing again, threading his hands through his hair. 

“Okay, okay. Calm down, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mingi said, taking control of the situation. He pointed towards Yunho and Seonghwa. “Let’s get you two warmed up. Go hit the showers. Hwa-hyung, be honest, can you stand on your own? Cause you haven’t let go of Yuyu since you got home.” 

On a normal day, such a direct call out would invoke a demonic wrath from the eldest that few were brave enough to face. This was not a normal day. 

“I would like someone to stay with me, please,” Seonghwa admitted, voice quiet out of exhaustion rather than embarrassment. 

Mingi nodded. “Sannie, go with him please. Jongho, Woo, you guys go heat up dinner. Sangie, do something productive, I trust you.”

“You don’t trust me?” Wooyoung whined. 

“Never,” Mingi replied simultaneously with Yunho and Jongho’s emphatic, “No,” and Yeosang’s “Let me have ONE thing!”  

Amidst the chaos, San had successfully extricated Seonghwa from Yunho’s embrace, and had led their eldest down the hall. 

“Pretty sure his fever’s back,” Yunho muttered to Mingi after the bathroom door closed behind them.

Mingi shook his head. “Oh, definitely. He’s so quiet.” The rapper’s eyes turned to scan Yunho. “You better not get sick, too, mister.” 

“Mingi.” Yunho put his hands on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m fine.” 

“You better be. Go shower.” He hit Yunho’s butt playfully as the dancer turned to go. Yunho whipped back around and clumsily hit Mingi’s hip, earning a laugh from his friend.

Once Yunho’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs, Mingi joined the group in the kitchen. 

“Hongjoong-ah’s gonna kill someone,” Wooyoung singsonged under his breath to Mingi as the taller man leaned against the counter. 

“As long as its not us, I’m not complaining.”

[charlieg1rl]

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟎𝟒. 𝐢 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐜: 𝟎.𝟓𝐤

it was raining.

felix loved the rain—he thought it was cozy, comforting, a perfect excuse to stay in, watch movies, and bake something warm.

y/n, on the other hand, hated it.

or at least, that’s what he assumed when he heard a sharp knock at his door at nearly midnight, followed by the sight of a very grumpy, very soaked y/n standing outside his dorm.

felix blinked, surprised. “y/n?”

she scowled. “don’t say anything.”

“…okay,” he said slowly, stepping aside to let her in.

she walked past him, muttering under her breath as she yanked off her dripping hoodie, shaking her head like an irritated cat.

felix shut the door, watching her with barely concealed amusement. “sooo… what exactly happened?”

she shot him a glare. “i was walking back to my dorm when a car sped through a puddle and completely drenched me.”

felix tried to hold back his laughter. he really did.

but the image was too funny, and before he could stop himself, a snort escaped.

y/n narrowed her eyes. “if you laugh, i’m leaving.”

felix immediately straightened, biting his lip to keep from smiling. “i’m not laughing.”

“yes, you are.”

“nooo, i’m not.”

“yes. you are.”

felix coughed, covering his mouth. “okay, okay. come here.”

y/n hesitated but eventually let him lead her to the bathroom, where he handed her a towel.

“here. dry off before you get sick.”

she accepted it with a quiet grumble, rubbing the towel through her damp hair.

felix leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a small smile. “you could’ve just gone back to your dorm, y’know.”

y/n paused.

she could have.

her dorm wasn’t that far, and she definitely didn’t have to come here.

and yet… she had.

felix tilted his head. “you’re starting to like me, huh?”

she scoffed. “don’t push your luck.”

he grinned. “too late.”

half an hour later, y/n found herself on felix’s couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies, sipping on hot chocolate while he flicked through netflix.

“this is the driest hoodie you have?” she asked, eyeing the oversized fabric drowning her frame.

felix beamed. “i gave you my favorite one.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t complain. it smelled like him—warm, familiar, comforting.

she ignored the way that thought made her feel.

felix finally settled on a movie, setting the remote down before turning to her. “you comfy?”

she nodded, curling further into the blanket he had thrown over her. “surprisingly, yes.”

felix chuckled, pulling his knees up onto the couch. “see? i knew you liked hanging out with me.”

she side-eyed him. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

felix only smiled, resting his head against the couch. “i like you, y’know.”

y/n’s fingers tightened slightly around her mug.

she exhaled slowly. “i know.”

felix hummed, as if satisfied with her response. he didn’t push, didn’t tease, didn’t demand anything from her.

he just let the silence settle.

and for once, y/n didn’t mind.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

tags: @jeonginsleftcheek, @my-neurodivergent-world, @akindaflora

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Sweet Foundations - Christmas Special

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: A holiday party, a gingerbread competition, and a little too much icing—what starts as playful chaos turns into something neither of them expected. In the glow of Christmas lights and whispered confessions, some foundations prove sweeter than they seem.

Word Count: 1.5k

Los Angeles wasn’t exactly known for white Christmases, but that didn’t stop my apartment from looking like something straight out of a New York holiday window display. Warm string lights draped across the ceiling, twinkling against the garlands woven with red and gold ribbons. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments catching the glow of the fireplace video playing on the TV, crackling sounds and all. The smell of cinnamon, vanilla, and fresh pine lingered in the air, mixing with the cocoa and gingerbread cooling on the counter.

The night had settled into something easy—familiar, even. Everyone had arrived hours ago, bringing that infectious, chaotic energy that came with a group of actors who barely had time to see each other outside of work.

But now, the gingerbread competition was underway.

“Okay, everyone, listen up,” Percy announced dramatically, clapping his hands as he stood at the front of the living room like a game show host. “You have exactly twenty minutes to construct a masterpiece. No shortcuts. No store-bought frosting magic. Only skill, determination, and the Christmas spirit.”

Emma crossed her arms. “You’re only saying that because you and Hunter stacked your walls together like Lego bricks before we started.”

Hunter shrugged, unbothered. “Survival of the fittest.”

I glanced at Jenna, who was already methodically arranging the gingerbread pieces in front of her, eyes sharp with focus. “You take this way too seriously.”

She raised a brow. “There’s no too seriously when it comes to gingerbread architecture.”

Joy smirked from across the table. “She’s been this way every year, by the way. Christmas competitions? It’s like her Super Bowl.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, but the small twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.

I shook my head, grabbing a piping bag of icing and squeezing a dollop onto the edge of a gingerbread wall. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

We worked quickly, each team focused on their own creations. The living room buzzed with holiday music and scattered conversation, interrupted only by the occasional muttered curse when someone’s house collapsed (looking at you, Emma).

Jenna, true to form, was building with the precision of an architect. The walls stood perfectly straight, her lines of icing clean and even.

I, on the other hand, was struggling to get a gumdrop to stay on the roof.

“You have the structural integrity of wet cardboard,” she murmured, barely sparing me a glance as she piped another perfect snowflake onto the side of our gingerbread house.

“Excuse me,” I shot back, grabbing a handful of mini marshmallows. “Some of us are here for the vibes.”

She smirked. “And some of us are here to win.”

Without thinking, I reached over and swiped a streak of icing across the tip of her nose.

For a second, she just blinked. Then, slowly, her lips curved into something dangerously playful.

“Oh, you are so dead.”

Before I could react, her fingers found a container of rainbow sprinkles.

“No—Jenna, don’t you dare—”

A shower of sugar rained down onto my hair.

Gasps filled the room.

“Oh my God,” Emma whispered, eyes wide in mock horror.

“Not the sprinkles,” Percy added.

Laughter erupted around us as I tried (and failed) to wipe the icing and sprinkles from my face.

Jenna, smug, leaned back, arms crossed. “That’s what you get.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, it’s on, Ortega.”

Before I could grab the bag of powdered sugar for revenge, Joy cleared her throat. “I hate to break up whatever this is, but we still have a competition to finish.”

I exchanged a glance with Jenna, breath still caught somewhere between laughing and plotting.

She was close—closer than I’d realized, cheeks slightly pink from the warmth inside, a dusting of powdered sugar lingering on her sleeve from earlier.

She nudged me with her knee under the table. “Truce?”

I exhaled, pretending to think about it before giving in. “Truce.”

And somehow, neither of us moved away.

The Christmas playlist hummed in the background, a mix of jazz renditions and the occasional pop cover of classics. Emma had taken over DJ duties, dramatically belting out All I Want for Christmas Is You into a candy cane while Percy recorded from the couch.

Hunter had somehow ended up half-buried in Christmas pillows, still tangled in the tinsel that was supposed to go on the tree.

Joy was sipping hot chocolate, perched on the arm of the loveseat, watching the mess unfold like an amused narrator.

Jenna was next to me on the couch, cradling a mug of cocoa in her hands, but her focus wasn’t on the chaos around us anymore. 

“Hey,” Joy’s voice cut through the easy hum of conversation, pulling everyone’s attention back. She leaned forward, her smirk barely hidden behind her mug. “So… which one of you wants to admit it first?”

A pause. Then Hunter groaned. “Oh, here we go.”

Joy grinned. “I just love a good Christmas confession.”

The room stirred with amusement, but it wasn’t until she turned her gaze in my direction that my stomach flipped.

“You know what I’m talking about, Y/N,” she said smoothly. “The crush.”

Laughter bubbled up from the others, some leaning in, waiting for the reaction.

The room collectively turned, and suddenly, the warmth of the fireplace video was nothing compared to the heat crawling up my neck.

Jenna shifted beside me. “Wait, what?”

Joy’s smirk widened. “Oh, come on Jenna. You know how this works. Someone always has a holiday crush.” She took a sip of her cocoa before tilting her head. “So? Who’s the lucky person?”

Emma gasped. “Wait. Oh my God. Is it someone here?”

Jenna stiffened. It was subtle, but I felt it—her shoulders went rigid, fingers tightening just slightly against her mug.

“Yes, I do have a crush on someone here…No big deal,” I muttered, attempting to brush it off, but the damage was done.

Conversations shifted soon after, the topic buried under the sounds of more laughter and Hunter’s tinsel-related accident, but I knew one person who wasn’t letting it go.

I noticed the way her eyes lingered on me, thoughtful, almost hesitant.

Then she stood, stretching slightly before catching my eye.

“Hey,” she murmured, voice soft, “can we talk for a sec?”

The cold hit first. A crisp December wind swept through the city, carrying the distant hum of car horns and muffled Christmas music from somewhere below. The view stretched for miles—twinkling lights, high-rise buildings, the glow of holiday decorations reflecting against glass.

Jenna leaned against the railing, arms wrapped around herself. The soft glow of the city caught in her eyes as she exhaled, breath visible in the cold.

“So…” she started, voice careful. “Who is it?”

Fingers curled around the metal railing, the coolness grounding against the warmth buzzing under my skin.

“Who’s who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your crush.”

She hesitated. “Emma thinks it’s Percy,” she continued. “But I kind of thought… maybe Joy?”

The laugh escaped before it could be stopped. “Joy?”

Jenna’s lips pressed together, cheeks slightly pink.

Shaking my head, the words came before second-guessing could creep in. “It’s not Joy.”

She hesitated. “Then who?”

A breath. A decision.

The distance between us was small, but suddenly, it felt monumental.

Reaching up, a thumb brushed against the corner of her sleeve, the same one dusted with powdered sugar from earlier.

Then, finally, softly, “It’s you.”

Jenna stilled.

Her breath hitched, lips parting slightly as if forming a response, but none came.

Panic crept in, but before it could fully take hold, her voice cut through.

“You idiot.”

The disbelief in her tone made me blink. “Excuse me?”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I thought you had a thing for Emma.”

“Emma?”

“She kept saying you were always texting her, and I saw you talking—”

Groaning, a hand ran through my hair. “I was literally asking her for advice on you.”

The space between us felt charged now, thick with something unspoken but impossible to ignore.

“Say it again,” she murmured.

Pulse roaring. “Say what?”

“That it’s me.”

A step closer. “It’s you, Jenna.”

And then—she closed the gap.

Soft. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense, yet perfect all the same. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla clung to her sweater, the press of her hands against my jacket grounding and electric all at once.

When she pulled back, her nose bumped against mine, a small, breathless smile tugging at her lips.

“About time.”

The laugh came naturally. “You’re one to talk.”

She rolled her eyes, but the grin stayed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

She did by kissing me again. 

When the two of you finally re-entered the apartment, the warmth of the party greeting you once again, Emma’s gaze snapped to Jenna’s slightly flushed face, then to yours. Her eyes widened.

“No way,” she gasped, pointing an accusing finger. “I knew it.”

Hunter groaned, tossing his hands up. “Damn it, I had money on Percy.”

Jenna just smirked, sliding her fingers discreetly into yours before shooting Emma a look.

“Guess you don’t know everything.”

You laughed, squeezing her hand.

Christmas had never felt warmer.

And that’s how the night ended—wrapped in fairy lights, laughter echoing from inside, and the warmth of something new, something electric, settling between us.

[bitterbutblue]

TASE WHEN WILL U DO MIYABI????????? PLEASEEEEEEEEE BRO PLEASE I BEG YOUUUU

miyabi ?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

IM SO SORRY FOR DYING OMF i have hit crash out after crash out after crash out but guys can u tell i havent played passt like. like the fucking sons of calydon because i have no idea what any charcater is liek BUT HERE IS A MIYABI FIC BECAUSE I LOVE HER DESIGN

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

There is a reason why one is 'falling in love'. To fall is to be in an uncontrolled state where you barely understand the actions around you, let alone your own actions. When you fall for someone, you don't process what you're doing, nor do you process what exactly it is you are feeling. All you can really take note of is that she stands there, barely even a smile on her face and you are going insane. She looks beautiful in all her glory, she stands doing nothing yet to you it is the entire world and more and you just wished she'd look at you. Things are fine between you two, or so you tell yourself. You keep your laughter, your slight banter, but you still notice the way the corner of her eyes crinkle slightly when she finds your joke amusing but doesn't want to give you the satisfaction. You notice the little ear twitches whenever someone is annoying her slightly, and you notice how she treats everything with too much care in the world and that has you feeling ways you never thought you could.

It's maddening because you are watching yourself from afar, losing control and slipping into this state where all you want is for them to call you yours, and she will never look at you the same way. You can never do anything to make her look at you that way without ruining what is already perfect to her- the perfect dynamic. It's five in the morning and you can only stare at your phone at the text that has been on delivered since you got off work and you swallow. You mean something to her that is less than what she means to you. To you, she is a star, a star in the night that is dying but you believe will still shine bright even after the universe eventually collapses into itself. To her, you are a colleague.

The worst part is knowing what could have been, what could have been if she had just decided to look at you at a specific time during a specific day. Some nights you have dreams where she confesses her love and you think of the theory that dreams are parallel worlds and how you wished that wasn't true because if it was, what are you doing wrong in this world where she won't love you back? It hurts to think, it hurts to love and it hurts to breathe now in her proximity but you will still fight alongside her.

"And is that all?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"And we're sending Miyabi with her again, correct?"

"They do the best together, it's only rational to send them together."

Yanagi pushes her glasses up slightly, scanning the room before her eyes land on your zoned-out form. She lets out a tsk in disappointment.

"Are you even listening?"

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement.

"Yes."

The response is quiet, a bit too dull for Yanagi's liking given your usually more upbeat personality. She huffs softly, not wanting to open that can of worms this early in the morning. She makes a mental note to buy you a warm drink later, maybe that would cheer you up a bit. Miyabi's eyes dart towards your figure, her calculating glare softens always around you but not in the way you wanted. You want to exit the room because it is getting too suffocating to have all the attention on you now.

"I'll be there, don't worry."

She finds you already standing in the rain, a battle axe in hand as you gaze upon the city that slowly falls into ruins each day. Miyabi can't quite decipher the look in your eyes as you scan the remains of the hollows, ethereals that creak and moan out of a mind that can now only comprehend destruction and corruption beyond imagination. She sees them as targets, you've always seen them as lives.

"Are you okay?"

"Why do we do this?"

Your voice is strangely soft, given the steely gaze in your eyes. Something about the sight of you standing in the rain, sopping wet hair laid flat against your forehead as you run a hand through your hair to push it out of your eyes, a pained look that she can't understand.

"Do what?"

"Fight."

That throws her off. She knows why she fights- she knows her drive. To stop this corruption from spreading, to stop more people from having to turn into these monsters that stand before them or have these monsters hurt more people. It's simple. So why are you asking her this?

"You know why."

She watches you clench your jaw, the tensing of the muscle is a small move but she still catches it and she feels her heart stutter for a moment as you let out a shaky sigh.

"Why do you pick me for all your missions?"

Miyabi raises an eyebrow.

"You know why."

She doesn't say anything as you pick up your axe, just keeping her gaze on your face as you reel your arm back, ready to fight.

"Let's finish this last one, Hoshimi Miyabi."

The full name sends a chill down her spine that she hasn't felt in a while- the same chill when she first encountered an ethereal, or when she first came hand in hand with death and met its followers. It's a foreign feeling, unwelcome. She tries to shrug it off but watching as you leap through the air, swinging a weapon of destruction through the masses like it's nothing, she feels a pang of uncertainty. Your movements are second nature to her, having fought by your side for years now. Yet this time it feels foreign, it feels different. It feels out of sync, and she feels... distant. Your moves are erratic, they follow no pattern and she recognises none of the timings. Everything just feels off. She feels out of place for the first time fighting alongside you.

Each swing and thud, each dodge and parry only amplifies the feeling of her gaze on you and you are going mad. To fall in love is romanticised, to be loved is often yearned for. To have to go through a one-sided love is some pain you never thought could hurt so bad and to know that she has an eye on you makes it worse because how can someone be so close to being everything you ever wanted but also be so distant at the same time? In the heat of the moment, you get distracted. A moment of zoning out, and a harsh thud is delivered to your chest, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling to the ground, searing pain against your sides as you roll across the gravelled path to a halt. Grunting, you try to force yourself up, hand shakily reaching out to take your axe but you hear a roar.

"ENOUGH."

Her voice is cracking from how loud she shouts at you from across the field, and you finally let the axe go. You don't even notice that your vision has gone blurry and that you can feel your lungs burning from the inside out as Miyabi rushes to your side.

"Seriously, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me!"

Her voice trembles in a way you've never heard before and you refuse to look up at her.

"Just keep going, Miyabi, we're almost done." You mumble, pushing yourself up to your feet, but she gently pushes you down once more, leaving you sitting on the ground.

"You are in no place to fight right now."

Swallowing, you dig your fingers into the gravel beneath your palms, the small rocks digging into your skin and between your fingernails as you huff out softly. The rain was pouring now, you can barely see five feet ahead of you but you still sense her next to you. She is next to you, she is worried for you. But not in the way you want her to be.

"I can fight."

"Not now."

"You need me to carry on." You finally look up at her, and you really wished you hadn't because the look in her eyes has you wanting to scream into a void with no voice.

The look- it's worry. It's worry and you don't want her to worry for you because wouldn't it be so much easier if she just didn't care for you? You love her because she still cares for you. You love her because together you two can fight as one unit. You love her, you love her and she only cares for you because you are essential to her as a unit.

You are daylight, Miyabi, and I am the night that follows. We need each other to act as one, but we will never be together, truly side by side.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

mutuals and friends, I am taking you on a road trip to my favorite trail. we're gonna lay in the moss. we're gonna crane our heads back and listen to the wind in the hemlocks. we're gonna stand barefoot in the ice-cold, cedar-sweetened creek. there are no bugs but there are plenty of mushrooms. and then we're getting coney dogs and ice cream.

[dragonpropaganda]

something I love about rain world lore is that it gestures towards the sky being solid like two times and doesn't elaborate at all

[faunandfloraas]

Would love to know why international acts always seem to come out here in the dead of summer. Nothing says fun like performing in 40° celsius heat

[agentjazzy]

I've literally been so productive this past week like WHAT?? repaired electronics, started and finished fanart that I've wanted to do, I've slept so good, yesterday I voluntarily did my laundry before I absolutely had to and even folded everything and put it away right away??? and earlier I even exercised bc I felt good enough to do so?????? and I feel great??????

is it a coincidence that it's been raining and/or cloudy the past week?? I think NOT - I think my body just literally hates the sun 😭

anyway if I can team up with Punxsutawney Phil to plunge the world into an eternal winter I ABSOLUTELY WOULD. WITH NO HESITATION!!!!!!

[tonycries]

Prettier When Messy!

Synopsis. They aren’t afraid to get messy while making a mess of you, in fact, they love it - in all sorts of ways.

Pairing. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, bréeding, really messy, light pússy-smacking (Nanami’s), spítting, cúmplay like a LOT of it, squírting, oral (female + male receiving), fíngering, overstím, jealousy (Gojo’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.6k

A/N. Wrote this n’ then had to have a run in the rain for a spiritual deep-cleanse. 

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Big n’ scary? No problem!

Now, Toji wouldn’t consider himself to be a nice man. But to be honest, the way you’re looking up at him with such adorably teary eyes, lips wobbling so nervously at his rock-hard cock, has got his heart lurching ever-so-slightly. And as does his swollen dick. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” he caresses your cheek, like the shameless bastard he is. Heavy balls twitching at the way he catches your sloppy pussy clenching in- anticipation? Fear? Both? “Nervous?”

“I um-” And oh if Toji thought he was painfully hard before then he wasn’t ready for that delirious little nod you give him. 

Ah, it never gets old. He loved this effect on you - how cute it was that you were so cockdrunk already, letting out a few whines. A few complains about how he was too big. And he knew exactly what to do about it. 

“Spread those legs some more, pretty.” 

And you barely even get the time to react before Toji’s impatiently wrestling open your legs so shamefully for him. Taking in one long look at how perfect you were for him - quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below - before spitting once. Twice. Thrice. 

Missing on purpose to let a steady stream of saliva and slick trail filthily down your quivering thighs. So debauched and wet for him - and if Toji was any less of a man he’d just fuck your pretty pussy right then and there. 

But, no. Oh no, instead, with a low hiss, he rests his swollen dick on your stomach, letting you gape at him in awe. How he was so hot and heavy on you. 

“See?” Toji muses, voice so infuriatingly even for someone that was leaking thick, hot precum all over your stomach. “Nothing to be afraid of. In fact, m’just gonna be right-” He traces his finger down your tummy, resting right above an invisible line where his fat tip was. “Here.” Pressing down. Hard. 

You jerk at the pressure, jolting - God, you should’ve known that Toji would fuck so mean. Playing around with the pretense of “comforting you” to tease you. To watch the way you keen and gasp at his movements. 

“But-” your breath hitches as he smears his precum all over your skin. So fucking sloppy, having way too much fun than he actually should - all at your expense.

“No buts, jus’ told ya, m’girl.” Toji chuckles darkly, leaning down to whisper hotly against your ear. Cock twitching so ferally on top of you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. “N’ now, I’ve had enough of being nice so are ya gonna take it am I gonna have to make ya?”

And nothing more is said - by either of you. 

Because with that, it seems the last bit of Toji’s patience - or his restraint - has snapped at the sight of you splayed out so deliciously, too much for him. You, his favorite meal - gaping at his thick cock, all needy and messy with his precum - how could a man possibly say no?

“Oh! Fuck fuck fuck- s’too-” you squeal deliriously as he slides his angry tip between your swollen folds. 

Stretching you to your limits. Mindlessly pushing in quick, purposeful little grinds to bully his massive cock inside your tight pussy. Each movement getting more and more erratic than the last. More desperate. Sloppier. 

So debauched and dirty.  

And Toji - oh he’s just in heaven - letting out a deep, guttural groan as he just barely bottoms out. Heavy balls smacking your ass, those tufts of hair at his base scratching your throbbing clit just right. Thumb stroking that sinful little line of precum he’d made - and where he could feel himself bulging inside you. 

“Hey, doll, ya think I can go even deeper?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - To clean

You don’t know what makes you flinch more - the way Nanami was buried dizzyingly nose-deep in your cunt, lapping so greedily at your sweet sweet juices, or the way he just stops.

“K-Kento?” you whisper breathlessly, mind reeling from both the way you were so close and the final, deep kiss your husband gives to your swollen clit. Grinning at the way your hips jerk mindlessly in protest as he pulls away. “Why did you-”

And whatever disappointed whine dies in your throat at the heavenly sight before you - and oh it was so hard to look at Nanami without wishing he was back in-between your thighs. Hair ever-so-slightly disheveled, glasses sliding down his nose, venturing dangerously towards where your slick was glossing so prettily over his lips, all the way up, up, up-

“‘Why’, my love?” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, and no sooner are the words out of Nanami’s mouth before he’s leaning in - capturing yours. So sloppy and desperate. 

You let out a muffled moan at the way you were tasting yourself and him and you. So sweet that you wondered which one of you tasted this addictive. 

“Now now,” and then he’s pulling away, angry cock twitching so painfully at your broken little whimper. “Don’t get too greedy.” As if you could be anything but. 

And maybe if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have said anything about the pure disrespect shining so uncharacteristically in Nanami’s eyes. About how utterly mean he was being as he slid his fat, weeping head up and down your swollen folds. All the way from the base, just grazing your throbbing clit. 

“I dunno if you deserve this, my love.” Nanami gives your quivering pussy a little smack! as if it was a little punishment, letting your slick smear all over his fingertips. “You’ve just been so messy- just look at my glasses.”

And oh, you can’t look away. 

Because your juices were blurring his glass, dripping so enticingly off of it that whatever rational little part of you thought it was on purpose. Absent-mindedly, you wondered how Nanami could see a damn thing. Seemingly moving on sheer instinct as he slides a long finger along the frame. Slowly. 

“I- want it s’bad, Ken- Give it to me.”

Several things happen at once, and before you know it, Nanami’s shoving his fingers inside your mouth. Muffling your fucked-out moan as he immediately presses into your heavenly pussy. Not even bothering to ease you into it this time before he’s thrusting into you. Rough. Again. And again and-

“They were expensive, y’know.” Nanami presses right in the back of your tongue, just loving how adorably you gag and moan around him. “The least you can do is clean me off.”

And you don’t have to be asked twice - or at all, really. 

Because you’re sucking and swirling your tongue around Nanami’s warm fingers like they’re your favorite candy. Looking him right in the eyes with such a deceivingly innocently, matching the pace of his hips in and out in and out in and- “Such a cute lil’ slut f’me, my love. When you’re all done with that, take care of m’cock too, y’got it very, very messy.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Hairband.

When Geto ties his hair back, you know you’re not going to be let off easy. Why would you?

It just means he’ll have no mercy - have you folded in half and stuffed full of his thick cock, begging and crying to just let you cum. It felt pathetic, really, but at this point you were too far gone - babbling delirious little pleas while he rocked his dick into your plushy cunt. Relentlessly.

“Please please please- hngh- Sugu- m’so close.” you whine, hips bucking wildly. Tears streaming down your face, your snug pussy clenching so tight that some part of Geto almost wanted to tease you for it. 

“Awww, poor baby. You wanna cum?” he coos, voice so mockingly innocent. Barely audible over the blood roaring in your ears. “Y’know what I always hah- say…”

And despite his words, Geto sounds as fucked-out as you - because, hell, he’s been torturing himself just as much as he was your poor cunt. Cock rock-hard and so so angry inside your heavenly pussy, teasing his orgasm while he waited for you to explode with yours. 

Sobbing out, “I- hngh- I know!” Breath hitching at the way his heavy balls sting your ass with each thrust. Sure to leave marks for tomorrow - his fingers on your hips, yours running down his sculpted back. “Wan- me to- hah- squirt, f’you. I wan’ to.”

God, it was so hard to not paint your pretty pussy white already. 

Instead, Geto’s capturing your swollen lips with his - partially because they were irresistible, partially because he really needed to shut up those cute lil’ whines right now.

“Not just squirt.” he moans against your lips. Fingers frenzied - almost painful - on your throbbing clit now. “Wan’ you to fuckin’ cover me in it- fuck-”

And he seems so content, smug about the way you flinch each time he yells out little profanities into your mouth. At the way you’re so cockdrunk, barely even realizing the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he hit your poor, abused g-spot. Finger frenzied on your clit - not even bothering to draw those steady little circles anymore, just lewd little patterns to get you off. 

He wanted this. Needed this so bad - needed to have you cover him with your sweet sweet juices until it’s glistening all over him. Unforgiving. Geto Suguru was absolutely unforgiving. 

And, well, cover him you do.

Because no matter how much you might babble out those adorable little protests, Geto knew your pretty pussy well. Almost too well. 

Well enough to know that you’ll have your orgasm crashing through you. So hard and borderline violent that it’s all you can do to claw at his back in an effort to get him to fucking slow down. That familiar little song and dance. 

Because Geto didn’t stop until he was all glistening with your essence - absolutely depraved in the act. His pretty girl was so gorgeous squirting all over him. Only milking his painfully hard cock on your trembling pussy harder. 

Everywhere. See, the hairband always comes in handy. And Geto wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here right now, letting your juices smear all over his aching dick, to his abs - darting all the way to his lower face.

It was so messy. So debauched - it sends Geto over the edge as well. Pumping thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your pussy white. Loving how fucking sloppy your pretty lil’ cunt was as it sucked up everything so greedily. Again and again-

“Hey, gorgeous.” Geto mutters, tongue darting out to get a taste of the slick coating his lower lip. Honestly, he doubted you could even hear him with how fucked-out you were. “Can y’ do it on m’tongue, too?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - You look good in white

“Fuck fuck fuck, open wider f’me, baby-” Choso groans, angling his head just right to catch the way your throat bulges so obscenely around his swollen cock. Watching the way it goes in and out in and out in and-

You were so gorgeous like this - you always were - but here on your knees, nose pressed firmly against the small tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis, he thinks you’ve never looked better. 

Now all he has to do is hold off until the best bit.

But it was so difficult when you’re shoving yourself down inch by fucking inch. Milking Choso’s aching cock for all he’s worth. So greedy with the way you were gagging and choking so prettily around his thick cock. Swirling your tongue under his sensitive slit just the way you knew he liked. 

And oh it has Choso feeling like he could just pass out. He could just feel the way you were smirking - knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Sh-shit.” he gasps, fingers trembling on your hair as he fucks your mouth like his own personal fucktoy. “Ya hngh- like this, huh?” Thighs quivering, hips stuttering deeper into your hot mouth. “Like me using that s-smart mouth like ha- this?”

The only response he gets are your nails dragging down his milky hips, leaving angry, red marks in their wake. A warning - a request. One that Choso knew was a sign that you needed to taste him - to have him. 

One that had him speeding up his sloppy thrusts, over and over- Abs aching with the movement, veins throbbing at a maddening little thump! thump! thump! against the roof of your mouth. 

“Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good-” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your slutty mouth. “Shit shit shit oh-.” 

Faster. Deeper. Sanity held together only by a delicate tether - one that snaps when you look up at him with those beautiful eyes, moaning around Choso’s cock like you were begging him to ruin you. 

Oh and then Choso’s cumming and cumming so hard he thinks he might’ve just died and gone to heaven right there. And you - you were such an angel, tears stinging your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth. 

Mixing with his cum in such a sinful combination as he spills desperately into you, shooting thick, hot spurts of seed down your waiting throat. 

So fucking filthy. 

Only getting filthier when that feral, debauched part of Choso really can’t help but pull out ever-so-slightly. He chuckles at the way your eyes widen in surprise when he smacks his weeping dick all over your face.

Ah, this was his favorite part - always was. And he can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted as he smears his seed all over your face. Twitching angrily in his fist at the way it drips down all over your chin, forming a lewd little pool on the floor. So, so pretty for him. 

“Now now,” Choso lets out a guttural grunt, balls squeezing so painfully at the ruined state of you. “Wan’ see if I can hah- mess up this cunt jus’ the same, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Wipe those tears!

Your only problem was that Sukuna was as mean as he was absolutely filthy. 

“Aww, pretty baby.” Those words would be reassuring - but you knew better. Because his tone was just dripping with something so dangerous - something that had you feeling more and more like Sukuna’s little toy. “I thought you could give me another one.”

“B-but-” you gasp. “S’too much, Kuna, don’t think-”

“You will. Or-” he cuts you off, fighting that feral, cruel little urge to shove his entire dick in your snug cunt. No care or concern for those big, frustrated tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll just make you. Your choice.”

God, you could almost sob - maybe from the way Sukuna was chuckling at your expense. Maybe from the way he was pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Trying to fuck out- which number orgasm was this again? Ah, you don’t even know - and Sukuna doesn’t care. 

He’s had you creaming around his fingers- his tongue- his thigh. And now, all he wants is for you to cum on his dick. You could almost feel his weeping tip graze your cervix already and- was he even halfway in, yet?

“Nope.” Sukuna hums, leaning down to those tears rolling down your cheek. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Maybe m’not even a quarter inside your pretty cunt. Why don’t y’take a look for yourself, brat?”

And it seemed like Sukuna was well and fully intent on driving you insane. Because no sooner have you craned your neck to take a glance, you’re met with the most sinful sight you’ve ever seen - your swollen folds stretched so obscenely around his weeping tip, soaked with precum and sucking him up so eagerly. Sukuna’s fingers toying deftly with your sensitive clit, rolling it between his fingers.

Which really made sense why he loved this little routine - have you pathetically pretending you couldn’t cum for him again, acting like your slutty lil’ pussy wasn’t trying to fucking milk him dry. He loves it. Loves the way your mind is telling you to run away but your needy cunt wants more more more-

“Enough of the games now.” he tuts, wrapping a hand around your neck, pulling down down down onto his thick cock. 

And you can only keen in response, tears streaming down your face faster because his cock too big. The stretch too sinful. Prominent veins grazing your plushy walls in a maddening  bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to. 

Sukuna wants you to cum- he needs you to. More badly than he wants to cum. Thumb just erratic on your clit, so sloppy and needy.

And then you’re cumming and cumming so hard that sensitive little tears roll down your cheeks. Not even realizing it at first, barely registering the stars behind your eyes, white-hot pleasure shooting up your cunt. Over and over-

Sukuna quickly darts out his tongue to lick them away. Long, languid stripes up your face. So fucking sloppy with it on purpose. But you can’t even bring yourself to be disgusted. Mind reeling with how good you felt and those sharp fingernails resting right over your racing pulse. 

Dangerous. A warning. 

As if Sukuna would kill you if you didn’t take his cock - when he was the one that actually felt like dying right now. 

Because you were too cute like this, cockdrunk and milking him greedily inch by fucking inch. So fucking tight. Enough to give the king of curses heart palpitations, honestly. 

A full-on heart attack when he finally bottoms out. Ramming the rest of his length in one quick, harsh thrust. 

He smacks his lips, savoring the salty taste of your tears. Some tiny part of his cold heart so fucking proud. He knew his lil’ slut could give him another one - you always do.  “Dry up those tears, brat. Because I haven’t cum yet.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “To think of me~”

“T-Toru, I really need to go-”

“No no no- fuck m’so close, sweetheart.” Gojo gasps into your mouth. Hips so frenzied and sloppy against yours, squeezing his throbbing cock in you like a man possessed. The idea of stopping not even close in his pussydrunk mind. 

It’s been this way for so long now, and you’d only been halfway out the door before Gojo was pulling you back into the bedroom. That lil’ sundress was way too pretty that he just had to hike it up your hips and pull aside your drenched panties. Making sure to stuff your pretty pussy full. 

And, well, the fact that you were going to meet one of your old guy friends might have had something to do with it, too. 

Hey, even the strongest gets jealous sometimes. And Gojo is so sloppy when he is. Hips stuttering and bucking wildly into yours. All filthy desperation where he was usually so suave in bed.

He just can’t help but make a mess of your dripping cunt, reeling back to watch the way your sloppy hole struggles to take all of him. Glistening and trying to milk the soul out of him in the dim lighting. In and out in and out in and-

You’re letting out such a pathetic whine, “But- m’so-”

“Close?”

“Late.”

Of course, Gojo rolls his eyes with the audacity of someone that wasn’t the reason you’ll have to make up some excuse about traffic being awful this time around. Instead, he’s rolling his thumb over your sore clit , breath hot against your ear, “Guess m’gonna have to hurry up then, hm?”

It’s all that’s said before he’s fucking into you deliriously. Faster. Deeper. Bouncing you on the plush mattress like some slut. 

Scoffing, “Y’should just stay home.” Hips snapping ever the more mercilessly with each word. “Stay with me insead. I’m sure she-” He gives your pussy a quick, sharp smack! laughing at the way you’re moaning breathlessly. “-definitely agrees.” 

“Shit- feels s’good hah- shit shit-”

So fucking sloppy. Like he was trying to fuck the idea of staying home into you - each thrust so harsh. Running on pure jealousy and the feeling of your heavenly cunt wrapped around him. Unforgiving. 

“Toru- m’gonna cum- I’m so-” And it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. Nothing but white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and it’s so good that you’re pulling Gojo closer by his toned hips. Being late be damned because you’re cumming so hard you’re sure you see the pearly gates of heaven itself.

Or maybe that was just Gojo - tears pricking his eyes as he cums with such a strangled gasp of what sounds like your name. Thick, white ropes that gush out of your snug pussy, smearing all over his sensitive balls. 

It feels so heavenly that Gojo really can’t help but check if it looks that way too. 

Thumbing apart your folds to watch the way his seed spills out of you, so fucking filthy as it pools on the fresh sheets. So bloated and messy with him. Pulling out ever-so-slightly like he was torn between milking out every last drop of cum on your cute pussy and making a mess of your panties.

The latter wins, apparently. Because he’s painting your panties white, shooting out thick spurts of cum that smear all over your legs. So drenched and flimsy that it was almost difficult for Gojo to snap them playfully back in place.

“Something to remember me by when you go. Have fun~”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[d1stalker]

Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]

SUMMARY: The X-men are heroes—they save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.

WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only! WC: 21k - MASTERLIST

A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!

----

The first time you see them, it’s on your birthday.

Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration instead—maybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now you’re on your way back home.

The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.

Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.

At first, you think it’s an earthquake—a quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And that’s when you see it. 

A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.

People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of what’s happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.

Until they show up.

Initially, you don’t even notice them. After all, there’s so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movement—figures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose. 

You don’t know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, it’s hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. You’ve never seen anything like it—a team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.

Maybe they can stop this!

The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.

But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.

The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.

Whatever awe you’d been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.

Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. He’s clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.

From the corner of your eye, you see another mutant—a man with claws—lunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal. 

How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?

He’s fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monster’s strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowds—anything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city. 

But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you can’t help but feel like this isn’t helping. You’re constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. It’s like being in a war zone, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better.

And above it all, there’s a woman with red hair. She’s floating, and you watch from where you’re hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you. 

You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.

Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn’t seem like help is coming anytime soon. There’s too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.

Glancing around, you’re met with destruction—flames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.

What should have been a simple takedown—a 6v1—has turned into a full-scale disaster.

And yet, they don’t stop. They don’t pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, don’t even seem to notice the damage they’re causing. They’re so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that they’ve lost sight of everything else.

Is this what heroism looks like? You’d been excited at first—amazed, even—thinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city that’s being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.

They don’t care. Not about the city. Not about the people. 

Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.

The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors they’ve caused. The white-haired woman doesn’t even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.

Within moments, they’re gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess. 

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

—

After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. You’re still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, it’s everywhere.

News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about “our holy saviours” saving the day. They’re plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.

The X-Men.

A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like they’re celebrities you should have known about. 

Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.

Mutants with powers like gods.

—

The second time you see them, you’re on vacation.

Sitting in a quaint café in the south of France, you’re enjoying a well-deserved break. The city you’re in is perfect—cobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat you’ve been desperate for after everything back home.

You order a frappé, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. It’s peaceful, quiet, exactly what you needed—until it’s not.

Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the café. It’s not really anything odd, so you don’t think much of it—they’re dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.

Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you’ve seen them before.

You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.

And then it hits you.

Oh, no way.

You’re halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, they’re here. At the same café. 

Shifting in your seat, you’re trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft “voila madame,” but before you can even thank him, there’s a blur of motion.

One of them—Wolverine, you think—lunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappé spills everywhere—all over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you. 

“Logan, no!” you hear Storm shout, but it’s too late.

The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?

Wolverine—or Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.

“What the hell?!” you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. “Is this a joke?!”

No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.

The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful café is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the barista—who you now realize must be the target of whatever mission they’re on—but it misses, smashing into the wall behind you. 

You’re furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You don’t even know what’s happening anymore—who the barista is, what mission they’re on—but frankly, you don’t care.

This is absurd!

Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You don’t bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.

After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.

Boom.

The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the café once stood. 

Your heart sinks.

They blew it up.

—

The third time you see them, it’s a really nice day outside.

It’s a week after you’ve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. You’re walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later. 

You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, when—

BAM!

Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. You’re airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs. 

Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain. 

Great, just great.

When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.

Cyclops.

Are you fucking serious?!

His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruins—buildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them must’ve thrown Cyclops into you. 

You can see the others—Jean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)—flying around, saving the world. That’s codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.

Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.

"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."

Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverine’s standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying. 

“I was thrown, Logan,” he says passively. “Maybe if you kept the Sentinels off me—”

“Maybe if you didn’t stand there like a damn target, you wouldn’t get thrown!” The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). “Seriously, Summers, it’s like you want to get tossed around.”

Cyclops doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve got bigger problems than this right now,” he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if you’re okay. 

Well, there goes the last of your patience.

"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that you’re still standing there, seething.

Before you can rip into them, something catches your eye—a Sentinel (is that what they’re called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.

“Oh, for the love of—” you mutter under your breath before diving forward.

The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode.

Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.

Silence falls.

You’re panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclops–or Scott, as you’ve heard in the news—and Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You can’t really see the other brown-haired man’s expression due to his visor.  

“Woah, bub—”

“Oh, hell no!” You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. “Neither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!”

Logan’s mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.

“And this is exactly why I hate you people!” You continue, exasperated. “You swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?”

Scott doesn’t even blink. “We’re just trying to help,” he says evenly, like he’s rehearsed the line a thousand times.

“Help?” you scoff incredulously. “You only tell yourself you’re doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? What’s the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?”

His audacity makes you want to laugh. He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re not done.

"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who won’t make it home tonight because you couldn’t keep your damn fight contained! You’re so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you don’t even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Who’s cleaning up after you? Who’s paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives you’re currently ruining!”

Beside him, Logan’s smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. “Listen, darlin’, we’re doin’ the best we can. We didn’t ask for this fight—”

"Oh, don’t give me that ‘best we can’ bullshit," you snap.

“We’re here to protect people,” Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. “It’s not always clean, but we are making a difference—"

“Shut the fuck up! I’m not finished!” You interrupt, shaking your head. “Every day. Every damn day there’s something new.”

With the face Logan’s making, you’d think he’s going to start going in on you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving, but you don’t care. You’ve had enough.

"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldn’t have, I don’t know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"

His eyebrow quirks up. “Super speed?” he chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.”

You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "I’m done. I don’t care what kind of mission you’re on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.”

Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

—

A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You haven’t seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like you’ve gotten used to—though not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.

You don’t get it.

The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if they’re the Gods of the mutant race. It’s too much, too loud. They act like they’re above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.

You’ve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didn’t have a choice. Your mutation made you a target—bullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.

You learned quickly that being a mutant didn’t make you special. It made you vulnerable.

So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.

And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like they’ve forgotten what it’s like for the rest of you. It’s not that you don’t believe in helping others—you just don’t believe in the way they do it.

In your opinion, it’s all performance. From what you’ve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, it’s mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.

The ones who don’t wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. You’re the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.

But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.

—

You’re on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Mom, I’m fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "You’ve seen the news recently, right? We’ve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuff—"

Knock. Knock.

You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, I’ll call you back."

Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.

A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.

Delivery? A neighbour? You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.

The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyes—it’s him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.

Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.

Still, he’s faster.

His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.

“What the fuck?” you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. “How did you even find me?”

Stepping inside, he says, “picked up your scent and followed it,” matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy,” you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.

“Can’t control it, bub,” he shrugs. 

You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. “Okay, well, you found me. Now what?”

His eyes lock onto yours. “I need you to come with me.”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. 

“You’re not safe here.”

“Oh, I’m not safe?” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Maybe if you and your merry band of idiots didn’t keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldn’t need to be safe!”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Sentinels are tracking you down.”

You falter. “What are you talking about?”

“You used your powers,” he states. “Killed a Sentinel. That’s all it takes for them to target you.”

Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. “I didn’t kill anyone. They’re fucking robots.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he counters. “You took one down, and now they know what you are.”

Part of you knows there’s merit in what he’s saying, but you don’t want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t ask for any of this!” you hiss, glaring at him. “And now you’re telling me I’m on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!”

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.

“I’m the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You weren’t even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.” Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now I’m the one who has to run?"

Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. “We weren’t—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” you cut him off. “If it weren’t for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now I’m supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like that’s going to fix th—”

You don’t get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.

“This is serious,” he spits, eyes boring into yours. “You stay here, you die.”

His words slam into you. He’s not trying to scare you—he’s telling the truth.

“You don’t get to be stubborn about this,” he continues firmly. “You think you’re pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you don’t have a chance to fight back.”

Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. “I just—” you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but it’s weakening, cracking. “I don’t want to run.”

“You’re not running,” he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. “You’re buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? There’s none of that.”

You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. “Fine,” you breath out. 

He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. “Good. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.”

Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.

You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Unbelievable.”

Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bag—jeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until you’re safe. 

You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. I’m gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself. 

Once everything is packed and you’ve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.

“Seriously?” you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.”

He grunts in response but doesn’t move. Typical.

You glance at the clock—still a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but there’s no point in dragging it out. “I’m ready,” you say flatly, heading toward the door.

Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like he’s waking up from a nap. “Let’s go then.”

—

The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. You’d rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance you’re feeling. Each time, you feel Logan’s eyes dart toward you from the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t say anything. Well, that is, until—

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.

You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. “I didn’t even say anything, jackass.”

He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues. 

Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute. 

“Well, here we are,” he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.

“Great,” you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. 

Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance. 

The doors open before you even reach them, and you’re greeted by an older man in a wheelchair—Charles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but you’re in such a bad mood, you don’t even bother trying to seem polite.

“Welcome,” He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

You press your lips together in a line. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too excited.”

Logan grunts beside you. “She’s got a bit of an attitude,” he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. “Come on.”

Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams “too good to be true,” and you hate it already. You’re used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.

As you walk through the halls, a few faces appear—other mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival. 

Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You remind me of Logan when he first joined us,” he says thoughtfully.

That stops you in your tracks.

You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. “Do not say that. We are nothing alike.”

On your other side, Logan smirks. “Not sure if I should be offended or not.”

“I’m serious.” If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. “You’re both a bit rough around the edges, but you’ll find your place here.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Because that’s exactly what I want to do.”

Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men you’ve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You don’t flinch—you just stare back, your expression hard.

Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.

“This is your room,” he grunts, nodding toward it. “Try not to break anything.”

Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimum—a bed, maybe a closet—but instead, you’re met with a surprisingly large space. There’s a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.

You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.

Once you’re outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.

The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.

You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. “Surprise.”

You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you could’ve been stuck beside, it had to be him. It’s not enough that he dragged you here, but now there’s a chance you’re going to have to see him every time you step outside.

“So what now?” you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. “I’m just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?”

Taking another slow pull on his cigar, “You’re supposed to stay alive. Everythin’ else? That’s up to you.”

“But why do you suddenly care?” you ask. “I’ve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You don’t care about the collateral damage—hell, you cause half of it.” 

Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesn’t answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.

“Why now?” you press. “Why drag me into this when you’ve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?”

Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. “This ain’t about me ‘caring,’” he says flatly. “This is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear,” you bite out. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?”

Logan’s eyes darken, drilling into yours. “You’re not important to me,” he says flatly. “But they won’t stop until they get you. The destruction that’ll come from that—if your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the way—would be much greater than anything we would cause.”

“Doubt that,” you snarl bitterly. You don’t linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.

The bed is large and you can’t deny how inviting it looks after the day you’ve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

You’re barely able to reflect on the chaotic day you’ve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.

—

You’re jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.

“Get up,” Logan’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast in ten.”

Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow

As you catch up, you can’t help but throw him a sideways glare. “Why are you acting like my personal bodyguard?”

“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. “You don’t even know what I can do.”

Logan’s lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. “Exactly,” he says, his tone almost amused. “Which is why today, we’re gonna test you.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. “Test me? What the hell does that mean?”

He stops too, turning to face you. “Means you’re gonna show me what you’re capable of.”

Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. “I’m not some science experiment.”

“No,” he agrees, “but you’re not a regular person, either. You need to know your limits—and how to handle what’s coming.”

Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. “I don’t even know what to say back to that. All I know is that I’m hungry.”

—

The kitchen of Xavier’s mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them. 

Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.

But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"

You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.

"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didn’t think you’d stray from the flock."

“They’re fine without me.”

You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, you’re grateful for the space.

Just as you’re finishing up, a low voice catches your attention. 

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. You’ve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.

Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. “Say it louder, please,” you say calmly.

The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasn’t expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if she’s trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.

Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. “You heard wrong,” he says sternly. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. “Didn’t mean anything?” you repeat sarcastically. “She just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”

Scott’s jaw clenches tighter “She wasn’t trying to insult you. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work yet.”

“That’s the excuse?” you laugh dryly. “Maybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesn’t know.”

If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of what’s going to happen next. You can feel Logan’s presence behind you, but he doesn’t interfere. He’s letting you handle this.

“You don’t belong here,” Scott states, like he’s trying to remind you of your place. “You’re not part of this team, and you sure as hell don’t understand what it takes to survive here.”

Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why don’t you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.”

His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.

"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldn’t want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."

That does it. 

A beam shoots out from Scott’s visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. There’s a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scott’s as the beam strikes you square in the chest.

You’re not knocked back, or worse, killed, as the energy from the blast surges into you. The energy seeps into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.

Jean’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else moves—too stunned—as he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scott’s blast still buzzing under your skin.

Both out of sight, he finally releases you. 

You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. “What the hell? Why'd you interfere?”

He just shrugs, completely unfazed. “You handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” you ask. 

He motions down the hallway. “Danger Room. We’re gonna push those limits a little further.”

Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.

—

“Fuck!” you curse as you’re flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago. 

Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.

I can’t keep this up.

Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. You’re quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.

Then it hits you—you don’t have to outrun it.

You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scott’s beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.

Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.

It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.

At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinel’s head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robot’s head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.

Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.

“Good work,” Logan’s voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what you’ve just been through. “Let’s see how you handle another.”

There’s no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This one’s faster, more agile, and doesn’t waste time by charging up blasts.

It exists solely to hunt you down. 

“Cut me some slack,” you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.

This one isn’t like the last. It’s not using energy blasts—it’s fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.

Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.

The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didn’t know you had.

Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeper—your own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you can’t hold it back anymore.

With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.

And when the light fades, the Sentinel is gone—nothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.

You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.

The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. You’re still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.

“Well,” he says, voice calm, “that wasn’t too bad.”

You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. “You… are such… an asshole.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Get up. We’re just getting started.”

—

He was right. You were just getting started.

The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. You’re starting to suspect this is Logan’s way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude you’ve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You don’t even want to think about how much worse you’re going to feel in the morning.

You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.

“Maybe I should be a little nicer to you,” you rationalize, but who are you kidding.

With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. “You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted at best. You don’t even have the energy to be annoyed right now.

Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling ‘see you later’ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day. 

After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesn’t take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look. 

What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.

It’s too beautiful to ignore.

Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You can’t help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, you’re standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.

A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Logan’s door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.

Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon. 

You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and it’s almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the day’s activity. You are a woman, after all.

He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadn’t bothered to see before. 

The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. They’re faint, barely there, but in this light, they’re more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.

Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause. 

What the fuck?

You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now you’re here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.

Nope. Absolutely not. You’re not going down that road.

Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why you’re suddenly noticing these things about him—probably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit. 

Yup. That’s it.

He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. “Nice view"

You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. “Yeah,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.

The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.

“Well, I’m done,” you say abruptly. “I’m gonna crash.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.

Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.

—

A few hours later, when it’s dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attention—a smell.

It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and that’s when you spot it—a tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light. 

Next to the tray, there’s a small note:

Figured you’d be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.

– L

You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesn’t exactly fit with the version of him you’ve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesn’t quite fit the mold you expected.

Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Surprisingly flavourful—rich and nourishing, it’s the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you

Still, you can’t help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something it’s not. 

—

The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.

He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why he’s there. “Uh... morning?” you get out, albeit you can’t hide the confusion in your tone.

A short nod in greeting. “Morning. Ready for breakfast?”

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. “Yeah I am, but…um, thanks for the food last night, it was good.” you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.

The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you don’t want to make a fuss, it’s worth noting

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugs casually.

Nodding in understanding, you’re ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, “Y’know, you’re actually kinda pretty when you’re asleep. Not being a little shit helps.”

You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.

Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “You heard me.”

Your face heats up. “I am not a little shit,” you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate. 

He’s messing with you on purpose.

Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty. 

—

The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.

Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.

You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isn’t on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesn’t even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesn’t exist.

The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.

Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. “So... what’s the plan for today?”

He looks up from his plate. “Charles wants to see you this morning.”

You frown, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Why? Did I break something without knowing it?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No, you’re not in trouble, smartass. He’s just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You need to know what you’re up against, what we’re all dealing with. He’ll catch you up to speed.”

“Great,” you mutter. “More bad news.”

The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. “Look, it’s not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.”

“I’ll take that as your way of saying ‘good luck,” you breathe out. 

He smirks. “You’re gonna need it.”

Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. “I’ll drop you off at Charles’s office. You’ll be with him for the morning.”

You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. “Fantastic,” you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat you’re dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it won’t do you any good.

—

“So, how can they be stopped?”

You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft. 

He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. “Stopping the Sentinels is... complicated. They’ve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.”

“I gathered that.”

“They are highly adaptive machines,” he continues. “Designed to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.”

His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach. 

“And now I’m one of their targets,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Leaning forward slightly, he says, “Yes. They’ve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They don’t differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.”

You exhale sharply. “So, what’s your plan?”

Charles meets your gaze. “There is a command center—a hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.”

You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. “You believe?”

“It’s our best theory,” he says evenly. “We’ve been gathering intel for some time now. And we’re planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.”

The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you can’t seem to shake.

“You want me to be a part of it.”

He remains unfazed. “I believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. You’ve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.”

A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. “Yeah, but I’m not one of you. I don’t want to be part of some... grand battle. That’s not me.”

Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. “I understand your reluctance,” he says gently. “But running, hiding... it won’t change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.”

Standing, you begin to pace the room. “This is exactly the problem I have with your team,” you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. “We hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. It’s like you don’t care about anything except the big picture.”

Charles’s expression doesn’t change. He definitely expected this. “We aren’t perfect,” he admits, “and our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.”

Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. “And if I say no?”

“I won’t force you,” His voice is understanding. “The choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.”

It’s as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didn’t want any part of. Avoiding it doesn’t seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything you’ve tried to distance yourself from. 

Sighing, “I’ll think about it.”

—

When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. It’s a sight you think you should get used to. 

His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind.

You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. There’s something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.

“How’d it go?” he asks gruffly.

“He wants me to join you guys on the mission.”

At first, Logan doesn’t react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “What do you want to do?”

It’s the same question that’s been clawing at your insides since you left Charles’s office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but it’s anything but.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I can’t join you guys, that’s not who I am.”

He hums softly.

Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. “I get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do it—so carefree about everything. It’s like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everything—it doesn’t even phase you.”

“We don’t do it carefree,” he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. “But sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we don’t stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. “And that’s what I hate about it.”

Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. “I’m not gonna lie to you and say it’s easy. It ain’t. We all carry the weight of the things we’ve done—the things we couldn’t stop. But if not us, then who?”

“That’s an impossible decision,” you say. There’s no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll it’s going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.

Logan leans his elbows on the railing. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I was just like you. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with the team or their battles.”

The comparison makes you grimace. “Great. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. “I’m serious, bub. For years, I didn’t want to be part of this... circus. Figured I’d be better off on my own, that I was above it all.”

You quirk a brow. “Then what changed?”

“It’s not like a switch flipped,” he replies, a bit quieter. “I just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethin’. A place. Belonging. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do, but it’s better than wanderin’.”

That makes you scoff. “Yeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I don’t belong here. Jean thinks I’m weak. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘welcome to the team,’ does it?”

His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. “Scott talks too much, and Jean—she’s cautious. Doesn’t mean she’s right.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s wrong either,” you mumble. “They don’t trust me.”

“They didn’t trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.”

“I don’t want to be like you,” you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.

He doesn’t look offended—just tired. “Didn’t say you should,” he starts. “But you can’t keep shunnin’ us.”

“So what do I do now?”

Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. “The mission’s in a week. You’ve got that long to figure it out.”

He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. “This battle, it’s inevitable. Question is—how do you want to face it?”

—

You’ve never been so conflicted. This choice–to join, or not to join—is probably the hardest decision you’ve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.

And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourself—your morals.

But then there’s the other side of it—the part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isn’t right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing… doesn’t that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you don’t—what does that make you?

It’s a lose-lose situation. The X-Men don’t even want you there—aside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. They’ve made their opinion on you clear.

You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You can’t join a team that doesn’t want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fighting—that makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worse—a bad person.

Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. It’s not perfect, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, but it’s the only choice you can make right now. You’ll join them—for this mission only.

You’ll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when it’s done, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where you’re not one of them, but you’re no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself. 

If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.

—

In the afternoon, you don’t do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.

Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the team—Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank—talking near a meeting room. They’re deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.

Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But it’s too late; they’ve already seen you. 

Jean’s eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. “Hey,” she says carefully. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Her tone is polite, but distant. It’s clear this apology isn’t driven by genuine remorse—it’s more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterday’s standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.

Still, you’re not looking to start more drama, and you don’t want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when you’re already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.”

Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s obvious he’s glaring at you.

Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. “Joining the team isn’t easy,” she says kindly. “But we’ve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, I’m here.”

“You’ve got potential,” Hank chips in from beside her. “It takes time to settle in, but I’m sure you’ll find your place.”

His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what he’s saying. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re not staying any longer than you have to. 

You don’t plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you don’t believe there is one for you. Not with Scott’s distrust, Jean’s cautious distance, and the way you know you can’t be part of a team that doesn’t care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead. 

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll all see soon enough,” Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one that’s trying to provoke you. 

You meet his gaze—or at least the visor—and feel your jaw tighten. “Guess so,” you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free. 

—

The mansion’s library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. It’s quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelf—some old novel you’ve never heard of—and settle in.

For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isn’t particularly gripping, but it’s enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.

“Hey, bub.”

You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. “What?” you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. It’s Logan, after all.

“You’ve been hiding in here long enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, time to head back.”

Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. “I wasn’t hiding, I was reading,” you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. “There’s a difference, y’know.”

“Sure there is,” he huffs, clearly not buying it. “Let’s go.”

As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. “You wanna come in for a bit? Talk?”

You’re a little bit taken aback. You didn’t peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. “Sure.”

Inside his room, it’s about what you’d expect—minimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like it’s seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.

There’s a moment where you’re just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, there’s silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesn’t light it, just turns it between his fingers.

“I’ve decided,” you say finally, breaking the quiet. “I’ll go on the mission.”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.

“But,” you add, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not promising to stay after. This doesn’t mean I’m all in on your little X-Men gig.”

He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Knew you’d say that.”

Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re stubborn as hell,” he teases.“Always gotta fight against the grain, even when you know what’s best for you.”

Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. “I truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t argue. “Charles gave me more details about the mission.”

That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. “Yeah? Where are we going?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s... in the city.”

“The city? What city?”

“New York.”

Your heart drops. “New York?” You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.

Giving you a slow nod, it’s like he's gauging your reaction. “The Sentinels’ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.”

You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. “So, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?”

He stands up after you, but he doesn’t try to stop your pacing. “We’ve fought in cities before. We know what we’re doing.”

You whip around to face him. “Yeah, you’ve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and it’s been years!”

“I get it, alright?” He says, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not perfect. But if we don’t stop the Sentinels now, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.”

“‘A few broken buildings’?” you echo. “What about the casualties that’ll come from it? We’re talking about innocent lives here, Logan!”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “I know that! You think I don’t know what’s at stake? But we don’t have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and that’s in the middle of the damn city.”

“There has to be a better way,” you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"

"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."

“I can't accept that," you say.

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. “I’ll talk to the team. I’ll make sure we go in smart. We’ll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.”

You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.

“And what if you can’t?” you challenge quietly. 

His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. “We deal with it, and we’ll do everything we can to make it right.”

He watches you, his eyes searching yours. “Look, I get why you’re pissed. I’d be too if I were you," he continues. "But we don’t have time to sit around debating. I’ll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. That’s the best I can offer.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, you know there’s no way around it. “Fine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?”

Logan’s lips curve into a small smirk, but there’s an underlying tenderness to it. “I promise.”

—

The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else. 

Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, he’s also a professor.

Curiosity got the better of you, you’d say. The topic—mutant biology—sounds interesting enough, and you’ve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.

You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. He’s standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascination—or fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.

Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Logan’s eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Just here to observe, don’t mind me,” you huff, sinking back into the seat.

The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Logan’s actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that you’d actually tell him that. It’s quite interesting, if you’re being honest.

You lean back in your chair, listening, but you’re not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. “Hey, you in the back,” he says. “Since you’re just ‘observing,’ how about answering a question?”

“Me?” You blink, caught off guard.

“Yeah, you,” he confirms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been sittin’ there long enough. Time to show the class what you’ve learned.”

“I wasn’t exactly paying attention,” you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.

The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.

“That’s obvious,” he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. “So, maybe you’ll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?”

Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. “Not my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.”

He doesn’t seem fazed as the room erupts into quiet laughter. A small sigh, "if you’re gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.”

“No thanks.”

It’s obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor. 

“Alright, enough,” Logan says, trying to regroup the class, turning back to the chalkboard. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.” He casts you a sideways glance, and you can’t help but scoff.

When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You’re making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. “You should’ve just answered the damn question,” he mutters.

“I didn’t know the answer,” you shoot back, shifting up to face him. “And I didn’t come here to get grilled in front of your students.”

He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. “Just tryin’ to get you to pay attention, is all.”

Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Logan’s gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there. 

Where did that come from? 

Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Not as fun.”

—

During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, you’re usually too wiped out to care. Logan’s a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, you’re left scrambling just to keep up.

However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.

You’re in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if he’s waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.

“Gonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?” he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. You’re tired—completely worn out—but you push through how depleted you feel, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.

Before you know it, Logan’s on the ground.

Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did it—you actually got him!

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.

When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic. 

"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.

He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. “You finally got me. Took you long enough.”

You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. “Yeah, don’t get too comfortable. Next time won’t take as long.”

Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. “Look at that. It’s dinner time. Last meal before the mission.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’m not really in the mood. Think I’ll just grab something later.”

He crosses his arms, giving you a look. “You can’t avoid them forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” you protest, though you know it sounds weak. “I just... don’t feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.”

He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. “Look, it’s the last night before everything kicks off. You should join us—one last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.”

“I don’t brood,” you glare.

“Right,” he says, even though you know he’s not actually agreeing. “You gonna come or do I need to drag you?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, like he’s daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing you’re not going to win this one.

“Fine,” you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. “But I’m not talking to Scott.”

His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him. 

—

So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this group—especially when you’re not even sure you want to be.

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Scott’s biting remark. 

He doesn’t look at you—just stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. You’re so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.

“Shut up, Summers,” 

“Shut up, One-Eye”

It’s like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scott’s glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.

Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. “You two really are perfect for each other,” she says.

Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. “W-what?” you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.

She just smiles, eyes twinkling. “Just an observation.”

You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusual—the tips of his ears are red.

That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth. 

Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.

But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat. 

You’re screwed.

—

That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, you’re wide awake.

You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balcony—you know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But there’s a problem. You’re not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororo’s comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.

With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But it’s no use.

You’re about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when there’s a knock on your door.

You freeze. Who could possibly—

“Stop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my room” Logan’s rough voice grumbles from the other side.

Goddamn it. It's always him.

Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. “What the hell?” you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.

The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. “You’re keepin’ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.”

“I didn’t realize you had super hearing,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.

He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t take super hearing to catch that all that ruckus,” he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.

You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. “Figured you might need to talk or somethin’. You’re clearly not sleeping.”

Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize.”

His words sink in, and you bite your lip. “What if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?”

"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."

Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.

“I don’t know if I—” you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.

You’re too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.

And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.

—

The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. You’re leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. He’s holding something in his hands—a blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.

You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m not wearing that thing.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. “You sure about that? We’re going in as a team. You might as well look the part.”

“I don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,” you reply.

He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. “Just put the damn suit on.”

Glaring at him, you’re ready to argue, but you know it’s a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.

“Fine, dammit.” you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.

When you re-emerge, Logan’s eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. “You look good.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you grumble, adjusting the suit’s collar. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.

Suddenly, the facility’s roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.

“Shit!” Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.

You hear the screams before you see them—civilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. “Get out of here! Move!”

Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but then—

A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.

“No!” you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground. 

Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. “Run,” you tell them, your voice hoarse. “Go!”

They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.

And something strikes you—they’re doing it.

They’re minimizing the damage.

For the first time, you notice that Scott’s blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororo’s lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.

Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.

He kept his promise.

Glancing back at him, who’s in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though he’s fully immersed in the fight, there’s a brief flicker of acknowledgment—he knows you’ve noticed.

You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you can’t afford to stop. 

Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, there’s a wide open set of doors—metal, reinforced, and clearly important. 

They hadn’t been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize it’s an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. It’s an opening you can’t ignore.

Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?

As if hearing your thoughts, Logan’s voice cut through the noise. "GO!" He’s locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. “Get inside! We’ve got this!”

“I can’t—" 

“GO!” he cuts you off. “Get inside and stop this thing from the inside! We’ll keep ‘em busy.”

His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facility’s entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go. 

You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking there’ll be a fight, but it’s... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes. 

It’s been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but you’re still coming up short.

Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. You’re not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist. 

Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. You’re hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, you’re lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.

The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. It’s larger than any you’ve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But what’s worse is the voice that comes out of it—calm, calculating, and sentient.

“Dumb mutant,” the machine growls. “Did you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.

“What the hell are you?” you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.

“I am the control centre of all Sentinels,” the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. “I was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.”

It laughs—a harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. “You think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I won’t blast you. I won’t make it that easy.”

“I’m—” you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machine’s grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.

“You don’t belong here,” it hisses venomously. “With them. They’ll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, you’ll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.”

It’s odd, because this whole past week you’ve been fighting against them—the X-men—yet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot. 

Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you. 

The Sentinel doesn’t notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. “You’re a liability.” it says,. “Weak.”

— —

"I just don’t understand why they brought her here," Jean’s voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. “She doesn’t seem like she has what it takes. It’s like they’re bringing in someone who’s—” She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.”

—

You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isn’t long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. “So, are you feeling ready for the mission?”

Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. “She’s going to be a liability.”

— —

You snap.

Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until it’s ready to explode. 

Weak? Liability?

No. Not this time. 

You’re not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.

It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. “What... what are you—”

You don’t give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole you’ve blasted in the Sentinel’s chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.

The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. “What are you doing?” it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. “Stop!”

But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.

“You... can’t... do this,” it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.

Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. “I... control... everything...”

And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.

The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.

Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinel’s grip, but you’ve done it. It’s over, and you need to get out of here.

You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, you’re gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see them—Logan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.

Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief. 

They’re okay. It’s over.

Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.

He’s there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell you’d just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.

“You did good, bub,” he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.

"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than it’s even been after a run in with the X-men. 

His lids drop very low on his eyes. “Told you I would.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what you’ve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck. 

“I didn’t mean— I mean, not literally, obviously,” you say, a little breathless. “People say stuff like that all the time when they’re relieved. It’s just a figure of—”

Logan’s hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling. 

“You could,” he says, swallowing. “If you want.”

You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out. 

Instead, you’re frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. “No pressure, though.”

You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, “more," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair. 

His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. It’s not perfect—nothing about it is neat or polished—but that’s what makes it real. 

There’s something wild to it. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’ll ever admit. It’s enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to. 

You’re lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, and—

“Hey!”

Scott’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

“Some of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,” he calls out sharply. “You two wanna stop making out and help, or what?”

You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated. 

Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. “Fucking Summers,” he mutters..

Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels. 

—

“So… are we gonna talk about it?” 

You glance up from where you’re sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ororo, I swear to g—”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. “What? I’m just saying… it was quite the spectacle back there.” Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone else’s attention subtly turning toward you. Hank’s busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but it’s Jean’s quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.

“Okay, okay, can we not do this right now?” you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. “It was... a heat of the moment thing.”

Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, “We saved the day, didn’t we? What does it matter?”

The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

But then, Logan leans into you. “That suit…” His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. “Was made for you.”

Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. “Logan,” you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you. 

You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like he’s won some unspoken battle.

—

Back at the mansion, the team files into Charles’s office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on you—especially Logan’s.

Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. “Well done, all of you,” he says, his voice full of pride. “I’ve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.”

He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. “And I must say, I’m especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinel—an impressive accomplishment.”

Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. “Uh, thanks,” you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isn’t finished.

“You showed great courage and strength,” he continues, “and I couldn’t help but notice... you’re wearing the suit now.” His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. “Have you given more thought to staying with us?”

You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but there’s no pressure in their eyes—just curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesn’t seem as tightly clenched as usual.

But it’s Logan you notice most. He’s beside you, and though he’s looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.

You sigh. “I mean... You said it yourself. I’m wearing the suit, aren’t I?”

—

After the meeting wraps up, you walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. You’re still buzzing with the aftereffects of everything—Charles’s praise, the mission’s success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, you’re hyper-aware of Logan beside you.

Approaching your room, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, he tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.

The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.

"Logan—" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.

Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "I’ve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."

Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. “You were standing there,” he murmurs, “so damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.” He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you.”

His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and you’re powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.

“I didn’t know it’d get this bad,” he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. “But after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Logan—wanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."

Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirk—a kind of cocky grin—as he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit. 

Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looks—battle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. “You like what you see?” he teases.

You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”

He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."

Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.

You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."

He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."

At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once he’s halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap. 

The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.

His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips. 

Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.

You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You can’t stop, he’s so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.

This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.

"Where you goin'?" he rumbles. 

Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at you—peering up at him through your lashes—realizing what’s about to happen.

His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses. 

“C’mon, don’t tease,” he breathes out. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful. 

Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth. 

“You’re just so cute, though,” you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.

“Holy—”, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily. 

Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down. 

Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. He’s so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip. 

That gets him. 

You can tell he’s about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."

Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?" 

He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds you—musk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs. 

"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."

Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting you—tasting himself. 

Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded. 

And you’re not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing

“Fuck,” he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you.  

“Oh my god,” you whimper. He feels so good. He’s filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. “Is this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?”

All he can do is groan. It’s like he’s growing inside you in response to your words, and it’s so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. “You have no idea. Fuck—we shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."

You can’t even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.

The sound it elicits from you is lethal. 

He won’t last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncing—it's too much. 

So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. He’s still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. He’s filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself. 

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he pants above you. “So wet and warm for me.”

His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit. 

Your mind goes blank. 

His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. “I’m–I’m gonna—” you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.

“Do it,” he says between kisses. “come for me.”

And you do. 

With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “keep clenchin’, keep goin’ ”

His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.

Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours. 

If he’s too heavy for you, you don’t say anything—too caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts. 

After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom. 

You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. There’s no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. “Doing alright?” he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms. 

His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, “I’m proud of you.” The words are filled will sincerity. “And... I’m happy you’re stayin’ with us.”

You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Well, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,” you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. “Keep that up, and I might just stick around forever.”

Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. “That right?” he murmurs lowly.

He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, “Well, then maybe you’ll be mine forever too.”

----

A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!

[bi-writes]

Since he won't have MOB lift a finger in their home and given how he reacted when she came out in her lingerie, I like to imagine Simon gets a little flustered whenever he's doing the laundry and he's got to sort out her underwear from the rest of the clothes

mail-order bride

it's quiet this afternoon. it's cold outside again (what a surprise), and there's rain pattering gently against the windows. there's a stew in the oven, but it still needs a few hours to get that perfect tender texture. nevertheless, the house is filled with a warm smell, something hearty and wonderful.

something like home.

when simon walks into the living room, he sees you there. you're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, head resting on a throw pillow as you watch a movie. there's a mug of tea in front of you, steam rising from it, and simon comes over to greet you.

you turn your head, looking up at him towering over you, and you smile up at him as you snuggle a little further into the pillow. you hold out your hand for him.

"wanna watch with me?" you ask, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. he takes your hand anyways, and you swallow hard as he presses your knuckles to his lips, giving them a light kiss before letting go.

"doin' the laundry. can't find yours."

you go to sit up, but simon frowns, visibly upset that you're moving from your spot.

"don't get up," he tells you, tucking the blanket back over you. "just tell me where it is."

you bite your lip.

"uhm...it's in the closet. there's...a bag there."

simon hums, thumbing over your jaw before making his way into the bedroom. he flicks the light on in the closet, moving hangers around until he spots a canvas bag on the floor there, stuffed to the brim with your dirty clothes. he picks it up, cursing a little from how heavy it is, and he carries it with him to the washroom. when he passes the living room, he stops for a moment.

"oi," he calls out to you, and you turn your head, smiling at him, and he points to the bag. "you put y'r clothes with mine from now on, yeah?"

you tuck your face behind the blanket a little more to hide your growing smile. you nod anyways, and he huffs a little before continuing. he puts his basket of laundry on top of the dryer, opening the lid of the washer, and he lifts your little bag up next to the basket. after he sets it down, he steps back when the bag starts to move.

"oi! wot the fuck?!"

at the shout, you scramble off the couch, hurrying towards where he is.

"what? what?! what happened?"

"bag's fuckin' movin'!" simon huffs, but when you try to come further into the room, simon puts a hand on your chest gently, pushing you backwards and behind him. he blocks you completely with his body, and you still can barely see as you stand on your toes and try and look over his shoulder.

"simon--" you sigh. "simon! wait--let me see!"

"fuck no," he snarls, "stay there."

he pushes the bag over so that it tips over, falling onto its side. your clothes tumble out, spilling onto the dryer and onto the floor, and simon reaches around him and wraps one big hand around your waist protectively to hold you back as he cranes his neck to see.

"what is it? simon!" you hiss, and simon holds his breath as the bag continues to move. there's a wiggle of a shape under the canvas before a familiar little head pokes itself out from the opening, one of your shirt sleeves framing their face and hiding their ears.

simon groans audibly, relaxing immediately.

"fuckin' hell," he mutters, letting you push him aside, and you hold onto his bicep as you try and hide your laugh. the cat wriggles its way through your shirt sleeve before shaking, fluffing her hair back up before she takes a seat on the edge of the dryer lid and starts to lick her little paw. "'ow did it fuckin' breathe in there, eh?"

you step past him and reach for her, picking her up off the dryer and tucking her into the crook of your arm. she lays her little head on your arm, blinking slowly up at you, and you tap her nose gently before looking back and up at simon.

"sorry she scared you, big man," you giggle, and he scrunches his nose a bit as he glares at the cat.

"wasn't scared," he huffs, and he brings you closer with a hand on your jaw, drawing you nearer. he runs his tongue over his teeth, looking down at you, and you swear his gaze lingers on your lips for just a second too long. "got precious cargo in m'house. couldn't let anythin' happen ta 'er."

you blink up at him, opening your mouth to say something, but you sputter, laughing, looking away from him. you shrug him off with a roll of your eyes, but you look back at him just as you're about to turn the corner and leave. he's already back to picking up your clothes that have fallen onto the floor, and you nearly choke when he's got one big hand wrapped around bright red lace.

he holds up the edges of it for a moment to inspect it, and he swallows when he realizes it's a pair of your panties.

your favorite panties.

when he looks over his shoulder, your eyes lock, and you squeak as you hide behind the doorway, shutting your eyes as you cringe at yourself for reacting so silly.

for fuck's sake, it's your husband--husbands wash their wives undergarments, right?

you poke your head back into the doorway, just enough for your eyes to get simon in view again. he's putting the rest of the clothes in the washer, putting a small amount of soap into it before shutting the top and putting the water on cold. you hide again when he turns around, flattening your back against the wall, and when he comes out, he's got a hint of a smirk on his face, knowing, because he knows he's caught you.

when he passes by you, you go half-lidded and slack when his hand finds your face again, thumb against your bottom lip. his eyes are so dark; beautiful, pupils blown wide, a magnet that draws you closer, up onto your toes until his thumb is nearly touching your tongue and your lips are nearly brushing against his.

simon takes your breath away when he leaves. you follow him hoping to get it back.