#and that's the thing she's always truly wanted and this is the first time since she was eight she's able to fully self actualise

[ceesimz]

Misunderstood

Arguments aren't your strongsuit, especially with the person you love most. (Autistic reader)

Other parts of Reverie can be found here! Hope you enjoy :)

If anyone asked you, you would say your relationship was perfect. It was everything you hoped and dreamed for, and more. 

Yet, nothing is completely perfect, no matter how much you try or long for it to be. Even the healthiest, happiest relationships had their moments. That was the reality, but that didn’t stop you from panicking at the first sign of conflict.

An argument was always inevitable, especially in a fairly new relationship, which you knew of course, you just never thought it would happen in the way it did. Not only was conflict possibly the thing you hated most in the world, but it was the cause of the argument that really hurt.

Sometimes, it was hard for you to read people. Other times, you could read them so well, it weirded them out. In your books, the only people that could truly hide how they felt, were autistic people. Masking was natural instinct and when you're unknowingly forced by society and its allistic habits of finding anything other than ‘normal’ weird to hide every aspect of what makes you human, you learn from others’ body language and actions and facial expressions about how to fit in. The knock-on effect of that is you also learn how to spot the signs in other people when they’re trying to disguise their feelings, autistic or not. 

That’s why Alexia loved the fact she didn’t have to say much for you to realise when she was in a depleted mood… most of the time.

“Cariño?” Alexia sighed as she stepped into her apartment, knowing you were somewhere around. 

Whilst you had a day off, Alexia had been going from place to place, feeling as if she had seen more of Barcelona in one day than a tourist in a week. It had been one of those days where it seemed like everyone needed something from her, and for whatever reason, she couldn’t say no. She didn’t realise that everything she had agreed to in the last month or two had been scheduled all in a single day, meaning she didn’t get home until 8pm, a whole thirteen hours after she first left that morning. 

The last thing she wanted to do that day, and everyday, was to upset you.

“Where are you.” She mumbled, dumping her bag beside the shoe rack that she left her trainers beside, too exhausted to even think about the mess she was leaving behind. The mess around her apartment was another story. 

The kitchen looked as if an explosion had occurred, tupperware and plates and cutlery all over the counters, the only saving grace for the frustration that slowly built being the trays of freshly baked goods of whatever variety neatly organised and filling her home with a sweet scent. Her lounge was thankfully less chaotic, bar the blanket left strewn on the sofa and a couple pillows haphazardly placed around, though it was empty without you.

When she stepped into her bedroom for the first time that night, there was a smile on her face. 

You were in her room, headphones on and in your own world, humming quietly whilst you folded up then put away a mix of your clothes and Alexia’s. Over time, since that date back in December at the walled garden with the pansies and the kiss and the admissions, the two of you hardly ever spent time apart. The only time you did was when Alexia went away for Spain camp or one of you was so busy you didn’t want to disrupt the other. Otherwise, every night at least was with each other. Why wouldn’t you? Spending the day with separate friends or like Alexia’s case that day, at work, just to come home to each other was something you both adored.

That meant that some of your belongings had gradually made their way over to Alexia’s apartment, and vice versa. To walk in on you doing something so simple like joint laundry, it caused a barrage of sentimental feelings to rise inside of her. It was like a glance into her future. 

Though, with your headphones on and no doubt blasting your music so loud Alexia should be concerned about your hearing, she didn’t want to scare you. So she simply stood in the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame with her arms crossed, a soft and adoring look on her face as she did so. A minute or two passed by until you turned to notice her, flinching a little before you smiled beamingly at her.

“Hola, guapa.” You grinned, dropping your headphones and the sweater you were folding onto the bed, and bounding over to Alexia.

“Hola, guapa.” Alexia repeated in a quieter voice, distinctly lacking the same excitement as your tone did. Her arms wrapped around your waist as yours linked around her shoulders, completely missing all the tension that she held there. “How was your day?”

“It was so good, I loved it. But all day I was thinking about you and coming home to you. It’s quite late for a work day, are you okay?” You inquired, feeling her nod into your shoulder where she rested her forehead. 

Any other time, that reply wouldn’t have been enough for you, you would have questioned her further. 

You don’t know how or why, but you didn’t recognise her subdued behaviour at that moment. It didn’t exactly make sense to you, nor could you ever in your life find the words to explain why, this was just something that happened sometimes. Maybe it had something to do with you feeling so happy that you wanted to spread that and share it with others. It was a very admirable habit with nothing but the best intentions, it just… didn’t come off that way sometimes.

Your joy was so all-consuming, it was hard to focus on anything else. The world was brighter, you felt lighter, and almost nothing could bring you down. Everything else was just background noise, you’d unknowingly honed in on the complete elation you felt that it kind of made you oblivious to the things around you. Or, more specifically, the people around you, and their true feelings. 

You weren’t aware at the time that it was happening. If you did know what was going on, you’d stop in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, that’s not something that can be done.

“Thank you for doing laundry while I was gone.” Alexia said, leaning back a little to smile tiredly down at you.

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t want me stealing more of your clothes so it was kind of a necessity.” You failed to notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes like it always did. “I baked earlier, did you see? Ingrid gave me some recipes that I tried, they came out really good. You should try some after dinner.” 

“I will.” She agreed with a lazy hum, having to hide her frown when you pulled out of her arms and away from her. 

“I left the kitchen a bit… messy. Sorry. I’ll clean it, I swear, but maybe it’s best if we order in tonight?” You grimaced, walking backwards out of the bedroom towards the aforementioned room as Alexia nodded at your suggestion. “Great! You order, you know what I like, I’ll get started with cleaning.”

You turned around the corner and out of Alexia’s sight. She sighed, again, and her hands fell to her hips as she did so. It wasn’t that she was annoyed at you, she just couldn’t find the words to properly express how she felt. 

Up to this point of your relationship, she had never had a day like this, where she was so completely and thoroughly exhausted. Not just that, but also feeling like if she didn’t get into bed sooner rather than later, she might just… cry. She wanted to cry. But she didn’t exactly know why, maybe from being so tired and overwhelmed, she didn’t know. The only things she did know were that she didn’t want to entertain that side of her because she wanted so desperately to enjoy the evening with you. After all, she didn’t have to cook or clean or do any other chores, you’d taken care of all the stresses she had worried about as she gradually felt her energy slip away from her throughout the day. Yet, she couldn’t quite break down the few remaining walls of insecurity that came with any relationship, where she was afraid of showing the weaker, more vulnerable version of herself.

She didn’t want to restrict your relationship with the confines of stereotypes, but she thought of herself as someone as strong and good in a crisis. She was always there when you needed her, there was just some part of her that couldn’t find peace with the idea of reversing those roles. You would be mad if you found out about those thoughts of hers, Alexia knew that, though the thought of opening up about it and starting that conversation was not something she planned to do anytime soon. They were her problems and her problems only, they didn’t need to be yours too.

So she took a deep breath, or four, and left her bedroom to follow after you, opening up the takeout delivery app on her phone. 

However, when she stepped into her bedroom for the second time that night, she made one of the biggest mistakes she knew she could make.

For about twenty minutes beforehand, she couldn’t get a word in with you. You followed her throughout the apartment, from the kitchen when you were done to the lounge, to the balcony, to the small space she had made into her office and back to the bedroom, rambling about anything on your mind, something Alexia normally adored. Though on this occasion, the only thing she wished for was your company and some silence. She had one of those things, but not the other. She didn’t have it in her heart to put a stop to it, she knew what that would do to you and how it’d make you feel.

Instead, she indirectly hurt you anyway, in a much worse way.

You trailed after her, mindlessly, unaware of the internal struggles locked up inside the woman in front of you as she padded into her bedroom with her head down and tears burning her eyes. It wasn’t until you heard a sniffle from her, still looking at her back profile, that you decided to ask if she was okay. She paused in the doorway, quickly wiping her eyes with the sleeve she bunched around her hand, before sighing and placing her hands on her hips. As she shook her head slightly, you went to talk again, now definitely concerned, but she beat you to it.

“I need a break.” 

There was a tremble to her quiet voice which you heard, but all you could concentrate on was the pain you felt as a result. Those four short words cut through your joy like a knife, tainted and tarnished by memory after memory of having been told the same thing before by people you adored, you trusted. 

Maybe if you thought rationally, you would have understood the true meaning of her words. But all you could focus on was that the one phrase you hoped to never hear fall from her lips had come. There was no rational thinking to be done here. Your biggest insecurity had just had a spotlight shined on it, you at centre stage with a theatre of people laughing at the scene they had witnessed, their hysteria a cruel reminder of ‘I told you so’ in much the same way the devil on your shoulder so often liked to remind you of.

You thought you were making her feel better, she always liked to tell you that your happiness was her favourite thing about you. So what was different about this time? You didn’t understand. The only thing you could think of was the one thing that was your worst nightmare.

You were too much for her. Something you’d been told before many times. Alexia was the last person you thought would think that about you. And that’s why it hurt more than any other occasion before. 

Your body reacted as if you were in shock; your hands went numb, pins and needles shooting up your arms, and a high-pitched ringing gradually made its way into your ears and drowned out every other sound around you. Alexia’s statement might have been nothing, but not to you. What she said hit you like a bullet or ten, because this always happened. You got to know someone, trusted them, opened up to them, loved them, only for you to get too comfortable being yourself in their presence and either annoying them or scaring them to death. 

Every time you open up your heart in such a way, you always lose a piece of yourself that may never return to make you whole again in the same way as before. Alexia took your heart and your soul this time. It’s strange, that with just a few words, the people who make you feel most alive can also make you feel more invisible than you ever thought possible.

Perhaps this could be worked out, one day. You would never forget it though, and you weren’t sure you could ever look at Alexia the same again.

In the midst of your anxious spiralling, the woman you thought the world of had made her way into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her. It gave you the perfect time to do the one single thing your clouded mind could think of.

Leaving.

—

The space beside her in bed was empty when Alexia woke up. A silence had settled throughout the apartment, which was relaxing at first, before her tired haze wore off and she slowly began to come back to her senses. Apparently she had accidentally fallen asleep, fully dressed and on top of the covers, after she left the ensuite. Immediately, that silence was something that swiftly began to fill her with dread. 

Alexia never napped. But when she did, you were always right beside her. It didn’t help her anxieties that there were no signs of life coming from any other rooms of her home. Her bedroom door was open, yet there were no sounds from the TV in the lounge, no commotion from you and your grievances with cooking that never failed to make her smile, the spare bedroom was pitch black in contrast to the way it lit up with whatever video game you often chose to play. 

One thing the pair of you had discovered was how much joy and contentment you got from merely existing in the same space. As Alexia sat on the sofa reading a book or watching something on the TV, you weren’t far away, only on the other side of the couch also reading or listening to music with headphones on. If you were using the gaming console Alexia had spontaneously decided to buy you for the spare bedroom, just so you had a space to hide away in her apartment, the blonde was often lay on the bed there, iPad in hand and going through her emails or watching match tapes or chatting with her family, more than satisfied by being in the same room as you. 

In this case, it should have been the same. You should have been there beside her as she slept, it was routine to be attached at the hip, manoeuvring through the apartment together like there was rope around your waists. 

Except this time, you weren’t.

She went from room to room, opening any and all doors even if they did lead to storage cupboards, only to realise you had left. 

There were no messages from you on her phone and as she sent one of her own to you, it didn’t even get delivered. Wherever you were, your phone was completely off, a fact that increased her concern tenfold. 

Two places came to mind. And if you weren’t at either of those, well… she was well and truly screwed. Her nervous system too, that’d be so completely shot that she didn’t think her heart could ever return to a healthy BPM rate. 

It took her hardly any time at all to drive over to the first destination she thought of. Her hands shook as she drove, whether that be from the white-knuckled grip she had on the wheel or the nerves coursing through her, and they trembled even as she jogged up the steps of your apartment block to your flat, her spare key already clutched tight in her fist. Of course, she was never one to disrupt your privacy, so she waited a good five minutes at your door after knocking and talking through it before she let herself in.

Just as she feared, you weren’t there. Your whole apartment was untouched, left entirely as it had been when the pair of you left the previous morning. The only difference was the fact that the light of the night’s full moon was streaming through the gap in the curtains, the sun having set as she unknowingly slept earlier. The darkness that cascaded the place you called home wasn’t too dissimilar to what Alexia’s life was like without you. She would do anything to not have to experience it permanently. She wasn’t sure she could ever live the same way she did before you; meeting you had changed everything, and life would forever feel like a shadow of the warmth she had with you.

And once she had made it up to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment, she got a glimpse of that prospect. It was a monumental mistake to assume you’d be there.

“Alexia? What are you doing here?” Ingrid answered the door in utter confusion, her voice a small whisper as she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door slightly behind her.

“She’s here, no? Can you tell her to come home?” Alexia asked somewhat desperately, exasperation clear in her tone.

“What? Who are you ta- oh. No, she’s not here, it’s just María and I. Why?” Ingrid continued to look perplexed at the strange appearance of her captain, until she looked into the midfielder’s eyes and saw they were wide and full of regret, concern, guilt, all things that made her odd presence click in her mind. “Alexia. What did you do?”

Alexia snapped out of her frozen state as the gravity of her realisation hit her; she had made you think that she was tired of you. That you were the thing she needed a break from. As if that could ever be true. 

It didn’t matter though, what Alexia thought and what had happened earlier. The most important thing now was how she acted, how she repaired the situation.

“I messed up. She was talking and happy, and I had just got home from working all day. I was so tired, I wasn’t thinking straight! I said something that was not directed at her, never at her, but I think… I think she thought it was. It wasn’t, I prom-”

“What did you say?” Ingrid demanded through gritted teeth.

“I… I said I needed a break.” Alexia let out a shaky breath once she’d spoken, slumping back against the wall behind her and doubling over slightly so that her hands were on her knees. Ingrid stared at her, either in rage or disappointment or what, the blonde wasn’t sure, but she didn’t say a thing whilst Alexia sniffled and wiped away a tear that fell without even realising she had begun crying. “Oh, fuck. I messed up so bad.”

“Yes, you did, because that’s her worst nightmare! To hear someone say they need a break, especially in that scenario, is her number one insecurity. How could you s-”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Alexia stood up straight and snapped, though the fight immediately drained out of her. She slid down the wall until she was on the ground, knees to her chest with her arms atop them as she cried into her hands. Ingrid softened, just slightly, and came to sit beside her. “What do I do, Ingrid? She’s not here, not at her apartment, not at mine. Her phone isn’t on. I have no idea where she is or what I would say to her.”

“I’m on her side, not yours. This is your problem and you have to figure out how to fix it.” She started with the classic friendly warning, before moving on to what she actually wanted to say. “I think this is something you will both forget by tomorrow, as long as you say exactly the right words. What those are, well… that's what you need to decide on. You have to figure out what you want to say to her to make her believe you because it's not going to be easy. You can't just tell her you didn't mean it, explain yourself clearly. But you have to work that out on your own. I can't help you with that.”

The blonde nodded and took a deep breath.

“I know. Madre de dios, I know.” She mumbled, running her hands through her hair and leaning her head back against the wall. “You are angry at me, and I know that. Ingrid, you have to know I didn’t mean it in that way. I never need a break from her, she is the love of my life. It’s not an excuse but I had a really long day at work, that’s what I said I needed a break from. I know I did not make that clear, and… now look what I have done.” 

Ingrid pursed her lips and reassuringly squeezed Alexia’s forearm. Sometimes she got too defensive over you, like now with Alexia. Maybe that would never change, it wasn’t the easiest habit to shake off. However, she was getting slightly better at letting go of the need to do and fix everything bad that happened to you. With the introduction of Alexia into your life, she had no choice but to do that. It was hard, of course it was, yet she was trying her best and that seemed to be working. Even now, as she itched to grab her car keys and drive through all of Barcelona just to find you. That wasn't up to her anymore though. Only if it was really necessary for her to step in.

Both her defensive nature and her new attitude of letting go, they came from a place of love, from having been there every time someone said almost the identical thing that Alexia had said. To most, that phrase wouldn’t really bother many people. They would either know that the other person meant it in terms of work, or their life in general. Except you weren’t most people. Given your reaction to the situation at hand, all the evidence was there that this wasn’t a small thing to you. It quite literally felt like the end of the world, there was no other way to describe it.

All Ingrid could do was hope that her friend was wise enough to be able to get the two of you out of this misunderstanding unharmed. 

“Tell her that then. And more, obviously.” Ingrid teased lightly, pulling a small smile from Alexia. “Just speak from your heart, if you tell the truth then she will of course believe you. But I will seriously hurt you if you upset her again.”

“Lo sè.” Alexia replied, a hint of… fear in her voice? Ingrid really had to suppress her smirk then.

“Now go. Go find her. You know the places she could be, just think. If you can’t find her and get really worried, then call some of us and we’ll come help.” 

And with that, Alexia left. 

—

You didn’t hear the first call of your name. Nor did you hear the second, or the third, or the fourth. It wasn’t until someone sat beside you that you came back down to earth.

“Lieverd, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Esmee was the one next to you on the bench you found yourself on.

A crooked, old, wooden bench with its paint chipping off under your hands that fidgeted anxiously, in the middle of… the very place you first kissed the woman that had now done you wrong. You weren’t sure how you got here, when you had arrived, and why this was the place you decided to flee to. Yet, here you were.

“Daniëlle, can you go on my phone and text Alexia? And maybe Ingrid? Please?” 

The younger woman’s girlfriend nodded immediately and pulled out said phone, stepping away to give you two privacy as she did so. Esmee turned back to you and stifled a sigh. She ran through everything in her mind of what she had seen Alexia and Ingrid do to help, and from what you had told her in the past. 

One of the first things that came to mind is that time you said on some occasions, especially when you're quite overwhelmed, you can go non-verbal. Your body and mind shuts down, internally honing in on all that was stressing you out whilst everything externally ceases to register for you. It seemed that was what was happening now.

From what she had seen so far, you were staring straight ahead, eyes locked across the yard on a bed of flowers that had sprung to life even more than when you had been there all those months ago in the winter. Esmee didn't want to cross any boundaries or make you feel worse by reaching out to comfort you through a hug or just a hand on your arm, so she didn't. 

“I text them both, Alexia is on her way. She'll be here soon.” Daniëlle said, handing the phone back to the other Dutch girl and watching from afar. 

If Esmee needed her, she'd be more than happy to step in. However, she didn't want to intrude, and she didn't really know much about you or what to do in this situation. And if you were in an able mindset, you would tell her that you appreciated that more than you would ever be able to express. 

“Good, thank you.” Esmee flashed a quick smile at her before focusing her attention back to you. 

Still, you were unresponsive. Conscious of course, but totally unresponsive, your eyes glued to the scenery across from you.

The whole area was astoundingly gorgeous; all bright colours with the fullest trees, somehow drowning out the noise of the busy city around, providing a safe haven that had the complete opposite effect for you. Despite the good memories tied to it, the only thing on your mind was how you had lost everything in just one conversation. All the memories were tinged with a sickening amount of heartbreak.

Those white pansies you were looking at were beautiful, more so than back in December, which made it so much worse. They'd grown and flourished in tandem with your relationship, except now the latter was dead and buried whilst they flaunted their life in front of you. Thriving and beautiful, just like you and Alexia had once been. Now what were you? A thing of the past? What were you supposed to do now? You didn't come to Barcelona to play on a team with your ex-girlfriend, so maybe you should put in a request for a tr-

“Hey, come back to me. I'm right here, it's just me, Esmee.” Slowly but surely, the gentle coaxing of Esmee’s words pulled you out of the prison your own brain had made for you. “You're listening to me, right? You can hear me?”

You nodded, a little cautiously and distant, but it was all she could ask for. As you did so, you averted your eyes downwards and away from your close friend because you couldn’t bear looking at those stupid flowers any longer. 

“If I give you my phone, do you think you could write into my notes app? Tell me what’s wrong? That’s all I want to know, alright?” Again, you nodded, though this time with much more conviction, and Esmee was sure she had never been so relieved in her life. With much more desperation than required, she fumbled through her phone in a rush that would have had you laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in. “Okay, here. Whatever you want or need.”

She watched as your hands trembled whilst typing, and she wasn’t sure what she expected to read but it definitely wasn’t-

Alexia said she needed a break from me.

“What!?” The girl shrieked, Daniëlle having to suppress her laughter at the sudden outburst. Esmee swore she saw the tiniest of smiles on your face. “Wow. What an idiot she is! Look, I am not good at confrontation, or getting angry, or shouting, but… if you want me to do any of those things, I will for you.”

Then, you did smile. Not a bright, beaming, eye-creasing one, but a smile nonetheless. And a shake of your head too for good measure.

“No? Thank god.” She breathed out dramatically, hearing her girlfriend laugh and no doubt rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I could shout at Alexia. You should get Ingrid to do it.” 

No matter how much she wished to, Esmee knew this wasn’t a problem she could solve. She had seen the reply from Alexia a moment ago and decided to not discuss the matter further, because it seemed the captain already had a plan of action and would arrive at any moment. Instead, she did her best to distract you, to cheer you up, with the help of Daniëlle too. 

All was going well, before the gate into the garden creaked open and the sound of heavy footsteps against gravel disrupted the calm that had settled, bringing back all the thoughts you had only just gotten rid of. 

“There you are! Oh, thank god, I-” Alexia cut off her own rambling when she came to her senses, slightly breathless, as she looked at you.

Eyes red from crying earlier, which Esmee had noticed but chose not to mention, and anxiety radiating from your body. Alexia could sense it almost instantly, even from a good few metres away. It was a sharp but necessary reminder of the night’s events and her truly foolish words. 

“Alexia…” Esmee said with a pointed look, her voice stern enough to have the blonde shrinking into herself, even despite the age difference between them both. Turns out, complete and utter anger had no problem making itself known to anyone of any age.

“Could… could you give us some privacy, please?” Alexia asked nervously. The two Dutch women by your side took great pleasure in glaring at her for a couple more seconds before glancing at each other and giving in. 

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah? Anything at all.” Esmee whispered, to which you smiled and leaned into her. She took that as a sign, so wrapped her arm around your shoulders to give you a gentle hug, until she pulled away and linked arms with Daniëlle. One more stare later, and the two left the garden.

For a few moments, the only sounds that could be heard was the wind, winding and weaving through the bushes and trees, leaves brushing against each other, and the noise of it helped to ease the tension for you. Silence in situations like this could be extremely uncomfortable for you, so much so that it was just another thing that could entice you to up and leave at any given moment. However, in this instance, the wind and the sounds of life coming from the streets around you was the perfect peacekeeper. 

Well, it was for you, at least.

Alexia took a couple cautious steps towards you until she knew you weren’t going to tell her to stay away, awkward and shy in her movements. Then she took a seat beside you, ensuring to leave enough space so that you didn’t feel more uncomfortable than you probably already did.

“Engel, I… I am so sorry.” She began in an insecure, worried whisper. As she expected, you gave her no reaction, not a single hint of anything you could be feeling right now. Though, you found yourself staring at those flowers again, wondering how you could let time slip by so fast that you ended up at this point without even realising it. “I didn’t mean that I needed a break from you. I would never ever say that, nor would I ever mean it. I was talking about work, it was a really long day, and I wasn’t thinking stra-”

“You weren’t thinking straight? You weren’t thinking straight when you told me to shut up?” You finally snapped, even out-strengthening your tendency to stay quiet in scenarios like this, all because of how betrayed you felt. The fury was quite obviously kicking in now, white hot anger that set alight every nerve in your body. 

“No no no, I didn’t tell you to shut up! It wasn’t directed towards you, but I know how you could have inferred it, and for that I am more sorry than my stupid mouth could say. I have messed up already, I never want to do that again. I love you, so much. So much, cariño, and I really am so sorry.” 

Her voice trailed off, quivering as it did. Against your will, you found that sudden burst of frustration began to dissipate. It gave way for a disappointing amount of sympathy. You sat there, silent, as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands covering her face. The sniffles coming from her really didn’t help your case, but you weren’t one to give up so quickly.

“Next time you think I’m too much, please tell me. Please save me the embarrassment and tell me to leave you alone. Because to hear you say that? Hurt more than anything in my life.” 

Honestly, your mouth was running on autopilot at this point. Your mind still felt a little hazy, but the words came pouring out regardless. You could have sworn Alexia physically flinched at your words, making you feel guilty, because the idea set in that… maybe, after all this was just a misunderstanding. A miscommunication. 

Whether you were upset or angry or annoyed, Alexia didn’t blame you for it. Of course such a statement, especially in a moment like that, would make you panic so much. Hell, if someone said it to her in the way she said it, she was sure her reaction wouldn’t be too dissimilar to yours. 

With some deep breaths, gaining her composure again, Alexia tentatively slid closer on the bench towards you.

“I do not think you are too much. I do not. I never will.” She said softly, willing away her emotions and, most importantly, her shame, for the sake of making a fighting argument. Fighting for you and your trust. “I promise to you that such words will never leave my lips. I will never say anything like that again, especially directed at you. I made a mistake saying that, and I swear this is not an excuse, but work was really hard. Really tiring. All I wanted then was you and only you. I got home, and I just… wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry. But then I saw you, how happy you were, and I knew that would make me feel better. Plus, I didn’t want to… bring you down from your joy by crying in front of you like that.”

Hearing her say those things, it was hard. You knew instantly it wasn’t a trust thing, that she didn’t tell you what was going on in her mind, but instead just a rather irritating and obviously detrimental habit of hers. Despite that though, here she was, beside you and begging for your forgiveness. Now this was a circumstance you had never found yourself in before – someone saying something that offended you, only to apologise afterwards and explain themselves. 

Yet, you weren’t letting her off that easily.

“But do you understand why I reacted like this?” You wondered. Her answer would determine the future of your relationship with her.

“Yes. Yes, I do, engel, I really do. I know you worry that you will steer people away, or make them think you are weird, things like that. I assure you, you could never steer me away. Never.” She answered you desperately, hoping you were taking her words into account and truly understanding them. 

No matter how much it annoyed you, you found yourself believing her. After all, other than this moment here, she really hadn’t given you a reason to doubt her. In the short time you’d known her, she had done more for you and loved you better than most people had in the years you had known them. Those facts weren’t exactly helping your case in staying mad at her. 

“You promise it was just a bad day at work?” You found yourself mumbling sheepishly, which Alexia took as her signal to move in. She shuffled a little closer again, and deftly took hold of your hands, squeezing them in your lap.

“It was just a bad day at work. It had nothing to do with you, mi amor, I was glad to see you. I really didn't want to off-load my day onto you when you were so happy. I love seeing you happy, you know that, and it cheered me up seeing you like that. I was overwhelmed and stressed because it was such a long, difficult day. I think everything caught up with me. Please believe me when I say it was nothing that you did.” 

Her words were beginning to sink in, especially with how honest and open she was being about her version of the day. Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple.

“So let me take care of you next time, tell me you’ve had a long day and you feel awful, so that I can help you and take care of you. I don’t… why didn’t you want to tell me that in the first place? Don’t you trust me?” 

Alexia could hardly stand the vulnerability and the pain in your voice as you spoke. She held immeasurable amounts of shame towards herself at how she’d hurt you so much. You sounded distraught by the events, and she knew what you were telling her now was just a drop in the ocean of how you actually felt. She was disappointed in herself. From the moment she met you and got to know you, she promised that she wouldn’t hurt you. Maybe that wasn’t a realistic thing to do, since this is life after all and nothing is promised, but she hated herself for causing this. 

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. But I do trust you, more than anyone in the world. You are everything to me and I am sorry for making you think otherwise. You deserve better and I will work to become that.” It was her turn for her voice to shake as she replied to your doubts, and the tight-lipped smile on her face gave away exactly what was on her mind. 

By this point, you did feel bad for jumping to conclusions, because her reaction now so clearly told you the true meaning of her statement earlier. Pair that with her words here, you didn’t have any reason not to believe her anymore.

Every bone in your body longed for her to hold you, or vice versa. So, you did. You dropped her hands, which panicked Alexia for half a second, before she froze when you turned towards her and wrapped your arms around her shoulders. It took a moment or two for her to catch up, but when she did, she instantly returned your embrace and sighed in relief when her forehead met the side of your neck.

“I’m not sure this is something I can… forget so easily. You say you didn’t mean it but the words came out anyway, and I trust you, but… I worry. And I will continue to worry, and feel anxious, especially on my bad days. This isn’t a quick fix. I’m still going to be scared you did mean it that way.” You told her truthfully. 

This was a moment that needed every ounce of honesty you had to give, even if that might be slightly terrifying, but relationships were built on trust and if you didn’t offer that to each other, then what was the point in it all. Alexia could work with this though, she was more than grateful for the fact you trusted her, even still.

“I understand that, I really do.” Alexia pulled back and her hands came up to hold you by your shoulders. You chance it and look in her eyes, properly, for the first time that night. The emotions present there confirm everything you had come to realise; it was an honest mistake. “I will do everything to erase those anxieties for you. I seriously and genuinely could never think those things about you. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but you will see, in everything I do from now that the way I feel about you is so real, so deep to me. Making you upset? I never intend to do that. I hope you see the true intentions of everything I do with you and for you, because I love and adore you with everything in my body. You are my life now. Thank you for trusting me. That is not something I take for granted, and I never will. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to continue loving you.”

Whereas some people in the past would have laughed at you for getting so worked up at such a ‘small’ thing, Alexia was right in front of you saying all the right things you didn’t even know someone could say about you, especially in a relationship. She wasn’t trivialising or mocking your feelings, she took the time to listen, to understand, and to reassure you. 

One conversation can lead to a lot of things. The one you had just had proved that to the highest degree. No person or thing is perfect, but as long as the time and effort is there, you were certain that your relationship could make it through basically anything. That’s because, despite what had led you two here, you think you might have just fallen even more in love with Alexia than before.

So you gazed up at her, your hands linked loosely behind her neck, and found yourself smiling. You just had one more thing to say to her, which was so important to you for her to know. After all, relationships and communication went both ways. 

“I don’t need you to change. You’re already exactly what I deserve and what I want.” You whispered softly, hoping she understood the depth of your words and realised you forgave her for something that wasn’t her fault in the first place. It was a harmless misunderstanding. 

“I really do love you.” Alexia stated, leaning her forehead against yours and exhaling quietly. Her hands slid off your shoulders and moved to bring you in for another tight hug. “So much.”

“I know you do. I love you too.” At your reply, she turned her head and repetitively placed kisses upon your cheek. 

Some people had no qualms saying you were too much for them, because that’s what they genuinely believed. And it hurts. Others think you’re not quite enough for them, which may also be true for them. But for the people that truly mattered, you were enough, and you always would be. You just have to have a little more faith in yourself.

—

thank you to everyone that reads my stories and supports them, but especially for these ones. can never properly convey how much it means to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1880 - labyrinth of my heart

chapter summary: When walking the streets of Chicago he spots you across the street, so real, so alive. Logan takes this as a second chance; but fear slowly slithers up, making him wonder if he'll lose you all over again.

word count: 9.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: first, i want to say thank you so much for the support and love for this series! this is way shorter than the first chapter, only because i wanted the ending to feel abrupt to hopefully make it feel more realistic. anyways, i'm super excited for next chapter since it's a concept i haven't ever really done before. but for now, enjoy this while it lasts :)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, character death

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

Logan left New York City after you died, going back to Victor who told him exactly what he expected to hear, ‘you shouldn’t have fallen in love,’ and ‘the only people we can trust is each other’.

The Civil War had begun seven years after your death as he and Victor fought for the North for four whole years. There was one thing he always kept with him, the ring he bought for you, that he never got to use. It stayed in his pocket at all times, never leaving, always there.

He had been doing the same thing he was doing before he met you, moving around the country, never staying in a spot for too long, doing odd jobs to stay afloat.

Logan found himself in Chicago, walking along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a train in the distance. The air was heavy with the scent of coal smoke, the city bustling with life in the late afternoon. Men in long coats and women in modest dresses hurried past him, some tipping their hats in his direction as he walked by. It was just another city to him, another place he would pass through on his way to nowhere in particular.

It had been 26 years since you died. Twenty-six long years, but to Logan, it still felt like yesterday. The weight of your loss hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only grown heavier. Every town, every face he saw, reminded him of you in some way. That soft smile you always wore, the way you’d brush your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. He kept your memory alive in the smallest of ways. The ring he’d never had the chance to give you stayed in his pocket, its presence a constant, painful reminder.

He walked without a destination, his mind lost in the past as his feet carried him down the streets of Chicago. The city had a pulse of its own, far different from the quiet life in New York where you’d once lived, where you had died in his arms. He hadn't felt truly alive since then—just going through the motions of life, the decades slipping by as if time itself didn’t matter.

As Logan neared a small schoolhouse, something caught his eye. A group of children were gathered outside, their laughter echoing through the street as they played. But it wasn’t the children that caused Logan to stop. It was the woman standing among them, her smile bright as she helped one of the younger boys tie his shoe. The world around him seemed to blur, fading away as his gaze locked onto her.

It was you.

Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. He blinked, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there you were, the same face, the same gentle presence. You looked exactly as you had all those years ago—maybe a little younger, maybe a little different, but unmistakably you.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you laugh with the children, completely unaware of his presence. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. You were dead. He had been there. He had held you as you took your last breath, felt the life leave your body. And yet, here you were, as if the last 26 years had never happened.

Logan’s feet moved on their own, pulling him closer to the schoolyard. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. His mind raced with a thousand questions. How could this be? Was it some kind of dream? A cruel trick?

But the closer he got, the more real you became. You were wearing a simple dress, your hair tied up in a way he hadn’t seen before, and yet everything about you felt so familiar. The way you carried yourself, the warmth in your eyes as you spoke to the children—it was all you.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called out, his voice rougher than he intended.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his for the first time, and Logan felt his heart lurch. It was like being thrown back in time—like the years between this moment and the day you died had vanished. You looked at him with a polite curiosity, but there was no recognition in your eyes. No flicker of memory. To you, he was just a stranger.

“Yes, can I help you?” you asked, your voice soft, kind.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain what was running through his mind? How could he tell you that he had loved you, that he had lost you, and that now—somehow—you were standing in front of him again?

“I... I thought I knew you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to say more. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the ring in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever.

You smiled, but it was the smile of someone trying to be polite, not of someone who knew him. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Y/N. I’m the schoolteacher here.”

Logan swallowed hard. Of course, you wouldn’t remember. You had no idea who he was, no memory of the life you’d lived before. To you, this was just another day, another moment. But to Logan, it was everything. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You were here, alive again, but you weren’t his Y/N. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m Logan,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his heart aching in a way that felt both familiar and new.

You nodded, offering another warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Was there something you needed?”

Logan shook his head slowly, still reeling from the shock of seeing you again. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I... I just thought you looked like someone I used to know.”

You tilted your head slightly, a curious look in your eyes. “I get that sometimes. Chicago’s a big city, but it can feel small.”

Logan nodded, though his mind was far from this moment. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of miracle—a second chance. But what could he do with it? Could he approach you, tell you everything? Or would that only drive you away?

Before he could say anything more, the school bell rang, and the children started to gather their things. You glanced back at the sound, then looked at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to get back to my class. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Logan nodded, his throat too tight to respond with words. He watched as you turned and walked back toward the schoolhouse, his heart aching with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time in 26 years, Logan felt hope stir in his chest. You were here. You were alive. And even if you didn’t remember him, even if you didn’t know who he was... he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

---

Logan stayed near the schoolyard most afternoons, hidden just enough not to draw attention, watching you from a distance. It felt strange, almost painful, standing there, knowing you had no idea who he was. Every time you emerged from the schoolhouse with Ida, another schoolteacher, chatting and laughing, the urge to approach you tugged at him. But fear held him back—fear that you’d think he was insane, or worse, that you’d reject him outright.

He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring press against his palm. It had been with him through wars, across states, through lifetimes. And now, here you were, alive again, and he still didn’t know what to do with it.

It was absurd, the way his heart raced just from seeing you walk down the street. How after all these years—after so much pain—hope could sneak its way back in. This wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Logan wasn’t the type to believe in magic or miracles, but what else could explain this?

As he lingered, the school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Children poured out of the building, laughing and running. A few hung on your arms as you walked them down the steps, their chatter filling the air.

Logan shifted from foot to foot, nerves prickling along his spine. Just talk to her, idiot. You’ve been through worse.

But when you stepped into the street, Ida at your side as usual, the words died in his throat.

“Y/N, you coming for dinner at my place tonight?” Ida asked, tucking a stray curl beneath her bonnet.

You smiled, brushing your hands on your skirts. “Can’t tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow. The kids wore me out today.”

Ida chuckled. “You’ll turn into an old maid before you’re thirty at this rate.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh was warm. Logan felt the sound of it settle deep in his chest—like an old memory coming back to life. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard in 26 years, and it took everything in him not to run to you right then and there.

As you and Ida turned the corner toward the tenement, Logan followed at a distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. He just needed a moment, a chance to say something—anything.

Finally, the two of you paused outside the building. Ida gave you a quick hug before heading upstairs, leaving you alone on the stoop. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your shawl against the evening chill.

This is it. Now or never.

Logan forced his feet to move, crossing the street toward you.

You looked up as he approached, a little surprised but not alarmed. “Logan, wasn’t it?”

His throat felt tight, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Logan.”

You smiled softly, the same kind smile that had haunted his dreams. “What brings you by?”

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I... I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but there was no fear, only curiosity. “About what?”

Logan shifted his weight, his hands tightening around the edges of his coat. The ring in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, a reminder of everything unsaid.

“I... You remind me of someone,” he admitted, voice low. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze steady but gentle. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence between you—heavy, charged with the weight of all the things Logan couldn’t say. You didn’t know him, didn’t know what you’d meant to him in another life, but standing here, so close to you again, it felt like the world had tilted back into place.

“You... wanna walk for a bit?” Logan asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Something in his expression must’ve stirred your kindness, because you nodded. “Alright.”

The two of you started down the sidewalk together, the city humming around you. Logan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring again and again like a talisman.

“So, how long have you been in Chicago?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Logan shrugged. “Not long. Just passing through.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a good place to get lost in for a while.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—small talk, nothing too deep. Logan told you bits and pieces about his travels, careful not to reveal too much. He learned that you’d moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, taking the teaching job because it felt right.

“I’ve always liked working with kids,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something... hopeful about it, you know?”

Logan nodded, though hope had been a foreign concept to him for a long time. But walking beside you now, listening to your voice, he felt something stir in him—a flicker of warmth he thought he’d lost forever.

As the evening deepened and the sky turned a dusky purple, you reached your building again. You stopped on the stoop, turning to face him.

“Thank you for the walk,” you said, your smile gentle. “It was nice.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still—like the universe had bent just enough to give him this moment with you. And even though you didn’t remember him, didn’t know the history you shared, Logan knew he couldn’t let you slip away again.

“Y/N...” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head, waiting.

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “Can I see you again?”

Your smile widened, something warm flickering in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

Logan gave a short nod, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Good,” he murmured.

And for the first time in 26 years, Logan allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he’d found his way back to you.

---

You had taken up Ida’s offer after all, you lived in the same building so it wasn’t like it was out of the way for you.

“Oh, hey! Thought you weren’t gonna come by.”

You shrugged, taking off your shawl, “changed my mind.” You sat down on the couch and told Ida about your walk with Logan, and she listened intently.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed him. He’s been watching the schoolyard for the past few weeks.”

"Wait, what do you mean, ‘he’s been watching the schoolyard for weeks?’” you asked, your brows knitting together as you leaned forward.

Ida waved her hand dismissively but gave you a sly smile. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He hasn’t been creepy about it or anything. Just... noticed him hanging around, that’s all. Kind of hard to miss a guy like that, don’t you think?”

You blinked, a sudden flush creeping up your neck. “A guy like what?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” she teased, sitting down across from you. “Tall, rugged... that serious, brooding look. You’re telling me you didn’t notice? He’s practically been glued to the corner across from the schoolhouse for days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking back to the walk you’d just had with Logan. You hadn’t seen him watching the school, but now that Ida mentioned it... there had been something in his eyes. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place, like he was looking at you but seeing something—or someone—else.

“I didn’t know he was hanging around,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “But... he seems kind. Sad, but kind.”

Ida leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a thoughtful hum. “Sad, huh? You picked up on that, too?”

You nodded, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. There had been a weight to Logan’s presence, something unspoken in his voice, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Ida shrugged, her teasing expression softening. “Who knows? The world’s a tough place. We all got our own burdens to carry. But... maybe he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

“Maybe someone to share the load,” she replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe that someone’s you.”

You shook your head, the idea seeming too far-fetched. “I don’t even know him, Ida. I mean, we just talked for the first time today.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Ida said, getting up to grab a pot of tea from the stove. “You felt something, right? That’s not nothing.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess. He did say I reminded him of someone he lost.”

Ida paused, setting the teapot down carefully. “Lost, huh? That would explain the sad part. But... why hang around you then? What’s he hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. The idea that Logan had been watching you, even unknowingly, made something stir in your chest—a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite name.

Ida handed you a cup of tea, sitting back down beside you. “Well, maybe next time you see him, you can ask.”

You looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ask him why he’s hanging around the schoolyard?”

Ida laughed softly. “Maybe not that bluntly, but yeah. There’s something about him, Y/N. Might be worth finding out what.”

You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you. Maybe Ida was right. Maybe Logan was carrying something heavy, and maybe—just maybe—you could help.

---

The next day, you found yourself more aware of your surroundings as you walked to the schoolhouse. Every sound, every movement seemed sharper. You scanned the street, looking for a familiar figure, but Logan wasn’t there—at least, not that you could see.

The day went on as usual, though you felt a bit distracted, your mind drifting to the walk you’d shared with him. There was something about Logan that pulled at you, a quiet intensity that you couldn’t shake. He was a mystery, and part of you wanted to solve it.

When the school day ended, you lingered outside a little longer than usual, hoping—half-expecting—that he might show up again. The children ran off, their laughter echoing down the street as they disappeared into their homes. You smiled at the sight, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan standing just a few feet away. He had approached so quietly you hadn’t even heard him.

“Logan,” you said, surprised but not unwelcome. “I didn’t see you.”

He gave a small shrug, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You smiled softly, your heartbeat slowing as the initial surprise wore off. “It’s alright. Just didn’t expect to see you today.”

Logan shifted his weight, his gaze flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wanted to see if you’d like to take another walk. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. There was something in his voice—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. And despite not knowing him well, you found yourself wanting to say yes.

“I’d like that,” you said, stepping down from the schoolhouse stoop.

The two of you started walking again, this time in a different direction, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the street. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Logan walked beside you, his steps steady but deliberate, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Why’ve you been hanging around the school?” you finally asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ida said she noticed you there for a while.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to... I don’t know. I guess I was just... drawn there.”

“Drawn there?” you echoed, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Like I said before, you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t press, sensing that whatever it was, it was personal. Instead, you walked in silence for a few more steps before Logan stopped abruptly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face you fully. His eyes were intense, but there was something almost apologetic in them. “If I am, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Logan studied your face, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, almost as if he was relieved.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted after that, lightening as you talked about small things—the city, your students, even the weather. Logan listened more than he spoke, but you could feel him relax bit by bit, the tension in his posture easing as the afternoon wore on.

When you reached your building again, Logan stopped with you on the stoop. There was a moment of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Logan looked at you for a long beat before nodding. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you turned to head inside, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan was still standing there, watching you with that same look in his eyes—the one that made you feel like you were more than just a stranger to him.

And in that moment, you realized... you didn’t want to be just a stranger to him either.

---

After about a week of Logan walking you home, it became a familiar routine. Each time, you’d stand on the stoop, exchanging a few words before you’d head inside, always with that lingering feeling of something left unsaid. But tonight was different—the air was colder, and the wind was biting, so when you reached your building, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not going out in that cold again,” you said firmly, reaching for his arm. He tensed slightly under your touch, but you ignored it, tugging him toward the door. “Ten minutes outside in the cold, you need to warm up before you go.”

Logan didn’t protest, but you could sense his hesitation. He glanced around the dimly lit hallway as you led him up the stairs to your small apartment.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I won’t keep you long. Just until you can feel your fingers again.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, following you inside. Once you were both in, you motioned for him to sit down on the worn couch, tossing your shawl onto a chair as you made your way to the stove to boil some water for tea.

Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the modest space, before finally sitting down. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

“You don’t gotta fuss,” he muttered, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “I’m alright.”

“Humor me,” you replied with a soft smile, setting a kettle on the stove. “Besides, I’ve been dragging you along on these walks. Least I can do is make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. His eyes followed your movements, though his expression stayed guarded. He looked... cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to be here with you, in this space. It was strange, this carefulness, coming from a man who seemed so unbreakable.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” you asked, turning to face him while the water heated up. “We’ve been walking for a week, and I feel like I barely know you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted, and you could tell he was weighing his words. “Not much to tell,” he said after a beat. “Just a guy who’s been around a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “That’s it? No family, no friends? You just... wander?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of the couch. “Had family once. Friends, too. Lost most of ‘em.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, and you could feel the weight of his words. You didn’t push him, though. Instead, you poured the hot water into two cups, walking over and handing him one.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink right away. He stared down into the tea, his expression unreadable. “Life’s hard for everyone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sat down beside him, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, sipping tea and letting the quiet fill the space. There was something about being near him that made you feel calm, like the world slowed down for a little while when he was around.

“Why’d you let me walk with you?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice rougher than before.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Most people wouldn’t... They’d be scared, or they’d push me away. But you... you let me stay.”

You frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... I guess I just felt like... I should.” You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “Besides, you’re not exactly a scary guy. Brooding, sure, but not scary.”

A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not really. I mean, what’s the point of being afraid? Life’s hard enough without worrying about things that might not even happen.”

Logan’s smile faded, replaced by that familiar look of sadness. He stared into his cup for a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess you’re right.”

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air. You could feel it, pressing down on both of you, but neither of you seemed ready to break it.

Finally, Logan stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go,” he said, though he didn’t make a move toward the door.

You stood up too, your heart pounding a little harder than usual. “Logan...”

He turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm again. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment that you didn’t need to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy but hopeful. There was something between you—something unspoken, something old—and you weren’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

---

It had taken a few more days to convince Logan to come back into your apartment. You weren’t sure how you convinced him this time, but you were happy that you did.

Your apartment smelled nice and homey. Before you had left for work, you had put bread in the oven to bake, and now, as you came back home with Logan in tow, it was finished. The warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread filled the room as you stepped inside. Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering for a moment before following you in, his expression unreadable but curious.

You busied yourself with the bread, slicing into the crust and offering Logan a piece. He took it, though his attention seemed more focused on you than the food.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from him being here. "I was thinking..." you started, turning to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Maybe we could go into the city tomorrow? It’s market day. There's a lot to see, and it’d be nice to get out of the schoolhouse routine for a bit."

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Market, huh?"

"Yeah, you know, just... walk around. Maybe pick up a few things." You looked over at him, half expecting him to decline, but to your surprise, he didn’t.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but without hesitation. "I’ll come with you."

You smiled, feeling a small flutter of excitement in your chest. "Great. It’ll be fun. I promise."

---

The next day, you found yourself walking through the bustling streets of Chicago with Logan by your side. The market was crowded, full of people haggling and chatting, the air thick with the smell of fresh produce, spices, and the occasional whiff of roasting meat. It was a world away from the quiet walks you'd shared, and you could feel Logan's unease in the busy atmosphere. But he stayed close, his hand brushing yours more than once as you wove through the crowd.

"Do you come here often?" Logan asked, his eyes scanning the vendors with mild interest.

"Once or twice a month," you replied. "I like the energy here. Makes the city feel alive, you know?"

Logan grunted in response, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. You could tell he wasn’t used to this—being around so many people—but he stuck close to you, his presence protective without being overbearing.

After a while, you stopped at a stall selling flowers. The colors were vibrant, a burst of life in the middle of the dusty street. You picked up a small bouquet of wildflowers, smiling as you held them up.

"These are my favorite," you said, glancing up at Logan. "They're simple but... I don't know, they make me happy."

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at the flowers in your hand, then back at you. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the vendor before you could protest.

"Logan, you don’t have to—"

"Consider it a thank you," he said quietly, cutting you off. "For the bread."

You blinked, surprised but touched by the gesture. "Well, thank you."

He nodded, and the two of you continued walking, the flowers resting in the crook of your arm as the city bustled around you. For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the market fading into the background as the two of you wandered further from the busy streets. Eventually, you found a quiet park at the edge of the city, a small, peaceful space away from the noise.

You sat down on a bench, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. Logan sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes always scanning the area, as if he couldn’t fully let his guard down.

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" you asked, half teasing but curious.

Logan’s mouth twitched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Old habit."

You studied him for a moment, sensing there was more behind those words. He had a way of holding himself, like he was always ready for something, always waiting. It made you wonder just how much he’d seen, how much he’d lived through.

"I’m glad you came with me today," you said softly, looking out at the park. "I feel like I’ve been stuck in a routine for a while now. It’s nice to just... do something different."

Logan glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "I’m glad I came too," he admitted, his voice low.

There was something in the way he said it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The air between you felt different, charged with a quiet tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. You wondered if he felt it too—the strange pull between you, like something just beneath the surface was waiting to be uncovered.

After a long pause, Logan spoke again. "I ain’t good at... this." He gestured vaguely, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Being close to people."

You turned to him, surprised by the admission. "You’re doing fine," you said gently.

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he shook his head. "It’s not that simple."

You felt a pang of something—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, it made you reach out, your hand lightly brushing his. "You don’t have to explain," you said softly. "I get it."

Logan’s eyes flickered down to where your hand rested near his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, his rough fingers brushing against yours in the faintest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—like maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in.

---

As you walked to the tenement building after work one day, you glanced over at Logan. “You ever been to the exhibition hall in the city?”

Logan looked over to you, slightly puzzled by the question. “The exhibition?”

You nodded, turning toward him. “There’s a display of inventions and art from all over. I heard they’ve got this new thing—electric lights. I was thinking about going this weekend, and… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

For a moment, Logan just stared at you, as if unsure what to say. The idea of stepping out into the city, surrounded by people, probably wasn’t something he did often. But he shifted slightly, his eyes softening in that way they did when you caught him off guard.

“You want me to go with you?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, smiling. “We’ve been walking the same few streets for days. Thought it might be nice to do something different. Besides, I’m curious about those lights. They say it’s going to change the way people live.”

Logan gave a low, thoughtful hum, and for a moment, you worried he might decline. But then he nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Your smile widened. “Great! We can meet at my place on Saturday afternoon, then head out.”

The conversation drifted back into easier topics—your students, a new bakery that had opened nearby, and the way the city seemed to grow busier every day. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this small invitation marked a shift, a way to see more of who Logan was beyond the quiet man who walked beside you in silence. Maybe out in the world, you’d understand him better.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the two of you walked side by side through the busy streets, the sounds of horses and carriages filling the air. You led Logan through the bustling avenues toward the exhibition hall, your excitement barely contained.

“Ever seen anything like this?” you asked, glancing up at him as the towering hall came into view.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the building, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not in a while.”

Inside, the hall was a wonder of modern marvels. Booths lined with mechanical inventions, sculptures, and paintings from around the world. The hum of excitement filled the air, and the bright new electric lights cast a strange, almost magical glow over everything.

You wandered the displays together, your curiosity leading the way. Logan stayed close, his attention less on the inventions and more on you. Every now and then, he'd glance at a piece of machinery or a strange-looking contraption, but his eyes kept drifting back to your face, watching the way your expression changed with each new discovery.

"This is incredible," you murmured, leaning in to get a closer look at a large machine labeled as an ‘automatic loom.’ You smiled at Logan, your excitement clear. "Can you imagine how much time this would save?"

Logan nodded, though you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be useful."

You moved to the next display, but Logan lingered for a moment. When he finally caught up, you were already studying a painting—a soft, pastoral scene that contrasted with the industrial energy around you.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?" you said, glancing at him.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the painting, but quickly returned to you. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he wasn’t talking about the art.

You felt his eyes on you again and looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there—something that made your heart skip. Logan had always been protective, always hovering just close enough to shield you if need be. But this felt different, like there was more to it now.

"You sure this ain’t boring for you?" you asked, trying to lighten the moment. "I know you’re not one for crowds."

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his version of a chuckle. "It’s fine. Long as you’re enjoying yourself."

You smiled, touched by the sentiment. "I am. Thanks for coming with me."

For a while, you wandered together in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the exhibition hall. The crowds around you buzzed with excitement, but the space between you and Logan felt almost separate—like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display showcasing early electric light bulbs. "Look at that," you said, pointing to the glass bulbs flickering with soft light. "They’re saying these will replace gas lamps soon."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn’t seem right, replacing something that’s worked for so long."

"Change is good sometimes," you said, glancing at him. "It keeps things moving forward."

Logan met your eyes, his expression soft but thoughtful. "Guess I’ve never been good with change."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Maybe you just haven’t found the right reason to embrace it yet."

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you, like he was trying to make sense of something. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe."

As the afternoon wore on, the two of you eventually stepped outside the exhibition hall, the sun low in the sky and the city’s evening glow starting to take over. The air felt cooler now, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

You walked beside Logan in comfortable silence, but the charged undercurrent between you hadn’t faded. It felt like something had shifted—like you’d both acknowledged a deeper connection, even if neither of you had fully put it into words yet.

"You want to get something to eat?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you said, smiling up at him. "There’s a place not far from here. They make the best stew."

Logan nodded, falling into step beside you again as you made your way toward the small restaurant you had in mind. The quiet between you was easy, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed between the two of you today. Neither of you said it out loud, but you didn’t need to.

As you entered the restaurant, the warm scent of food filled the air, and you found a table near the back, away from the main crowd. Logan took the seat across from you, his eyes scanning the room out of habit, but eventually settling back on you.

"This place isn’t so bad," he said, giving a small nod of approval.

You laughed softly. "Glad it meets your standards."

Logan smirked, but there was a softness behind it. As the two of you talked over dinner, you realized just how much you enjoyed moments like this—quiet, simple, yet meaningful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or fancy places; it was about being together, about the way Logan made you feel safe and seen.

---

One day, after inviting Logan into your apartment once again, you set out to make tea like you always do.

You felt a cough building up in your throat, so you grabbed a small handkerchief from the counter and coughed into it. You had seen the school doctor while you were at work, and he said you just had a mild cold.

Logan, who was sitting on the couch, immediately turned his head to you, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He’d heard that cough before—26 years ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You turned around, still holding the handkerchief to your mouth. "Yeah?" you answered casually, noticing the tension in his voice but thinking nothing of it. “Just a little cough, nothing serious. I saw the doctor earlier, and he said it’s just a cold.”

Logan stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He took a step closer, his mind racing back to 1854, to your last days—bedridden and coughing, just like this. He had lost you then, watching helplessly as the illness took you. He couldn't shake the feeling, the memory, and the fear that history might repeat itself.

"Cold, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it.

"Yeah, no big deal." You smiled, folding the handkerchief and putting it back in your pocket. "Really, Logan, I’m fine."

Logan’s jaw tightened. He had seen too much, lived too long to believe in coincidence. This was too familiar, too painful. And yet, here you were—alive, vibrant. This time, he couldn’t lose you again. He wouldn't.

"You should take it easy," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. "You been workin' too hard at that school."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his concern but not quite understanding the depth of it. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little cold. Nothing that rest and tea won’t fix."

Logan didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed his fingers against your arm, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. This wasn’t 1854. But the memory haunted him.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid to lose you. "Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his. "What’s really going on?"

Logan’s breath hitched for a moment, and he fought the urge to pull you closer, to tell you everything. But how could he? How could he explain that you’d been here before—that he’d watched you die, that he’d loved you once in another life, in another time? Instead, he just shook his head, the weight of those memories too heavy to share.

"Just... don’t push yourself too hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’ve seen people get worse when they don’t take care of themselves."

You nodded, though his intensity still lingered in your mind. "I promise, I’ll rest." You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, you’ll make sure I do, right?"

Logan’s lips quirked into the smallest smile, but there was still something distant in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

The moment hung in the air, the unspoken weight of Logan’s past pressing down on him, though you couldn’t see it. You were the same, and yet not. The woman he had once loved and lost was standing right in front of him, alive, but without any memory of that life you’d shared.

---

You didn’t see Logan for a few days, which was unusual, ever since he started walking with you he had never missed a day.

You couldn’t help but worry a tad bit, it wasn’t like him to just not be there. Even Ida had made a few comments, including now as you sat in her apartment, just a few doors down from your own, sipping tea.

“He hasn’t been by at all?” Ida asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “That man never misses a day. He’s usually lurking outside, waitin’ to walk you home.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s been three days now.”

Ida leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “You don’t think somethin’s happened to him, do ya? That man is tough, sure, but even the toughest get into trouble sometimes.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to entertain the thought. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed some time alone. He’s... not the type to explain himself much.”

Ida hummed, though she didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t show up soon, you ought to go find him. He’s a good man, Y/N, and you’ve only known him a month, but it’s clear he cares about you.”

The truth of her words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. You cared about Logan too. Even if you didn’t quite understand the pull between you, it was there—undeniable. And the fact that he hadn’t shown up, without so much as a word, made your chest tighten with worry.

Later that evening, after you’d left Ida’s apartment and returned to your own, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Logan had become part of your routine, part of your day-to-day life. And now that he was gone, it felt like something was missing.

Just as you were about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at the door.

Your heart jumped, and you rushed to open it, half expecting—half hoping—it would be Logan.

And there he was.

He stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the light rain outside, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes, though, were what caught you—the familiar intensity, but with something else lurking beneath. Something darker.

“Logan,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Logan stepped into your small apartment, his broad frame somehow filling the space, making it feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything right away, just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“I needed time,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Time for what?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him.

Logan glanced at you, then looked away, as if he couldn’t meet your eyes. His jaw tightened, and you could see the struggle on his face—like he was wrestling with something deep inside. After a long pause, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words sounding foreign in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them.

You blinked, taken aback. Logan was the last person you ever expected to hear those words from. “Scared of what?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you saw the vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. “Of losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… we’ve only known each other for a month,” you said softly, though the words felt strange even as they left your mouth. Because deep down, it felt like you’d known him much longer—like this connection between you was more than just a month in the making.

“I know,” Logan said, his voice rough. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something desperate and pained, like he was holding onto you with everything he had. You wanted to ask him why, to understand what had happened in his past to make him feel this way. But instead, you just reached out, your hand finding his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m right here.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, he stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch rough but gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of your apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips moved against yours with a fierceness that took your breath away, and for a moment, all you could do was hold onto him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and you wanted to promise him that he wouldn’t—that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. But something about the way he said it made you hesitate, made you wonder what he wasn’t telling you.

“Logan…” you started, your voice soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your face, and he took a step back, his expression guarded once again. The walls he’d let down just moments ago seemed to be rising back up.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ve lost people before. People I cared about. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but there was something else there too—something unspoken. “Logan… who did you lose?”

His eyes flickered with pain, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You wanted to press him, to understand, but you also knew that Logan wasn’t someone who opened up easily. So instead, you just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, but then his arms slowly came around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” you whispered against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that was all you could offer him. And for now, it seemed to be enough.

---

You and Ida sat in the back of the rattling carriage, bundled against the cold, the wheels creaking beneath the weight of your bags from the market. The late afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, promising rain before nightfall and a storm by morning.

“Supposed to come down hard tomorrow,” Ida said, clutching her shawl tighter. “Glad we got everything done now. Don’t wanna be caught in that mess.”

You smiled, shifting a bag of potatoes off your lap. “It’ll be nice to have an excuse to stay in and rest. Logan’s been after me about taking it easy anyway.”

Ida gave you a knowing look, her brow lifting. “That man likes you, Y/N. More than you think.”

You shrugged, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “I know he cares. He’s just… different. Keeps to himself.”

“He’s different, alright,” Ida muttered, peering out the carriage window. “But he’s not the type to care about someone without good reason. Don’t let that one get away.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts drifted to Logan—how he had kissed you that night, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something ancient in his touch, like he had carried the weight of loss for far too long. You didn’t fully understand it, but you felt it—something deeper than words or time.

The carriage jolted suddenly, jerking you forward in your seat. The horse up front whinnied, wild and panicked.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted, yanking hard on the reins.

You clutched Ida’s arm, your heart racing. “What’s going on?”

The driver cursed, standing in his seat to get a better look. “The damn harness snapped! The horse—”

Before he could finish, the horse bolted, the broken leather straps slapping wildly behind it. The carriage lurched, and you and Ida were thrown sideways. The wheels screamed as they spun out of control, the driver shouting as he fought to keep it steady.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

The world tilted violently as the carriage careened off the road, slamming into a ditch. Bags spilled across the floor, and you hit your shoulder hard against the side wall. Ida’s scream filled your ears, but the noise was drowned out by the thunder of the collapsing carriage, wood splintering and wheels buckling beneath the weight.

And then—nothing.

The carriage stopped, shuddering to a halt in a twisted heap at the bottom of the ditch. The rain started, light at first, pattering against the wreckage.

---

Logan was walking back toward your tenement building, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold drizzle, when he saw it—just beyond the next block, down by the road.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.

A carriage, overturned, one of the wheels still spinning lazily. The horse was gone, its reins dangling uselessly from the harness. People were gathering, but no one dared approach the wreckage yet.

Logan’s heart stopped. He knew—he just knew.

His feet moved before he could think. He sprinted toward the wreck, rain falling harder now, soaking through his clothes. His boots hit the muddy road with heavy thuds, splashing water as he ran faster than any ordinary man should.

By the time he reached the scene, a bystander had climbed down, trying to pry the splintered door open. Logan shoved him aside without a word, claws itching under his skin, ready to tear the door off if need be.

“Someone’s inside!” the man stammered. “Two women—”

Logan didn’t wait. His hands found the edge of the door, and with a growl of effort, he yanked it off the hinges. Inside the crumpled interior, he saw you, half-buried beneath scattered bags.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, raw and frantic. He dropped to his knees and pulled you free, cradling you in his arms.

You stirred, barely conscious, your head lolling against his chest. Blood streaked your temple, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Logan…?” you whispered, confused, your hand weakly grasping his coat.

“I got you,” Logan said, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” But even as he said it, dread gnawed at him—this wasn’t fine. It was happening again.

Ida groaned nearby, struggling to sit up, but Logan’s focus was locked on you. He pressed a hand against your side, where your ribs felt wrong under his touch. He could feel the heat of your blood seeping into his fingers.

“No, no, no…” Logan whispered, shaking his head. The storm raged around him, but all he could hear was the shallow rasp of your breathing.

You looked up at him, your gaze unfocused, but your lips curled into the faintest smile. “I told you… I’d rest…”

“Don’t,” Logan begged, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. You hear me? Stay.”

You blinked slowly, your hand slipping from his coat. “I… tried…”

Logan clenched his jaw, biting down hard against the scream building in his chest. His healing mutation would keep him alive through anything—but it couldn’t save you. Not now. Not again.

He kissed your forehead, his breath shuddering. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. Not like this…”

Your breath hitched once, then stopped.

“No,” Logan whispered, rocking you in his arms. “No, no, no…”

His hands trembled as he pulled you closer, your lifeless body limp against him. The rain poured down harder, drumming on the wreckage, but Logan didn’t care. He sat there, holding you, feeling the familiar, soul-crushing emptiness settle in his chest like an old wound tearing open again.

And still, he held you. Because this time, just like 26 years ago, he couldn’t let go.

in this chapter logan is 48 years old and reader is around 22-24 years old. just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[evertidings]

— OCTOBER 2024.

accomplishments.

ahh i can’t believe it’s november (almost typed october there, great going me). it’s so wild to think we’re almost at the new year. i say that every time holiday season rolls around, but i genuinely feel it every year. so so crazy.

onto actual writing stuff: i hope you all enjoyed chapter eleven!! it’s been a month since it was released and i got such great reception from it, so thank you for reading and for saying such wonderful things to me. i spent the first bit of this month taking a break from writing (and recovering from the mental toll chapter eleven took on me), but i’m back at it now and i’m pleased to say that chapter twelve is in the works.

i'm currently writing one of two big branches in the book featuring, you guessed it, the ros. i know i've said this a lot lately, but we are truly very close to the romance lock and i want to make sure you have ample one-on-one time with the ro(s) of your choice before that happens. it's mostly for development reasons, but it definitely doesn't hurt that you get more time with your faves, right? thank me later.

to give you a little glimpse of chapter twelve, i'll vaguely say that Eliana's meeting will be a doozy. she's on a completely different level from Mirai and i already know i'm going to have so much fun writing that scene. i have plans to add tons of details and flavour text, and while it'll probably be more complicated than it needs to be (causing my future self to curse me out), i think it'll be really worth it. the intricacies of this game may be tedious at times, but i also think it's what makes it flourish (and loved) so i'm more than happy to do it. plus it gets me excited so hehe.

overall, the goal for this month involves writing. tons of writing. i don't have a date for chapter twelve yet since it's much too early, but i don't want to make you all wait ten months again, so i'm working my hardest! this chapter is going to be difficult to write (really though, when do i not struggle with writing?) but i'm really excited for it. Eliana's scene will truly be one for the books.

as always, take care of yourselves <3

stats.

chapter total: 9305 words

game total: ~520,780 words

[msbunnat]

sorry if you’ve been asked this before but how do you interpret Zeus in Greek mythology?

I know you like to keep the details of your comic a secret but can you at least elaborate on your perspective about his canon?

Like me personally, I see Zeus as kind of a force of nature, probably cuz he kind of is. He’s the man made character created in order to further understand that which man did not know, like all the gods. And also like the other gods his actions are hard to rationalize cuz they’re so dam inconsistent. One moment he’s treating women as disposable then the next he’s giving Hestia the respect and permission to never marry without any question.

sorry for the Yap sesh lol, love ur art and ur comic btw!

I think this is the first time someone has asked this and I am very happy to answer!

*THIS IS TO BIG SORRY!! ;-;

First, I need to make it clear that the Zeus of ancient myths and my Zeus will be different, even though its based on mythology. I am just contributing with my two cents to this range of fanfics that have existed since ancient times.

I truly believe that all the myths we love and explore are basically fanfics based on a religion and that people in the past used them to spread knowledge, comedies, tragedies and just to have fun while keeping the image of their gods alive. That is why the gods are so inconsistent in mythology, since we have many variations even of a single myth and it will always depend on who is telling the story (I wish it were easier to make fics like this about my religion, but I am afraid of the reaction of extremists).

I interpret Zeus in mythology like all the other gods, I no longer make a distinction based on the prejudice of him being a compulsive pervert, he has many sides. As all gods re natural forces, natural as in animal and plants, but also human feelings and urges.

Zeus has some basic pillars that myths tend to respect: He is THE father, he is the fairest one, he is the executioner, he is seductive, he is good-humored (sometimes he makes some bad jokes kkkkkk), he defends natural balance more than anything and he respects the will of others (this seems ironic, but calm down!!). After reading more myths about him and different interpretations, I understood that this modern view of him as a player is completely distorted and ignores all the other myths he participates (I understand that it became his joke, but… some people take it to seriously). So I started to form my own view of his myths.

Most of his adulteries are consensual and when they are not, they remain in that confusing area of ​​what was once consensual, since it is always mentioned that he seduces (for example, how he turned into an bull or a shower of gold because he knew that his potential partners really liked those things - and I find it hilarious that it seems like he didn't even intend to get Danae pregnant kkkkkk, but it ended up happening). This doesn't mean we can't understand that some of these seductions are abusive (like taking the form of a husband to have a night with Persephone or Alcmena), but saying that he discarded them doesn't seem right either. He often protected his lovers and bastards in the most intelligent way possible and sometimes he just walked away too for the good of others. And in a way, as the father and lord of the sky, he is always watching. I also hate how we take away any woman agency when it comes to Zeus, like, there re myths that they wanted a casual nigth with a god... stop ignoring that!! (the bad thing is that Zeus is also a pilar for fertility ;w; so if he sleep with someone with a uterus... they will get pregnant).

Going to the non-literal side, we have to remember that Zeus is a god and his adultery should not be seen as the same as that of mortal men. He cant acuatlly be with a mortal on the mortal realm and be a husband there... I also want to say: Hera wasn't that jealousy (I think she herself knew that Zeus needed to spread his blood/goodness in the world - yes, a strong interpretation is that Zeus' affairs are a metaphor for spreading goodness). On the contrary, she respected the bastards who faced their challenges and thus deserved to be close to them on Olympus. Hera tested the heroes for two reasons: So they understood that she and Zeus were in charge (so that no one would think they could usurp the throne, and she protected both her and Zeus, as well as Zeus do his best to also prevent the bastards to die and have some help - both Zeus and Hera do all this from a distance, they want to be fair with eachother) and to see if they deserved to be with the immortals.

It seems ironic today, but Zeus respected everyone's will, but it was in the Greek terms (more of in atenians terms, bc we don't have much of the other states). He accepted the decisions of Hestia, Athena, Artemis… I don't remember seeing him laying a finger on them or wanting them to get married. On the other hand, we have versions of him as father of Persephone, 'selling' her (but the myth was about an arranged marriage and I think it makes sense that it's Zeus, since the focus ends up being Demeter's suffering and this encompasses more complex feelings when losing her daughter because her 'husband' gave her away, while he is still respected and loved socially).

Now the bad side of Zeus in how fair he is. He punishes Apollo in some situations, even though I understand why he needed to do it… But he is not shallow enough to be evil for the sake of evil… It left a impression on me when he killed Asclepius and hurt Apollo (obviously), it is sad and I doubt he enjoyed killing his grandson, but if he didn't do it… the balance of the cycle of death would collapse and he is the one who sustains this cycle with the greatest respect. In fact, my theory is that he doesn't face Nyx, not because he fears her, but because no matter who wins the fight, the world will end (if Nyx dies, the night and everything that comes from the night, for the Greeks like sleep and death, will be disturbed / if Zeus dies the throne will be empty and no other god would do what he does, maybe Athena, but the world was too sexist back then to let her become sovereign and I also think she would be colder than Zeus when making decisions and would have no descendants…). But sometimes he just wanted to prank and have fun! So like, no straight answer here.

In the case of Ganymede, I believe that his myth is more one of those in which Zeus is merely a narrative tool, more than an active role. People just started shipping them and that's when the pederasty boom happened, but before that Ganymede was just a boy who was handsome and got a 'dream job' (poor thing…).

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Screen Time | n.r x w.m

ʚɞ°｡⋆ Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

ʚɞ°｡⋆ wc: 2.7k

ʚɞ°｡⋆ Warnings: phone sex, pillow humping, masturbation, praise kink, slightly implied somno, daddy kink

ʚɞ°｡⋆ Summary: sometimes, a simple video call is enough to have their much needed release.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now and I finished it right on time. 🫶

A gift for the birthday girl, @mikaila-m 🎂💚🪻 love lots 😘😘

╰┈➤ Masterlist

"What are you wearing, detka?"

Natasha’s voice echoed through the room as Wanda rummaged through her things, preparing for her nightly routine. They had been apart for a few days now, ever since Natasha was called away on SHIELD business. The details were classified, leaving Wanda in the dark, but she understood the necessity. For now, video calls were the only way to stay connected.

Wanda glanced at her phone, where Natasha's face filled the screen. Natasha looked stunning as always, with her red hair perfectly in place and her shirt neatly buttoned up with a tease of her cleavage. "Hmmm, I'm wearing the light blue dress you bought me," Wanda replied while applying moisturizer, the final step in her skincare routine.

"Can I see?" Natasha asked, her tone playful yet filled with genuine interest.

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Natasha’s fascination with her never seemed to wane, no matter how long they had been together. "You've seen me in this night gown a million times. Aren't you tired of looking at the same thing?" she sighed, her voice tinged with mock exasperation.

"Never," Natasha said softly, her voice warm and affectionate. "I love looking at you, no matter what you wear. You always look beautiful to me."

Wanda felt her cheeks flush, the sincerity in Natasha’s words cutting through her usual defenses. Compliments from Natasha always hit differently, effortless, sincere, and capable of making Wanda feel seen and cherished. Despite the distance and the screen between them, Natasha’s words had a way of reaching Wanda's heart, reminding her how deeply loved she was and helping her appreciate herself just a little bit more every day.

"Alright, I'm going to show you, but first, close your eyes."

A wide grin spread across Natasha's face, and Wanda couldn’t help but smile in return, captivated by how beautiful Natasha looked even over a screen.

"Okay, baby. My eyes are closed," Natasha replied, her voice playful yet filled with anticipation.

Wanda picked up her phone, feeling a small rush of excitement as she moved to her bed. She positioned herself comfortably, lying back against the pillows, and stretched her arm up, making sure the camera captured the top of her satin dress. "You can open your eyes now, baby," she said, her voice soft and inviting.

Natasha slowly opened her eyes, and her gaze immediately lit up with appreciation. "Oh my," she murmured, her tone low and admiring. "What a beautiful sight. I can see your nipples peeking through."

Wanda felt a flush of warmth spread across her skin at Natasha's words and rolled her eyes at the same time for her naughty commentary. “You can't resist saying that, huh?”

“Of course. Your nipples certainly want to say hi to me so I acknowledged their presence.”

Natasha's cockiness is oozing through the screen and Wanda is itching to wipe off the smug look from her face. Wanda was about to say something about them behaving but Natasha cut her through.

“Palm your boobs for me, baby?”

"Alright, here we go," Wanda said with a sigh, rolling her eyes once again at Natasha’s request. Despite the playful exasperation, Wanda knew she could never truly say no to Natasha, especially when she looked so endearingly hopeful.

"What do you say when you're asking for something, hmm?" Wanda teased, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She loved seeing Natasha squirm a little, knowing how much it amused her to watch the usually confident spy in a more playful state.

Natasha's eyes narrowed in a mock glare, but there was no hiding the affection in her gaze. "Seriously?" she grumbled, though the corners of her lips twitched upwards.

Wanda couldn’t resist pushing a little further. "Come on now, I've already taught you some good manners, and it's time to use them." Her voice was sweetly taunting, the kind of tone that always made Natasha want to both laugh and groan at the same time.

Natasha muttered something under her breath in Russian, the words lost to Wanda but the tone unmistakably grumpy. Wanda leaned closer to the screen, trying to decipher the muttered words, but all she could catch was the faintest hint of frustration mingled with affection.

"Oh, I didn’t quite catch that, care to repeat that so I can understand?" Wanda quipped, clearly enjoying every second of this little game. She knew Natasha was just as entertained, even if she wouldn't admit it.

“Fine, fine.” Finally, Natasha conceded to Wanda’s demands just so she can get what she wants and gave a big sigh before saying, “Can you palm your boobs for me, please?”

Damn it. Wanda said to herself after hearing Natasha's sweet voice which was also paired with batting her pretty eyes at her. How can she say no to her charming girlfriend? “See? It's not so hard to say please now, isn't it?”

Natasha chuckled softly and gave her signature lopsided smile. “Now will you do it, baby?”

“Careful, your cocky self is almost showing up again.”

“Please, baby. I've been stuck with endless briefing and my eyes need to see something else or I might blow this whole place up.” Natasha pouted at the screen, her puppy-dog eyes adding to the effect.

The witch chuckled at her girlfriend's antics, and can no longer resist how adorable Natasha looked.

"You're so cute, Natty. My poor baby."

Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically; she was never one to appreciate being called cute. "I still refuse to be called that."

Wanda only hummed in response and shifted the view of the camera down to her chest where her taut nipples are visible through the lacey top of the night gown. Her fingertips started to caress her collarbones with feather light touches just enough to tease her girlfriend.

“Oh Natasha, I wish it's you that's touching me right now.” The witch moaned while her fingers dipped further down her body and her deft hand slipped through the fabric, pinching her hard nipples lightly.

“That's right, baby. Make yourself feel good and think about how my rough hands will treat your delicious tits if I was there.”

Natasha's natural deep, raspy voice has an immense effect on her, sparking an instant and involuntary reaction. Without any physical touch, her body melts the moment Natasha's sultry baritone washes over her.

“Place your phone on the nightstand so both of your hands will be able to freely roam on your body.”

Wanda immediately scrambled to obey Natasha's command as she felt her body starting to tingle from the anticipation of what's about to happen. Phone sex is something that they have done plenty of times during the length of their relationship but the thrill for the sheer pleasure for something that is not tangible makes the yearning even more intense.

Once her phone had been successfully situated in her nightstand, with a view showing her full body in bed, Wanda laid back down again and heard Natasha's command again.

“Hmmm. Why don't you kneel in bed instead, grab your trusted pillow and place it between your legs.”

Wanda immediately bit her lips as she's trying to gauge what her lover's plans are but she's more than willing to oblige to whatever Natasha wants. She then positioned herself in front of the camera's view and kneeled with the pillow between her thighs.

“Remove your dress and lower your body, detka. Slowly hump on your pillow just the way you like it.”

Wanda did what she's told by removing the lacey slip on dress as slowly as possible. She also made sure to cup both of her breasts just to give Natasha a show since she's so obsessed with them, but her breath shuddered the moment her bare pussy touched the fabric of the pillow.

Her eyes flung open when she realized she's already wet from the little touches she gave her nipples and the subtle throbbing in her clit intensified further. But then it wasn't just her touch that has gotten her in this state. She knew that it was mostly Natasha's voice that made her insides flutter.

“Awww, isn't that cute.” Natasha’s taunting voice broke Wanda’s attention away from the pleasure building up in her core. “Tell me, baby? Are you wet for daddy?”

“Fuck, yes! I need you here baby.” The witch almost felt ashamed with how Natasha can easily manipulate her into a needy blubbering mess. “Come home and touch me, please.”

“Oh, detka. I wish I could touch you myself right now,” the redhead’s husky voice is adding more fire to Wanda’s pulsating pussy, hanging into every word that she's uttering “but to be honest, I very much enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself like this.”

“Daddy..” A whiny noise escape Wanda’s throat, a mix of protest and plea for Natasha to come fuck her senseless until she loses her brain into the gutter, splattering all over the ground. “But I've been a good girl! I followed every request that you have for me.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Natasha's fake sympathy was oozing out of the screen which caused the brunette to whimper in desperation even more. “Imagine that you're sitting on my face instead, with my hot and wet tongue lapping up your folds and sucking your clit tenderly.”

Wanda continued to move her hips back and forth, faster and harder, smearing her juices on the newly changed pillow case to perfectly set her pace into chasing her much needed orgasm for the night.

“That's it, sweetheart. You're doing a good job for daddy.” With Natasha’s lust-filled appreciation, she now wished she could teleport herself there, to experience this moment in its full glory and to bask in Wanda’s pleasure with nothing between them but pure skin to skin contact. She made a mental note to thoroughly enjoy every second with her girlfriend once she got back and reward her with her well deserved mind blowing orgasm.

“Please, I'm close!” Wanda screamed as fears that she may reach her high so soon and it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet.

“Hold it.” Natasha's voice was very stern and authoritative. “If you cum right away, I will have to punish you when I get back.”

“No no! Baby, I can't hold it. Please let me cum.” Wanda begged pathetically hoping that Natasha will let her have her release. But knowing her girlfriend, she might toy with her orgasm for as long as she wants.

“Wanda,” Natasha began her reminder for the young witch. “You understand that your orgasm is purely mine and I get to decide when and how you're gonna have it?”

“But baby–” Wanda’s protests were cut off right away by her lover.

“Go on. Cum without my permission and to you’ll see how hard I will make you suffer when I see you”

Wanda’s breath hitched at Natasha's threat as they locked eyes through the screen which made her halt her movements.

Breathe in, breathe out. Wanda silently whispered to herself to calm herself yet her heart was still racing from the intense stare of Natasha.

It's almost comical how aroused she has become even more upon hearing the redhead's warning and at the back of her head, there is a voice tempting her to disobey her lover. She knew Natasha would never do anything to intentionally hurt her but deep down, there could be something lurking behind that could potentially ruin her. She has already been subjected to punishment but her limits were never crossed no matter how bratty or stubborn she can be.

After a few seconds has passed, her throbbing pussy still hasn't subsided but she willed herself to hold on much longer and to listen to what Natasha wants.

“See? You know how to listen to me. I'm proud of you, pretty baby.”

A blush immediately crept up Wanda's cheeks from Natasha's praise and she averted her eyes from the spy.

“Perhaps, you can lay down on the bed instead and play with your clit this time. What do you think?”

Smiling inwardly, Wanda had gotten more excited with the next thing that she's being asked to do. If she plays her cards right and follows everything that Natasha says, she might be able to finally have the relief that she's been chasing. Removing the pillow between her thighs, she plopped backwards on the bed, showing a good view of her dripping pussy to Natasha. She can feel her juices leaking down to her ass and this made her feel like a dirty slut that she is.

“Oh my. What a sight.” The widow smirked at her girlfriend's state, her voice deepening as she took in Wanda's wet pussy. “I want nothing more to lick your essence, baby. God, you're so sexy.”

“Natty, baby. Please tell me what you want me to do.” Wanda’s sweet and sexy voice sent shivers down on Natasha's clit and oh lord, she badly wanted to jump out of the screen and rigorously suck Wanda’s stiff bud and lick her folds relentlessly.

“Lick your fingers first then spread your folds. Stroke your clit real nice and slow, detka.”

Wanda did what she's told and her senses are set alight when her fingers touch her sensitive, slippery core. With her two fingers, she slowly circled her clit which earned a deep moan from her throat.

“Oh, baby. That feels so good.”

“I bet it does, sweetheart. You're doing a good job for daddy. Now go faster.”

It seemed that Wanda's clit is on fire with how intense she's been rubbing it in all directions. From going up and down and then switching to left and right just to find the perfect pressure without her release being tipped over too soon.

With Wanda's back already arching off the bed and simultaneously moaning from the pleasure, Natasha watched it all with fondness in her eyes and couldn't help but to lower her hand to unbuckle her belt. Lowering her pants, she then placed her fingers between her folds. It's not a surprise for her to discover that she's also wet from all the visual stimulation that she's receiving from the younger woman. A small sigh then escaped from her mouth when she started circling her stiff bud. She can control not to cum right away but damn it, Wanda's sweet moans are pushing it.

This went on for a few more minutes with both of them moaning through the screen and it took a while for Wanda to realize what's happening. She used both of her elbows to lift her upper body then she saw Natasha sitting on the couch with her pants down and legs wide open while her head was thrown back.

“Daddy, fuck!” She whimpered at the current sight she's seeing as Natasha continuously fucking herself with her fingers. Her digits are going in and out of her roughly which caused for her left biceps to bulge out of her shirt. “I'm not gonna hold it for too long now if you look like that right now.”

“You've been a good girl tonight, Wanda.” Natasha opened her eyes and responded with a rugged voice. “Cum with me now, baby.”

Biting her lower lip in concentration, Wanda hastily rubbed her pulsing pussy as she neared her climax and gasped loudly as the coil in her stomach finally snapped within seconds which made her see stars behind her eyes with fireworks going off all at once that made her ears ring from the intense explosion between her legs.

The same thing was happening with Natasha as the wave of release washed over her, making her legs twitch involuntarily and her stomach tightening from the overwhelming onslaught of her quick orgasm.

It took awhile for the both women to come down from their high and their breathing eventually evened out within minutes. Natasha was the first one to fully recover and she went on to check her lover.

“Wanda, babe. You doing alright in there?”

“Yeah, yeah, just catching my breath.” Wanda replied, reaching for the blanket. “It’s gotten a bit chilly in here.”

The lingering passion faded, leaving only warmth and care between them. “You should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“When will you be back, Nat?” Wanda murmured in a sleepy voice, sounding so adorable that Natasha couldn’t help but smile.

Natasha stood up from the couch to button her pants and to also get ready for her next meeting. “You might just wake up tomorrow and I'd be already pounding inside you. I gotta go. Bye for now, baby.”

Already half asleep, Wanda suddenly registered what she’d just heard. But it was too late to respond—Natasha had already ended the call.

[legionofshaza]

A place to call home

Lucien week day 5 @lucienweekofficial

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The sun had just begun to slowly rise, casting a golden hue over the Autumn Court. Lucien stood on the edge of the balcony, staring out at the forest that stretched endlessly beyond.It was beautiful,but it wasn’t home.

Not anymore.

Lucien had spent his whole life wandering, whether across lands or courts, always searching for a place where he could truly belong. He had hoped to find it with Tamlin, in the Spring Court. At first, it had felt like home—a sanctuary of golden fields and blooming gardens where he could escape the weight of his past. But that feeling had long since crumbled, buried beneath the ashes of betrayal and power.

He thought of Velaris, of the Night Court, where Feyre and Rhysand had built something precious. It had a warmth, a peace that called to him. But he could not shake the sense that he was an outsider there, even among those who treated him with kindness. He knew Feyre cared for him in her own way, but she had her own life, her own family. His place in it was… peripheral. He was not like Cassian or Azriel, with their unspoken brotherhood. He was not Rhysand’s inner circle, not really. He was a guest, a friend. A visitor.

“Is everything all right?”

The voice startled him from his thoughts, though he knew it well. Elain stood at the threshold of the balcony looking at him.She had a way of entering his presence silently, as though she were a part of the world itself—soft and unassuming, yet impossible to ignore.

Lucien straightened, his heart doing the now-familiar stutter it always did when she was near. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight. Elain had spent much of her time in Velaris, her life entwined with her sisters and their court. He hadn’t dared to ask her to stay. How could he?

“Elain,” he murmured, turning to face her. “I didn’t know you were back.”

She smiled, a small, tentative thing that seemed to light up the dimming world around them. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but Feyre mentioned you’d returned here for a few days. I… I thought I’d join you.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. He had come back to the Autumn Court, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. There was unfinished business here—family ties that still gnawed at him, even after all this time. He had hoped to leave quietly, unnoticed, as always.

But here she was, her presence both a comfort and a confusion. Elain had a home. She had her family in Velaris. What was she doing here, in a court that had never been kind to either of them?

“You didn’t have to come,” Lucien said quietly, stepping toward her. “This place isn’t… it’s not for you.”

Elain met his gaze, her eyes soft but steady. “Maybe not. But I thought it might be for you.”

For him?

Lucien wanted to scoff, to laugh bitterly at the notion that the Autumn Court, of all places, could ever be home to him again. But the look in Elain’s eyes stopped him. She wasn’t here out of pity or obligation. She was here because she chose to be. And for a moment, Lucien dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, she saw something in him.

He swallowed, his throat tight. “I don’t know if I belong anywhere, Elain. Not here. Not… anywhere.”

She stepped closer, until she was standing right beside him, her gaze drifting out to the sprawling forest.Elain was quiet for a long moment, as though considering his words, or perhaps searching for the right ones to offer in return.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “Home isn’t always a place, Lucien. Sometimes it’s… it’s a person. Or the people who make you feel like you belong, even when you don’t see it yourself.”

Lucien felt the weight of her words settle over him, gentle and warm like the fading sunlight. He wanted to believe her, to let that warmth into the cold, lonely parts of his soul that had long ago turned to ice. But he wasn’t sure if he could. He had spent so long wandering, so long searching for something he didn’t think he deserved to find.

But then Elain looked up at him, her eyes filled with quiet determination, and he wondered if maybe he’d been searching in the wrong places all along.

“Maybe I don’t belong anywhere,” he murmured. “But when I’m with you… it feels like something. Like I’m not so lost.”

Elain’s hand brushed his, a gentle touch that sent a shock of warmth through him. “Then let’s not be lost together.”

Lucien stared at her, his heart in his throat, unsure of what to say. But maybe words weren’t what was needed here. Maybe, for once, it was enough to simply be. To stand here, with Elain beside him, and let the idea of home take root in a place he never expected to find it.

Maybe home wasn’t something he had to find. Maybe it was something he could choose.

 Lucien found himself hoping that home might be wherever she was.

💘 End 💘

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

Sweet past - ch.5

Summary: Joel is away on a bussiness trip. You and Ellie have a talk. You and Joel get closer.

Pairing: dbf!Joel x reader

Warnings: none really

You needed to make up your mind. Your boss had been generous, giving you extra time, but sooner or later, the decision would have to be made. It shouldn’t be that hard, you told yourself. When Joel had first called with the news, the plan was simple: come here, lay your father to rest, sell the house, and return to your little flat in the city. Clean and straightforward. It felt like a plan that could hold everything neatly in place.

But you hadn’t prepared for the weight of the memories that would meet you at the door. Every room seemed to echo with fragments of the past, emotions suspended in the air, clinging to every creak and corner. This old house was filled with memories—both the ones that made you ache with warmth and the ones you tried hard to forget. And, of course, there was Joel.

Joel had been a rock. Supportive, kind, generous—he had been there for you in a way that few people ever were. If there was such a thing as an ideal friend, Joel fit the description perfectly. Yes, friend. You realized with some surprise that the line between neighbor and friend had quietly blurred. Somehow, you were no longer just the daughter of his best friend; you’d become someone he cared about for your own sake. He enjoyed spending time with you, as you, no titles, no past, just the present.

Now, back here, with Joel as a steady presence in your life, the pull of your old world has faded more than you expected. You’d deny it if anyone asked, but you’d already caught yourself daydreaming about staying. You’d nursed a quiet, persistent dream of having a place of your own—somewhere small, warm, yours. Cooking has become more than a job. It was something you’d nurtured, something that had grown with you until its needs began to tug at you, too loud to ignore. You didn’t want to remain a sous chef. Maybe you didn’t even want a bustling restaurant. A small café, with coffee, lunches, and pastries—that felt like enough. Like it could be… yours.

You’d spotted a few quaint spots around town, each one calling to you in some way. It would mean a loan from the bank, but you had some savings and a cautious sense that maybe, just maybe, this was possible. And then Mark had shown up with his wife one evening, bearing a huge pie and an earnest apology. He told you the town was still your home if you wanted it to be. That everyone regretted how things had turned out, and all you had to do was reach out if you needed anything.

You’d cried then, the warmth of old friendships wrapping around you as Mark and Maria hugged you. The pie was as delicious as always, and Maria laughed when you tried, once again, to get her recipe. You told Mark how much it all meant to you and even joked about throwing a backyard barbecue like your father used to, once you had your life in order. And for a fleeting moment, it felt like things might truly work out here.

Strangely, everything seemed to circle back to one person. The one steady, unwavering presence in your life: Joel.

He’d been away for a week on business, and you were startled by how much you missed him. How could you just leave him and this place behind again? And to be honest, ever since the two of you had shared a “wings night,” the thought of him made your cheeks warm in a way you hadn’t felt since you were a teen with a crush. Back then, you weren’t alone; the entire town had been smitten. Handsome, hardworking, and with a charm he rarely put on, Joel had been everyone’s idea of a hometown hero. But lately, he’d been trying hard—very hard—to show a softer side, and it wasn’t lost on you.

You jumped at the soft touch of a hand on your shoulder. Ellie stood there, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and a plate with a single slice of toast in the other.

“I’ve been calling you for ages,” she said, rolling her eyes as she set the plate in front of you. Joel had asked you to look after her while he was away, and it turned out Ellie was a delight—foul-mouthed, sarcastic, anything but delicate, and utterly herself.

“Looking good for an old lady, then?” you teased, smiling. “What’s that?”

She smirked, arching a brow. “It’s called toast. Don’t chefs know about it?” She plopped down beside you on the couch, grabbing her own plate and grinning as she took a bite.

“Smartass,” you muttered, laughing. “No wonder you and Joel get along so well.” She joined in, and despite her sarcasm, you couldn’t help but feel her warmth. Ellie was sharp, yes, but she cared deeply, in a way that reminded you of Sarah. They both had this way of looking at you that said more than words could. “Actually, this is pretty good,” you added, taking a bite.

Ellie blushed, shrugging it off. “Guess now you know how Joel managed all this time without Sarah.” She chuckled, and you felt yourself sinking into the easy comfort of her company.

It surprised you just how naturally you and Ellie fit together. Joel had once mentioned that she wasn’t good with new people—something about her past, he’d said, though he hadn’t given details. Yet here she was, sitting beside you, comfortable and relaxed. You were glad she felt that way, that she trusted you enough to let her guard down. She was family to you, as close as Sarah or Joel, even if not by blood.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, her tone shifting, her face suddenly serious. It was that same look she’d had when she’d first met you, as if weighing her words carefully.

“You just did,” you replied, unable to resist the small tease.

She groaned dramatically. “Oh, God, you’re as bad as Joel!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding for her to go on. She took a breath, eyes darting to the laptop resting on your lap.

“I… noticed you’ve been looking at buildings around here. Does that mean… you’re thinking of staying?” She looked away, cheeks flushing slightly, as if embarrassed to admit she’d been paying such close attention.

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth as you set the laptop between you both. “Yeah, I’ve been looking at places,” you admitted. “Maybe somewhere I could open a little coffee shop, or something like that.” Ellie’s eyes brightened as she leaned in to peek at the listings with you. “I’ve got some savings, so a loan wouldn’t be out of the question. But…” you trailed off, staring at the screen.

“But?” she prompted, her fingers scrolling through the first few pictures.

You hesitated, finally sighing. “I just don’t know if I’m really ready to come back… or even what I truly want,” you murmured, glancing up to find her watching you closely. A gentle smile softened her face, though her hands fidgeted slightly in her lap.

She looked down, a little hesitant. “I didn’t know if living with Joel was a good idea, either,” she began, her voice low. You could see the vulnerability there, her defenses slipping. “I was afraid of the hope he was giving me. I’d moved from place to place so many times that when he brought me here, introduced me to Sarah… it was terrifying.” She paused, her fingers tracing small circles on the fabric of her jeans, like she was grounding herself.

“Joel once told me that life is scary,” she continued, almost as if she were reciting something precious, something she held close. “But he said it would be scarier not to live it fully, not to go after what matters. We only get one life, he said, and what we make of it is up to us.”

She shrugged, her gaze drifting as she absently scratched the back of her neck, clearly nervous. “I’m not trying to sway you, or tell you what to do. I’m probably the last person to give advice on stuff like this… but…” She took a shaky breath, the tiniest waver in her voice. “Sometimes, it’s worth taking that step of faith—where hope is waiting on the other side. And I know that Joel and Sarah would love to have you back. I mean…” She fumbled a little, then added, “I wouldn’t mind, either. You’re… pretty cool. And, well… Joel seems happier with you here. He really does.”

She didn’t finish before you leaned forward and hugged her, holding her tightly as the emotion welled up, impossible to contain. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to her, whispering “thank you” over and over, your voice soft and raw. She held you just as fiercely, her arms around you in silent support. For a long moment, the two of you simply stayed there, grounded in the comfort of family—of the bond you’d never expected to find but knew you’d cherish forever.

***

The first day Joel was gone, you didn’t think much of it. You kept busy around the house, tackling small tasks and keeping things in order, but every so often, you found yourself reaching for your phone, scrolling to his last text from that morning.

“Made it here in one piece. Don’t go burnin’ down the place without me, alright?”

“No promises,” you replied with a winking emoji. There was no immediate response, but later that evening, just after dinner, your phone buzzed with another message.

“How’s Ellie holding up?”

“She’s good! Trust me, she’s not giving me any trouble. It’s actually been nice having her around.”

A few minutes passed, and then another message arrived. “Good. I don’t need her picking up any more of your bad habits, though.”

You grinned at his teasing, sending back a quick reply about how Ellie was the perfect angel. But as the days went by, your short exchanges grew longer, each one becoming more personal, more like the conversations you’d have in person, and you realized just how much you looked forward to his messages.

***

By the third night, his check-ins about Ellie had evolved into full conversations, with you both teasing each other over the smallest things. You could practically feel his familiar energy through the phone, his replies carrying that dry humor you missed.

“So how’s the kid? Not being too much of a brat for you?”

“Oh, you mean like you?” you typed back with a smirk, knowing he’d take the bait.

“Oh, you’re funny now, huh?” came his reply. Then, a moment later: “You got her eating alright? She’s not just having toast for dinner, is she?”

“Nope. She’s been well-fed, thank you. Although she did have toast with her dinner… Does that count?”

His reply came quickly: “Only if you don’t want me to leave her with you again.”

You laughed, typing back. “I think she’d miss me too much. She likes it here. And she’s a great sidekick for all my trouble-making plans.”

There was a pause, and then your phone lit up with an incoming call. Joel’s name flashed across the screen, and you felt a spark of excitement as you pressed it to your ear, settling back into the couch.

“Hello?”

“Hey there,” came his low, familiar voice, a bit rough but warm, and the sound of it made something in your chest tighten. “Didn’t mean to call so late. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah?” he replied, a soft chuckle slipping into his tone. “That’s nice to hear.”

There was a moment’s pause, just the sound of him breathing on the other end, and then he continued, “So… what’d you two do today? Ellie still actin’ like she owns the place?”

“Oh, definitely,” you laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “She and Dina spent most of the day getting into who-knows-what. They were in the yard most of the time, building some kind of ‘fortress.’”

He laughed, his voice softening at the mention of Ellie’s friend. “Good ol’ Dina. How’s Ellie treatin’ her?”

“She’s been an absolute riot,” you said, grinning. “Actually, she’s got a bit of a soft side, you know? She was in the kitchen with me for hours this afternoon, telling me all about her latest school projects.”

“Oh, is that right?” Joel said, sounding amused. “Did she mention her… colorful vocabulary?”

“Let’s just say I might’ve learned a new word or two,” you replied with a laugh. “Honestly, I think she’s turning into a bit of a chef herself. She’s been helping me cook, and I don’t think there’s a single vegetable left in the fridge that she hasn’t chopped.”

“Well,” he murmured, sounding both proud and amused, “guess I’ll owe you some restocking. Can’t have her raisin’ hell on an empty stomach.”

The sound of his laugh warmed you, and you could picture him perfectly, that soft, affectionate look he got whenever he talked about Ellie. It was in moments like these, hearing the care in his voice, that you realized just how close you’d become.

***

By the fifth night, the calls had become routine, a way to end each day that you looked forward to more and more. And it wasn’t just about Ellie anymore—your conversations drifted easily into personal territory, as though neither of you could help peeling back more layers.

“So,” he began one night after you’d described the latest “fortress” Ellie and Dina had built. “Tell me, did you put that burnt toast recipe to good use, or did you manage to surprise her with some actual food?”

You laughed, easing back into the pillows on the couch. “Turns out she’s the real chef around here. She makes me look like an amateur.”

“Oh, she got you wrapped around her finger, huh?” he asked, his tone playful.

“Hey, don’t get too smug. She tells me all kinds of stories about you,” you teased back.

“Uh-oh,” he replied, chuckling. “Guess I’ll have to bribe her to keep quiet.”

“Too late,” you said with a grin, letting your voice soften. “Besides, I kind of like hearing those stories.”

There was a pause, and you could sense the way his tone shifted, a hint of something deeper behind the teasing. “Guess I like tellin’ you things,” he murmured, voice low. “Maybe even missin’ it a bit.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the weight of his honesty settling over you. “I miss it too, Joel,” you replied softly, surprising even yourself with the ease of the admission.

The two of you spoke late into the night, laughter fading into softer moments of silence, your words becoming more intimate, your voices almost whispering as the hours slipped by. When you finally hung up, you lay in bed for a long time, the warmth of his voice still in your mind, a feeling of anticipation growing with each passing day.

***

By the seventh day, you’d already made plans in your head for his return, and that evening, as the familiar sound of his voice came through the line, you couldn’t help but bring it up.

“So, you coming back tomorrow?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual as you lay curled on the couch, phone pressed close to your ear.

“That’s the plan,” he replied, sounding pleased. “Should be back in the late afternoon, if the drive goes smooth.”

You smiled, unable to help the excitement that bubbled up. “Well, I was thinking… you should come by when you’re back. Ellie’s staying with Dina tomorrow night for a sleepover, so I thought I could make us something nice.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, his voice growing softer. “Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us,” you confirmed, feeling a bit of a thrill at the invitation. “Figure you deserve a good meal after a week of takeout.”

“Darlin’, you have no idea,” he said, sighing as if he could already smell dinner cooking. “You’d be saving me from another sad hotel sandwich.”

“Well, consider yourself saved,” you said, smiling. “I’ll have everything ready.”

“I’m holdin’ you to that,” he replied, his tone a bit more serious now. “And here’s hopin’ you don’t put too much work into it. Don’t want you fussin’ over me.”

“Who says it’s all for you?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to make something nice.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he chuckled, sounding amused. “In that case, you won’t mind if I drink all your wine.”

“Fine by me,” you replied, feeling a little thrill at the thought. “Just make sure you get back safe. I’ll be here, waiting.”

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning, and you could feel his pause on the other end, as if he were trying to find the right response.

“I will,” he said softly. “And I’m lookin’ forward to it, too.”

You stayed on the line a few minutes longer, listening to his voice, savoring every laugh, every moment of quiet as though storing it away. When you finally said goodnight, there was a sense of calm in you that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the week, a feeling that this invitation wasn’t just about dinner—it was about something new waiting to unfold. And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel that anticipation grow, knowing that tomorrow, you’d be seeing Joel again, sharing a meal with him, with no one else around.

*** Joel hadn’t expected the week away to feel so long. Business trips were something he knew well enough, the routines, the usual humdrum of it. Normally, he could get through them easily, mentally detaching until he got back home. But this time, it had been different from the moment he’d pulled out of the driveway, watching you wave him off with that teasing smile of yours.

The first couple of days had been busy enough to keep his mind occupied, the meetings back-to-back and the hotel nights filled with calls and emails. But every now and then, he’d feel a pang of something. He’d glance at his phone, half-expecting a message from you, maybe one of those playful, bratty texts you’d been sending to rile him up about leaving you with Ellie. It was a small thing, but he’d already started looking forward to hearing from you, catching himself checking his phone in between meetings like some kid waiting on a crush.

When your first message did come through, it had been nothing special on the surface. Just a quick update on Ellie, a casual check-in. But when he saw your name light up his screen, he’d felt a small thrill, an unexpected warmth in his chest, and before he could second-guess himself, he’d replied.

And that was how the calls had started. That first night, he’d dialed your number, telling himself it was just a friendly check-in to make sure you hadn’t let Ellie set the house on fire. But then you’d answered, your voice soft, welcoming, with that unmistakable smile in it that he could practically feel through the line.

“Hey there,” he’d said, his voice a little gruff, trying to keep his tone casual.

The second he heard you reply, “Joel, how’s it going?” he’d felt something settle in him, something he hadn’t realized had been unsettled until then. He didn’t know how long he sat there talking, asking you questions, listening as you filled him in on the smallest details of your day. But he knew he didn’t want the call to end.

That first call should have been enough, but the next evening, he found himself looking forward to hearing from you again. This time, he didn’t bother with the excuse of Ellie; he just dialed your number, letting it ring, waiting with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

And so it went. Every night, he’d sit alone in his hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, waiting to hear your voice. And with each call, he found himself getting a little less careful, letting his guard slip just a bit more. You made it easy, somehow, drawing him in with your playful teasing, the way you’d laugh at his dry humor, the way you’d draw out each conversation like you didn’t want it to end either.

As the week went on, he found himself thinking of you more and more. He’d be in the middle of some mundane task and suddenly catch himself wondering what you were up to, whether you were laughing at something Ellie said or spending the afternoon in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you cooked. He’d never had that kind of restlessness before, that itch to hear someone’s voice, to fill the quiet space with their laughter.

And it wasn’t just your voice he missed. It was you—your presence, your warmth, the way you’d look at him with that quiet challenge in your eyes. He caught himself thinking back to the way your hand would brush against his when you passed him something, or the way you’d flash him a smile when you were trying to annoy him, like you were daring him to keep up.

It was a gradual realization, one he didn’t really want to face but couldn’t ignore. He’d caught himself feeling things he knew he shouldn’t—things he’d been determined to avoid, out of respect for you and for the memory of his best friend. But the truth was undeniable now, and it sat heavy in his chest as he lay in the dark of his hotel room, thinking about the way he felt whenever he heard your voice.

He’d known you forever, since you were just a kid. He’d watched you grow up, become the woman you were now, proud and stubborn and beautiful. But that was exactly the problem—you were a woman now, not the girl he used to know. And he wasn’t blind. He saw the way you looked at him sometimes, the way you’d laugh at his jokes, the way your eyes would linger just a second too long when you thought he didn’t notice.

It thrilled him in a way that scared him—this newfound closeness, the feeling of waiting for each night like it was something forbidden, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Part of him wanted to pull back, to ignore the pull, to treat you as nothing more than a friend, maybe even a daughter. But another part of him, the part he tried to keep buried, was hungry for those conversations, for the laughter and the warmth you shared. The part of him that felt alive every time he heard your voice, that wanted to reach through the phone, close the distance, and tell you exactly what he was thinking.

When you’d invited him over for dinner after he got back, he’d felt that thrill rise in him all over again, the thought of just the two of you, no one else around, the house quiet and warm and waiting. He’d told himself it was just dinner, nothing more, but the anticipation felt heavier, more electric, as though something big had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be stopped.

And now, lying there in his bed, hours away from seeing you again, he felt that familiar tug, the quiet thrill of hearing your voice, the way it softened at night, like a melody only he got to hear.

Joel sighed, closing his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to push the thoughts away. He knew he was crossing into dangerous territory, that the feelings stirring in him weren’t just friendly anymore. But each time he thought about pulling back, about putting some distance between you, he knew he didn’t want to. Not really. He knew that the second he heard your voice, that careful resolve would crumble.

It was dangerous, he knew that much. But it was also thrilling, in a way he hadn’t felt in years. And as he lay there, counting down the hours until he could see you again, he found himself thinking less about what was right or wrong and more about the possibilities—the uncharted places that might await him if he just let go.

***

Joel had barely parked his truck in your driveway before he was out and making his way to the door, his heart beating faster than he’d like to admit. It had only been a week, but it felt like longer—a week of late-night calls, teasing texts, and that quiet, unmistakable thrill that seemed to settle in his chest whenever he thought about seeing you again.

He knocked on the door, taking a quick breath to settle himself as he waited. When you opened it, his heart jumped just a little. You looked radiant, like you’d spent the entire day preparing, and the faint smell of spices filled the air behind you.

“Hey, you,” you said, smiling warmly, your eyes lighting up when you saw him.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, his voice softer than he’d planned. His eyes traveled over you, taking in the way you looked a little nervous, as though you’d put a lot of thought into this evening.

“Well, come in, then!” you said, stepping back, and he followed you into the warm, inviting space you’d transformed for the evening. The dining table was set neatly with wine glasses, a bottle breathing nearby, and the air smelled incredible.

“Hope you’re hungry,” you said, leading him into the kitchen, where a beautifully roasted duck sat on the counter, nestled in a rich, glossy orange and ginger sauce.

His eyebrows rose, impressed. “Looks like I should’ve skipped lunch.”

You grinned, rolling your eyes a little as you grabbed plates. “Well, I figured I’d go all out. I mean, what’s the point of calling this a ‘welcome back’ if I didn’t make it memorable?”

He chuckled, following you to the table as you set the plates down, duck on one side, crisp asparagus on the other. “Trust me, I’ll be rememberin’ this. Feels like I stepped into some kinda fancy restaurant.”

You shook your head, a pleased blush coloring your cheeks as you poured the wine, and you clinked glasses before taking your seats. For a moment, the two of you just savored the first few bites, your nervousness giving way to pride as you saw his reaction.

“Damn, that’s good,” he said, eyes widening as he took another bite. “How’d you get this good at cookin’? I don’t remember you makin’ stuff like this when you were younger.”

“Well, things have changed since then,” you replied, laughing as you took a sip of wine. “And don’t act like you ever stayed for my cooking—always busy with work and keeping an eye on Sarah.”

Joel smiled, tilting his glass toward you. “You’re right. Guess I missed out.” His gaze held yours a beat too long, and you felt your cheeks heat up again.

“So,” you said, trying to focus, “how was the trip?”

He groaned, setting down his fork and giving you a look that made it clear he’d rather forget it entirely. “Long. Boring. Could’ve done without half of it.” He shrugged, his voice softening. “But… it wasn’t so bad. Got to talk to you each night, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip, your heart fluttering at the warmth in his tone. “Guess I kept you from going crazy, huh?”

He laughed, reaching across the table to give your hand a light squeeze. “You could say that.” His hand lingered for just a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles before he pulled away, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a spark of something unspoken. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

The meal drifted on, conversation flowing easily, the two of you swapping stories, laughter filling the room as you sipped on wine. You told him about Ellie’s antics while he was gone, her mini “fortresses” with Dina, the chaos in the yard.

“Sounds like she hasn’t changed much,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “That kid could cause a scene in a church.”

“Actually, she’s been amazing,” you replied, laughing. “Really. I wouldn’t have expected it, but she’s practically taken over. A little mini you, you know?”

“Oh, she’s way more trouble than me,” he teased, giving you a look that was half challenge, half admiration. “But I’m glad she didn’t give you a hard time.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, letting the warm flavors of the wine and pasta fill the spaces between wordsJoel leaned back, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

“Guess who sends his regards,” he said, smirking. “Tommy. Says he remembers the last time he saw you, and that he hopes you’re well.”

“Tommy?” you laughed, eyebrows raised. “Last I saw him, he was still Tommy the Troublemaker. Can’t even imagine what he’s up to now.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he swirled his wine. “Well, believe it or not, Tommy’s about to get married.”

You stared at him, stunned, and he nodded, clearly amused by your reaction.

“He found someone who puts up with him, huh? That’s got to be one patient woman,” you teased.

Joel laughed, a rich sound that made the room feel warmer. “Yeah, she’s got her work cut out for her. But he’s serious about her. Wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Shaking your head, you tried to imagine the Tommy you remembered settling down. It seemed impossible, yet oddly reassuring. It felt like a reminder that people could change, could find a new path even if it seemed unlikely.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath as you let the conversation quiet down a little, the familiar nervousness returning. Now was the time to tell him about your plans, and you wanted it to be just right.

“I’ve been thinking about something, Joel,” you said, your voice soft, looking down at your glass before meeting his gaze. “I’ve been thinking about staying here. Moving back… for good.”

He stilled, his gaze locking onto yours, a glimmer of surprise and, you thought, happiness in his eyes. “Yeah?” His voice was barely a murmur, almost as if he were afraid to break the spell.

“Yeah,” you replied, a little laugh escaping as you tried to find the right words. “I thought… well, I thought maybe I could open up a small café or something. Nothing big. Just a place to cook, make people happy.”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, just looked at you with a soft, admiring gaze. Then he reached over, taking your hand again, his fingers warm and strong around yours. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But I’ll be honest… I like the idea of you stayin’.” He squeezed your hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Feels right, you know? Feels like… you belong here.”

Your heart thudded, his words sinking in with a warmth that filled you from head to toe. “Thank you, Joel,” you murmured, the words feeling inadequate. “Really. It means a lot.”

He just nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I’m just selfish,” he teased, his voice a quiet rumble. “Don’t wanna lose my dinner dates.”

The two of you lingered at the table long after the meal was done, the bottle of wine nearly empty, the air between you comfortable, charged with a quiet intimacy. But then you glanced at the plates and stood, stretching. “Alright, let me get these cleaned up.”

But as you started to stack the plates, Joel rose to his feet, crossing his arms with a stubborn look in his eyes. “Oh, no. You went to all this trouble cookin’—I’m not letting you clean, too.”

“Joel, I invited you over. You’re the guest, so just let me—”

Before you could protest further, he reached over and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close in one smooth movement. His hand rested at the small of your back, his grip gentle but firm, and the sudden closeness made your heart race. He looked down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

You felt the warmth of his breath against your cheek, your pulse skittering as his gaze held yours. “Maybe you’re just too used to getting your way,” you shot back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he released you but kept his hand at your waist, guiding you toward the sink. “You’re not gettin’ out of helpin’ me this time.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile spread across your face as you leaned against the counter beside him, picking up a dish towel. “Alright, fine. But only because you’re so determined.”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm as he started washing a plate. His hand brushed against yours as he passed it over, his gaze flicking to you with a look that made your stomach flip.

The cleaning took longer than it should have, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm, shoulders brushing, quiet laughter filling the kitchen as you worked side by side. Every so often, he’d nudge you, or you’d “accidentally” flick water at him, and he’d just shake his head, giving you that smirk that seemed to melt you from the inside out.

It felt comfortable, natural, like you’d been doing this forever, and yet every touch, every shared glance held a charge, a warmth that neither of you wanted to break. It was domestic, yes, but it was also more than that—something electric, simmering beneath the surface, neither of you acknowledging it out loud, but both feeling it as surely as the water running over your hands.

Finally, with the dishes done, he turned to you, wiping his hands on a towel and looking at you with a small, satisfied smile. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter with a grin. “I guess I’ll let you help next time. You might even have a knack for it.”

He chuckled, setting the towel down as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Maybe I just like spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air, neither of you breaking eye contact, and for a moment, it felt like the world had quieted around you. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears, the warmth of his presence filling the small space between you, a quiet tension building with each second that ticked by.

And then, just as quickly, he cleared his throat, stepping back with a small, almost shy smile. “Well, thanks for dinner. I’d say you’ve set the bar pretty damn high.”

You smiled, feeling a blush spread over your cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The evening ended in a comfortable silence, the two of you lingering in the doorway as he put on his jacket. He turned to you one last time, his gaze soft, warm, lingering on you as if he didn’t quite want to leave.

“See you soon, alright?” he said, his voice low, a quiet promise in his words.

You nodded, smiling as you watched him go, the warmth of his presence lingering in the house long after he’d left. And as you closed the door behind him, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted, that tonight had been a step toward something you both felt but were just beginning to acknowledge, something that went beyond dinner, beyond words—a feeling that would stay with you long after he’d gone.

[kr9vorebeazt]

DISCLAIMER!!: PLEASE DO NOT HARASS, SENDING DEATH THREATS, BULLY, AND ATTACK THE PERSON THAT I CALLED OUT. IT'S BETTER FOR YOU TO ALWAYS STAY MATURE FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THIS FANDOM

Hello everyone, well, I can't believe I must make a callout thread about this. I actually don't want to make it because I don't wanna cause any dramas, but I must made this to make everyone in this fandom aware and do the right action for what's happening in this fandom.

Read more:

CHRONOLOGY:

So at yesterday, when I opened and scrolled tumblr, I found a post from @marshalllir talking about a DL fan who commented negatively about one of @hostik 's post. And I immediately recognized that person. It's one of my follower that I follow

The post:

Well, Let's talk about this

CLARIFY:

About her commented negatively in some Haiden posts, this is not the first time I see her commented like that, I remembered when she's commented on one of @deadfileinthecabinet 's post(as I remember) about Haiden aswell. I ever told her to stop commenting like that and let people enjoy what they like and if she doesn't like it/hate it, just do not interact with them, especially put a negative comment. As time goes by, I thought she was already changed but after I see this post, I feel so dissapointed. All time I've been putting my faith to her expecting her to change turns out like that? Well, because of this, I think it's my time to expose her NOT so good side.

THE NOT SO GOOD SIDE(TW!: MENTIONS ABOUT P*DOPHILIA/GROOMING):

So, as the name suggests, She's definetly a Frank Marwey big fan. She loves to make and post about Frank, even make her own Monster!Frank AU that I was interested to. Did you know that she has 2 Twitter/X account? One of her account is a NSFW account.

Now, before we talk about the NSFW part, let me say this. She ships Frank x Lawan and Frank x Aiden(I think now she ships her DL oc with Frank now, But I personally know that she still ship these ships)

Problem? Yes, Frank x Lawan has a BIG problem in it. In DL2 canon lore, Lawan met Frank when she was young and views him as her dad figure. Shiping her with Frank is sounds problematic and might be considered as p*dophilia. Their age gap are TOO BIG even they're both are adults plus, Frank is Lawan's father figure and Frank is old enough to be her dad.

How about Frank x Aiden problem? Same, their age gap is TOO BIG to be considered as a couple

But Aiden x Hakon- Their age gap is tolerable, plus their relationship isn't Father and Son alike duo so it's safe.

Ok back to her shipping problem and the ACTUAL problem that I wanted to talk about, not just the problem of her shipping taste, but also she ever made a NSFW art of them. Do I have a problem? Yes, she ever post a NSFW of Frank x Lawan.

Unfortunately, the posts about that I mentioned are deleted. Maybe because there's someone who called her out before I did back then. Yet she still ships them.

"But, it's my AU! It never be canon" I know it's an AU but that doesn't mean you can cover up your problematic stuff that you did easily. Do we can easily believe you after saying that? No right? We are not fools.

MESSAGES TO HER:

I'm sorry if I did bring back your past mistakes to you, but this is the warning that I could do to you even I did the wrong thing. Something has kicking me out to expose your past actions to public again. I'm truly very sorry about it.

But, that doesn't mean I can easily forgiving you. Since this is a warning post to you, All I want to tell is that YOU MUST make an apology post. DO NOT PUT THE BLAME/PLAYING VICTIM TO ANYONE OR ME A.K.A. YOU MUST BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL YOUR ACTIONS EVEN THOSE ARE JUST THE PAST

I'm glad that you finally realized your mistake about you posting NSFW arts of your ship yet you still ship them. I need you to stop what you're doing. If you want to ship Frank with someone, make an OC x Canon ship by yourself, is that hard to do for you? Atleast, it's better than you still shipping the problematic ships and post it online.

Mark my words, if you dislike something, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE THING THAT YOU DISLIKE EVEN YOU JUST PUT NEGATIVE COMMENTS OF IT AND LET PEOPLE DOING WHAT THEY LIKE. The Algorithm will thought you like it and keep giving you more post about something that you don't like

CONCLUSION:

In this case, yes, she's indeed problematic. Yet we must give her a chance to change herself into a better person. I believe that soon she realizes her mistakes and trying her best to change into a better person. We must stay mature of what's happening in this fandom problem.

If you're reading this, I give you a second chance to be a better person. Do it, I'm still have a faith into you so you can be a good person that everyone knows.

I don't blame and mad at you. I'm just giving you and people in the fandom a warning.

May God forgives our sins

CLOSING:

Thank you so much for reading this. And also to those people that I tagged, I'm sorry for the random sudden tag.

I'll see ya soon, have a great day/night

Edit: If I got any mistakes, please you can correct me. Thank you :3

[lovegrowsart]

interesting that some ppl think that osha going dark side was too fast or didn't make sense when i thought it was pretty clear she was heading that direction from episode one 💀

[shannonsketches]

like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime

why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?

it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working

Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!

[notmoreflippingelves]

So I know, I know, we all hate it when people add comments and especially lengthy ones to posts that are no openly encouraging them. Nevertheless, I'm gonna do so in this particular case because the novel that I was writing in the tags just got too too long and I was frighteningly close to the tag limit.

The things that would fix Esteban Flores are (in roughly this order)

A found family (preferably one totally divorced from connections to his bio family) and/or a small child to take care of.

A heartfelt apology from his biological family (definitely Luisa, probably Elena, and maybe Francisco as well).

A hug x1000

Being shaken

Enough sleep

But most especially the first two.

Esteban's issues stem from being made to feel like an afterthought and/or an obligation to his family of origin. In his mind, he was not chosen or wanted. He was liked, loved even--but he was loved because he was familia--not because he was Esteban. He was not enough in and of himself, especially not when compared to Elena.

Do you know why he continued to tend the cacao trees during the Dark Times? Yes, it was out of love for his family, but I think there's a bit more to it than that. His abuela shared something private and meaningful (i.e. how to take care of the cacao trees) with him that she didn't also share with Elena. He was welcomed into Luisa's world--if only for a moment. This was his, the rare thing that he didn't have to sacrifice to or share with Elena. No one could take this away from him--the moment of feeling seen and chosen. Not even the fact that this moment was very very much an anomaly and the rest of his youth (and his adulthood) consisted of him being shoved into the corner of some family portraits and left out of others entirely---and no one noticing this for years.

In "Something I Would Never Do," Esteban outright states "Years ago/ I did not know/Just how much they cared for me." He's just now realizing after 40+ years that his family just might love him (50+ years if you go back to when Esteban moved into palace); he's genuinely surprised about it and terrified that he's going to fuck it all up. Yes, Esteban has atrocious self-esteem, but these impressions did not come from nothing. Even now, his family keeps him largely at arm's length. He doesn't appear (or isn't even mentioned) in the two family vacation episodes, suggesting he was left behind. His Navidad plans (the ones he has been dreaming of , all alone for 41 years!) are rejected outright by Luisa, and no one even bothers to ask what the Dark Times were like or how he is coping. Everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. He's there, sometimes he is shown attention and affection, but he's still made to feel that he's not really a part of the family in the same way the others were.

All this is pretty bad in and of itself, but it's made worse by the fact that he's not getting his emotional needs fulfilled from outside the family any more than he is within it. As far as we can tell, Esteban's only real friends as a child were Elena and Victor. (Maybe Felicia as well, but she was far more Elena's friend than his). And neither Victor nor Elena could give Esteban what he needed: the feeling of being liked and chosen for himself and that alone.

Elena is family--the same family has made Esteban feel like an afterthought and obligation, merely liked at best and tolerated at worst. But that's oversimplifying things. Elena is also the impossible gold standard that Esteban will always be measuring himself against. (And it's especially galling that she was 1-2 years younger than him, and he was still nowhere near her level). She's the favorite (and Luisa is not subtle about hiding that fact), the priority, the important one. She's the one who has always been and will always be secure in power and confidence and their familia's love--the exact opposite of Esteban.

Victor, meanwhile, was a horrible influence on Esteban, and not just where Shuriki was concerned. His selfishness rubbed off on his amigo, and his competitiveness and callousness brought out every one of Esteban's insecurities and worst tendencies. It's also very strongly implied that their friendship (at least on Victor's side) was rooted in how 'useful' Esteban was. Through El Segundo, Victor got closer to power/the crown and also found someone that he could feel "superior" to. Someone that Victor could consistently beat at races, so that he could feel like a winner. Someone who wouldn't tell Victor to go to hell if he subjected unflattering nicknames upon.

So yeah, Esteban's childhood primary source of affection/attention outside his family were two people who exacerbated Esteban's already huge inferiority complex. One of whom was part of said family that enabled said inferiority complex in the first place, and the other of whom is wrapped up in the event that caused Esteban to lose his family as well.

And then, Elena was trapped in the amulet and Victor was banished from Avalor, and Esteban was without anyone at all for 41 years. His primary source of attention and affection during this time was the woman who conquered his kingdom and took away his family. Someone who had preyed upon his vulnerabilities from the very start and who kept him alive only so long as he remains obedient and "useful" to her. There's nothing even remotely close to equal or mutual about this dynamic, and Shuriki did even more damage on Esteban's already battered psyche than all of the others combined and multiplied by ten.

Even after Shuriki is gone, Esteban still doesn't have anyone in his life that voluntarily chose to be in his life. His entire social circle is comprised of people that he knows through his family and/or his role as chancellor (and later his magical abilities). There's Naomi, except there isn't, because their dynamic is rooted exclusively in their shared devotion to Elena and their roles on the Grand Council (which is also directly tied to Elena).

Similarly, Doña Paloma interacts with Esteban almost exclusively in reference to his role as Chancellor. Would she give him the time of day if he had no political power or influence?. Doubtful, especially as she seems to really dislike him most of the time. There's a bit more potential for a genuine friendship to develop with Julio or Professor Mendoza, but again, these connections were formed through Esteban's job and we don't really see any interactions that aren't in service to that.

Higgins is explicitly Esteban's employee and given how insensitive he can be to Esteban, it seems unlikely that he has any real non-professional loyalty or affection to him. Same with Armando, except things do seem to a bit more cordial between them.

Esteban seems to have a good rapport with Avalor's allies, especially Toshi and Shoji, but these are unlikely to be anything more than friendly diplomatic connections and ones separated by distance.

So yeah, my boy literally does not interact with a single character on the show without at least one of them doing so out of obligation/duty/job requirement and/or ulterior motive. Fifty years later and almost nothing has changed, Esteban still has nothing and no one to call his own.

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

[not-neverland06]

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan. 

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside. 

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles. 

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream. 

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place. 

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic. 

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face. 

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat. 

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. 

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy. 

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for. 

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

Lately, I've been thinking about Mithrun and the ways he is dehumanized in canon.

Before I get started, we know that elven society is incredibly afraid of death and illness. This is obvious in how they look down on the short lived races and see them as weak and childlike. We also know that Mithrun himself had ableist views toward his brother and these values did not leave him once he, himself, became disabled. He is a product of the society that raised him, but I also think how Mithrun is currently being treated contributes to his view of himself.

Mithrun has had three different caretaking groups over the years. The first are the ones his brother hired for him. From what we can see, they did the job, but we can understand that they did not know what to do with him. No one had ever recovered from having their desires eaten so the focus was less on rehabilitation and more on keeping him alive.

Later we see Milsiril take an interest in him because of his desire to return to the dungeon. Since she did not bother to visit him for decades after finding him, we can assume that there is an ulterior motive here. Timeline-wise, this was when the majority of the canaries had just been wiped out. They needed more men, and Mithrun is set up to be the perfect single-focused soldier.

Honestly, we can assume that Milsiril doesn't really care about him or see him as a person. Mithrun is just a new project for her to play with. We can see this in how she's focused on superficial level concerns like the fact that he doesn't look nice and wanting him to be overly grateful toward her. She also talks about him like he's not in the room and can't hear her. This is a dehumanizing trait shared by many characters when talking about Mithrun.

When he finally does recover enough to return to the canaries, the military does not make any effort to accommodate his needs. We know the canaries are understaffed and the ethics are already bad, but they really did not even try to care about Mithrun's safety at all.

Entrusting a criminal with his care was questionable at best, especially when Cithis immediately took the opportunity to abuse her power over him and no one stopped her.

While acknowledging the light-hearted nature of the manga, it's uncomfortable that Mithrun was treated like a child and an animal by Cithis for her amusement. Regardless of her 'learning to respect him' later, the point is that Mithrun was taken advantage of and degraded because she believed he couldn't say no. No one bothered to do anything about this until Pattadol yelled at her.

Truly his treatment is summarized well by Milsiril here. Mithrun is extremely vulnerable to being abused by those taking care of him because he won't advocate for himself. He has one desire so he won't fight for himself in any other way.

It is obvious that Mithrun was not treated well by his caretakers and this has resulted in him identifying his needs through a disconnected and frankly, infantilizing lens.

I understand that it may have been a translator's decision, but I always thought it was interesting that Mithrun says that he's "not sleepy" which is a childish term. Otherwise, he speaks like everyone else, if not rather posh.

This, followed by the fact that he is responsive to Kabru treating him like a literal infant to get him to eat, paints a clear picture of the fact that Mithrun is not unfamiliar with being treated like this. He responds to it because he's used to it and has no desire to argue with being treated this way. When we consider the fact that the chapter started with Milsiril treating an older child Kabru in the same way, it is likely that she also did the same thing to Mithrun when he was under her care.

In these panels, we see that Mithrun does not believe that he can sleep without magical assistance, even though it is immediately refuted when Kabru takes the time to bundle him up and help him relax. Not only does he fully believe he can't sleep without external assistance, but he states directly that there is no point in him getting comfortable.

As Kabru observes, Mithrun's inability to recognize his needs applies to needs such as hunger and exhaustion, but it obviously also applies to emotional needs. Kabru just wanting to feed him something delicious and not wanting him to give up on life is the most consideration someone has given Mithrun in years.

The relationship they form over the course of a single week is enough to shape Mithrun's behaviour completely. Mithrun ignores Cithis's demand in favour of asking Kabru's opinion. It is Kabru's hand Mithrun takes to pull him out of his defeated state. It is Kabru Mithrun confessed his true desire to.

Do you realize how depressing that is? All it took was the new perspectives from Kabru and Senshi to make him consider the fact that he should keep living despite no longer needing to fulfill his duty. Being treated well could have helped Mithrun much sooner and this shift in the way he sees himself contributes to his recovery going forward.

TLDR: Mithrun has no desire to be respected, but why does that make people feel comfortable acting like he doesn't deserve it? Someone not caring about being treated well doesn't give you permission to treat them poorly. This feels like a playschool-level consent lesson: just because he's not saying no to a humiliating or degrading act doesn't mean it's a yes and therefore okay to do. Acknowledging this is the bare minimum of treating him as a person.

[writingsbychlo]

WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had. 

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day. 

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her. 

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been. 

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet. 

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class. 

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together. 

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses. 

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours. 

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock. 

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed. 

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum. 

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you. 

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak. 

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him. 

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer. 

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners. 

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.” 

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait. 

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too. 

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure. 

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt. 

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up. 

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly. 

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss. 

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you. 

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today. 

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects. 

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too. 

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage. 

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression. 

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out. 

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple. 

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter. 

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

[kooktrash]

lost & found | jeon jungkook

summary:your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], mid-20’s friendships. what kind of au is this? smut, plot

➣18.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. a little bit of angst if you squint. tae is oc defender. shy oc. jk is an old college classmate. oc and jk got complicated, misunderstood history :(. oc is kinda insecure? bathroom sex. teasing. foreplay [f and m receiving]. very neeeedddy, long time waited sex.. unprotected. jk fucks oc on the counter, on the door. jk is tatted up but not in his college days. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk as a thx 🤧 jk dated oc’s bestie but there’s HISTORY. oc’s bestie is the real villain im sorry. took advantage of two insecure college kids >:( love lost, love found vibes. just read I swear it’s not that bad 😭 no cheating. FRIEND BREAK UPS. oc gets confident toward the end

song inspo: bff — jesse

As you settle into adulthood, you learn a few things about friendships. There tends to be a slight divide between those you’ve known since you were young and those you’ve collected over the years. Some might value the friendships they’ve held longer more than those that are more recent but for others, what matters is the trust that comes with friendship no matter with whom it might be with. You’re somewhere in between, you think.

You have people like Taehyung who you’ve only recently started to get to know and have had a chance to grow close with. He doesn’t know everything about you yet but he doesn’t need to, he seems to understand enough now to be an important person in your current life. He’s the kind of friend you're thankful you’ve met on some random occasion.

Then you have someone like your best friend, Miyoung. You’re not sure the last time you had ever been truly without her at your side. From your earlier school years to college, to now when you’re both settled into what would essentially be your careers and private lives. She’s… she's special to you in a way that you're not sure you could ever find in someone else—or at least that’s what she says?

There hasn’t been a time where it wasn’t the two of you practically glued together at the hip and you credit her for her outgoing nature that always seemed to balance with your more introverted demeanor. Of course it didn't mean you couldn’t make friends without her [take Taehyung for example] but she’s always seemed to gravitate people toward you with her energy. That’s why you're not at all surprised by tonight’s events and how everyone seemed surprised that you came alone.

”Honestly, I’m happy you made it, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in so long,” Your friend, Hoseok, pointed out as he led you to the private area of the lounge bar where it seemed like a reunion was taking place, “When Miyoung said she wasn’t going to make it, I thought you probably weren’t going to show up and—“

”Is that what you would have preferred?” You asked with a teasing smile as he began to stumble over his words, attempting to backtrack.

“What? Y/n, don’t you know I’ve been desperately enamored by you since your first year? Don’t make such crass comments,” He joked back, helping you out of your coat as you grew closer to the room filled with loud chatter. He led you with hands on your shoulders and said, “And between us, I’m a little happy she didn’t come. I wasn’t really in the mood for this to turn into a Battle of the Exes fighting ground.”

”What do you mean?” You barely had time to ask as you entered the room where an explosion of your name was heard by old college classmates of yours who all seemed on the border of tipsy and in a good mood. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at everyone at once till your eyes fell on the person in question.

He didn’t hesitate to meet your gaze with equal surprise as you sat across from him, just one person down the line. Immediately the people next to you tried sparking a conversation and you used it as a distraction to keep from gawking at him. When Miyoung told you she wouldn’t make it, you debated coming yourself but after some begging from Hoseok you decided to come along. Despite your best friend not joining, you're kind of glad she didn’t. Hoseok is right, it would have been a battlefield and you did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

“Y/n.”

Ignore, maybe? Just ignore and maybe he’ll forget trying to talk to you and your head won't be on the chopping block. You looked down the table at some of the other people you remember from campus activities or long lectures and tried to ignore the growing smile you could see on his face from the corner of your eye.

“Hungry?” The person next to you asked as he made you look his way. There were platters of hand food across the bar table and you happily took whatever Jimin offered. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but look across the table to make sure it really was who you thought it was,

Jeon Jungkook.

Better known as your best friend’s ex boyfriend.

Or worse, the first guy you liked when you started University.

”Hi,” he said in a low voice, catching you in the middle of staring at him. In your defense, he seemed so different—more matured if you will. Now he was covered in tattoos and piercings, he lost that sort of boyish charm but clearly gained something else along the way. He was buff and bigger, more intimidating yet alluring? Safe to say he didn’t look like the ‘Boy Next Door’ you had a crush on in your English seminar.

“You’re here,” was all you could think to say back, giving up on your sorry attempt at ignoring him for no real reason other than saving yourself from an awkward encounter.

”So are you,” Jungkook bit into his bottom lip as he looked at you closely. How is it that someone could look so different but the same all at once? In your gaze he could still see that curiosity in everything that he remembered from back then when he would spend lectures wondering what was on your mind. In your appearance, he can see how much you’ve changed physically. They were surely small differences in everyone else’s eyes but he always had a tendency to pay too much attention to you and it would get him in trouble.

You gave him a polite nod in response to his blatant observation that matched yours and attempted to shift your attention elsewhere but he didnt let it get too far. He cleared his throat, “How have you been?”

“Me?” You asked, “Okay, I guess. Busy with work.”

“So I’ve heard, you’re in marketing now, right? What happened to your writing?” Jungkook asked, seeming genuinely curious to know. He didn’t care for the conversations happening around him more than he did hearing your response now that you looked more willing to give him one.

“It wouldn’t have paid the bills—You remember my writing?” You asked, surprise evident in your features that he couldn’t help but smile.

It was hard for him to forget his biggest competition at the time. He let out a small sigh, ready to go on about being unable to forget a certain piece you wrote when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Yoongi stood over him, “Smoke break?”

Say no, he thought. Jungkook could easily reject the offer and continue what he was going to say. Without meaning to, he looked back at you, but you had excused yourself from the table in the blink of an eye. Nodding hesitantly, he grabbed his jacket and followed his friend out while he wondered where you went so suddenly.

You were hiding in the washroom when you got the call from Miyoung, like she had a sixth sense telling her to reach out.

“So how is it? Is it as boring as I said it’d be?” Miyoung asked as she waited in line for some nightclub she was going to with some of her various other friends.

“Um, kind of?” You said without much thought—knowing it was what she wanted to hear. In reality, it was fun. You were greeted warmly that it washed away your earlier worries and you’re being taken care of by old friends you didn't get to talk to as much. Not to mention, you’re seeing Jungkook again after a couple years of hearing and thinking of nothing about the guy, so you don’t actually think it's boring.

Miyoung snorted, “Figures, good thing I didn’t go. I could not sit through more than an hour of everyone going on and on about what they’ve been up to. I mean, yeah I miss Hobi and stuff but I could see him whenever, y’know? Who all showed up?”

“I think everyone,” You admitted with a nervous bite of your lip. It was now or never. You tell her that it seems like Jungkook has come to visit or has come back to stay and you’re not sure how she’ll take that. She might even march over here just to tell him how she's felt these last two years and chances are that’ll ruin the easy vibe for everyone else. You leaned against the stall door and talked with her.

“So you’re back,” Yoongi asked with a smirk as he took a drag from his cigarette, “My Golden Boy’s back? Someone pinch me.”

“Funny guy,” Jungkook said sarcastically as he looked out onto the busy street. Yoongi shrugged, turning toward the bar window looking around to see the group, “Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Yeah, it’s great seeing everyone again,” Jungkook told him casually, flicking the end of his cigarette and watching the ash fall to the cold cement of the street.

“Want to know who surprised me tonight?” Yoongi asked, looking over at him to see if his expression would change at all, “Y/n.”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, dropping ash to the ground, “Y/n never comes out to these sorts of things, and if she does come it’s usually with Miyoung but she came by herself tonight.

“Yeah…” Jungkook zoned out a bit as he thought about it more, “Why doesn’t she meet up with you guys often?”

“You know Y/n doesn't really go out,” Yoongi said, “And she’s busy with work, at least that’s what Hobi says. I don’t know, when Hobi said Miyoung wasn’t coming tonight we both expected Y/n to not show too but… hey, aren’t you happy she isn’t here?”

“I don’t really care either way,” Jungkook confessed truthfully, “But do you know if… y’know, you might have heard something about Y/n and if she’s still seeing someone or—“

“Oh God,” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh as he put his cigarette out, Jungkook doing the same, “It’s been like three years, man.”

Jungkook watched him laugh as he walked off leaving him to follow, “What?”

Yoongi held the door open for him, “You know what, but I’ll answer your question, anyway. Last I heard Y/n is single, so what now?”

He waited for Jungkook to respond but he wasn’t listening anymore. There were too many things on his mind that he needed to work out before you came back to the table.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You just got here,” Jimin said to you as he held your hand in his to stop you from leaving, “One more drink.”

“It’s late,” You tried to say, “I’ve got to be up early.”

“Liar, it’s a Saturday night, Y/n. Sit your ass back down,” Hobi said with a firm voice making you sit down immediately. He flashed you a cute smile before asking everyone if they wanted another round of drinks.

“So, what were we talking about earlier?” Jungkook asked, trying to get you to talk to him again, “Your writing? Yeah, how can I forget it? Remember we used to read each other’s essays all the time before… well.”

Before he broke up with your best friend.

“Yeah, I remember,” You admitted, trying to find something to say. What kind of questions would Miyoung want to know? What do you want to know? What should you prepare your friend to know? “How long are you visiting?”

“Actually, I just moved back, I got a job doing graphic design for a local company,” Jungkook told you with the hint of a smile, “It’s my first time meeting up with everyone again.”

You let yourself indulge in small talk with him here and there but usually when he started it. The night had been fine, you enjoyed your time but after a while all you wanted to do was go home and Hoseok couldn’t make you stay any longer. You ended your night wondering if you should go out more.

Everything has a backstory, right? How it all started and yours seems pretty tacky. You spent the first couple years of University doing what you had to do in school and letting Miyoung drag you to whatever outing she had on the weekends. Some time in your third year, you joined this English class with the most boring, monotonous professor ever and that’s where you met Jungkook.

In all honesty, you thought he was cute from the get go. Sitting through three hours of a boring lecture led people to do odd things and one of those for you was staring at the cute guy who sat down a couple rows from you. It was just a little thing you did to pass time so you never expected anything to actually happen from it.

Then one day most of the seats were taken [naturally, it was a large class] and he seemed to have been running late because his usual cycle of seats were all taken except the one next to yours. Despite all those times you would find yourself ogling the stranger, when he was right next to you, you didn’t say a single word.

It was Jungkook who spoke first and it was just to ask if you could help him catch up. That day you were supposed to read someone else’s prompt and revise it and you chose each other which then trickled down to a routine of it. Without speaking much, he would sit next to you or silently save you a seat whenever you were running late and the one time you decided to switch it up and sit elsewhere…

Well, he was practically pouting the whole day.

It had been a nearly perfect set up to what could have been if you just allowed yourself to go for things but it didn’t happen that way.

One random Tuesday night, Miyoung wanted to go out for some cheap drinks and you found yourselves at a bar not too far from campus where you ran into a senior in one of your classes. Yoongi had come up to you first, just greeting you and making small talk when Jungkook who apparently had come with him, recognized you too.

They drank with you and Miyoung for a bit and you honestly thought it had been fun. You had never had real conversations with him outside of school work and it was nice to have more people to hang with that it just felt natural. Though at some point through the night Miyoung had gotten kind of flirty. She claims she assumed you had wanted Yoongi and not Jungkook and practically called dibs on him despite meeting him for the first time that night.

When she made her intents obvious, you couldn’t help but backtrack.

You always considered yourself pretty self aware about yourself. There was nothing special really and when you compare yourself to Miyoung there just isn’t much competition.

She was the perfect Prom Queen type who always had the nicest clothes or the cutest boyfriends, the best awards and most interesting stories. The amount of guys she would pull who you didn’t even have a chance with was insane. And though you might sound bitter, you’re not. You’ve never been the type to want the spotlight or attention and being best friends with someone so damn perfect was that you could always stay in the shadows.

So when she started flirting with Jungkook, you didn’t really notice his awkward glances or how he shied away from her proximity. You only saw how he smiled politely and listened to her go on and on about how great she is and assumed he was into her like all the others had been.

You tried to act normal after that, you would talk to him every now and then and never questioned why he stopped talking to you as much until he started dating Miyoung but you weren’t bitter. You were understanding.

It made sense he would date her. She was beautiful and smart and someone people pine for. It was a given that that would happen so once again, you didn’t take it personal.

They dated for a couple months [nothing serious at all] and then he dumped her which resulted in Miyoung practically forbidding you from even looking his way at all. You completed your last year without thinking about him despite the various mutual friends you shared and went on with your life when he moved.

That was the backstory and why you felt so awkward seeing him the other night.

You haven’t told Miyoung yet because there’s a high chance she won’t care at all and would get annoyed that you even thought to bring it up. Your friend is very pretty and she likes being in relationships so she’s been in quite a few since they dated and probably doesn’t care to be reminded at all.

The only person you’ve told is Taehyung.

“But did you at least have fun?” He asked as the two of you sat at a small restaurant for lunch. You nodded your head, “Yeah, it was alright. It was just weird, for me at least.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked as he dug into his meal, stuffing his mouth with no care in the world, “I mean it’s obvious everyone was happy to see you and didn’t want you to leave. Who cares if Miyoung didn’t go, clearly it didn’t matter to anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything, taking your time to enjoy your meal as you drifted off in thought. He is right, you know that sometimes it’s just in your head and you overthink things. You always feel like you’re boring to others so it’s natural for you to assume no one would be happy to see just you and not your bubble of joy best friend. There has to be a certain level of comfort between you and another person to show personality and it’s rare people get to see it.

“But how’d it go with that guy? Did he ask you about her?” Taehyung asked with a hint of curiosity.

“Not that I can remember. I don’t know, it was kind of awkward but we talked a bit,” You told him honestly, “He just moved back down so that’s cool I guess.”

Taehyung looked at you skeptically but you avoided his gaze, trying to distract yourself with your phone.

yoongi: throwing a welcome back party for jk this weekend, u coming?

you: idk, if I’m free

yoongi: … ur always free🤒

yoongi: just say yes, bring whoever u want

you: but is he ok with me going

yoongi: y wouldn’t he be

yoongi: he’s the one who asked me to make sure u come

you: okkkkkk 🥹

“Tae, can you come with me to this party please?” You asked, immediately showing your friend your text messages leaning across the table for him to see them clearly.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed as he read through the texts carefully, “Jungkook is the ex boyfriend, right? Why’s he so interested in you going?”

“He’s not,” you said, “He’s probably just doing it to be nice, since everyone I know will be there.”

“What if he’s… y’know, interested?” Taehyung asked curiously and you nearly choked on your drink.

“No, oh my god,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “We were just classmates and we stopped talking after he dumped Miyoung so—“

“Yeah but did you ever stop to think ‘hm, I’m the one who knew this guy first and then Miyoung went and snatched him from me before I even got a chance to explore’,” Taehyung said in a high pitched voice, presumably mocking yours. You reached over to playfully shove his shoulder making him grin mischievously.

“What? No, it wasn’t like that at all,” You tried to say, “Him and I didn’t even really talk until the night he met her at the bar and… no, that’s crazy. He liked Miyoung right away.”

Taehyung just sighed, giving up on trying to get through to you, “If you say so, but who’s the one he approached first? Because I can tell you right now it wasn’t her.”

Despite how he expresses himself when he talks about your best friend, he doesn’t dislike her. He thinks Miyoung is alright, maybe a little too much for his tastes but that doesn’t mean anything. He understands the two of you are really close and although he has had many chances to befriend her too, he just hasn’t.

He’ll talk to her if you force them to hang out together but he would never go out of his way to be her friend. It might sound bad but Taehyung is pretty protective over you and rightfully so, he feels.

He doesn’t want to badmouth one of his closest friends but you have a tendency to overthink things. You don’t realize how great you are and make yourself seem smaller and he thinks Miyoung and other people like her in your life are at fault. He’s heard some of the things she says to you and it’s like you hold her up so highly there’s no room for you to see how pretty, smart, and talented you are. And before anyone gets the wrong idea, he’s not in love with you or anything.

You’re too good for him so he gave up on that idea long ago.

Plus, now that he’s able to connect some of those pieces from when you were in Uni, some things are clicking into place for him. Miyoung tends to dim your light a bit, or copy something you do and claim it as her own and when he hears this little backstory between all of your old college friends… he just can’t help but wonder if Jungkook was one of those things she claimed for herself.

With that thought in mind, he agreed to go with you to this party and see for himself what is there and what could be. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be able to go and get it without worrying you’re not good enough or stepping on anyone’s toes.

When Friday night came, your apartment was filled with loud music and even louder complaints coming from one person in particular. Taehyung was just listening to you and Miyoung go back and forth about tonight’s plans and it got to the point where you couldn’t say anything but the truth about what you would be doing tonight.

“It’s a welcome back party for Jungkook,” You said, trying your hardest not to let your voice sound strained.

“What? When did he get back?” Miyoung asked, sitting up from your bed and tossing your pillow off her lap, “Like he moved back?”

“Yeah, I guess not too long ago,” You said with a shrug, looking in your mirror to see if you liked the way you looked or not, “I don’t know, Yoongi is the one who invited me.”

“Why didn’t I know? Why wasn’t I invited?” Miyoung asked, turning to Taehyung like he would have the answers.

“Probably because you’re his ex girlfriend and you ditched out on their little reunion so you could party,” Taehyung said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yeah but, why’d they ask Y/n? She’s not even friends with him,” Miyoung said with a slight scoff, “You’re not actually going right? We could go out, just the three of us. You already hung out with them, you and I haven’t gone out in weeks, let’s just do our own thing. Unless you’re trading me in for all of them.”

You looked at her with apologetic eyes. You’ve been busy with work recently and she is right. The last people you hung out with aside from Taehyung were all of them two weekends ago so it would only be fair to hang out with her this time. It shouldn’t mean anything that you were invited and that Jungkook wanted to make sure you were going. Miyoung was supposed to be your best friend so how could you go to a party she wasn’t invited to?

Just as you were going to give in and shoot Yoongi a text that you weren’t going to make it, Taehyung spoke up for you. “Why don’t you just come with? One of them said Y/n can bring whoever she wants and I’m already going so it’s not like you have to be by yourself. Plus, aren’t the rest of them supposed to be your friends too? Y/n already agreed.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission,” You couldn’t help but sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed to comfort her, “We can just stop by, have a drink or two and leave if it’s lame. Come on.”

After much convincing, the three of you arrive at Yoongi’s place which was a small house with good outdoor space and the inside was packed with people already. The amount of party goers made you anxious but at the same time slightly thrilled that surely the attention would never be on you with so many people around.

“Y/n! Miyoung!” Namjoon spotted you two first and he threw his arms around you both with a grin, “Surprised to see you here, Mimi.”

“Yeah, probably because I was the only one not invited,” Miyoung said bitterly, making Namjoon take a drink from his cup and look away nervously.

“Let’s get you guys drinks then,” He said with an awkward clear of his throat looking to Taehyung, “What’s up, I’m Namjoon.”

“Taehyung,” he said, following you to the drinks table. The music played loudly and there were a lot of people having a good time that it was somewhat easy to try and blend in and act normal. Miyoung had a pout on her face, looking around worried but Namjoon brightened her mood and every now and then another friend would stop by to greet her. Taehyung mostly clung to you and only drifted away when a friend would spark conversation with you but you were thankful he was around.

“Y/n,” someone called out to you from across the room. You couldn’t make them out through the crowd of people and it took a while before you spotted Jungkook making his way to your direction.

“Jungkook,” you said with a nervous breath, looking around for Miyoung but she was off with Namjoon talking about god knows what.

“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook asked, slightly more energetic than usual. His hair was messy, with strands out of place, he wore a basic black tee and baggy jeans so why did he look good? It’s still hard for you to wrap your mind around who this is.

He’s gotten so muscular and just… more intimidating with his tattoo sleeve and piercings and it’s so unexpected but in a good way.

“I, um, you know, I just assumed you were busy,” you lied, looking around for one of your friends. Taehyung was at the table getting a drink and he’ll be back soon to save you before Miyoung looks around.

Jungkook found himself looking around too, as if he could see what you did but he came up short, “Did you come with anyone?”

“Yeah, Miyoung and a friend of mine,” you rushed the words out in hopes of sounding casual but Jungkook didn’t even bat an eye.

“So what are you doing alone?” He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, “Actually, there’s something that’s been on my mind since last time I saw you and I uh… I haven’t had the chance to say it.”

You blinked nervously, looking up at him and how close he was to you, “What is it?”

He licked his lips, playing with his lip rings shyly, “Well, I was wondering if you would like to get together some time, just you and I. We’ve never had the chance to hang out.”

“We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?” You asked, feigning naivety that almost seemed teasing. In truth, you could sense what he was possibly asking and you needed him to stop. There was no reason for you two to hang out alone, no matter how much the thought made you giddy.

“I guess,” Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyebrows knit together in confusion. He took another step closer to you, hand on the wall behind you for support. , “But I was still hoping… I know it’s probably kind of awkward but we’re grown, right? We can get together without worrying about anyone else.”

“Who says it’s because I’m worried?” You asked with a hint of playfulness in an attempt to ease some of the growing tension caused by the way he looked at you, “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

That made him crack a smile, “All of a sudden?”

“Yes, all of a sudden,” another voice added in from behind him and you jumped at the sound. Jungkook didn’t bother to turn around, he was more focused on the way you tried to look behind him and meet Miyoung’s glare.

“Where’d you run off to?” You asked, pushing past him making Jungkook slide his hand off the wall and roll his eyes at the disruption.

“Somewhere I felt wanted,” she said bitterly, eyes on Jungkook as she spoke to you, “Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“I thought you were having a good ti—“

“I’m not, Y/n,” Miyoung almost snapped, “You said we could have a drink and go. We’ve been here for like forever and I want to leave. That’s what we agreed on.”

“Okay, jeez, let’s go then,” You said with a sigh, “Let me find Taehyung.”

“Go, then,” Miyoung said, making you take a deep breath, trying to tell yourself she had a right to be upset. She didn’t want you [as her best friend] talking to her ex boyfriend. And you did say you didn’t have to stick around for long…

“What?” Miyoung asked Jungkook with a roll of her eyes as she caught him staring, “Did I interrupt something?”

“You still don’t know how to speak to people like they’re human beings,” Jungkook said simply, “And it’s sad to watch.”

“Screw you,” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re just mad I stopped you from trying to ask my best friend out. My friends are off limits.”

“She was my friend too,” Jungkook said as a reminder, “And I can do whatever I want. You’re just childish.”

She snorted, “Right, says the guy who fumbled me.”

He couldn’t seem to act mature anymore and before he stop himself he said, “Remember, you’re not the one I wanted anyway.”

He walked off without much care for how she felt and found his other friends, wondering who it was you ran off to find.

“Tae, can we go now?” You asked your friend. Taehyung had found himself a group of people to entertain with his stories and had nearly forgotten who he had tagged along with until you pulled him to the side.

“Uh, okay,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, “What happened? I thought everyone was having a good time.”

“Miyoung wants to leave,” You said with a small sigh, “She saw me talking to Jungkook and I just don’t want it to become this big problem so can we please just go?”

Taehyung placed an arm on your shoulder, leading you to Miyoung who waited at the door, “Yeah, sure let’s go.”

The car had only stayed silent for the first half of the drive to Miyoung’s apartment. Somewhere between the last red light and this short stretch of road, a fire had been lit underneath her which made her start up again.

“So what was that back there?” Miyoung asked from the backseat and you debated just acting asleep or like you were too drunk to listen properly. She leaned forward, looking at you closely.

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Miyoun said with an annoyed tone, “First you get invited to a party for my ex boyfriend and next thing I know the two of you are whispering in the corner looking like you’re about to kiss and like I’m not even in the room.”

Taehyung had to bite his tongue from responding, worried that if he spoke too soon it would only make you seem more weak to her antics. He just tapped his fingers against the window trying to keep silent

“Miyoung,” You started with a sigh, “You’re overreacting. It was nothing, we’re friends—“

“Since when?” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re supposed to be my friend, Y/n.”

“I am,” You said defensively, “And if you want to talk about this tomorrow then that’s fine but right now it’s late and we’ve all been having a decent time so don’t ruin it…”

“Y/n’s right, let’s end the night on a good note,” Taehyung finally said but he seemed to go ignored by you two.

“You’re not though, real friends wouldn’t flirt with their best friend’s ex boyfriend—“

“You two dated for less than five months and it was years ago,” You blurted out, “I knew him before that so don’t act like I’m betraying you.”

“Oh my god, I knew you’d still be bitter I started seeing him,” Miyoung said, suddenly making you hide your face in your hand from exhaustion. “I didn’t know you had a thing for him back then. You should’ve said something instead of holding it against me like you do everything else.”

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but scoff.

Miyoung’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You know exactly what I’m talking about and it’s not fair.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers clenched around the steering wheel unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Miyoung I don’t think you’re being fair. You’re clearly drunk and you just want to arg—“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” She snapped, slurring on her words a bit and not even realizing the car came to a stop in front of her building, “I’m not even talking you and you can stop acting like Y/n’s bodyguard because last time I checked she’s a grown adult who could speak for herself. God, I swear everyone is the same. Just because Y/n is boring and insecure, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to speak for herself.”

“Get out. We’re at your place so just go,” Taehyung said, annoyed with the harshness she was projecting on you, “Y/n might put up with you but I won’t.”

With an irritated scoff, she swung the back door open, “Fine, screw you guys too.”

The door slammed shut as she stormed up to her apartment and Taehyung waited till she was gone to say, “Fuck, what did that girl drink? Y/n, why do you put up with that? Hey.”

You stayed silent for a moment letting her words sink in. Whatever, she yelled and threw a tantrum, that’s fine, that’s normal. But she seriously thinks you’re just a bore and maybe you’re starting to believe it too. If it weren’t for you always being cautious over how she might feel about you and what you do, you wouldn’t seem so boring.

Or was that just how you were and now you’re trying to say it’s because of Miyoung? Jeez, you just can’t seem to make up your mind about anything but all you know is that… you’re not boring. Well, you don’t have to be. If she wants to think that always backing up whatever she says makes you boring, then maybe it’s time you just do what you want even if she doesn’t like it.

“Tae, can you do me a favor,” You finally said, making him look over at you curiously. The car is still parked in front of Miyoung’s place and he’s been waiting for you to speak anyway, “What?”

“Take me back to the party please.”

Miyoung was wrong, if you were boring it’s because she made you boring. Anytime you did anything on your own, she always had to ruin it and you just let her. You just let Miyoung monopolize your time and make you her right-hand in everything. You’ve never gotten the chance to truly put yourself out there because you firmly believed you didn’t compare.

Maybe you needed to stop overthinking and just do what you want, be confident—or at least act like you are.

“Y/n! You’re back?” Yoongi asked once you made it to the party again, “Let me tell you, I was mad because I thought you left before even talking to me.”

“I’m so very sorry,” You said playfully, “But do you know where Jungkook is?”

He seemed to freeze up, surprise written on his face and he looked down at you questioning. You held his gaze, watching the wheels turn in his head before he was blurting out, “I don’t know. The bathroom?”

You blinked nervously, letting him slip away from you when someone called for him and were left standing there. Your mind was racing with ideas yet you couldn’t think of what to do.

What did you expect coming back?

What does this prove?

You feel anxious and insecure and maybe she was right, you’re boring and you don’t even speak up or do anything exciting.

“Jungkook?” You called out to him as you walked down the hall of doors, knocking or opening whichever door you landed on. You got to the last door with a bated breath, realizing it’s a bedroom and closed yourself in.

Your sense of bravado had been short lived. Whatever burst of confidence you had was completely gone now that you sat alone in the guest room contemplating just going home or not.

In all honesty, this was stupid from the very beginning. You let Miyoung’s words get to you and you acted before you could think. You didn’t need to prove anything. Plus, you don’t want Jungkook. Maybe once before you did… but not… anymore?

God, you felt like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Your heart dropped with a sense of disbelief as you looked up. The once pitch black room was illuminated by a block of light from the open bathroom door. Jungkook stood at the doorway, brows furrowed as he looked at who sat on the bed.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You’re back?” He asked, looking you up and down with a hint of suspicion. You nodded your head silently, making him blink with confusion.

You stood up from the bed suddenly, “Are you done in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” he moved out of your way, watching you closely as you closed the door in his face before he could say anything else.

Maybe this had been a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the privacy in the bedroom to go out where everyone else was. He could hear the faucet running but oblivious to how you wet your face to try and snap yourself out of this strange mood before drying off. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him standing there right in front of you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, halfway in the doorway, walking forward making you step deeper into the bathroom.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you said with a strained smile, backing away, “Just—what about you? Has it been fun, this is all for you, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook shrugged, “But it would have been more fun if you stayed.”

“Good thing I came back then,” you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, leaning against the sink counter.

“Good thing,” Jungkook licked his dry lips, “Y/n, about what I was saying earlier… I would honestly like for us together sometime, just the two of us.”

A small, shy smile appeared on your lips as you thought about earlier and repeated yourself playfully, “We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” he blinked in confusion, looking down at you and struggling to keep his composure. Your response was a bit of a let down since he hoped you had come back to see him and he should have known better. You would never take him seriously after his mess with Miyoung and he was always reaching for the stars thinking it could work out.

Plus, you’re too good for him. You always have been.

He can’t explain why, but he’s always felt a sense of ease with you, like everything was perfect. As shameful as it is to admit, Miyoung had reasons to be worried.

When they dated… well, it didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time. Miyoung was aware of it too and he looks back on it now and realizes how wrong he was then. It was wrong for him to think about you when he was never able to have you, and he will be much less now.

“Am I wrong? Is it not just the two of us now?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and looking to the bathroom door which was closed some time ago.

“Y/n,” he said it softly but you could sense his warning tone, like you were going to get yourself in trouble. Jungkook wanted to believe you were aware of what this looked like yet he knew there was a chance you weren’t. He couldn’t just go for it.

He could not just go for it.

Not even if you looked up at him with a look in your eyes that said you might want him to…

He could be dreaming it up.

Would you want him to?

No. No way, you would never, that’s how this all started right? You wouldn’t want him the way he wanted you and you’ll go be with someone else while he beats himself up for another failed attempt. He’s not in college anymore, he can’t make the same mistakes.

You do not want him.

“Y/n,” he said with a sigh, “I think we should get out n—“

It was soft but sudden. One second he was giving up on everything he had been hoping for and was ready to go on once again without telling you how he really felt. The next, your lips were on his, barely giving him a chance to feel the tenderness of it before pulling away with a gasp.

“Jungkook,” you covered your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god. I’m s-sorry, I, that was not okay. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were rambling, apologizing for doing it without asking him first but in all honesty, he couldn’t hear you anymore. There was a strange ringing in his ear that only seemed to stop when he grabbed your face in his hands, and pulled you into a real kiss.

To keep yourself from leaning back too far, you wrapped your arms around his neck and met him the rest of the way. You kissed him back with an equal sense of urgency that had his eyes falling shut and letting himself get lost in the moment. Your lips were soft against his own and his lip rings felt cold on your tongue the first couple times.

At one point you surprised him by nipping at his piercings with a soft tug and it had his hands tightening around your waist, using his strength to pull you onto the counter with ease. It made it easier to kiss you and he let the small sigh you let out guide his tongue between your lips. Your hands were in his dark hair, and you surprised him with the way you took lead of the kiss. It felt like he was melting into you and it was doing things to him.

“Y/n,” he mumbled softly, “I want you so bad.”

You pulled back from him with widened eyes. It was the first time you heard him sound that way and you knew he meant it. He looked at you with an intense gaze and it felt good to be looked at that way by him. You wanted him too, right? That’s why you came back. That's why you were so upset back then. Why can’t you have him now?

What was really stopping you?

Nothing.

The second time he kissed you, you didn’t hesitate from doing more and it had his mouth dropping when he felt your hand trace down his toned chest. He let that feeling motivate his hands to do the same to you and they ran along your sides till he could feel your front. His hands slipped under your top and found your chest, gently reaching to touch you as he kissed you with his tongue.

Your fingers trailed down his navel to the waistband of his jeans, tugging softly and teasingly that you felt the way he sucked in a shaky breath. When he didn’t pull away to tell you to stop, you took it as a sign to go a little farther and undo the button and zipper. Jungkook’s rough fingers caressed your breasts ever so softly but with an added pressure that made you let out a small sigh, especially when he ran his thumb over your nipples.

He released a light groan against your lips when you got more confident in your actions and slipped into the hem of his Calvin Klein’s. You barely touched his growing member but you felt it harden against you, the more attention you gave to it and it was all just exciting to you. His kisses were needy and his rough hands felt so good against your sensitive buds that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You wanted to make him feel good too and you could tell you were.

Jungkook helped you tug his jeans down enough for you to have more reign over him and you touched his bare dick so softly. The first touch was light and teasing, like you were still letting him get lost in the feeling before you actually did anything but it was soft that it made a tingle run down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his skin and blood ran straight to his cock making it easier for you softly palm him to full hardness.

You circled your fingers around his tip, softly running your thumb around the ring feeling him twitch with need and softly sliding down to his base.

His movement grew rougher, he was no longer softly caressing your breasts but more groping, never getting enough for the softness of them. When you began to stroke him gently, he found it hard to keep himself from digging his nails into your flesh to ground himself and it made a hand of his fall to your leg. His palm was wide and flat against your inner thigh, tracing his lips down your jaw and to your neck to try and distract himself from getting too lost into the feeling.

“Fuck,” he huffed, licking his dry lips as he began to slowly fuck into your closed fist, deaf to the sound of music just outside the bedroom you two were hiding in. The bathroom felt even smaller at this point yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it now. Especially not when your hand began to fuck his cock faster, with more vigor as he twitched in your hold making his nails dig into your thigh harshly.

Your skirt was scrunched up around your hips at this point and he could see the soft blue of your laced underwear and couldn’t stop himself anymore. He had grown too curious to have you and with his hand so close already, he let his thumb trace along your covered folds.

They were already sensitive at this point and his sudden touch made your insides tighten with arousal, your back straightened in surprise and a light moan left your lips. The sound snapped his attention away from his own pleasure and when he did it again, he swallowed your moan with his mouth on yours.

He couldn’t take thing slow anymore, especially not when his dick felt so close to the edge already and was trying not to cum all over your hand and so soon.

You were withering against him, squirming on the counter to feel more of his hand against your heat. Your fingers tightened in his hair when he reached under to the hem of your panties, pulling them down as far as he could. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he tugged them down your thighs. Jungkook pulled away from your lips with a slight groan as he brought his fingers to your lips. He pressed into your bottom lip watching close as you drew your mouth open and took them in. As you licked between two fingers, your hand’s stroking sped up with more pressure that had him pushing them deeper down your throat.

When he pulled them out there was an obvious line of drool connecting his fingertips to your lips and he brought his hand between your legs once more. The mixture between his rough fingers and the slick that now coated them made a tingle run down your spine when they ran along your folds. You pinched the fabric of his shirt as he circled your hardening clit with his middle finger while his index finger began to tease your sensitive labor.

He ran the longer finger down your slit, dipping into the puddle of arousal that formed at your center before using it to wet your clit and massage you gently.

You looked into his eyes as he finally pressed his middle finger into your waiting cunt, giving you a second to respond and he couldn’t help but let his lips slip open with heavy breaths. Your hand stopped its actions as you took in the feeling of him pulling out his finger before pushing it forward once more. Each time felt hotter than the last and it made him want to take things further. When he thought you adjusted enough, he teased the tip of his ring finger in with his middle one and kept a steady pace of thrusting.

At this point you began to stroke him again, rubbing against his mushroom tip where a thick vein was felt along the underside of it. Your hips had began to move with the motion of his hand and you were fucking his fingers into you while fucking his cock with a closed fist. The both of you were left speechless, unsure how long you had been locked away in the bathroom but not caring either.

You felt more impatient than him but you couldn’t help it. You can’t remember the last time you let someone else touch you and none felt quite like this. Jungkook seemed to know where to kiss, where to press or pay attention to and he never left a part of you untouched. Even now as he thrusted his fingers into you, his other hand was at your chest again, fingers pinching your nipple and tugging harshly but it brought little whines from your lips.

“Jungkook,” You were breathlessly calling for him and you’re sure that if your back wasn’t to the mirror, you would be able to see how desperate you looked to him. Your other hand was on his hips, pulling him forward in hopes of getting him to get the hint that you needed more, “Fuck me.”

“What?” He asked with heavy breaths, looking down at the way the tip of his cock pressed against your inner thigh now, “Really?”

“Please,” You found yourself begging, desperately begging for him to give you something and oh, how it worked.

His eyes rolled back at the soft sound of your begs and with a hand on your thigh, he pulled you harshly to the edge of the counter. He placed his hand over yours and stroked himself once, twice, to slick his member with your arousal and his own.

His cock was hot to the touch and pointed straight to your waiting entrance. He had made such a mess of you already that when he pressed his tip into your clit, it nearly slid down from how wet you are. You had to bite your lip to keep from whining too loud when he teased you with that repeated motion, wetting his tip more and feeling the way your walls tightened and released for him.

Your back was fully against the mirror now, legs open waiting for him and you were getting impatient. The anticipo had been building up for too long and you brought your hand between your legs. All it took was a soft push down for his cock to sink into your waiting pussy.

His jaw went slack at the sudden tightness of it, he hadn’t expected it to be so snug. His tip barely pushed against the ring of nerves and your facial expression matched his own when he kept going. He held your thighs open, guiding himself in with a deep breath.

“Fucking hell,” he growled lowly, hands trembling as he kept you open and ready to take him in. He looked up at your eyes, completely enamored by the way your features softened with pleasure. Your eyes were glazed over with obvious lust that made him want to just fuck you into oblivion.

“Oh my god,” your hand circled around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss that left him biting your lip softly. He groaned against your lips as he picked up the pace of his thrusting, letting his cock drag against your puffy walls so that you could feel every juncture on his length. Your back was arched into him, your chest nearly pressed against his and he snuck his arm around your waist to pull you firmly against him.

“That’s it baby,” Jungkook groaned into your ear, gripping onto the counter with his free hand to fuck you better. You were on the edge of the sink and he bucked his hips up to reach that pleasure spot he had found with his fingers just moments ago and had you moaned loudly into his ear, “You sound pretty, tell me how it feels.”

“Feels good,” you whispered softly against his neck, lips teasing kisses against his skin that made the veins in his arms bulge, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Ngh, Y/n, beg for me,” Jungkook said with a deep voice filled with lust as he fucked you with all his strength. There were too many layers of clothing between you but neither of you seemed to have the time or energy to tear them off. You were both too focused on the pleasure that came from feeling his skin against yours.

Your legs tightened around his waist forcing more of his length into your sopping cunt and his fingers pinched your sides roughly. Without thinking, Jungkook lifted you off the counter. You clung to him as he stepped back and he needed a second to just feel the way your pussy tightened around his hard, thick cock. He wanted to dig into your guts and it was nasty how badly he wanted to have you cum all over him.

It was so unexpected because you always came off as a quiet, reserved person but here you were letting him tear you in two with his fat dick. Jungkook used his strength to push you against the door, letting you drop onto his length before backing his hips up and pistoning them back into you.

“Fuck, I can’t,” your legs tightened around him with your face digging into his neck, “Jungkook, baby, I can’t.”

“You can,” He whispered, pressing you firmly into the wall, “Come on baby, take it.”

“Too much,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as he picked up the pace and you searched around for something to hold. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, trying to anchor yourself as he fucked you so good you could barely focus on anything but the pleasure, “I’m so close.”

Jungkook’s hand held you firmly by the waist while the other cupped your ass, groping you harshly as he fucked you onto his length trying to make you cum, “Cum baby, for me. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, “Kiss me, please?”

He didn’t hesitate to do so, kissing you with tongue as you clung to him, moaning into his ear and shaking slightly. His knees buckled tightly to hold you up and just as he gave one final thrust to the hilt, he felt your orgasm hit you.

Your walls tightened around him, nearly bringing him to his own orgasm before feeling his tip get flooded with your release. His thighs shook with the pressure of it and he felt his strength leaving him. His abdomen grew tense and he pushed you back to the counter where you let your head fall back with pleasure. You swallowed dryly, panting heavily, “Oh my god.”

You were sweaty, tired and overall unsure what to think but your mind hadn’t cleared yet. All you could focus on was the way Jungkook’s dick throbbed painfully hard when he pulled out of you with a slight pop. You eyed his red member, slightly hypnotized by how pretty it looked and you dropped to your knees wordlessly.

Jungkook watched you slip down on your knees in front of him and it took him a moment to process what was going on. He was hard, so fucking hard he couldn’t think straight and it wasn’t until your hands held his thighs, eyeing his cock hungrily did he realize what you wanted to do. He brought a hand fo attempt and gently brush your hair back, “Y/n, baby, you don’t have t—oh fuck.”

His jaw went slack when your hands circled his base, your lips on his tip and taking him down your throat suddenly. Your nose brushed against the base of his cock, eyes watering as you tried relaxing your throat around him and he nearly stumbled back with surprise, “Y/n.”

You ignored his call of your name, and began to bob your head against his length, your tongue licking along the thick vein you discovered earlier and feeling his hands sink into your hair to guide you, “That’s it, fuck.”

Jungkook looked at his reflection in the mirror, turned on by the way your head was seen bobbing against his length and his body was overheating so much he had to pull his shirt over his toned chest to cool down. It gave him a perfect view of the way his cock disappeared between your lips.

The thought of having you like this hadn’t dawned on him yet but now he couldn’t forget it. The memory would always be ingrained in his mind and although he doesn’t know if he’ll never get a chance to do this again, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You gradually began to pick up the pace, using your hands to hold closed fists around his cock to help stroke what didn’t fit in your mouth. You swallowed and bobbed around his dick hungrily, moaning around him and hollowing your cheeks when you would pull your head back until only his tip was between your lips.

As ashamed as he was to admit it, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back anymore. Still wanting to warn you, he tried to guide your head off him, “I’m close.”

All it did was push you to take him deeper, stopping when he hit the back of your throat and sucked. Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut with a loud growl as his orgasm hit him harder than it had in a very long time.

You coughed as his cum sprayed down your throat, thick and creamy with a bittersweet taste that you tried to lick up. You would’ve cleaned him off fully despite his legs shaking but he pulled you off. He pulled his softening dick out of your wet mouth with a huff, panting heavily as he looked down at you.

“Y/n,” his voice was dry, pulling you up to your feet, “That was…”

He couldn’t even get the words out as he watched you lick the corner of your lips and without thinking about it, he pulled you into a heated kiss. You kissed him back with need, moaning against him as his tongue circled around yours hungrily, not caring for the way he tased on you. You only broke away to catch your breath, realization dawning at you as you looked at his messy appearance that surely mirrored yours.

You sat against the counter for a moment, attempting to catch your breath as Jungkook did the same. The two of you were silently readjusting your clothes again and you needed just a moment to yourself. He looked at you, buttoning his jeans back up, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah, um, can I just get a minute,” You said with a hoarse voice trying to pretend like you couldn’t see the way his shoulders slumped down. With a short nod of his head, he left the bathroom to let you wash up and for a moment you just looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your reflection looked different, maybe because what you had just done was so out of character and with your best friend’s ex but… why did it feel right?

Jungkook wondered what would happen now, if you expected him to leave the room or wait for you but he wanted to be with you. He didn’t want to walk out and think that because he got something he’s been wanting for years now, he’ll just leave. He knows the others are looking for him, mostly because he’s gotten a few texts now asking where he’s at but he can’t bring it in himself to care. When you opened the bathroom door into the dark room, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, rushing to his feet, “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded stiffly, “If you want to go out there with everyone else that’s fine. I won’t be upset or anything.”

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come back to mine?”

The first thing you noticed the following morning aside from the sun shining down on your face was the heavy arm across your waist. It made your eyes flutter awake with a small huff leaving your lips as you attempted to stretch your limbs but it tightened around you, securing you closer to Jungkook’s naked chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair as he hugged you closer.

“What time is it?” You asked awkwardly, trying to sit up making his arm slide to your hips instead. You reached for your cell phone, eyes widening by the number of text messages.

miyoung: bye I was drunkkkkkk 😳

miyoung: did I 🤮 at all?

miyoung: r u alive

miyoung: helloooooooo

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you read it over. Either she couldn’t remember how upset she was in the car or she’s going to pretend like nothing at all happened.

God, what did you do?

“Y/n,” Jungkook grumbled tiredly, “Lay back down.”

“I should go,” You bit your lip nervously. If Miyoung forgot what happened last night then maybe she forgot about Jungkook asking you and won’t know you… slept with him. Fuck, were you a bad friend?

He dated your best friend and dumped her out of the blue making it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her and here you are letting him fuck you in the bathroom. What did that make you? You had a poor lapse of judgment last night, you acted out of character and hadn’t been behaving like yourself at all.

“Why?” He sat up suddenly, “You don’t work today, right? Why don’t we go grab breakfast—well, brunch.”

You looked down at him, unable to stop yourself from taking in his appearance. He had bed hair, no shirt on and his blanket draped over his waist. He failed to take off his jewelry last night so he still wears silver chain necklaces around his neck and leather bracelets. You couldn’t possibly spend time with him still. It wasn’t right, right?

Just as you were ready to give him your answer, your phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. You looked down at the screen and a picture of you and Miyoung displayed on the screen that had Jungkook huffing quietly and laying back down, close to giving up.

In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her. It still bothered you by how harsh she was last night but there’s a chance she doesn’t even remember and… “Hello?”

“Tell me why I have a raging headache when I barely drank last night?” Miyoung said immediately once the call went through, “It’s your fault y’know for upsetting me.”

You couldn’t see her but she was walking on a treadmill in her apartment acting like everything was completely normal. Jungkook didn’t care for your conversation either but he was focused on the way you looked first thing in the morning.

You looked cute, undeniably cute with circles under your eyes and a disheveled appearance. You wore an oversized shirt of his so you wouldn’t have to sleep in such uncomfortable clothes and he loved it. You looked good in his clothes.

Without thinking, he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a short and surprising kiss. You flinched back with confusion, nearly dropping your phone in the process but he backed away with a small smile. You tried to glare at him but you couldn’t stop from smiling and it annoyed you when he placed a gentle kiss against your neck that made you feel flustered. You almost forgot you were on the phone when he leaned in for a kiss again and one you would surely grant.

“But I forgive you,” Miyoung said suddenly.

“What?”

“I forgive you, I’m over it,” Miyoung said with a shrug you couldn’t see, “Our friendship means more to me than Jungkook and I know you would never do anything that you know would upset me so… it’s whatever. In the past.”

“Wait,” You held up a hand to Jungkook as you said it to the both of them, “When did I apologize?”

He stopped immediately, looking at you with concern as Miyoung went on, “I mean, we both know you were going to. I’m just letting you know it’s alright.”

“No, Miyoung, I wasn’t going to,” you couldn’t help but scoff, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Technically.

Jungkook raised his brows, surprised by your tone and a little turned on? Was that okay to say?

“I didn’t mean it like that, but you know… you were flirting with the guy who dumped me,” Miyoung said, “It’s fine, whatever, you want to flirt with Jungkook, I don’t care anymore I just thought I meant more to you as a friend.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you looked down at Jungkook who couldn’t seem to go more than a minute without attention. He had your free hand in his measuring your size difference and you released a sigh, “You know what, I’m kind of busy right now so I’ll call you later.”

Miyoung wasn’t able to get a word in before you ended the call, turning your attention to Jungkook, “You’re getting me in trouble, sir.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, biting back a grin, “How should I make it up to you? Brunch?”

“You’re still thinking about that?” You asked with a slight laugh.

It was strange trying not to let your best friend’s feelings bring you down too.

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook said, hand on his toned stomach for detail.

“I don’t have clothes or, I don’t know, a toothbrush,” you couldn’t help but sound sarcastic, falling back on the bed with an arm on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

In the end you caved to his incessant begging and found yourself dressed as casual as ever with an oversized tee and the skirt you wore last night clashing horribly. The only thing that had you regretting it was what stood [parked] in front of you.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You asked as you watched him walk up to you with a helmet in his hands, “I can’t get on that.”

“You can,” Jungkook said, putting it over your head, “I’m a very safe driver.”

“What about your car?” You asked nervously as he buckled[?] you into the head gear, “Can’t we just go in that.”

“We can but that won’t impress you,” Jungkook snorted a laugh as he got his own helmet on, “Come on Y/n, I won’t kill you, don’t worry.”

With a small sigh you nodded, letting him lead you to the bike and he swung a leg over to straddle it and patted the seat right behind him. Frankly, you didn’t care that you were in a skirt. You know that there’s an appropriate way for people in skirts to straddle something but you cared more about living so you straddled it the way he did. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he felt the softer touch of your hands on his waist and without saying a word, he pulled you into him suddenly. Your chest was pressed to his back and your arms snug around his waist.

“Atta girl, no time to be shy now,” he chuckled, feeling you smack his arm playfully.

If he were being honest, he liked this side of you. He’s never seen it before and it was breathtaking and enjoyable. Before when you were just classmates you were still stand offish from him and the only night he got you to open up was the first time he ran into you and met Miyoung. It was short lived and once he dated her, he rarely got to see you alone.

When he got back, you would barely even look at him yet whatever spurred last night’s events seemed to open up new possibilities for you two. You haven’t talked about what happened but he’s expecting it almost excitedly.

Jungkook’s hand ran up your thighs, securing you to him as he started up the motorcycle, feeling the smoothness of your leg and teasing the end of your skirt with a small tug, “Ready?”

He felt you squeeze harder before taking off.

The cafe was small and filled with warmth making this feel oddly close to a date… which is probably because it was? You’re still not sure how to take it.

“Did I really get you in trouble?” Jungkook asked as he cut his breakfast sandwich in half before doing the same with yours. When you looked at him he looked concerned by the notion. You didn’t have to ask to know what he was referring to and you couldn’t help but sigh, “Not really, sorry, it was more my fault than any—“

“Why though?” Jungkook cut you off, “Why is it always your fault? You can’t talk to me now?”

“You know we didn’t just talk,” you bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t meet his gaze and he didn’t like that.

He huffed in annoyance, “But she doesn’t know, or does she? I mean, what does it matter?”

“You dated. She’s my best friend and it bothers her, I already feel guilty for what happened last night—not that I regret it, don’t get me wrong but… well, it’s just confusing and it upsets her,” You rambled, still defending Miyoung even when she was slowly getting under your skin.

“We dated so long ago, it was such a short fling,” Jungkook said with a laugh as he went back to eating, “And she dumped me so why does it matter if you and I get together?”

“I don’t know, I just… she’s my best frie—wait, what did you say?” You met his stare suddenly making him set down his coffee cup to answer.

“She dumped me so why can’t you and I…” he stopped. Did you mean for him to repeat the part about being with you? Did you want him to say it again, maybe use the right words this time?

Why is he saying Miyoung dumped him? You remember the day exactly.

Miyoung called you while you were studying in the library late one night, not fully in tears but clearly under duress and she couldn’t stop herself from letting her emotions get to her. She went on to tell you how Jungkook dumped her suddenly over a phone call because he wasn’t interested anymore and was just using her or something.

You remember because you left the library to go comfort her and you almost ran into him on campus and he wouldn’t even look you in the eye…

He dumped her because he got bored, that’s why she asked you to stop talking to him. He was just like every other guy according to her and you owed her the promise to avoid him. It was you who introduced them anyway and…

Why is it that any guy you’ve ever thought you’ve liked would fall for her instead, only to dump her and in return make her ask you to not speak to them again?

Jungkook wasn’t the first so when she asked you to avoid him, it bothered you a little but you soon got over it and did as told.

You always do as told without questioning it.

“You broke up with her.”

He chuckled, shaking his head no, “I was going to but she beat me to it. I don’t know how honest you want me to be this early in the day.”

“Tell me,” you urged him on.

“I wanted to break up with her but I had this sick feeling that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to you as much anymore or it would be awkward so I stuck it out,” Jungkook said it with a shrug, “But then she dumped me and suddenly you won’t even look at me so it was worse for me, I guess.”

Your eyebrows stitched together with confusion, “What are you saying? Why did you care if I talked to you or not? You went for Miyoung the second you met her—“

“That’s not true, actually,” Jungkook confessed, deciding if you wanted honesty he would give it even if it embarrassed him, “I wanted you.”

“And when I met her, I was obviously there at the bar trying to talk to you but she kept butting in and next thing I know, you were off talking to Yoongi and ignoring me,” Jungkook went on, “To be honest, I was kind of insecure back then, like really insecure and I was trying to get you to notice me but everytime someone would cu—“

“Jungkook, stop, I just… no, you did not like me, you dated Miyoung,” You cut him off, fidgeting in your seat anxiously, “It’s fine, it’s in the past.”

“No it’s not fine and I asked how honest you wanted me to be and you told me to tell you so I’m going to,” Jungkook said more seriously, “I was insecure, alright? I had just moved to the city and I shared class with this pretty, incredibly smart girl who would barely give me any time of day. Honestly it was kind of depressing, I was kinda depressed at the time and I needed a boost to talk to you so I asked Miyoung and… she said you were into someone else so I was pretty bummed out. Then she’s kind of just everywhere and she actually tries to talk to me so when she asks me out, I say yes but I realize I still have to see you.”

“And I liked being around you even though I probably shouldn’t have because technically I was dating her at this point and I realized that I practically screwed up whatever chance I might have had with you,” Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was saying whatever was on his mind, barely giving you time to process any of it before continuing, “Yes, I know it’s fucked up because whenever I thought it might work and I might catch real feelings for her, you would came around and they just went out the window. So it was getting harder and harder to keep pretending and I wanted to break up with her but I was worried you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“She beat me to it and dumped me because she was bored and I was relieved, honestly, but then I see you on campus and you can’t even look at me anymore,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “Then life went on, I moved away, moved back, ran into you again and…”

“And what?” You asked breathlessly, lips dry and completely frozen in your seat.

He looked at you warmly, “I found you, everything just came back and I knew I didn’t want to lose you a second time. I wanted to ask you out the first night at the bar but you didn’t even want to talk to me so I tried again last night and you were so ready to blow me off when Miyoung came along. I don’t know what made you come back to the party and I don’t want you thinking I’m some sleazy guy who acts like that with just anyone. I was just… it was unexpected and I had been waiting years for something to happen between us.”

Suddenly, this didn’t feel like an easy brunch inside a warm and cozy cafe anymore. In all honesty, it felt a little suffocating now and you don’t know how to explain it, but you didn’t want to be here. So much has just been thrown at you and you don’t think you can handle it all.

What did he mean that he liked you first?

Why had Miyoung told him you were into someone else? You learned to stop sharing who you liked with her so long ago and had never once told her anything like that in school. Why couldn’t she just have asked you? Why did she ask him out after he made it known he wanted you?

You don’t care that he said yes, that really was in the past for you. Now you’re more focused on why someone who was supposed to be your best friend would act so sneaky? What did she gain from it?

Why did she lie and say he dumped her? Was it just so she can paint him as a villain and make you not want to talk to him anymore? Why would she do that?

“Y/n?” He called your name waiting for you to respond to him but you just sat there stunned, “I’m sorry, I know I was a piece of shit for dating her when I wanted you bu—Y/n.”

Your mind is filled with questions that you couldn’t answer and it was overwhelming. The cafe felt suddenly overwhelming and you just had to get out of there, so you did.

“Earth to Y/n, I don’t know how long you plan on ignoring the world but I know you’re not too busy with work to ignore your friends.”

Tacky, Taehyung was so very tacky leaving a concerning voicemail. Who left voicemails these days?

And he was being dramatic, he’s acting like you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth but that’s not true. You’ve just been holed up at either the office or your home for the past week, avoiding any call or text from anyone so you could be alone with your thoughts.

Alright it’s been over a week, almost two and maybe it is a little concerning but you’re telling yourself you’re just being dramatic.

“Y/n you better open the door before I break it down,” Taehyung’s muffled voice boomed from the other side of your front door and you begrudgingly went to let him in.

“Relax, I’m not dead,” You muttered under your breath as you let him in.

“Damn near!” Taehyung said loudly as he let himself through the door, “What is up with you? You haven’t responded to any text I was beginning to get worried.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you flopped down onto your couch, “I’ve just been tired.”

“Too tired to answer the phone?” Taehyung asked sitting down next to you, “Miyoung, I get. Ignore her all you want but me? What did I ever do to you? What’s up with you? I haven’t talked to you since the party. Did something happen?”

With a small sigh, you let your head rest against the back of the couch, “I slept with Jungkook.”

“Really?” Taehyung seemed genuinely surprised, “So fallout with Miyoung I’m assuming? Look, I personally don’t get why you try to make her happy but she’ll get over it. Did you like it? Like him?”

“Yes, I don’t know, I’m confused, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, “And I feel so dumb because this shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Alright well I need you to rewind and explain things better so my pea brain can handle it,” Taehyung made himself comfortable, “You’ve gone Ghost for over a week, I want to know why. Was it because of Jungkook? Miyoung? If you think sleeping with him makes you a bad friend the—“

“She’s a liar,” you cut in, “And it shouldn’t bother me so much because she’s my best friend but that’s why it bothers me, Tae. I’ve known her for so long, and I’ve always tried to be a good friend to her but it was never enough. So I tried harder and harder because who else would be there for me like her but… now that I’m looking back on it, I don’t think she’s ever cared about me as much as I care about her and it sucks, honestly.”

Taehyung wanted to tell you so many people cared about you but he wanted you to say whatever you needed to say first.

“You know what Jungkook said? He said Miyoung knew he apparently liked me before and still asked him out—and lied about how I felt about him,” You said, “And okay, why would I fight over a guy with my best friend but now that I’m thinking about it… it’s fucked up right? She lied that he dumped her and begged me to avoid him. You saw how she acted the other night just because he talked to me. What was that about?”

You weren’t going to go into full detail about the past because you owed Jungkook enough to not tell Taehyung about everything he said but he needed context.

“And I know it’s in the past so I should just move on but I can’t,” You admitted, “I still like him but if I… I get with him Miyoung would never let me forget that she dated him first, even if he liked me. It’s just all so confusing and overwhelming and it sucks that I’m letting it get to me like this but… it’s not fair.”

Once again, Taehyung didn’t say anything but he could tell you were feeling emotional by the way your voice began to shake.

“I like him, and not in the way I liked him before but I like this new him too, and it’s not fair that even if she lied or even if she snaps at me about shit that doesn’t matter, I will still feel guilty,” You finished.

“Y/n,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “Obviously I don’t know everything that happened back then but… I think that if you feel for him what he feels for you, it shouldn’t matter what she says. And honestly, I just… I wish you could see that there are so many people who care about you so much and you don’t have to put up with being belittled by someone who is supposed to be your best friend just because you have history. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, if it’s upsetting you now then clearly it still matters so don’t try to downplay your emotions.”

“But she’s my best friend,” your lip quivered.

“Then what am I?” He forced his lip to quiver as well.

“You’re my best friend too,” you sniffled.

Taehyung mimicked your expression, “Then as your best friend, I’m telling you to stop trying to make excuses for people who don’t treat you right—and go fix it with this guy.”

“Bu—“

“Y/n, I know you,” Taehyung sighed, “And I know that you’re not going to do anything if you think it upsets her but she doesn’t deserve a friend like you. You deserve to go be with whoever you want. I don’t care about what she says and at this point neither should you. I know that right now it’s confusing and you’re overwhelmed but if you’ve been ignoring me you’ve been ignoring him—I hope because if it’s just me that’s cold—and if the girl I had feelings for ghosted me… I’d be hurt.”

Jungkook was not hurt. He was… y'know, perfectly fine and that’s what he kept telling himself. It’s not like you made any real sign of feeling something for him too after hooking up and maybe that had just been a casual, one time thing. He can handle that, he’s grown.

Sure, he sort of spilled his damn heart out to you just for you to storm off on him and not reach out to him in days but he’s not bothered by it at all. That’s why when his two closest friends called Saturday night asking him to go clubbing… he said yes.

It was a chance to possibly let it go, forget it even, but it wasn’t easy. He was aware that he was possibly reading too into what happened the other night but could you blame him? You’re suddenly all about him and spend the night at his place where you wake up in his arms before going out to eat. It was like the perfect set up for a what if yet it went all wrong. Clearly it was his fault for being hopeful.

“So who else did you say is meeting us here?” Jungkook asked Hoseok for confirmation as he passed him a drink. The music played loudly in his eardrums that it was borderline painful and he wanted to leave more than anything but there was that stupid what if in his head.

“Jimin’s joining later on and so is Namjoon and his girl,” Hoseok said as he made sure everyone else had what they ordered, “Oh, and Y/n too, I think.”

“Y/n?” Jungkook tried clarifying. Hoseok smiled, “I know, it’s weird, Y/n seriously rarely comes out but all of a sudden she’s starting to more. I mean, lately she has, probably since around the time you got back?”

Jungkook let his friend go off to do whatever he wanted while he stood there seemingly frozen. Tonight would be the first time in days that he sees you—talks to you—and he’s not sure how to handle it. There’s nothing he can do about it either because he hasn’t confided in anyone yet but it’s painfully obvious that he’s waiting for you.

Yoongi noticed first, like he usually did, and tried talking to him, “What’s up with you? You’ve been antsy since the party, will you finally tell me where you ran off to?”

“Yeah man, don’t think we didn’t notice when you disappeared,” Jin said with a slight wink, “We just want to know with who.”

“Y/n.”

He could see you from the corner of his eye when you joined them at a table they had found. You came with Jimin by your side and a shy smile on your face. He assumed it was Hoseok who had screamed your name considering how he hogged your attention with a huge grin and Jungkook felt nervous all of a sudden.

As embarrassing as it was, Jungkook had nearly forgotten what he was asked until he looked back at Yoongi and Jin who looked at him expectantly. A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he shrugged, “Did you guys miss me too much?”

“Sneaky guy, don’t change the subject,” Jin laughed before letting Jungkook shift his attention back to you, making it painfully obvious where he was focused.

You felt a little nervous to be out tonight but after what you had talked about with Taehyung, you knew he was right. You acted strange with Jungkook after he opened up his side of things to you and it was plain wrong. Part of you isn’t even sure if he’s actually interested or not since he didn’t reach out to you this week and it made you wonder if he was really upset.

And if he was, would that mean that he didn’t want to speak to you?

“I need a drink,” you mumbled to yourself more than to the others but it made a good excuse to at least try. You looked at Jungkook for the first time since you got there and cleared your throat to awkwardly ask, “Jungkook, do you mind going with me?”

“Get me another, will ya?” Yoongi asked with a sudden wink that made Jungkook do a double take. Was he winking over the drink or him leaving with you?

He nodded his head in response and without question followed you to the bar once more. The bar was packed from all sides and Jungkook had to fight his way to the counter working as a barrier from people pushing at you. If he were to be honest, he wanted to skip the questions and get close to you again but he had to stay strong. He needed answers, right?

“Are we good?” Was the only thing he could think to ask.

You looked at him warmly, sitting down on the stool at the counter with him standing close to you, his hand itching to reach for you. Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded, “Are we?”

For some reason he didn’t expect to be asked that back. It made him wonder if he thought you were. It was undeniably embarrassing to have you walk out on him like that after he thought it had been going good but did that mean he was truly upset with you?

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, blinking nervously and looking to the bartender who noticed them a while ago but had to attend to earlier customers first, “But uh, I guess I am just a little confused by it all. Did I do something to upset you? Was it what I said?”

“No, no, I’m sorry, it wasn’t you,” You blurted out, “It was me, I wasn’t thinking straight and I feel really bad about leaving like that.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or even text me?” Jungkook asked honestly, “I… I think that’s what bothered me the most.”

You looked down at your hands, “I'm sorry. I didn’t talk to anyone, seriously, and I did think about reaching out to you but I don’t know, I’m really bad at explaining things.”

“Well can you try? I know it was sudden but I thought it had been going good,” Jungkook said and the longer he tried getting to the bottom of this, the more annoyed he felt that you couldn’t just say it, “I think I’ve made it clear now how I feel about you and all I’m asking is for you to do the same.”

“I—yes,” you stumbled over your words, “I mean, I’m trying to be clear now but I’m doing a shit job at it. I did have a good time with you but it was honestly, really out of character for me to yknow… and then the whole Miyoung thing and I’m sorry but it was just a lot all at once. It’s definitely not fair to you that I acted that way, but I do have feelings for you.”

He let out a sigh, feeling unsure how to take it and stuck between wanting to smile in relief and wanting to be upset. You didn’t text him, nothing. How is that fair? He wanted to reach out to you but after the way you left he thought he would just make it worse if he kept bothering you. The bartender finally got to you two and he let you speak first as he tried gathering his thoughts a little more.

“But what does this mean?” Jungkook asked now, “I want you and you want me, right? So, what does this mean Y/n because right now I’m still confused by it all. If it’s because of Miyoung then—“

“No, it’s not, honestly,” You said, reaching for him, pinching the bottom of his shirt between your fingers to pull him toward you, “I don't care what she thinks anymore, I like you and I should have just said that from the beginning.”

The pull was harsh and had him looking down with his lips slightly parted in surprise, “Y/n, you’re not being fair.”

You knew it. You knew you probably ruined your chance now and coming to see him had just been a waste. You nearly let go of him when he continued, “You can’t ignore me and walk out on me and then just tell me you want me too, expecting everything to be fine.”

He had to be tough. He can’t just let it go even though you’re saying everything he wants to hear.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you said with a slight frown, “I can leave if you want me to.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, unable to help himself anymore as he closed the distance between you two. He circled an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve been waiting for you to get here?”

“What?” You asked, hands finding his waist as he held you, “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” Jungkook said, “So you don’t know how annoyed I am with myself right now. All it takes is for you to sweet talk me a bit and give me those eyes of yours for me to fold, that’s embarrassing.”

“Jungkook,” you said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I should have texted you and if you want to be mad, I get it. If you want to think it over an—“

“And what if I don’t?” He asked looking down at your pouty lips and glossy eyes, “What if I just want to let it go and be with you without any more problems? Can I do that?”

His tone was surprisingly firm and you couldn’t do anything but nod, “Okay.”

It didn’t change the fact that you still felt bad because it seemed like you were being let off the hook easily but what else could you do? Jungkook really did seem ready to move past it and that’s why you came here in the first place. You just hadn’t expected it to be so easy and it made you feel bad.

When your drinks were ready, you opened up a tab despite his protests to just put it on his and the two of you got back to the group like nothing had happened. There was still a lot that needed to be talked about before you told anyone about what happened but it’s not like they were all oblivious.

Jimin, for instance, had been keeping an eye on you two at the bar since you left and had seen the majority of your conversation but he didn’t bring it up. Instead he watched silently for your little glances in each other’s direction and shy smiles. It was obvious to Yoongi too that Jungkook was in a much better mood now than earlier and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out why.

Perhaps for the same reason you had suddenly started joining them more often, being more comfortable too.

It had been a slow start for the two of you after the night at the club. Neither one of you seemed to want to rush into things but at times there was a strong pull. Tonight was going to be your first official date but you were keeping that information to your friends until you figure out if this works or not.

Jungkook picked you up from your apartment and drove to a nice restaurant where the two of you sat for dinner. He was very attentive to you, making sure your glass was always full and all your needs met and it was a surprisingly good feeling to be taken care of this way. You’ve dated in the past but you can’t say you’ve always chosen the right ones. You had a tendency to lean toward the ones who were overly forward with you because in your mind there was no doubt they liked you.

At first it would be nice but then you would realize that it was more of a conquering feeling to them than actually wanting to be with you and you would be left heartbroken. That’s part of why you rarely put yourself out there.

Jungkook is different though, he always has been. When you first met him he was forward but aloof. You never expected him to actually like you because you couldn’t see the signs clearly and the way things turned out it just never worked. Now that he’s been back he’s almost like an entirely different person in the sense that he’s ready to go for what he wants and it’s sort of admirable.

If you had been able to do that back then maybe you would have had him sooner but there was no point in dwelling in the past. He was here now and so were you. Honestly, knowing that there's something that’s been brewing between you two for a long time made it easier to feel confident around him.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask even if his mouth was full. He was trying not to smile too as he said that.

“Oh my god,” You felt your face heat up, tempted to hide behind your hand. It took you a moment to think of a response and it was surprising for the both of you to hear you say, “Why are you?”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly in hopes of not seeming too affected by your words. It didn’t work and he broke out into a grin, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dinner was filled with small flirting here and there. It’s crazy how well you and him seemed to get along when you stopped worry about other things. He made you smile, really smile and you made him feel giddy whenever he talked to you. He wanted to spend his night with you and nobody else.

“Are we going to meet with everyone else after this?” You asked as he pulled your chair out for you and you got up from the table. After some back and forth arguing, he eventually took care of the bill despite your protests and the night felt near its finish much to your disappointment.

It was the weekend and you’ve been trying to go out with your friends more and they had asked to meet up later—but both you and Jungkook had to tell them maybe.

“Do we have to?” He asked, taking your bag in one hand and holding yours with the other, “You think they’ll get a little suspicious if we’re both gone?”

You walked with him across the restaurant toward the entrance. You weren’t paying much attention to the people you passed, “I’m sure they know.”

Your response surprised him a bit and he couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Has it been that obvious?”

“Yeah, Jimin called me out on it the other night,” you shrugged, reaching for your bag to look for chapstick while he led you to the front. You couldn’t meet his eyes because you sensed where this was going.

“What’d he say?” Jungkook asked slowing his pace for you.

You blinked nervously, distracting yourself with your lipbalm as you tried sounding casual, “He asked why we were being so sneaky at the bar.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, opening the door for you as he said, “Damn, what did you say?”

“I said because we’re together.”

You tried being slick about it and slide past him without much attention but it was useless. He stood in front of you with a smile on his face, “Oh, we are? I don’t remember you clarifying that. Can you remind me when you asked me to be your man?”

“Oh god, don’t act like that,” you whined shyly.

“I’m sorry baby, I gotta hear you say it with your own words. What’d you tell him?” Jungkook blocked your path, hands finding your waist and keeping you from running. He liked making you flustered and you had no idea how you left him with a racing heart.

You pouted, looking at him seriously, “Jungkook.”

The two of you stood outside the restaurant looking like a playful couple that maybe had one too many drinks but it was all Jungkook’s fault. He wouldn’t let it go to rest and even had the nerve to smirk as he teasingly said, “That’s not how you say ‘Boyfriend’.”

“You’re ridiculous, we talked about this,” you said, focused on his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Jungkook just grinned mischievously, “What did you tell him?”

“I said you were my boyfriend,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Your what?” He asked trying to step back and get a good look at your face, “Come on baby, don’t get shy on me now.”

You whined, “Jung—“

“Your what?” He was laughing now, not caring for whoever might pass them and stare because he felt good. Too good to be affected by a stranger’s judgement.

“My boyfriend,” you sighed with embarrassment, “You heard me the first time, goof.”

“That’s what I thought, alright, you ready to go?” He asked with a chuckled as he took your hand in his ready to walk with you to the car.

“Y/n?”

You both stopped in your step, wondering if it really was your name you had heard. You looked back toward the rest, eyes threatening to widen with surprise as you looked at the person who stood at the entrance. She was with a group of people all headed inside but when she saw you, she stopped.

“Miyoung, hey,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, your demeanor changing completely.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked as her eyes trailed behind you where Jungkook was looking at you with worry and confusion. He wanted to make sure everything would be alright, knowing how Miyoung would react. He didn’t want your good night to be ruined over something petty.

“What do you mean? I’m uh, I was just having dinner,” you said stiffly, looking back at Jungkook which proved to be a mistake because it seemed to solidify his presence to her.

“With jungkook?” She asked with a snappy tone. Miyoung shooed away her friends, telling them to go in without her as she approached you.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Her brow arched with amusement, clearly ticked off and in disbelief by what she saw before her. Like usual, the situation seemed much worse than it really was.

It was time for you to be up front. What’s the point in putting yourself out there and letting yourself open up to him if you wouldn’t have the courage to make it known? You swallowed dryly, “Because we’re… dating.”

Jungkook had stepped back from the situation, not wanting to worsen it so he stood off by a light post not too far for a smoke break. He tried distracting himself with lighting his cigarette but he couldn’t help but freeze up when you said that. It brought a shy smile to his face as he waited for you to finish.

“No, you’re not,” Miyoung scoffed looking back at Jungkook as if betrayed by him too. You blinked with confusion, what did she mean you’re not? Did she expect you to be joking or back down? “We are.”

Miyoung stood in front of you now, slightly taller, “Y/n, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks and now you’re saying you’re dating my ex boyfriend? What kind of friend are you?”

This time it was you who scoffed lightly, looking away from her to try and process what you would say but you had spent too much time already trying to think it over, “The thing is, um, I’ve been kind of wondering the same about you.”

“Me?” She looked down at you genuinely taken back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and tried to gather the courage to just say it. You could feel Jungkook around, listening but giving you space and it was like a push start for you to say what was really on your mind, “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the only one who puts effort into being friends and I don’t see the point in always fighting. We’re not together, we don’t have to be friends if it always has to be some sort of argument. It’s getting tiring at this point and I think maybe it’s best we just distance ourselves from each other.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m like the only person who really cares about you, Y/n. Don’t act stupid.”

Although that made Jungkook want to intervene and tell her how very wrong she was, he didn’t. He didn’t want to speak for you. He knew you could speak for yourself and he should let you, even if he was itching to cut in.

“No, I don’t think you are. I know you think you are so you always tell me you are, but you’re not. People like me for me and not just because I’m friends with you,” you said coldly and your tone was definitive it left her speechless. It had to be one of the first times you were ever remotely close to snappy with her and she didn’t expect it.

“I know it’s hard for you to think of me as my own person but I don’t have to do what you want,” You said, “And I think you only boss me around and act sneaky behind my back because you’re threatened by me.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What you said left her rendered quiet. You waited too, waited to see if she would tell you to stand down but she didn’t and you didn’t give her time too, “ But I think I should go, I don’t want to bother your dinner any longer—and uh, maybe we just shouldn’t contact each other anymore.”

Jungkook had forgotten about his smoke break, jaw nearly to the floor at how confident you sounded. It was obvious you had never spoken to Miyoung that way but she couldn’t even deny what you said. You did it so casually and like you couldn’t care less which made you seem mature compared to Miyoung’s tantrums.

“Why was that kind of hot?” Jungkook asked as you finally reached him under the light post. Miyoung had stormed off with an evil glare that he ignored telling you how “You’re done”.

He looked down at you with hazed eyes, amazed and enamored. You scrunch your face curiously, “What was?”

“You, right now,” He chuckled, reaching for your hand in his, “Kind of scary too. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you tried to laugh it off, “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

It was so dumb of you to still be worried about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, you were calm and casual but that was so scary,” Jungkook gasped dramatically, “Because I know you were mad at her—… it was mean but only a little and so very very hot, and you’re doing all this in that dress…”

Without meaning to be, Jungkook was sort of like your hype man. You were worried about being too harsh, you still are, but he made you feel better about it. Part of you will never not feel in the wrong for being with Jungkook but you’ve gotten the rest off your chest and it felt good. Maybe you were a bit mean or maybe you weren’t, you could never be entirely sure but Jungkook seemed to be on your side no matter what.

“You like my dress?” You asked him with a teasing smile as he held the car door open for you.

“I really do,” he played with his lip ring, looking down at you.

“Then take it off me.”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whispered to himself as he looked around the parking lot, “Here?”

You broke out into a laugh as you sat down. Your words got to him easier than you thought and he sighed, “You can’t say that shit to me, Y/n. I’ll actually do it.”

“Let’s go back to my place and see if you can keep your word then,” you told him, watching him close the door with a tense jaw just thinking about it.

You can’t do this to him. You can’t be shy and cute one second and then act like that. You can’t. That’s not fair to him. How is he supposed to not be affected when you say things that get his heart racing while looking so cute? Was this what it would be like dating you? Just constantly caught by surprise?

He did like the way you stood up for yourself. He liked that you spoke your mind more freely than before and he takes joy in hearing you flirt back. In the beginning it felt like he was the one always trying to get you to talk to him or notice him and now you’re saying things that make his head dizzy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, yknow?” Jungkook asked after the painfully long car ride back to your apartment. He was removing his coat as you sat on the edge of your bed to undo your shoes.

You let out an amused laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you act all shy and innocent and then you say shit that…” Jungkook let out a groan, “I can’t explain it, you just drive me crazy.”

“In a good way or bad way?” You asked, following him with your eyes as he closed the space between you two until he was at the end of the bed standing in front of you.

“A good way,” he said softly, “I’m finding more sides of you I’ve never seen.”

“And you like it?” You asked shyly, feeling his hands curl around your jaw.

“I do, a lot,” he confessed brushing his lips against yours, “I don't know what I would’ve done if I lost my chance with you again.”

::.

NO PART TWO

oml yall this took me forever to come up with 😭 I went through at least six other ideas before deciding on this one and I can’t tell how happy I am with it yet but I tried my hardest not the disappoint 🥹 I miss being more active and taking to you all but life has been so busy lately

please let me know how you feel and I promise I’ll try to be more active 🫶🏽

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]