#and they both know and understand that—their will always be a separation somewhere. and they both try to reach to the other in what ways

[lanternlightss]

sighs. oh how the human and inhuman meet together in their understandings of one another, we’re really in it now …

[dksfml]

off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don��t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

jason todd with a partner who’s afraid of guns

ft. gn!reader, mentions of guns (obviously), other weapons, potential home break ins, just jason being a little paranoid but we love him for that anyways

i imagine he would already have his vigilante and personal life very separate (he's just a guy :( who wants some normalcy and domesticity)

so i don't really imagine him letting his partner see much of his red hood persona

like he's not exactly bringing you to fights or anything even remotely dangerous

so, knock on wood, you’ll never have to see him actually shoot anybody, but he will still try to find ways to keep you safe when he’s not there

probably soooo very very protective of you, like even if he was practically in love with you, would hesitate to start a relationship until he's sure that his enemies won't have a way to use you against him

he's going to like one safe house to store his stuff and then probably another one just to throw people off of his tracks before he heads to your place

i think if his partner wasn't afraid of him guns at home, like is just scared of handling them, he would probably have one on him when he's going home

to protect himself because he could be attacked anywhere and also in case something happens at home (his worst nightmare is walking home to an empty apartment when he knows you should be home and in bed)

and he normally would have a stash of weapons in the house, including guns, in case either of you have to defend yourselves

like preferablyyyyyyy he teaches you the basics like how to load a gun, turn the safety on and off, and shoot, but if not there are plenty of other weapons to choose from

and he’ll let you know where they all are (it’s not hard, like you’ll probably run into a few on accident throughout the day anyways) and will tell you where the guns are so you can avoid them if you so wish (he’ll probably have them in case he’s home and needs them though)

super paranoid guy but considering everything he's been through and how many people he's antagonized in gotham, makes sense

however, if his partner is afraid of even having them lying around, he's definitely willing to make some changes. he still uses them while he's fighting, but subconsciously, he might be less likely to reach for them

he's not bringing any guns home (probably just settle for some knives, idk why but he seems like he would steal batarangs for funsies so he might have some on hand)

like he’ll drop off his guns when he gets to one of his safe houses and then arm himself to the moon with other stuff (sorry again i fear he is a little paranoid but like it’s understandable)

as far as weapons in the house...i think he'll still have a few guns, just in case, but he'll make sure it's not somewhere you could easily find them, like if you guys both have your own offices then he’ll leave them in his

honestly, for your peace of mind, he probably won't tell you the exact location, just lets you know that there are a few for life or death situations (unless you ask for the location, in which case he's more than happy to tell you)

so many other weapons though. i genuinely don't think he'd compromise too much on that one. again, if you don't like sharp objects or anything like that, at the very least, he is putting pepper spray in every room and a metal baseball bat

and probably some flares, smoke bombs, nonlethal stuff so you can run to safety if you don't want to deal with the assailant head-on, but best believe you’ll know how to use all of them very well

and there’s always self defence moves, although i think he prays that you never have to get to that point

why am i imagining jason practicing escape routes with you from different places in your apartment like it's some sort of fire drill

“okay pretend i’m the attacker and i come in through the window with a knife while you’re washing the dishes. what are you going to do?”

“cry?”

“no, sweetheart, remember, if you’re in the kitchen and they don’t have any long distance weapons then you go with escape plan C.”

“bitch how tf am i supposed to remember all of the plans.”

HE DOES IT OUT OF LOVE

will actually stress tf out if you don’t do it so uhhhhhhhhh yeah i’d start studying

will make you practice it every once in a while just to keep it fresh

and it’ll be random too because “crime doesn’t give you a heads up in gotham”

on the plus side if you have any weird requests he’ll probably feel bad and do them

like if you want fresh flowers in the house at all times? babe, he was going to do that anyways. onlt the best for you

you want to decorate the house in whatever style you like? here’s his card (being a crime lord does make good money)

doesn’t matter if he likes it or not, it’s only fair. you get to decorate your place with cute throw pillows, he gets to hide a few daggers under the sofa, same difference

or like if you want his location at all times? and hourly check ups?

honestly, he’s touched that you care about his safety as much as he cares about yours. he’ll make sure it’s encrypted so nobody can hack into your phone and see that, but he’s more than willing to whip out his phone in chasing down some villain to tell you he’s gonna be late for dinner or whatever

guys, at the end of the day, he just really loves and cares for his partner, and he'll do whatever makes you the safest and most comfortable

he has some…interesting habits but it’s all to make sure you stay safe

and he makes up for it by bringing home little trinkets that remind him of you and planning elaborate date nights and all of that cute stuff to show how much he cares

and who knows, if you still remember escape plan p maybe he’ll have a little treat planned!

[insidekatmind]

Share- Levi Colwill x reader x Jude Bellingham (love triangle)

Wearning: +18,smut

You are at a time in your life when the attention on you has become overwhelming. and everything started unexpectedly. You have always been a quiet person, far from drama and emotional complications. Yet, here you are, involved in a love triangle between Jude Bellingham and Levi Colwill. It’s clear that both of them do not intend to give up.

It all started a few months earlier, at an exclusive party hosted by a mutual friend. The music was loud, the lights were dim, and you had no idea that your life would change that night.You were at the bar sipping a cocktail when Jude came over with his disarming smile and self-confident look.

"I’ve never seen you at a party like this. You’re one of those people who likes to stay in the shadows, am I right?" He had said it in a tone that felt like defiance.

You laughed, trying to hide the blush that was coloring your cheeks. "I prefer not to draw too much attention. I’m not really... used to it."

"Well, tonight you’ll be in the middle of mine," he replied, raising his glass towards you.

You couldn’t deny that Jude had a magnetic charm. You spent the evening chatting, discovering a side of him that went beyond the footballer: a brilliant, ambitious but also surprisingly sweet boy.

Yet, just as you were starting to feel comfortable, someone else had caught your attention.

Levi Colwill had made his way through the crowd with the calm of one who does not need to hurry to be noticed. He was different from Jude: less cheeky, more mysterious. When he saw you, he approached discreetly, waiting for the right moment to talk to you.

"Is he already boring you?" he said, pointing to Jude with a nod. "What?" you asked, surprise.

"Bellingham. He has a reputation for talking too much," he added with a grin that made you shiver.

"And you? Are you one of those who speaks little and listens a lot?" you answered, amused.

"Something like that," he said, with a look that seemed to be light inside.

From that moment on, your attention was divided. Both boys seemed determined to win you over, each in their own way. Jude was spontaneous, passionate, always ready to make you laugh. Levi, on the other hand, was reflective, profound, capable of turning even a trivial conversation into something special.

In the days and weeks that followed, Jude and Levi had begun to become more and more present in your life.

One afternoon, Jude had shown up to your house on a motorbike. "Let’s go for a ride. I want to show you the city like you’ve never seen it before."

You could not say no, and that afternoon turned into an unforgettable adventure, among laughter and breathtaking views.

But just when you thought Jude had won an important point, Levi made his move. One evening, he invited you to an impromptu dinner at his house. He had cooked for you, and the way he looked at you as you spoke made you feel special in a way that you couldn’t explain.

Every moment with one of them seemed like a balancing act, a step forward for one and a step back for the other.

Things had exploded when, during a dinner you decided not to attend to take time to think about it, the two ended up arguing.

"Do you really think you have a chance with her?" said Jude, raising his voice. "She wants someone who knows how to amuse her, who knows how to live. Not one who spends time as a philosopher."

"Ah, really?" Levi replied, keeping a calm tone but visibly irritated. "Because it seems to me that she’s looking for someone who really understands her. And, honestly, it’s not you."

The words became increasingly sharp, until the two almost clashed physically. Mutual friends had intervened to separate them, but the tension was palpable.

The next day you were sitting on a park bench, the sun filters through the leaves of the trees and warms your face. You shake your phone, a little bored, when you get a message.

Jude: "Are you free tonight? I thought I’d take you somewhere you’d like to go."

You smile lightly, aware of his attempt to win you over. You do not respond in time, that another notification surprises you.

Levi: "I’ll pick you up in an hour. I won’t take no for an answer."

You’re wide-eyed, you incredulous. But are they in agreement? you ask. The situation amuses you, but it also makes you difficult. It is not easy to juggle between the insistence of two guys so charming and, above all, so competitive.

---

You’re sitting at a table in an elegant restaurant. Levi is standing in front of you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. He wears a white shirt with a slight button-down that lets you see his skin and the tuatuaggi on his right arm that made him irresistible. He smiles with that confidence which he knows to be his best weapon.

"So, did you have fun with Bellingham the other day?" asks, bringing the glass of wine to his lips.Raise an eyebrow, surprised by her direct question.

"Are you jealous, Colwill?" you reply provocatively.He laughs, shaking his head.

"Jealous? No, just curious. I want to see if he has a chance against me."

You stop for a moment, his gaze is penetrating, but you do not give in. You are aware of your power in this situation.

"Maybe he does. Or maybe not. It depends on who is smarter." you reply with a mischievous smile. Levi bites his lip, visibly amused by your challenge.

"Oh, so you’re challenging me? Are you sure you want to play with me?"

"I never play, Levi. And you know it."

His smile widens. "I like it even more."

---

The next day, Jude invites you to his house. When you arrive, he welcomes you with the usual bright smile. He wears a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, a simple but incredibly attractive look on him.

"You’re finally here. I was beginning to think that Levi had kidnapped you." he says jokingly.He laughs, shaking his head.

"Don’t worry, I’m too smart to be caught." You reply with a playful smile.Jude looks at you for a moment, his gaze becomes more serious.

"I know. And maybe that’s what I like about you." he admits, getting a few steps closer.

You feel your heart racing, but not receding. He is so close that you can smell his fresh and enveloping scent.

"Don’t think you can have me just because you tell me to." You answer with a confident voice.

"I don’t think so. But I know I do." He answers, and his eyes won’t come off of yours.

---

The days pass and the tension between Levi and Jude becomes more evident. It all starts with small comments thrown at a distance, but soon the jokes turn into provocative looks. During a party you’ve been invited to, you find them both there, and the situation becomes explosive.

"What a coincidence to see you here, Bellingham." says Levi with a provocative smirk.

"Yeah, you here too, Colwill? I thought you were busy losing games." Jude replied, keeping the tone calm but sharp. You look at them with your arms folded.

"Are you serious?" you ask, tired of their teasing.

Levi approaches you, moving a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I’m just protecting what’s mine," he says, looking into your eyes.

"Yours? Don’t get confused, Colwill." You counter, and he laughs softly. Jude steps forward, his eyes on Levi.

"She’s nobody’s, dude. And you should remember that." said Jude looking at him badly.

The two stare for a moment. You know that things could get out of hand, but you decide to intervene.

"Stop it! I’m not a trophy. If you keep acting like this, you’ll both lose." You say in a firm tone and leave them alone.

The two continued to watch while Levi watched with a calm that was making Jude angry. "Who wins the best," said Jude, and Levi looked at him amused and then left.

---

It was a few days and you decided to go to the disco alone to get your ideas, It was one of those evenings where the atmosphere seemed magical from the beginning. You were in the elegant nightclub in the heart of London, immersed in a vortex of soft lights and pulsating music.

You were trying to distract yourself from the events of these days by not thinking about how Levi and Jude kept coming at you and how they always fought over you.

The DJ had just started playing a hypnotic mix of house and reggaeton, and you couldn’t help but let yourself go to the beat. You wore a dress that perfectly embraced every curve, attracting admiring glances wherever you went, but what really caught the eye was your energy. You danced with an innate sensuality, without any effort, as if the music ran in your blood.

At one point, you feel a burning gaze on you. You turn slowly and cross the gaze of Levi, he looked at you with an intensity that made you hold your breath. He waves a little glass at you, and your heart quickened. Before you can answer, you notice another pair of eyes staring at you: Jude Bellingham. He was on the opposite side of the dance floor, leaning nonchalantly against the bar. When your looks meet, his smile widens, and he slowly approaches, moving through the crowd with magnetic security.

You don’t have time to think. The music changes, becoming slower and more sensual, and Levi takes the first step. He approaches with a mischievous smile, tilting his head.

"Y/n as always I can’t do at least not notice you" he says, his deep voice barely overtaken by the music. "Let’s dance?"

You don’t have time to answer that you feel a warm hand on your back. You turn around, facing Jude. He is even more beautiful up close, with his dark eyes that seem to read your soul.

"Levi, you’re too slow," says Jude with a provocative smile. "She dance with me tonight."

You find yourself between two fires, but instead of choosing, you decide to have fun. "Who said I should choose one?" Answer, with a smirk that leaves both speechless.

The music picks up and you start moving, letting go completely. Levi comes to you from behind, his hands just above your hips, while Jude watches you from the front, his body coming closer and closer to yours. They dance in tune, their bodies following your movements with perfect precision. It’s thrilling, almost surreal to be the center of their attention.

As Levi touches your neck with a light kiss, you feel a shiver running down your back. " So beautiful" he murmurs, his voice so close that you can’t hear it. You let go for a moment, head tilting to the side to offer him more space and start rubbing more on his cock. But as soon as you close your eyes, feel Jude’s hands on your life.

You look up at him, and he looks at you with a determination that takes your breath away. " I waited long enough," he says, before bending down and capturing your lips in an intense, passionate kiss. His mouth is hot, and the way he holds you makes you lose your sense of time and space. Levi, however, does not back down. He keeps kissing your neck, his hands holding you tight against him as he also began to rub his cock on your ass making you moan in Jude’s kiss

The minutes seem to stop. The dance floor around you fades away, leaving you alone in a world of music, soft lights and pure electricity. When you finally break away from Jude, your eyes meet those of Levi. His gaze is a mixture of desire and challenge.

"We’re not done with you yet," he whispers.

Smile, your heart beating wildly. "I don’t mind," you reply excited.

Jude and Levi exchanged a smile without arguing for the first time. You all three went outside and looked around.

The night air was fresh as you left the disco, still immersed in the adrenaline of the evening. Levi takes the keys to his black sports car, with a confident smile that left no room for doubt. " The evening doesn’t end here," he says, opening the door for you with a gallant gesture. You can’t help but smile as you step into the car, sitting in the back seat.

Jude follows you, closing the door behind him. Before Levi starts the engine, Jude looks at you with a breath-holding intensity. "Are you sure you can hold us?" whispers to you, his voice a mixture of fun and desire. His hand touches yours, and you feel a shiver running down your back.

"We’ll see," you reply with a mischievous smile, knowing full well that you have no intention of backing away.

Levi turns slightly from the driver’s seat, looking through the rear-view mirror with a smirk. "Be comfortable behind, huh? No distractions while driving." But the spark in his eyes betrays his tone. The engine starts, and the car starts moving, gliding smoothly through the streets lit by street lamps.

While Levi is focused on driving, Jude does not waste time. He comes closer to you, his warm breath against your skin. " Do you know how hard it is to ignore you?" he whispers, her lips touching your neck. He starts kissing you slowly, with a deliberate sweetness that makes you shiver. His hands find your side, the touch light but possessive. Every kiss is like a spark that ignites a fire within you.

You try to stay calm, but the feeling of his lips and hands makes you close your eyes and tilt your head slightly to give him more space. Jude smiles at your skin.

"You like it, don’t you?" he whispers in his low, satisfying voice. You don’t answer, but the way your body reacts is all he needs to know.

From the driver’s seat, Levi raises a hand to adjust the rear-view mirror, looking at you with an accessory smile. " If I keep feeling that way, I might have to pull over," he jokes, but the

tone is loaded with subtext. " It’s not safe to drive with you guys distracting me like this."

"You drive," Jude replies, without even taking my attention away from you. "I’m just taking care of her."

You laugh slowly, trying to regain control of the situation, but it’s impossible with Jude so close. " Maybe you should focus on the road, Levi," you say in an innocent tone that contrasts the fire you feel inside.

Levi chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, I’m thinking about it. But trust me, I can’t wait to get home to join the fun."

His words make you beat faster, and the journey to his home seems to last an eternity, every second of tension. Jude continues to kiss your neck, his touch becoming bolder, his hands touching the edge of your dress. Finally, Levi parks in front of an elegant modern house with large windows reflecting the city lights.

"Welcome," says Levi, getting out of the car and opening the door for you. His look is calm but full of promises. "We enter. The evening has just begun."

You look around for a moment, then Jude takes your hand and guides you to the entrance. Levi opens the door and lets you in first, the house lit by a warm and welcoming light. You turn to them, your heart beating like a bat.

Levi reaches you in a few steps, his confident smile makes you feel your heart beat faster. He comes slowly, his eyes seem to study you every moment, as if he is waiting for the perfect moment.

When he finally bends over to you, feel his hands gently leaning against your hips as his lips meet yours in a warm and passionate kiss.

Levi kisses with a confidence that overwhelms you. His hands are just tighter, as if to make sure you don’t go away, but you have no intention of doing so. You raise your arms and walk around her neck, pulling it closer to you as if there is still too much space between you. The warmth of his body against yours is electrifying, and the way he kisses you makes you lose any sense of time.

As you let go completely, you feel a movement behind you. Open your eyes for a moment and notice Jude coming slowly. His gaze is intense, and never turns away from you two. The way he walks, with that innate confidence, raises tension in the air. He says nothing, but the energy that emanates speaks clearly: he does not intend to stay on the sidelines.

Levi detaches himself slightly from you, just for a moment, his eyes meeting with yours as he smiles complicit. " Don’t think you’ve escaped me so easily," he whispers, his voice low and full of desire.

Levi starts kissing your neck while you moan slowly. Jude comes down behind you and lifts the dress that had made him crazy all evening and took off your underwear to then begin to kiss your thighs and you closed your eyes at the touch moaning slowly.

Levi smiled at your neck and Jude smiled at your thigh and then stuck a finger in your folds and you moaned.

Levi looks at you as he starts to pull down the shoulder strap of your dress and moves your bra while he starts to kiss your breast while Jude decides to insert his tongue into your pussy.

"Shit" you moaned as you put your hand on Levi’s hair as you watched him suck your breasts.

"So good this pussy" grunted Jude near your pussy and that made you moan again and you started rubbing your pussy on his face making him moan as he kept eating it like a hungry man.

You felt in heaven: Levi was playing with your breasts and kissing your neck while Jude was eating your pussy.

Jude was kissing your pussy and you spat on his face and he moans licking your cum while you moaned.

When he broke off, he gave him a last kiss and then got up. Levi was still kissing your neck and playing with your tits while you kept moaning.

You turned your head a little to look at Jude and moaned as he was hot with your cum in his face and his mouth open a bit while he tried to catch his breath.

"You taste so good," Jude muttered as he kissed, and you groaned as you pulled her hair.

Levi does not give you time to think. With a smile that promises all sorts of temptation, he takes your hand and guides you through the corridor of his house, with Jude following you closely. The lights are low, and every step seems to amplify the electricity flowing between you three. You find yourself in front of the door to Levi’s room, and he pushes it slowly, revealing an intimate and welcoming environment, dominated by a large bed with dark and soft sheets.

Before you can speak, Levi grabs you by the hips and pulls you against him. Her lips settle back on your neck, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that makes you shiver. " I can’t stop thinking how irresistible you are," he whispers against your skin, his deep voice vibrating in your ears. His hands come down on your hips, clenching lightly as to emphasize his grip upon you.

You let go at the moment, your breath getting shorter as her lips descend towards the base of your neck. You raise your hands and walk through his dark hair, pulling him even closer to you, as if you want to hear every movement. "Levi..." Whispers, but the words are lost in the pleasure it causes you.

Jude, who had been watching with a mixture of impatience and desire, approaches with a determined pace. " Don’t forget about me," he says, his voice charged with a slight challenge. He stops beside you, his gaze that moves between you and Levi, before resting definitively on you. His hand lifts up to touch your face, and then it comes down your shoulder, the warm and enveloping touch.

Levi stops for a moment, lifting his head from your neck to look at Jude. "I have no intention of keeping it all to myself," he says with a smile that is both complicit and cheeky. Then he looks at you, his eyes shining with desire. "Are you ready for this?" asks you, his voice low and full of promises.

You cannot answer with words, but the way you clasp against him is sufficient. Jude moves beside you, his body approaching to touch yours, while Levi starts kissing your neck with increasing passion. The room fills with tension, every moment that passes makes you forget everything.

Both of them hurry to strip off. Revealing their long, thick and hard cocks. You moaned as you looked at their dicks and how big they were. You couldn’t stop looking at their dick.

The two of them noticed and smiled. Jude started touching his cock as he looked at you "Don’t worry baby girl we’ll make you feel good". Jude said as Levi began to take off your dress and bra, and as he did so he was biting your neck and you groaned.

When he finished taking off your dress, Levi slapped your butt and made you groan and Jude smiled at the sight of how sexy you were as you moaned.

You come to them and kneel before them and hummed happily as they saw their cock was close to your face.

"Open this beautiful mouth," says Jude in a roaring voice as he lifts his chin and grabs the end of his cock, taking it to your mouth.

When you open your mouth, he enters gently while you swirl your tongue around him enjoying the salty pre-cum. Jude grabs a handful of hair and pulls it slightly to help him guide himself further into your mouth. Hitting the bottom of your throat with tears in your eyes as it pushes back and forth in your mouth. She moans about how good you are and bites her lip as you look at it.

Jude slowly pulls his cock out of your mouth leaving you with an empty mouth, while Levi approaches and smiles at you.

You opened your mouth and slowly slid his big cock into your mouth. He grabs your back and without warning, he puts his dick in the bottom of your throat and slightly gags you.

He moves his hips while his cock continues to abuse the back of your throat. He looks at you and grunts "this beautiful mouth is made to suck my cock". Hearing these words you wept.

He pulls out of your mouth, while a small sliver of saliva follows his cock.

You looked at both of them with desire as they came a little closer to you as they started touching their dick while they were looking at you and grunting and you moaned along with them feeling even more wet.

"Shit, I’m going to cum," said Jude, touching her cock faster and Levi nodded in agreement as he looked at you and kept touching his dick.

"Open that beautiful mouth for us, baby," said Levi and you nodded in obedience.

You opened your mouth and pulled out your tongue while both Levi and Jude spilled on your tongue and the cum also fell on your tits and the rest of your body.

You moaned upon hearing the semen of both your beautiful mouth and they groaned at sight. " So sexy" said Jude grunting and Levi nodded without taking his eyes off you.

Levi and Jude help you to get up and guide you on the bed.

"Lie down for us, darling" Levi muttered and you obeyed and the two smiled.

"What a good girl," said Jude, approaching you and bending over to kiss you.

His hands slide along your naked body and you moaned as he felt his warm hands on your body.

Jude moves away to look down on you and then comes back to you and kisses you passionately.

His tongue explores your mouth, while his hands rest on your waist caressing your skin gently, while you slide your fingers through his hair pulling his breath heavier.

Levi meanwhile caresses your thighs and spreads your legs to get close to your pussy. He kisses the inside of your thighs with sensuality and passion as he approaches your folds, while you can feel his warm breath touching your clitoris and groan in Jude’s mouth.

Levi licked a strip on your folds, making you emit a slight whimper. He laid a gentle kiss on your clitoris before wrapping his tongue around it and gently sucking it. Use slow movements to tease you and make you wiggle and whimper.

He wraps his hands under your thighs to prevent you from moving too much. While you kissed Jude you moaned while Levi kept poking your pussy.

He leaves without a word and you have slowly detached yourself from Jude to look at Levi with despair.

"Please Levi don’t stop" you whimpered as you watched and could swear that his dick got even harder at that connection.

Without saying anything he dives again in your pussy as it starts to eat you. It was like this man had starved to death and the only thing he wanted was your pussy.

Jude smiles at your reaction as you arch your back while I lift it continues to eat you.

Jude begins to bite your neck leaving more marks as he sucks your skin. Meanwhile Levi’s tongue moves faster around your clitoris, slipping two fingers into your entrance and curling it in a provocative way.

Jude grabbed your boob and touched your nipple while sucking the other. Levi has slipped another finger to curl it in the perfect spot, you have gripped Levi’s hair hard making him groan against you.

Pleasure flowed through your body as his tongue swirled around your clitoris, as moans filled the room.

You started screaming as you felt how good it was making you feel as you felt your body tremble.

You spat on Levi’s face and he kept licking your juices while you yelled for overstimulation.

When he broke off, he had a smug smile that made you even more wet and you kissed him.

Jude takes you and rides him by letting his big throbbing cock enter your pussy hole making you moan as you clung to his back.

Jude motioned to Levi to go after you and Levi shove his dick into your asshole making you scream.

The two boys moaned as they heard your walls clenching their big dicks.

"Warn us if it becomes too much" whispered Levi too much in ecstasy feeling as you were squeezing him and Jude nodded closing his eyes trying not to move the hips already.

You nodded and they began to move while all three of you started to groan. Levi starts pushing slowly, before increasing the pace and making his pushes deeper and stronger. Jude pushes from below causing friction as he placed his hands on your hips to guide his movements.

Their movements become faster making you scream moans of pleasure. Levi while pushing his cock harder inside you started licking and sucking your neck and you moaned even louder.

"You’re making me feel so good" you moaned as you lowered your body towards Jude’s and he took advantage of that to take a cowl in your mouth while taking both their dicks.

"Baby girl you’re doing great, you’re making us feel like in heaven" Levi whispered near your ear as he slapped you on the butt making you groan and make you tighten their dicks more.

"This pussy is made to take our dicks," said Jude, taking a powder off your tit and then retaking the assault. You groaned as you moved faster wanting to take more of their dicks.

You moaned as they grunted and pushed their cock deeper inside you. Levi made your back bow more to make their cocks go deeper inside you and you moaned loudly as they both hit your g-spot.

"I’m going to cum" you said while moaning.

"Come baby girl" moaned Jude as he started to hit even harder and you moaned as they were about to come too. You could feel their cocks contracting inside you as you came to your orgasm. Levi cum in the ass while Jude cum in your pussy.You screamed loud as you felt full. " So beautiful" you whimpered as Levi gently pulled himself out of you and gave you a kiss on the butt, back and jaw then give you a sweet kiss on the cheek and you smiled.

You slowly got up from the dick of Jude and then lay down on the bed trying to take area and Jude caressed your hair gently and then gave you sweet kisses on the cheek.

Levi came back with a cloth while with the help of Jude they cleaned and pampered you.

You found yourself hugging Jude and Levi as they whispered sweet words and praise for how well you did.

You felt your legs tremble and had a sore throat but were satisfied by these two men lying next to you.

[charliemwrites]

The long-awaited part 2 for ragdoll!reader.

I’ll be honest, I never intended for there to be another part, so I hope this is alright! I might add more in the future if the worms demand it, but for now let’s consider this the last part. Sorry!

If Price had any optimism that Ragdoll’s reaction to Konig was just a fluke - or perhaps some sort of initial, fleeting interest - he’s quickly proven wrong.

She’s utterly infatuated with him.

Constantly pressing herself close, rubbing her cheek against him and his clothes, bumping her head against his. She chirps and chitters and purrs at him, pupils blown out. Never seems bothered that he has trouble verbally responding; or seems to, though Johnny mentions they might be communicating at a frequency only cat-hybrids can hear.

Price has the briefest notion of keeping them separated. After all, Konig is a big combat placement that doesn’t seem much indulgent of his non-violent instincts. More human than cat - a complete opposite to their sweet companion kitty. It seems inevitable that something goes wrong and someone - likely the 141’s precious girl - gets injured. So naturally they try to keep the hybrids apart.

Try to coordinate schedules to keep her and Konig from passing each other, ending up in the same rooms or at the mess hall together.

It’s futile.

For one, she may be the sweetest little thing around, but she’s still a cat (or cat-hybrid anyway). There’s really no stopping her from going somewhere, especially on a base she’s had free run of for over a year already. Closed doors are blasphemy, and locks are a personal attack against her.

For two, her only job is to be a companion. She is not beholden to most military protocols like rank, SOPs, schedules, or duty. Meaning that, while she usually keeps to the 141’s routines out of desire to be with them, there’s nothing forcing her to follow along. Even as an emotional support placement, she isn’t required to be around them at any time; she always just wants to be. It’s why she’s so good at it.

And finally, mostly importantly here, there’s really just no telling her ���no.”

Not with those big eyes that get so watery so fast. That sad curve to her mouth. The fucking mournful cries when she’s been denied and she doesn’t understand why - nor does anyone really have a good reason.

(“He’s twice your size” is apparently not a good reason. Neither is “he could crush your skull in one hand.”)

Worse still, it’s not even that she’s misbehaving as a reason to keep them separated.

While she does present more cat than human in a lot of ways, she understands English perfectly. She can read and even write if needed. Vocalizing human speech is beyond rare, but she has once or twice.

So she knows the hard and fast rules. Understands that she can’t interrupt drills or exercises. That there are regulations for the range should she ever venture out there. That she has to be quiet during briefings. And she does all of this - just while also being as close to Konig as possible.

She sits in the grass or on a perch watching the boys run and call to each other. And as soon as they’re done, she’s up and flitting to his side, head tilting this way and that. She shifts into her full-cat form during briefing to sit on his lap. Even follows him out to the range, lying in the grass next to him with tail swishing and headphones on, while he fires the rifle.

Never mind any free time.

Members of both their teams keep finding them cuddled up together all over the place. In the rec room on a couch, in patches of sun beneath windows, in the grass by the running tracks, even in Konig’s room on base. Most often with Ragdoll lying on him, plumed tail curled around his arm or leg while he rubs her back or ears.

Sometimes they hear him talking to her, low and quiet. She meows back on occasion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the lack of verbal response while he rambles.

And the first time anyone sees them wrestle is nerve-wracking. They hardly make a sound the entire time, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs and fluffy tails. Konig always lets her win - even laughs when she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm. (It’s the first anyone on his team has heard him laugh like that and they’re a bit startled.) The entire 141 pretends not to be on high alert - except Johnny, who watches with ears perked, eyes darting between the two cats.

Price doesn’t know what to make of it. Of course he’s not upset that she’s connected with another hybrid. Johnny is usually the only one on base, and while they’re close, Price knows it probably isn’t the same as her own species.

That she’s so… preoccupied with Konig is, well.

“Is she… ya know…?” Gaz asks at one point.

When Price arches an eyebrow, he makes a vague, nonsensical gesture.

“In heat,” Gaz mumbles awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t be,” Price answers. “She has an implant.”

A hormone implant keeps a hybrid from going into mating cycles or getting pregnant - but it doesn’t stop them from bonding.

Kate is the one to bring up the possibility after speaking to her sister in law. Ragdoll spent time around other cat-hybrids before she was placed with the 141, but never reacted to them like she does to Konig.

It’s confirmed when TF-141 and the KorTac squad deploy for their mission. Ragdoll is near inconsolable. Not actively crying (most of the time) but lethargic and sad, with low appetite and lots of big, long sighs. Her ears never perk more than half-mast for the month they’re gone. Even taking her off-base back to Kate’s sister-in-law for a little while doesn’t seem to help.

The day they come back, she’s the most lively anyone’s seen in a month. Bounces between her four team members incessantly, checking that they’re okay, making little noises in the back of her throat. They happily drop kisses on her head, let her nuzzle up beneath their chins, hug her close. Rub at her ears and squish up her cheeks. Price even picks her up, rubbing his bristly cheek against her temple.

Then Konig steps out.

She wiggles, making a nervous, upset noise. Price sets her down and she bolts into Konig’s arms, crying loudly and pawing at his hood. And to everyone’s shock, he lifts it enough for her to wriggle under with him.

If there was any question that he felt the same way - it’s answered.

[dollfacefantasy]

so this isn't just puppy love ♡

puppy hybrid!satoru gojo x fem!bunny hybrid!reader

your owner, suguru, is away for the week, leaving you alone with satoru. you're typically kept separate from the wild puppy hybrid, but now that the two of you are alone, you can play without supervision.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon, forced breeding/creampie, breeding kink, scent kink, hybrids

thank you to @nexysworld and @kaitkatme for beta reading <33

The pads of your fingertips trail down your long floppy ears and massage the hydrating oil into the fluff just the way Suguru always did for you. You watch yourself in the mirror on your vanity, taking care to make sure your movements mimicked his. When you're satisfied with the result, your hands move to fasten the ribbons at the base of your ears.

Even when Suguru wasn't here, you still wanted to look good for him. He was only out of town for the week. You couldn't fall apart in that short of a timespan, no matter how terribly you missed him. You had to prove to him what a good girl you were. And you knew when he came home, he'd be extra inclined to pamper and love on you. He often told you he missed you, his sweet bunny girl, just as much as you missed him while he was away.

You reassured yourself that you could manage the four remaining days without your beloved owner.

That was the last thought you had before you saw him in your mirror trying to creep into your room. His slender fingers had just released the door knob silently as it shut.

"Satoru, what are you doing in here?" you ask and spin around to face him.

His white ears perk up and twitch at the sound of his name, his long tail swishing back and forth out of instinct. He turns around and gives you a sheepish smile; though you know him well enough to know that innocence is feigned.

Satoru was the rowdy pup that accompanied your owner seemingly everywhere he went. If Suguru was walking somewhere, it was almost certain Satoru would be strutting by his side. If he was relaxing on the couch, Satoru was lying next to him with his head in his lap.

You were kept separated from him most of the time, and on the first few occasions you had been together, he made it clear why that was. When your owner initially took you in, he tried introducing you to his puppy hybrid. It was supposed to be good for the both of you, socializing with another of your kind. You could "understand" each other as Suguru had put it. But you didn't understand a thing about him except for that he was the most annoying creature you'd ever come across. 

He was all over you, yipping for your attention the second Suguru scooted you off his lap to sit in front of his first pet. Immediately, he pestered you with an onslaught of questions about who you were, what was your name, where did you come from, and on and on and on. It only took a few minutes before you were trying to climb back into your owner's lap and burrow into his chest, a refuge from the rambunctious canine at his feet.

He was too affectionate as well, slobbering all over you whenever he got the chance. And when he "played," he was far too rough, knocking you around and jabbing sharp teeth into your delicate skin. That was why Suguru kept him out of your room and only allowed the two of you near each other when he could supervise.

This was the first stretch of time where he couldn't monitor you two himself. He was out of town and Satoru couldn't go with him for whatever reason. He had to rely on the strength of the hallway door's lock to keep the house divided into two. That and his friend Kento who stopped by once per day to check on each of you, making sure you didn't need anything and were still safe and sound in your own halves of the house.

Kento also understood the necessity that you have your own space. He understood it to be deeper than Satoru having no tact. Suguru had told him about Satoru's interest in you. The way his eyes locked onto your small, plush form. How he took in lungfuls of your scent whenever he had the chance. The semi-hard tent that formed in his pants when Suguru allowed him the opportunity to play with you. Satoru's rough nature didn't rear its head around you out of pure obliviousness.

It was why Kento was supposed to make sure the door to your part of the house was locked each day when he came over. Today he must have made a mistake, left it unlocked or not seen Satoru slip through before it shut. Either way, he stood before you now, tail wagging back and forth.

"You're not supposed to be in here," you pout.

"It's boring out there. I never get to come in here," he responds and resumes walking into your room, albeit openly this time around.

"Yeah cause you're not supposed to," you repeat. Your eyes watch him with a timid gleam over the irises. Confrontation went against every instinct you possessed, but you did not want him in your room! He was not going to get the chance to mess up your hair or put marks on your flawless face.

He continues around your furniture totally unbothered by your gaze. He glances around inquisitively. He was genuinely curious. He'd only been in here once before with Suguru holding his leash as tight as physically possible.

It seemed very soft. All the colors were light and muted. Every surface, spare the floor, was covered in something fluffy or puffed up. Dainty decor occupied the walls and empty table space. The collection of inanimate objects embodied your presence. Something Satoru didn't feel about his own room on the other side of the house that sat there, sleek and dark. He didn't care though. He didn't sleep in there much anyway. He wound up at the foot of Suguru's bed most nights of the week.

Right now he's on your bed. He slides onto the foamy mattress as if he owns it, stretching out and nuzzling his face against the blankets.

"What are you doing?" you ask, watching him shove his face against your bedding and inhale.

His head shifts so that he can see you. Ghostly locks hang down over his bright blue eyes. "I'm not doing anything. Why can't we just hang out together?" he asks with a pout that mirrored yours, "It's lonely out there. No one to play with."

Your eyes linger on him, unconvinced of his lack of ulterior motives.

"I'll be good," he continues, "You won't even know I'm here."

You continue to stare as though you had a choice in this matter. If he didn't want to leave, there was really nothing you could do about that. He outmatched you in just about every capability; size, strength, speed.

"Ok, I guess. Just don't touch anymore of my stuff," you say and turn back to your previous task.

Your nimble fingers resume tying your ribbons into place. Only a few twists more, and they're done. You smile at your achievement and grab your lotion next. Every night Suguru lotioned your tender skin before you went to bed. As you squirt the cream into your palm, you glance at the reflection of your room's other occupant in the mirror.

He's lazing about on your bed, watching you intently. His eyes are cast down, but you know what has him fixated. Your little round cottontail that puffs out near the waist of your shorts. While he takes you in, you can hear the steady rhythm of his tail thumping on the mattress.

Your palms spread the moisturizer out into circles in preparation to smooth it over your skin. You start with your forearms, massaging the cool substance onto your flesh. As it coats your limb, the smell drifts through the air. It's obvious when it reaches Satoru. His head pops up off the bed, and his brows furrow with confusion.

He rolls off the mattress and clambers over to where you sit. Kneeling next to your elegant chair, he grabs your arm and pulls it to him. He smells your skin and cocks his head before a scowl takes over his features.

"What are you putting that on for?" he asks. He rubs at your arm with his hand as if trying to scrape the lotion off.

"Hey, stop," you say gently and slip your limb from his grasp, "Suguru does this for me all the time. It's just lotion."

"You don't need it," he says. His eyes practically glow when he's this close. They shine with earnest though, so you know he's being genuine and not just making fun of your extensive nighttime routine.

"I like it," you say and shrug.

He shakes his head. His hands drop to your thighs but slide up almost immediately to hold your waist. He brings his head close to your tummy and nuzzles against the cushion of your torso.

"Why would you wanna change how you smell?" he asks.

You tense up a little. He wasn't gentle like this. He never seemed to move at a reasonable pace before. You would've assumed he'd try to lick the lotion off before swatting the bottle off the table. You tentatively pat his head in an attempt to be nice while sitting in his clutches.

"I don't. I just like how it feels," you say.

He hums, and you're not sure if it's with acceptance or disapproval. He pulls you a little closer, causing you to slump in your seat a bit. The mop of white hair floats closer towards your face as his head drifts up your body. You could vaguely smell him, the scent rich and musky. It was just a hint, but it still affected you and sent a little spark of heat through your belly.

Satoru drags his nose up from your tummy to the space between your breasts. He nuzzles into the warmth there, taking deep breaths while rubbing your sides and massaging the lush tissue. His head lingers in that spot and soon his hands slow to a stop. Enough time passes without movement or speaking that it becomes a bit awkward. You nudge at his forehead with the tips of your fingers, but it does little to snap him back to reality. Seconds later, you feel drops of his saliva drip from his mouth onto the top you were wearing.

"Gross, Satoru," you whine and push his head away harder. You go to sit up, but it's like the sudden movement triggers something in him.

He yanks you from the chair and practically tackles you onto the ground, his lanky body crashing to the floor on top of you. You wince from the slam into the unyielding wood planks. He holds you there, not allowing you to push him off. You see him grin before his head ducks down to the crook of your neck.

"Get off of me, Satoru! I don't wanna play," you protest and try to push at his head and shoulders.

He doesn't respond verbally just yet. His nose nuzzles against your silken skin. His body rolls against yours on the ground, and you hear a quiet groan rumble from his chest.

"You smell so good," he mumbles. Then his tongue darts out and laps at your neck a few times.

You whine again, but it's not with total displeasure this time. It felt good feeling him lick over the column over your throat, even better when his lips move with a little more strategy and actually kiss.

You still try to get him off though. "Stopppp, you're getting your spit all over me," you say and tug on his hair.

The move doesn't work as intended though. Instead, he whines and bucks his hips, letting you feel his solid bulge. He grips your hips harder and ruts his pelvis against you. You whimper a little, but the squeaky noises only drive him to grind with more force.

"Cute little bunny," he mumbles against your neck before scraping his teeth over it.

You shudder and squirm below him, trying to wiggle out of his hold. One of his hands lets you go only to slide under your shirt and paw at one of your breasts. His mouth goes to the collar of your top and tugs on it while his fingers massage the plump mound.

"Satoru," you whimper with less conviction.

Unfortunately for you, the expression 'fucking like rabbits' was absolutely true. You could only resist for so long before he reached that innate part of you that had the same urges as him. Every nudge between your thighs from his stiff cock chipped away at your resolve.

His fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt and push it up over the swell of your chest. Your nipples perk up from the combined sensation of cool air and his warm touch. His mouth slides down to kiss them, lapping over the little buds like he'd done to your pulse point. Your back arches into the attention, and your ears pin back with the realization that this was going to happen and that you kind of wanted it to.

His lips encompass your nipple in a warm, wet embrace. He flicks his tongue at the sensitive peak, drawing mewls from you and making you writhe with desire. His free hand dives down to feel the warmth of your cunt over your bottoms before ripping them off. Even through the barriers of cloth, he could tell your poor little pussy was drooling for him.

The rest of your clothes are gone with urgency. He tears his shirt off and leaves it crumpled on top of your things. He then pushes down the loose sweats that sat on his hips, his swollen, leaky cock springing free. It smacks against your thigh. Little beads of precum land on your skin. He slots himself at your center and puts his face back in your neck.

"Pretty breeding bunny, all for me to play with," he grunts

His feet slip and slide on the polished hardwood floor in a desperate attempt to mount you. Finally, he manages to bully the tip into your tight hole. Letting out a strangled groan, he works more of himself inside you. Your walls spasm and try to accommodate the intrusion.

"Never- ah," he whimpers, "Never had bunny cunt before. So fucking wet and tight."

Your cheeks heat up, and you wrap your arms around him tighter for support. Satoru's shaft wasn't overly thick, but it seemed never ending in length. 

He finally gets it all the way in. He gives both of you a second to breathe, a moment to feel your soft curves flush against his hard body. The warmth of you, the rapid pittering of your heart. Every entrancing part of you.

But it's only a small second. And then he starts moving.

His hips rock against you in needy thrusts. His pelvis slaps the fat of your ass with each movement. He can feel your sticky arousal smearing on his skin, wetting the swath of white hair down there. His fingers dig into your flesh, and he keeps pumping.

Your body bobs with his momentum. His pace doesn't have a defined rhythm to it, but it pleasures you all the same. Each stroke makes your thighs quiver and has you preening for more of his attention.

He pants against your neck, letting soft whines and groans against the safety of your skin. You roll your hips upwards to meet his hips, and that causes something else to break inside him. His hips slam into your particularly hard and nips at your neck, taking a tiny area of your flesh between his teeth.

You whine and push on him. "That hurts, Satoru," you whimper, "If you leave a mark, we're gonna get in trouble."

"You'll be fine," he breathes and lets your neck go. His eyes catch on the pretty markings left on your throat. He laps at them like he'd done earlier, brushing the pain away with the tender swipes of his tongue.

You shake your head, getting a little pouty while he had you all filled up like this. "Sugu's gonna be mad," you huff. Your voice trails off into a whiny moan that makes it hard to take you seriously.

"Don't care," he whimpers, "Need this pussy. He kept it away from me for too long."

Heat rushes through you at the thought of Satoru longing to be inside you, yearning to try out your body and have a taste.

"He can't keep me away if I fill you up with my pups though," he mumbles.

Your eyes widen, but your cunt involuntarily locks around him. You whine and shake your head. "Don't Satoru," you say.

"Mhm, I'm gonna," he pants, "Gonna knock you up and keep you mine."

The thought of being bred made every nerve on your body go haywire, lighting up with desire and all but screaming yes, yes, yes. But it was still Satoru. You didn't wanna carry babies that would come out as wild as him. Your legs squirm and kick lightly.

"Don't wanna," you whine.

"Yeah you do. Pretty bunny like you was made for it. Gonna stuff you nice and full, watch your belly swell with my knot and then my puppies," he says.

It was as if speaking it made the idea real and possible to Satoru. He's fucking you even harder now, humping your cunt like his life depends on it. It felt so good. You couldn't deny that. Made your eyes gloss up and your lips part dumbly. Slowly wiped any worries you had about the situation away.

"You're gonna be the prettiest. The most precious breeding bunny doing what you're supposed to, carrying my pups," he mutters, "Sugu won't mind, baby. He'll see how well you take to being a mama."

His thumb rubs one of your cheeks while his head presses against the other side. He knew both of you were getting close. You were all fucked out and high on the bliss, ready to cum in a few more thrusts. He could hear you mewling next to his ear, little sounds and half-coherent sentences dribbling from your lips.

"Gonna be mad," you babble, "Gonna say I'm a bad girl."

"No, he won't," he coos, "Even if he does, you'll be my good girl. My sweet little bunny to take care of. Mine to keep safe and warm while you grow our pups. Fucking this cute cunt full whenever I want."

Your eyes flutter, your mind going blank for a moment as the idea of what he said takes root. He wanted to do more than breed you. He wanted to keep you. The concept appealed to you in every natural sense. You tried to tell yourself that it was Satoru, he was still the reckless puppy whose tail would whip your thighs so hard they stung. Who'd crush you when he wanted to cuddle with both you and Suguru. But you couldn't bring yourself to care right now. Your body wanted him, wanted his cum fucked deep inside of you.

He feels you tighten up and nuzzles your neck. "Good bunny," he moans, "I'll give you what you need. You just gotta take it like the pretty breeding pet you are."

You're still wrapped around him, but your body goes loose, limp with pleasure and completely at his mercy. He follows through and keeps fucking you until he hits that special spot and rips a release from you. You shiver violently, but he holds you through. Fucks you through it too because his hips never stop.

He whines and grunts as he slides in and out of your gushing pussy. His limbs go taut when he gets close. His movements become more rigid. You feel a wave of electricity ripple through him when he cums.

He pumps his load into you, rope after rope. A few seconds later, his knot swells up inside you. You whine and scramble to grab at him, seeking relief from the stretch.

"You're ok, you can take it. Just a little bit longer," he murmurs and strokes one of your ears.

He awkwardly scoots the two of you over about a foot to the corner of your room that had a plush rug and cushions for you to lounge on while you came down. Once the two of you are situated, he rubs your tummy and noses at the curve of your neck. His knot keeps the two of you connected in the deepest sense.

Your eyes droop a little as sleepiness washes over you in the haze of post-release.

"My bunny. Better than I imagined. So perfect for me," he mutters as he also settles down into drowsiness. As tired as he was though, you could still hear his tail whacking against the pillows while the two of you lay there.

[xo-codbby]

john who figured he was too busy and impatient to deal with anyone else, he was a captain to a dangerous taskforce he couldn't possibly dedicated time to anyone else, was very gentle and tender with you no matter what you were doing. helping you through your clothes, letting you swatch makeup on his hands, being your sounding board, whatever you needed he was there. even in arguments when he finds himself snapping like he would to his team, he takes a step back and cools off alone for a few moments before coming back to you and apologising. he's not perfect but he can't imagine his life without you, the piece he had missing all this time. and he can't imagine ever letting you go

simon who had an aversion to touch, not enjoying the closeness always stuck his hand out for you wordlessly whenever you both had to go somewhere. who wanted to be cuddled in bed, who wanted to be massaged and just embraced. he didn't know how good it felt until he felt some sort of separation anxiety when you had to leave for a few days, feeling lost without your usual stroking on his back and arms. even the occasional bite mark (softly of course) on his bicep. definitely tries to get that tatted on his sleeve one day and he becomes a little more open to his team touching him but his arms always ache for you no matter what, you never need to ask him. he's always waiting for your touch

kyle who didn't much care sharing his space with anyone loved your little items around your shared space. keeping a watchful eye whenever you ran out and replacing it the next day, poking all your little trinkets with a soft touch, he even became the best plant dad making sure to water them when you couldn't. and when he's gone on long missions, he's always taking something of yours to remember by. cradling it softly after a hard deployment, holding it close to his heart. he didn't know how much he liked to have your things mingled with his, didn't know how much he would adore the domesticity of it all

johnny who lived the high life, out on the road every friday night when he wasn't working now made it home evey time for his pretty lass waiting for him. who was so used to nursing a bottle of alcohol and having women on his arms only craved your companionship and love throughout his days. even when he was working, especially when it got stressful for him, he'd take out the picture he kept deep in his pocket. softly stroking your face with his finger, a whispered promise, pressing his lips to it before he placed it back inside again. you held his heart even if he didn't know it, you had him completely wrapped your finger and he wouldn't have it another way

könig who didn't think he'd find anyone that could understand him was pleasantly surprised when you came into his life, who understood his silence and held it sacred. who knew how tough being a colonel was on some days and let him defrost in comfortable silence, his bigger frame snuggled as best as he can into yours. he usually perks right back up after but just needs a little time to relax for a few moments and just reflect, he's so grateful you understand him. and he absolutely melts at the soft touches you draw on his cheekbones, removing his sniper hood and letting his bask in your arms

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

ravish part 3

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: this is the final part of the ravish series! hope you guys enjoyed it <3 T

wc: 6k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, p in v intercourse, and sexual themes

summary: Y/N goes to Logan's cabin in Canada while she waits for him to return from Mexico. during her stay, she finds some personal mementos that give her a deeper understanding of who he really is.

"...I ain't gonna tell you again, kid, it's too dangerous." He grunted, smoothing down his beard with a hand in frustration. The roughness in his voice matched the irritation in his eyes.

You stood in front of the doorway, blocking him. 

"Why are you going if you're so concerned about safety? What if something happens to you?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. 

You weren’t just challenging him; you were demanding an explanation, the truth, something he couldn’t dodge with huffs and empty commands.

At the crack of dawn, you had ambushed Logan, catching him off guard before he could slip away into the shadows. 

The plan was simple.

Today, you weren’t separating paths; You had decided, and you weren’t about to let him just walk out without a fight.

But Logan, true to his protective nature, instantly shot down your idea, brushing it off. And now the two of you were standing there, bickering by the front door, each trying to make the other see their perspective.

"Because I can take it. You? Not so much. Now move, I gotta be somewhere." His voice was low and raspy, carrying a weight that was hard to argue with.

 He took a heavy step forward making the boards creak underneath him. He meant business, and you could tell he wasn’t in the mood to play games.

But you weren’t about to back down. 

"Then when am I going to see you again? If I can't go with you, how do I get in touch with you? You don't have a cell phone. Is there an address I can write to you?" The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

You reached out, gently touching his chest, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound almost a sigh of resignation. For a moment, the harsh lines of his face softened, and he looked at you with hurt as if he heard you for the first time this morning. 

You both shared a look of longing before you cut the silence.

"I'm not being this adamant because I want to meet up again to fuck... I told you I liked you, Logan. If you leave for Mexico and we never see each other again, we won't get to explore this. I know you like me too." You slid your hand up to rest where his neck and shoulder meet. 

"You're right sweetheart, I do....a lot... It's just, I don't know when I'll be back," he said, his voice low and careful as if trying to choose the right words. "This type of thing... it can take a while." He looked down at you through his dark lashes.

He was leaving, without you.

The pressure in your chest subsided, and from the hand he placed on your waist you knew he was also upset.

 "Do you want to see me again?" You mumbled softly.

"Of course I do." His hands came up on your shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. Logan pulled you in and pressed a long kiss on the top of your head. The warmth of his lips calmed every nerve in your body. 

He pulled away, steady, as always, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

 "But I'm sorry, you can't come. I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you." 

"Then I'll wait for you," you said, your voice calmer.

 "...Just give me a place to meet you. I don't care how long it'll take...I'll get by... I always do." You looked into his eyes, searching for some sign that he believed you, that he understood just how serious you were.

"You'll wait f'me?" His voice was softer now, almost uncertain as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying. The gears in Logan turned as he thought of something.

"Yes, anywhere, I'll wait," you answered without hesitation.

He paused, considering your words, then nodded slowly.

"How about Canada?" 

Two weeks of walking, drives, train rides and taxis. That's what it took you to get to Logan's place in Deer Lake, Alberta.

 The journey up north was a first for you, an adventure into a new landscape that felt almost picturesque.

The countryside was a living canvas; Gorgeous snow-tipped mountains towered In the distance, tucked behind miles and miles of lush trees and massive lakes that shimmered reflections of a deep sapphire blue.

Logan's home—a cabin—was located deep within an untamed forest. The remoteness of the location was astonishing, so far away from any civilization, you wondered how he survived the winters alone; the taxi driver had only been able to take you so far before the road disappeared into the wild grass, leaving nothing but a rough trail that was impassable for a vehicle. 

From there, it was up to you to make the final trek on foot.

As you walked, the gravel crunched beneath you, the sound was oddly comforting in the quiet of the forest. The air was crisp and clean, breathing had suddenly become easier in the forest. The scent of pine and cedar filled your nostrils, clearing your sinuses from any blockage they might've had.

Approaching the cabin, you noticed scattered logs and woodworking tools lying around the property. You pieced together that Logan had built this place with his own bare hands. The mess in the yard was evidence of the hard work that had gone into building this place. Each log and nail was a hommage to his skill and stubbornness. 

Of course, Logan built his own house, you mumbled. 

Your mouth fell open in awe as you took in the sight of the cabin. It was more than just a structure—it was the product of Logan's blood, sweat, and tears.

 There was something deeply personal about it, something that made you feel honoured to be allowed into this part of his life. This wasn’t just a cabin, it was his getaway from all the bad things in his life.

The cabin, his home, was a mirror image of him—rugged, enduring, and built to withstand the harshest elements.

Stepping onto the front porch, your hand grazed over the smooth wooden railings of the stairs. His craftsmanship was impeccable, each detail was carefully considered, and each board was perfectly placed. Logan had picked the perfect area to carve out for himself in this remote corner of the world.

You inserted the key he had given you before he left into the doorknob and twisted. After hearing the faint clicking noise, you pushed it open to reveal the inside. 

His home was open-concept, the entrance positioned right between the kitchen and the living room. To your left, a maroon leather loveseat sat next to a matching recliner, both perfectly aligned to face a stone-built fireplace that reached up to the ceiling. 

The walls were decorated with Indigenous paintings, each one a cultural tapestry of the land. The artwork depicted vibrant scenes of nature and various animal spirits.

To your right was a modest kitchenette, equipped with all the essentials for a life lived simply but comfortably. The centrepiece was the sturdy table and chair set that appeared to be handmade, most likely by Logan himself. 

As you ventured deeper into the space, you spun slowly in a circle, trying to take it all in, it was gorgeous. You could feel him within these walls.

 The air carried a faint, lingering scent of his cigars, a comforting reminder of him. You wondered how long it had been since he was last here, sitting by the fire, drink in hand, perhaps lost in thought. 

You entered his bedroom with a gentle push of the door, revealing a space that mirrored the simple functionality of the rest of the cabin. Like the other rooms, it was decked out with only the essentials for comfort. A large bed, a handmade dresser that stood against the wall, its wood polished smooth from years of use. There was a spacious closet, probably filled with his few belongings, and a small nightstand with a simple lamp casting a soft, warm glow.

On the nightstand, you noticed an ashtray filled with grey dust.

I wonder how many lonely nights he spent in here, you thought.

Exhausted from the long journey, you decided to call it a night. You plopped down onto Logan’s bed, the mattress was firm but welcoming and pulled the blankets around you. 

The scent of the cabin wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. As your head sank into the pillow, you found yourself drifting off almost immediately, surrounded by the quiet peace of Logan’s space.

Miss you, You mumbled before closing your eyes for the night.

Two weeks since your arrival:

Days at the cabin seemed to blend together, slipping by with an ease that was both comfortable and foreign.

 You’d been on the road for most of your short life, always on the go, always searching for the next big thing.

 But here, in this secluded corner of the world, you found yourself settling into a routine—something you hadn’t realized you craved. The mundane act of daily chores became almost therapeutic.

You had begun exploring around the cabin, finding hidden trails that led you all over the place.  One path led you to a nearby town, a small, quaint place where life moved at a slower pace. The townspeople were friendly, their lives seemingly untouched by the chaos of the world.

 You frequented the local general store for groceries, picking up a few items and some clothes to better suit this colder climate. The change in scenery was drastic for you, but you found yourself adapting, maybe even enjoying the peace that came with it.

As the days passed, the cabin began to feel like your own. The once unfamiliar space became a place of comfort, each creak of the floorboards and crackle of the fire made you unwind. 

You decided to take on some of the household chores—tasks that probably didn’t come naturally to Logan.

 Spring cleaning became your mission, tackling the tedious details he might overlook. You wiped down the insides of kitchen drawers, scrubbed the fridge, and tossed out any expired food. It felt good to take care of these small things, you were kind of being a little housewife, preparing the home for Logan's arrival.

One afternoon, while organizing the kitchen, your fingers brushed against something tucked away in the back of a drawer. 

You decided to pull it out and realized it was an old map, the paper worn and creased from what seemed years of use. 

As you unfolded it, you noticed several locations marked in red ink. The meaning of these places was a mystery, and despite studying the map for a long while, you couldn’t decipher their significance. 

Japan, Madripoor, Northern Canada, Mexico,

Puzzled, you left the map on the table. The idea was that maybe if you came back to it later, you'd see something you hadn't noticed in the first place. 

The thought occurred to you to ask Logan about it when he returned. Would he have a simple explanation or go back to shooting it down?

Over the following days, you found yourself returning to it, your fingers tracing the lines and paths, your mind wandering to what expeditions or memories these marks represented.

In these moments, you couldn't help but think, 

He’s no handyman, that’s for sure.

Three Weeks since your arrival: 

As you prepared for bed one night, the soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room in a gentle, amber light. During your bedtime routine, something caught your eye—a glint of metal in the corner of the room, just beside the dresser on the floor.

 Curious, you approached and discovered a set of dog tags lying on the floor, half-hidden beneath a loose floorboard.

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. 

Logan had been in the military. 

It was a part of his past you had no clue about, a fragment of his story that added depth to the riddle that was him. You had sensed that one night there was a darkness within him, but now, seeing these tags, you began to understand the source of that shadow—his time as a soldier, the battles fought, and the scars born. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently traced your thumb over the engravings on the tags. Each mark and number seemed to hold trauma, something that represented his time, far away from the peace of the cabin. You tried to imagine the weight of these tags around his neck during those times of darkness, and it filled you with sadness.

With a shaky breath, you wiped the tears from your cheeks. In this moment you were feeling an inexplicable connection to him through this small, metallic relic. A part of you wanted to honour his remarkable selflessness. You slipped the chain over your head and let the tags rest against your chest, giving them a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort as you tried to steady the storm of emotions inside you.

The thought of Logan facing any dangers far away in Mexico seemed almost unbearable. The weight of the dog tags felt like a physical reminder of the challenges he faced, the unknown threats he confronted, and the loneliness that came with his life of constant danger. 

He survived in the past, he'll survive again. You told yourself.

You longed to have him next to you in bed, to offer him a comforting hug, but the miles that separated you felt like an eternity away.

Four Weeks since your arrival: 

After a successful day of fishing at the lake, you returned home, enthusiastic and sopping wet from an unexpected stumble into the water. Your clothing clung to you and the chilly evening air covered your body in goosebumps. You hurried inside, eager to change into some dry clothes.

Logan’s wardrobe provided a relief. You rummaged through his drawers, searching for something comfortable to wear—a t-shirt, a pair of pyjama pants, and socks. The familiar feel of his clothes was oddly comforting, a small link to him while he was so far away. After all he did only own multiples of the same clothing articles. 

As you dug deeper into the drawer, your fingers brushed against something unexpected. You pulled out a Polaroid photo, slightly crumpled and tucked away behind other items. Intrigued, you examined it more closely.

The image was of a dark-haired woman with hazel eyes, seductively bound with ropes, completely nude and captured in a moment of intimacy. The rawness and vulnerability of the photo struck a jealous chord, and for a moment, you were taken aback. The woman’s identity didn't make sense to you at all, you knew Logan was single, and there was nothing left of a female in the cabin. Even though it might've been an old girlfriend, the discovery stirred a mix of emotions—curiosity, surprise, and discomfort. 

You couldn’t help but wonder about the context of the photo. 

Was this someone important to him? 

Did he hold onto the photo for special meaning or as a memory for him?

 Your mind raced with questions, each one feeling deeper and more personal. The photograph was intimate and private. It felt like a glimpse into a side of Logan you hadn’t seen before—one that was carefree, open and playful. 

Feeling a surge of conflicting emotions, you gently set the photo back to where it belonged, buried under piles of socks. The photo had given you a lot to think about, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just one more piece of Logan’s past that you were uncovering from spending time in his home.

As you slipped into the dry clothes, the warmth of the t-shirt and pyjama pants was comforting, but the image lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with more questions than answers about the man whose home you now shared.

Six Weeks since your arrival:

You were determined to light a fire inside the cabin tonight. But first thing first, you now needed to chop firewood since you had used up all of Logan's. You enjoyed the luxury of a nice warm fireplace every night and that wasn't going to end anytime soon. 

 The task was tougher than you anticipated. You huffed as you dragged some of the smaller logs onto the chopping block. You hoisted it up on it with all your might, wincing as you felt the rough bark scrape against your palms. The pain was sharp but didn't last long as you wiped the blood on your clothes, focusing on the task at hand. You had become a woman of the forest.

You picked up the axe, its weight heavy in your hands. Hoisting it above your head, you struggled to keep it steady. With a deep breath, you brought it down with all your might. The axe’s iron head split through the wood with a satisfying thunk, sending the splintered halves flying, making a metallic clang echo beneath one of the pieces as it hit the ground.

 Curious, you crouched down and peered underneath. To your astonishment, you discovered a hidden hatch covered by dirt and twigs. Your heart raced with excitement and curiosity. Dust clouded the air as you tugged the hatch open, revealing a narrow space underground.

You dropped to all fours and stuck your head down into the hatch, your breath mingling with the musty scent of hidden secrets. The space below was dimly lit by daylight filtering through the hatch, but even in the low light, you could make out the outline of a well-organized stash.

Inside, you found a collection of weapons—various blades and firearms neatly arranged and meticulously maintained. There were combat knives with polished handles, tactical pistols, and rifles of different calibres. Given Logan’s past military service, it made sense that he would keep a well-stocked arsenal on his property, even if it was hidden away for safety. Though it didn't seem completely out of the realm of expectations, the amount of weapons did make you question why he felt he needed that many. 

Had he needed to use them recently? 

Was he supplying a team or working alone? 

Even though you knew Logan was involved in violent organizations now, you still could not bring yourself to fear him. Your gut just kept on assuring you that he was a good guy and meant no harm to you. You also trusted his judgement, he had a kind heart and you were positive that if he were to hurt someone it would be for their good. 

With a final look at the hidden stash, you turned back to your woodpile, the task at hand feeling somehow more significant now. As you continued to chop the wood, your mind replayed the countless questions you now had for Logan upon his arrival. 

Eight Weeks since your arrival:

You were rummaging through the cabin, searching for batteries for Logan's radio. The radio had become a comforting presence during your stay, its music, a soothing aid against the isolation and the creeping paranoia that sometimes cropped on you. The constant thought of being alone in the vast wilderness, with the constant worry of a wild animal breaking through the door, made the staticky tunes a necessity for your sanity.

After scouring every possible location, you were down to your last hope—the top shelf of Logan’s closet. Balancing on your tiptoes, you stretched your arm up, hoping to feel the familiar shape of a battery package. Instead, your hand brushed against something sharp. You pulled your hand back quickly, wincing as you noticed a shard of glass embedded in your fingertip.

Curiosity got the better of you. 

Determined, you grabbed a kitchen chair and carefully positioned it beneath the closet shelf. You climbed onto the chair and reached up again, this time with more caution, and found the source of the sharp sensation—a broken picture frame.

Carefully, you lifted the frame and inspected it, noticing the fragments of glass that had scattered around. You set the frame gently on the floor, making sure not to cut yourself further, and turned it over to reveal the photograph behind the glass.

The picture was old and slightly faded, but it was clear enough to see the faces of those it depicted. Logan was in the center, surrounded by  X-Men members you recognized: Jean Grey, with her vibrant red hair; Cyclops, his visor unmistakable even in this casual setting; and Storm, her white hair flowing with almost ethereal grace. They were all posed together, their faces lit with genuine smiles and laughter, capturing a good, warm moment.

As you examined the photo, a wave of realization washed over you. You had heard of the X-Men in stories and legends, but you had never imagined Logan was connected to them, let alone be one of them. The presence of these iconic figures, the heroes you had only known through tales and news reports, was a clear indication that Logan was once part of something extraordinary.

This photograph was more than just a snapshot; it was a revelation of his identity. Logan was not just a lonely man with a mysterious past—he was a mutant, a member of the X-Men, a hero with a legacy that spanned beyond what you had ever understood. The contrast between the vibrant camaraderie of the photo and the isolated, battle-worn figure you knew was striking.

What in the world had led him to such loneliness and solitude? 

Why was the picture broken, had he done that to it? 

As you held the frame, you felt sympathy and awe. This discovery added a new layer of complexity to your understanding of him. These were the people who had shaped him, and it deepened your appreciation for them.

You were fast asleep until the bedroom door creaked open, and your eyelids flew open in response.

Logan.

You turned over to turn on the lamp.

His complexion had deepened from the sun in Mexico, and his hair had grown out a bit, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He looked down at you with tired eyes and a soft, relieved smile. You had fulfilled your promise and waited for him. 

"Logan," you rasped, your voice thick with sleep. You had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

"Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you," he whispered, approaching you and kneeling beside the bed. His hand reached out to brush some stray hairs away from your face, a tender gesture that made your heart swell.

You didn’t care about being woken up. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He returned it with equal strength, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you as if he might never let go. 

You inhaled deeply, taking in his scent—different, altered by time and distance, yet still undeniably him. His hand slid behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled you against him.

"I missed you so much," you mumbled into his shirt, your voice muffled by the fabric but laced with raw emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to loosen your grip on him.

"So did I, princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He gently nudged you back, signalling for you to look at him.

You met his hazel eyes with your own, now glistening with tears. He used his thumb to gently wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one filled with longing and love. 

His lips claimed yours hungrily, his hands cupping your face, holding you in place as if to make up for all the lost time. You melted into him, surrendering to the moment, to the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the warmth of his touch.

For the past two months, he had thought of you every single day, the memory of you his constant companion amid chaos. There were moments when he had considered abandoning everything just to return to you, but he knew the importance of his mission. He had told himself that if he could endure the pain, and the heartache of being away, he would be rewarded with the sweetest reunion.

His lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw, planting soft kisses along the way. He found the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your fingers instinctively gripped the back of his neck, holding him closer, wanting more. The sensation of his touch after so long sent chills down your spine, a reminder of the connection you shared. You tilted your head back, giving him full access, and his mouth left warm, wet trails on your skin as he explored further.

But then, without warning, he suddenly pulled away. You let out a small whine at the loss of his warmth, your eyes searching for his.

His gaze had dropped to your chest, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Lo?" you asked softly, following his gaze. Then you saw it—the dog tags.

His fingers traced the ball chain with a calloused touch, the metal cool against your skin as he followed its curve. You felt a shiver run through you, not just from the contact but from the significance of the moment.

"I found them," you said quietly, placing your hand over his, pressing it to your chest, where your heartbeat had begun to race. "I had no clue that you had served... You know, I learned a lot about you while you were gone."

He didn’t respond immediately, just kept his eyes down, focused on your hands entwined over the dog tags.

"What did you learn?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know who you are, Logan... I know what you are, and I'm not scared," you said, your voice trembling with sincerity.

 "I have an idea of what you were doing down in Mexico, and I know you have the best intentions at heart. I trust you and your judgment. So, if you had to... hurt people... there, I know it’s because they deserved it. I'm not going anywhere, Logan. I'm just happy you're back and safe."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You sure?" he asked, his voice filled with a vulnerability that took you by surprise.

You nodded, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering determination.

 "I'm sure. You're home now, and that's all that matters to me. I'm all yours," You pulled him in for another kiss. 

Logan's fire lit within him: you were all his. 

He matched your energy once more, feeding the primal hunger that had been eating at him all this time.  Your lips locked and tongues trailed on top of each other in ecstasy. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth before biting down on it gently as he had taught you. He groaned in your mouth, gripping your hips tightly, his nails dug into your sides. 

"Lay down baby," He mumbled against your lips. You obliged, letting your back fall on the mattress, Logan hovered over you, taking in the sight of your body. His eyes trailed up and down, savouring every inch of your body for his memory. 

"You're so fucking pretty," He cooed resuming his place on your neck. You flinched from the sudden stimulation, a surprised moan escaping your lips. 

He licked his way down to the neckline of your shirt, you gripped the sheets behind you as the excitement built in your lower abdomen. 

With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, Logan extended his arm, and you heard a metallic *snikt* as his claws slid out from between his knuckles. The room, which had been filled with the warmth of your reunion, now hummed with a different kind of energy—something raw and vulnerable.

You stared, wide-eyed, as the three gleaming metal blades emerged from his hand, each one impossibly sharp and perfectly aligned. They reflected the dim light in the room, casting slender, shimmering lines across the walls.

For a moment, you could do nothing but observe them in stunned amazement. This was the ability, the weapon that had been a part of him for so long, and he was sharing it with you; how special.

You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers trembling as they hovered near the metal. Logan's eyes met yours, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation. But you felt none. Instead, there was a deep curiosity, a need to understand this part of him.

Gently, you let your fingers brush against the surface of one of the blades. The metal was cold and smooth, the edges impossibly sharp. You marvelled at how something so deadly could be a part of the man you loved. It was hard to wrap your mind around it—how could flesh and bone give rise to something so unnatural, so extraordinary?

"They're beautiful," You hummed in delight, looking up at him with the warmest smile. 

"You're something else, aren't you?" He sighed relieved.

With a swift movement, he cut your shirt down the middle, your breasts falling out. 

"Logan-" You gasped in surprise, his smile turned dark as he retracted the claws back inside. 

"Was in my way," He smirked, dropping his face to your chest and sucking one of your nipples in his mouth. His free hand immediately finds your other one, palming your flesh, toying with your sensitive nipples with his fingers. You moan loudly, arching your back into his skilled maneuvers. It felt amazing but you needed more. More touch. More friction. More Logan. 

With a distinctive pop, he releases your nipple from his grasp.

"Please," You breathed needily. You were feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment.

He admired you from below; how your hand was gripped in the sheets over your head, how your eyelids were just barely open with lust. He kissed his way down from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a few of his marks on your body. Gentle ones of course. 

“I'm going to make you feel good, okay sweetheart?” Logan soothes, pulling down the pyjama pants down your legs with ease. You helped him remove them frantically, knowing what was about to happen next.

 “Okay, Lo-” He tosses the bottoms to the other side of the room and spreads your legs wide open for him.

“Fuck baby," He groaned as he admired your perfectly shaped core, already dripping and aching for him. 

He brought his hands to your folds, spreading them open with his thumbs. You twitched underneath his touch eager to feel some release. 

"Been thinking about doing this for a long time," He mumbled before diving face-first into you. His tongue made contact with your sensitive bud sending your back into an aggressive arch. He started slowly, licking long fat lines. You twitched at every flick of his tongue on your clit. 

He slid both of his hands to grip your thighs roughly, pushing them further open for him. He picks up his pace, moving his jaw faster against you. Your wetness drenched his face, dripping from his chin as he lapped rhythmically with his skilled tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to inch you closer to your breaking point. 

"You taste just as good as the first time," He praised between breaths before sucking your clit into his mouth. His warm soft lips wrapped around it tightly as he pushed against it causing the most delicious friction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation. 

You were already close, you hadn't touched yourself during his absence and even the slightest touch was sending you near the edge. 

Logan was growing painfully hard against his jeans, every whimper and moan that escaped your lips made the pressure increase. How he adored having you in his mouth, seeing you up close like this, tasting your sweet honey on his tongue while your intoxicating smell filled his senses. 

He gave a slite bite on your clit as he recalled you enjoyed that last time. With a fuck, your hands snapped to his hair, grabbing fistfuls. He grinned against you doing it again, as he pressed a finger against your entrance, slowly pushing his fingers inside. You gasped as he stretched you out. While keeping up his momentum with his tongue he began to pump his fingers with it. Both points of friction accelerated your rise to your orgasm.

You’re a whimpering mess underneath him, you try to mask the noise by biting down on the pillow.

 “Don't hold back, I want to hear those pretty noises you're making darlin', ” Logan praises, thrusting deeper inside, all the way to his knuckles. You release the material from your teeth, letting out a 'gonna cum logan,'

"Cum for me princess," He moans, high off of the pleasure of eating you out. He’s devouring you, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit. He bites down again, pulling back his fingers outside of you, you moan at the sensation. He pulls his face away from your swollen clit and slaps his hand down on your core. 

Your hips buck in surprise and the slight sharpness of the pain tips you over the edge, before you know it you're rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Logan rubs his rough palm on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, he pulls you closer by your neck and kisses you aggressively. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body down so that his chest is flush with yours. “Need you inside,” you beg, lips against his. “Need you inside.”

Logan gets up and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, discarding it in some corner of the room. He drinks in the sight of your post-orgasm frame, trying to catch your breath as he fiddles with his belt. With a few clinking noises and a zip, he pushed his jeans down, his cock springing out aggressively. 

He returns to his position on the bed, between your legs. His lips come crashing down on yours as he strokes it a few times to ease the tension. "Are you sure, baby? It might be a little much for you, I'm more than happy with just eating you out." He locks eyes with you, looking for your approval.

You grin. "I'm yours, Logan, I'm sure." You pull him in for another kiss as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance. Your body jolts in surprise by the sheer size of it, but with every inch he goes deeper, the more you get used to him. You moan into his mouth as he works his way into you.

His lips are on yours, he’s plunging into you slowly, down to the hilt. “Fuck,” he groans, his cock throbbing inside you. “You're so fucking tight,” he murmurs, buried deep inside of you. “I might not last long,” He lets out a dry laugh before thrusting in and out.

Your hands find themselves gripping Logan's back muscles, grazing your nails across his skin. He groaned as the stinging sensation began to tingle. 

“Taking me so well,” Logan praises, ducking into your neck and sucking on it. He pumps along your walls, his hips snapping against yours. His pace picks up, thrusts becoming faster. Your entrance squeezed around his girth as he pounded deep inside you. 

"Fuck," He grunts between breaths.

He rams into you. Over and over, his sensitive tip enveloped you, warm and wet.

 “I'm so happy I'm yours,” you moan. " Always gonna be yours.” His cock twitches at your words. You watch as his abs flex, his muscles tightening and releasing with every thrust.

 The kisses on your neck became sloppy, and his thrusts were irregular. 

His cock twitches inside you again, throbbing against your walls. You know he's close because he's moaning and pulls away from your neck looking for your eyes. 

His muscles flex as he finds your face, and he throws his head back mindlessly pumping his warm hot seed inside of you. His hands softly stroking your thigh as he comes back to his senses.

With a few other pumps, he pulls out dropping next to you in the bed. He pulls you close keeping your head on his chest. You hear his heart hammering against his ribcage. 

"That was so-"

"Needed." He finished

"Yes, needed." You agreed, tracing circles against his chest as he caught his breath.

A moment of silence passed, and you both comfortably enjoyed each other's company.

As the quiet stretched between you, the soft hum of the night outside filtered into the room, making the moment feel even more serene. Logan’s heartbeat began to slow, and the steady rhythm beneath your fingertips was soothing. You felt completely at peace in his arms, as if the chaotic world beyond the four walls of the bedroom didn’t exist.

He shifted slightly, adjusting to pull you even closer, his chin resting on the top of your head. His hand drifted to your back, tracing lazy lines along your spine, the touch intimate and grounding. It was moments like this where words weren’t necessary. The connection between you spoke louder than anything you could say.

"You okay?" Logan murmured, breaking the silence in a voice so low it was barely above a whisper. His tone was soft, tender, almost as if he feared disturbing the quiet that had settled between you.

You nodded against his chest. "More than okay," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their idle patterns against his skin. "I’m happy you’re here. Really here."

His arms tightened around you in response. "I’m not going anywhere," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a promise, the kind he rarely made.

A content sigh escaped your lips as you nuzzled deeper into his embrace, the scent of him—familiar and grounding—filling your senses. His warmth enveloped you, lulling you into a state of complete relaxation. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant, and all that mattered was this moment, with him by your side.

As the minutes passed, you both drifted into a comfortable stillness, your breaths synchronizing, the only sound being the soft rustle of the sheets and the steady beat of Logan’s heart beneath your ear. This was all you needed—him, right here, with you.

As you closed your eyes, drifting on the edge of sleep, Logan’s hand gently tightened on your hip, and in a low, teasing murmur, he whispered, "Next time, I’m going to ravish you all over again."

sorry it took so long, I started uni <3 love you guys and thank you for enjoying the Ravish series. hope yall request or stick around for more.

🏷️:@babucakes@landlockedmermaid77@theoraekenslover@loreniscrying@bpmiranda @rogueinmymind @lose1tall @2fatblunt @ltristessedureratoujours @th3mrskory @angelofthorr @strawberrylore

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[ultravi0lence14]

Rhiannon

dean winchester x hippie!reader

1.4k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: as stevie nicks once said; wouldn’t you love to love her. dean could agree with that statement. one hundred percent.

*based on this request

the early morning sun shined in through your window, arrays of pinks, purples and blues mixing in from the multiple coloured crystals and little stained glass designs you had bought. this is why dean loved coming to your apartment. the atmosphere. all the comfort and peace the you had brought into it.

you were the calm that dean needed in his hectic life. the anchor the held him down when things got too much.

he met you when sam had left for stanford, the wounds fresh as he threw back shot after shot in a dingy bar. you were just passing through, a couple of miles away from your apartment and needing to quickly stop somewhere to use the bathroom.

dean’s eyes caught you moving across the bar, the way your jeans hugged your lower half and the flower pattern on your tank top drawing him in. when you retreated from the ladies room, dean was on you like a predator on prey, attempting to elicit a little one night stand.

but you politely declined. though when you tried to walk away from the beaten down man, you saw something else entirely in his eyes.

he looked sad, and you couldn’t help but a feel a bit of empathy for the guy in front of you.

that is how you were raised. your parents telling you to always look for the good in people, being aware of emotions. you weren’t stupid, you understood when people were trying to take advantage of you. but you just liked to be helpful, wanting to make an impact one person at a time.

for the rest of the night, you sat with dean in a booth as he rambled on about his brother and what had happened. he told you that he understood why sam wanted to go on to get a higher education, but he just couldn’t understand why it had to be so far away; why it made their father so angry.

you comforted him the best to your ability. explaining that sometimes people needed a change in their life, and just because his brother left for university doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

when you both went your separate ways in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble in dean’s step. he knew he was too intoxicated to drive, and was fully prepared to sleep in the impala stationed in the parking lot of the bar.

something inside of you believed that you needed to be of help to this man. and in hindsight, you did the stupidest thing you possibly could’ve done. the one thing parents always warned their kids not to do.

you invited dean to crash at your place.

it was dumb, you knew that. you had just met dean, and he could be an axe murderer for all you know. but the guy was really going through it. and he was so drunk, that you believed the weight of any harmful object in his hands would probably knock him down.

that night, dean slept on your couch, peaceful snores leaving his lips as you slept comfortably in your bed. when he woke up in the morning, dean completely forgot where he was. and then it all came back to him. seeing you in the bar, trying to sleep with you, you turning him down, which then turned into a therapy session that landed him to crash on your couch.

dean was fully planning on leaving, but he couldn’t help himself in taking a peak around your place.

from the couch, he could see the multitude of plants and flowers the covered your living space. it was like a garden, a comforting vibe that also warranted a lovely smell to the home.

there was colour all over the place. from the stained glass lamps on coffee tables to the rows of crystals hanging on string in front of your window. everything was so bright and colourful, and dean couldn’t help himself but stare at the moving colours across the wall.

he also smelt a lingering lavender smell, which was then over powered by the aroma of bacon and pancakes coming from somewhere else in your home. dean couldn’t help himself, he loved bacon. so like a man hypnotized, he followed the debilitating scent of bacon that lingered throughout the air.

as he made his way into the kitchen, he found that the rest of your home was just like the living area. adorned by breezy light pink curtains was a small window over your sink, housing mini plants a crystals alike. there were flowers everywhere. an arrangement by the stove, on the counter, even in the sink. it was overwhelming, but in a good way.

“wow,” he mumbled, groggily slumping into one of the bar stools in front of your counter. “that’s a lot of flowers.”

dean’s voice brought a laugh from your lips, making him look over to where you stood by the stove, stacking pancakes possibly as tall as he was. to this day, dean doesn’t know what it was in the room. all the flowers and greenery, the slight breeze from the open window, maybe it was just your intoxicating beauty. but at that very moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

you just looked so pretty. the long white skirt falling loosely on your hips. the simple black t shirt that made a perfect canvas for the two braids you put in your hair. he looked down to notice that you were wearing crazy coloured striped socks on your feet, and dean couldn’t help but smile at the little pop of colour that you added to your otherwise basic outfit.

bringing over two plates of breakfast, you sat beside dean at the counter and ate together, just talking and getting to know one another.

it was a simple morning, filled with laughs and weird fun facts that you two threw each others way. when you told him you planned to go to the farmers market, dean couldn’t help himself in taking your offer to come with.

he had never even been to one, not even caring in the slightest for what they had to offer. but some part of dean didn’t want this day to end, and in his heart, he knew he wanted to get to know you more.

you two spent the late morning walking around the farmers market, you grabbing some fresh produce and more crystals as dean took in his surroundings. some of the people he saw looked a little weird, but he knew they probably meant well, and that everything here honestly wasn’t so bad.

when you had grabbed a couple assortments of flowers, telling dean you planned to make some flower crowns at home, he also couldn’t resist in coming back to your place and weaving the stems together by your side.

you two were in a comfortable silence, weaving the crowns in synchrony when dean couldn’t help but break it. “why do you like flowers so much? i can’t help but notice how many you have in your living room alone.”

his words elicited a gorgeous smile from you, and you then went on to explain why you held them so dearly to your heart. “there is just something so beautiful about a flower. they start from a simple seed, then grow into something amazing. i know that probably sounds dumb and i might sound insane, but i just love the whole ideology of it.

“that isn’t dumb, and you most definitely don’t sound insane.” dean had placed his flowers on the ground, slowly reaching out to grab your hand. “in my life, i have to look for the good things at any chance i can find. it’s sometimes nice to have a flower grow out of a bad situation.”

his words brought a soft smile to your lips, and you squeezed his hand before going back to your weaving. “you know, i didn’t expect you to go so philosophical on me there winchester.”

dean grinned back, grabbing his flowers again and following your motions. “well, i’m just full of surprises, flower.”

after that, you and dean spent so much time together. and when dean finally got the courage to kiss you for the first time, it was like everything was more clear to him.

he understood sam’s leaving, and he even tried to reach out to him. he started coming into his own, becoming his own person and even fighting back to his father when he called you a temporary distraction.

that was all years ago. and now, as dean laid beside you, checking his phone to see if sam texted him about any cases, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for all that you’ve done for him.

with a kiss on your cheek, and a mumbled, “i love you, flower,” dean peacefully fell back asleep with you in his arms, completing him in ways he never knew he needed.

[satowooo]

Marriage of Convenience with Geto Suguru

pt 1.

arranged husband!geto x fem!reader

contents: fluff, jealous!reader, slow burn trope, suguru is a little whipped, soft!suguru, words of affirmations

cw: nsfw, a bit dirty talks, breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), missionary

link for pt. 2

***

arranged husband!geto suguru being the stoic and cold man in the relationship, despite how he already found you so beautiful the first time his family introduced you to him.

arranged husband!geto suguru who simply asked you about your hobbies and interests while you two walked through the garden of his clan's home just to get to know you, maintaining a serious and professional tone of his voice.

arranged husband!geto suguru who was shocked hearing your soft voice as you two talked about how your arrangement will work. when you said you don't expect love from him and promised to do your duties as his wife, his heart ached a bit.

arranged husband!geto suguru who showed you your new home, watching as your mouth gaped open at the big mansion. he chuckled when he saw how your eyes widened even more when he told you he designed the house.

arranged husband!geto suguru who felt sorry he had to leave the first morning of living together as a married couple due to handling the clan's business, saying he'll come home as quickly as he could. when you gave him a nod and a small smile, he knew you were only being understanding as his wife, and as having the first day together.

arranged husband!geto suguru who came home tired and asked how you are at the dining table. "fine, i'm still trying to get used to this arrangement," you said truthfully. suguru appreciated the fact that you were always straightforward since the first time you met, and he was making sure to make adjustments for you so you'd be comfortable.

"how about your bed? is it to your comfort?" he asked like a professional businessman. you nodded your head as a response. "if you get uncomfortable, or if there's anything not in your liking, please do tell me so i can get something better for you."

arranged husband!geto suguru who took you to adventure the big mansion. exploring every corner of the house, and even outside the gardens.

"why did you construct such a big house for two people?" you asked. "i know there are a few servants too, but still... it's a little big."

"it's just enough for a family." his own attempt of a joke didn't come out as one because of the seriousness in his voice. and he almost chuckled at the way you blushed.

he coughed, and then proceeded to lead you to another part of the garden.

arranged husband!geto suguru who's been nothing but an attentive partner as the days gone by. he'd ask you about how your day is after spending time at work, taking you at business events, making sure to spend every dinner with you so you won't feel alone, and walking you to your bedroom since you two slept separately. it was a mutual understanding arrangement, and you made sure you do your part of the deal as well.

arranged husband!geto suguru who said no when you asked him if he's going to work. "it's my day off," he said. you gave a small nod of understanding as you two ate breakfast together, with you feeling a bit awkward at the atmosphere. you were a bit used to him not being at home most days, especially in the morning during your breakfasts.

arranged husband!geto suguru who asked if you'd like to have a picnic with him. and suguru was shocked when you agreed, saying it was your first time having one.

arranged husband!geto suguru who took you somewhere far beyond the woods along your mansion. it was in front of a beautiful pond that you didn't know existed, and you two settled at the blanket he laid out for the two of you. both of you sat in silence, with the picnic basket being in the middle of you two.

arranged husband!geto suguru who asked, "don't you miss being at home?" and you shake your head in response. "why? if it's okay for me to ask..."

"all i did there was read, and taught how to be prim and proper." you shake your head at the memory. "teaching me how to be an obedient lady, so when i get married, I won't disappoint my partner. it was boring."

the silence almost felt suffocating, and you jerked your head at him as you blushed. "im sorry... i think i said too much."

suguru quickly shakes his head. "no, no... i'm thankful that you're honest. and i'm sorry you have to live through that."

"it's fine. i mean, i'm doing good at the job, am i?"

arranged husband!geto suguru who blinked once, or twice, when he heard you say that. and it was slowly processing on his mind, and he didn't want to make you feel like you're just a doll made for a husband. "don't think such thoughts."

you were shocked when he said that, with his cold, baritone voice. "w-what?"

arranged husband!geto suguru who reached his hand to touch your cheeks, slowly surrendering to his feelings. "you're not just a mere wife that i need for appearances in business. although it is a clan's decision for us to be married, i want you... to act like yourself. do whatever you want, and not cage your life in this marriage... you're not just a wife, you're a person too..."

arranged husband!geto suguru who searched your eyes as he said those words. you were speechless, and almost trembling. it was the first time someone said such a thing to you, and you felt your heart almost explode in your chest as suguru leaned in and sealed your lips in a kiss.

arranged husband!geto suguru who invaded your mouth in a passionate kiss, like how he used to dream of. his tongue licking your bottom lip to seek for entrance. but his eyes shot open when you pulled away with a heavy gasped.

arranged husband!geto suguru who became worried he might have crossed the line, but his breath hitched when you spoke, "I'm sorry... it's my first time, I don't know how to kiss..."

he smiled, chuckling as he brought you to his lap, "there's a lot of time for practice." he said before kissing your lips once again.

arranged husband!geto suguru who finally had his tongue in your mouth, dancing with yours in a harmony. his hands roamed around your curves, stopping on your ass and giving it a light squeeze. he almost groaned when you moaned against his mouth at the action.

arranged husband!geto suguru kisses your neck, and then your collarbone, sucking and nibbling gently. "fuck... you taste so good..."

when he pulled away, he looked at your flushed face, feeling a sense of pride in him that he made you feel like this. despite his desires, he didn't want to go too far just yet. he smiled, and gave you a soft peck, "let's head home."

and together, you walked hand in hand as you walked back to your house.

arranged husband!geto suguru who became a little affectionate after that encounter. stealing a kiss from your lips, and even pecking your cheeks when he was about to leave. he'd snuggle his face on your shoulder when you two stand a little too close, and he'd grin when you moan after kissing a sensitive spot on your neck.

"my baby is so responsive..." he'd chuckle, and you'll blush at the endearment.

arranged husband!geto suguru who eyes you worriedly when you become silent after coming home together in a business event. you two walked at the front door, and you never uttered a word as you walked to the stairs.

"baby, what's wrong?" he pulled you by your wrist when you almost reached your bedroom. he cupped your cheeks, forcing you to make eye contact.

"nothing, just tired."

"liar." he frowned. he leaned in, kissing your lips once. and then twice. and thrice. and here comes a fourth one, and another one after another one, until you're struggling to push him away as he kisses you repeatedly. "not stopping until you tell me."

and you surrendered easily. "fine..."

arranged husband!geto suguru felt his heart combust when you told him you've been jealous the whole night as plenty of women were looking at him hungrily. he bit his lips, trying to contain his smile when you said you were taking note of the girls who tried to flirt with him during the business event.

he couldn't even stop himself from smiling even more when you turned furiously at him, "are you making fun of me?"

"no, baby." he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. "you're just so fucking cute when you're like this." he said as he pushes you through the door of your bedroom, slamming it shut while his lips were locked into yours.

"you're mine." he said against your lips, his hands slowly undressing you until you're fully naked on the bed.

arranged husband!geto suguru admired your body. his hands explored every inch of your skin as if he was trying to memorize it, his eyes were lustful yet filled with affection. you pulled him by his necktie, whining as you say, "kiss me more, please?"

he obliged to your orders as he helped you unbutton his shirt until he was only left with his boxers. his kisses became rough, as if in a hurry to taste you in his mouth once again, as if it was the first time he was kissing you.

arranged husband!geto suguru groaned when he pushed his middle and ring finger on your wet folds, sliding in easily. "you're so wet... all for me..." he breathed against your earlobe, biting and sucking at the skin of your neck.

you moaned softly as he began stretching you out, fingering you slowly at first before gradually increasing his pace. your toes curled at the sensation, and your thigh almost tried to close if only he wasn't holding you still. your breath hitched when you suddenly felt his breath fanning your pussy, you didn't even realized his face was already between your thighs.

arranged husband!geto suguru who ravishes your wet pussy like a starved man. alternating between licking and sucking as his free hand plays with your clit, making sure you feel everything at once.

his fingers thrusts her insides greedily, eager to make her cum on his face as his tongue continued to suck. when she let out a strangled cry, he smirked to himself as he felt her reaching her orgasm, making sure to drink every essence of her.

arranged husband!geto suguru removed his underwear, revealing his long, throbbing cock. it was veiny, and pinkish at the tip as it was spilling pre cum, angrily standing up. he stroke his cock while maintaining eye contact with her, "see this, baby? you did that to me."

"suguru..." you stutter. "that won't fit..."

he chuckled at your blushing face. "i already prepped you enough, baby. it'll fit perfectly."

arranged husband!geto suguru slowly pushes his tip inside your pussy, sliding in slowly as he watches your face contort in both discomfort and pleasure. "you okay, darling?"

you nodded your head, pulling him by the torso so he'd push it in more.

"it'll hurt, but i'll be gentle." he whispered against your ear.

arranged husband!geto suguru hushes you as he slips in his full length. leaving soft kisses on your cheek. "shh, you can take it, baby... i know you can, come on... yeah? see, i'm all in..."

you moaned in discomfort, your virginity tearing away. "sugu..."

"shhh, it's okay... tell me when to move." he said, caressing your tummy.

arranged husband!geto suguru moved slowly when you gave him the green light. his thrusts were gentle, as he promised. making sure you were enjoying this as much as he did.

"fuck! you're so tight. you're sucking me in..." his groans turned you on even more as he thrust into you. "take it all... fuck it..."

"Ohhh... Suguru... faster..."

that's all it took for Suguru to lose all his control as his hips slammed into yours in a merciless pace. he rammed his dick into you harshly, his hands came to grasp your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipple.

Their moans filled the room, together with the slapping of their wet skin. you were almost reaching your high, and you were crying out at the intense pleasure that suguru was giving you.

his cock filled you to the brim as he thrusts his hot seed inside, together with your orgasm. pants heavily as his pace started to slow down, keeping his cock inside you as his head snuggled on your neck.

"suguru..." you moaned softly after your release.

"hmm?" he hummed. "you did so well for me, baby."

arranged husband!geto suguru woke up the next day with you snuggled in his chest. he groaned as he felt your bare legs wrapped around his torso, his cock perfectly placed right between your thighs. he mentally took note not to sleep with you naked, so he wouldn't have a morning wood so early in the morning.

as he shuffles in bed, you woke up yawning, "sugu?"

he stopped moving, gently caressing your hair. "im sorry... did i wake you up?"

you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him to pull him close, your pussy practically pressed on him. you didn't even mind it since you were too sleepy to think.

"fuck, babe... i can't focus if you're like this..." he groaned.

"h-huh?" you whispered, eyes half-closed.

and that's simply how your morning sex started. with him sliding his cock inside you as you moaned, fully awake at the pleasure. when he finally got it out of his system, he carried you to the bathroom to clean you up, but still not wasting the chance to slide himself inside you from the back under the shower.

once you were both cleaned, he helped you dry your hair and put your clothes on, carrying you to the vanity table since you told him your legs hurt. he massage your shoulders as his hand combed your hair. "feel better?"

"a little sore down there."

Suguru smiled to himself.

***

pt. 2, pt. 3

so... uhmm... this is my first fic and im not sure if i did fine. im sorry for the grammatical errors and spellings 😭

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Ovulation is a Bitch™ - SFW-ish

AO3

18+ MDNI - Tumblr Exclusive

CW: Sex mentioned in vague detail.

John had found a property that would fit everyone. The original house had an addition added sometime in the last ten years. The extra space roughed out to a room per person, minus Johnny who would be sharing with Simon. They took the largest room since it would be housing them both. You got the next largest room despite all arguments. John put his foot down as the ‘owner’ and assigned the rooms out. The kitchen, dining space, and living room all ran together from the front door, two bedrooms extending behind the kitchen. The other

The last of the moving boxes were getting broken down and put in the bin. Moving had been quite a process, trying to decide which of the several options of everything everyone owned you had taken Kyle aside to beg him to convince John to buy a new set of everything for the new house to avoid the headache of trying to find where to store three couches, four kitchen tables, and five separate kitchen sets. John always listened best to Kyle.

Lord only knows how but Kyle convinced everyone (but they wouldn’t let you offer up even a single piece of money) to pool in and buy the biggest couch you had ever seen and a TV to match. If your opinion on the choice of color or which table to bring home held greater weight? Well, you wouldn’t fight them on this front.

Simon would be cooking and Johnny, who was not allowed to touch the stove after the last incident, would rotate around him prepping things for Simon to cook no matter what it was. Finally, after stepping on his lover a few times Simon would pin Johnny to the counter by the hips, kiss him firmly on the lips, and send him to sit next to you as you smirked into your coffee cup. Watching those two dance around each other in the kitchen became one of your favorite pastimes.

It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t so fucking hot.

You were asexual. The understanding of your sexuality sat firm and undeniable in your soul. Except when you were ovulating. The bitch that is your uterus did not care that your soul and mind were finally in agreement, she wanted to be fucked into the mattress and given a baby.

It wasn’t just Simon and Johnny. It was Kyle with his skin that looked so smooth and smelled divine, Gary and his pheromones wafting off him as he slams the front door behind him after a run, and John and his fucking beard that you want to paw through like a cat as he is buried to the hilt in you.

You couldn’t ask that of any of them. The lines you had drawn after they asked you to choose were deep. How did you step over those without confusing the boundaries?

Standing abruptly, you announce to the room you are going on a walk. Kyle and Gary had entered the kitchen sometime while you were sucked into the vortex of your thoughts. Nodding once to yourself of your intentions you leave the kitchen, ignoring all the unspoken communication that must be going on behind your back.

You run into John when you leave your bedroom dressed for your walk. The slight moan that escapes your mouth when you physically slam into him is ignored on both sides.

“Going somewhere fun?” John settles a hand on your back, chest, and stomach flush with the side of his body.

Polyamory as an ace person had been such a delight. You could snuggle with any of them, offer or accept kisses as needed, tickle or tease as needed to help someone out of a funk, and never expect anything more. Right now, though? You fought the urge to rip your flesh off; John’s body against yours fired off every signal in your uterus that you strained to ignore.

“Just a walk,” you smile and step away to retrieve your shoes from the rack next to the front door.

“Sounds delightful, I’ll come if you don’t mind.” John grabbed his own shoes, settling next to you on the couch and skillfully knotting his laces.

Your find stagnates on all the knots he must know that could hold you in place while he makes you feel better. Fingers stilling on your shoes it takes John kneeling before you and replacing his hands with your own to draw you back into your skull and out of your uterus. He handles the task with the competence he does everything before slipping his hand in yours and keeping you close as you leave the house. If your bits throb the entire walk? No one’s business.

The mile loop is enough to take the barest hint of the edge off your desires. John had a way of settling you and making you laugh all at once. It would have been enough if Gary hadn’t come to find you.

Head deep in your closet looking for the vibrator you knew you had packed over from the flat you shared with Simon, you smelt him first. The raw and masculine scent of him called to you, petrichor to your parched lady bits. Biting your lip so hard you nearly drew blood you straightened up.

“Hi Gary, whatcha needing?”

Have you seen my toiletries? I know I moved them over but no one has seen them since we got back from our last mission.

Searching through your memories you can’t recall a single instance of seeing any bottles that weren’t immediately claimed.

“No, but I can show you which ones are mine and you can use those until you get a chance to order some more of yours. Does that work?” You look up at him and smile.

He nods, stepping into your room to offer you a hand up.

Taking it was a mistake.

As you stand you can see the shimmer of sweat across the width of his throat and upper chest and all you want to do is lick him.

You must freeze for too long. Gary crooks a finger beneath your chin and lifts until his questioning face matches yours.

“Gary, I need help,” you whisper.

“Anything-ng-ng,” he whispers back.

“Fuuuuck,” your eyes roll back into your head. He could have said anything but that and you would have been able to talk yourself out of asking.

Stepping around him, you trail your fingers across his abs as you reach for your door, shutting and locking it.

Curling your fingers still on him you hug him from behind, burying your nose between his shoulder blades.

“You know I’m asexual right?”

“Ye-ye-s?” Even his stutter seems to question you.

“Sometimes I still want sex. Only when I’m ovulating, but I swear it’s worse because it only happens one day out of twenty-eight,” you press your nose into him further, taking in a deep breath of satisfying man smell.

He waits. Gary had been government-trained to observe until he could draw solid conclusions.

“The help I need is sexual. I can’t find my vibrator and if I have to look at any one of you deliciously strong, good-smelling men I am going to start to bite like a rabid dog.” Your fingers tighten down on the ribbed tank top and the muscles below them. “Nothing will change in the day-to-day and if that doesn’t work for you, I won’t ask.”

His breath hitches both in your ears and under your touch. The air clicks on, the gentle rush of air entering your room now. Screwing your eyes shut you wait for rejection in the darkness you have created.

Gary’s fingers trail over the back of your hands, peeling them from his shirt. You shift from foot to foot, waiting for the embarrassment to start. Instead of him releasing your hands he brings them to his lips and kisses the tip of each finger. When that is completed, he turns and cradles your face, eyes shining as he searches for confirmation.

“Please Gary,” you whine, waiting for his decision.

He crashes into you like a wave meeting shore, lips fusing with yours.

Taking everything you can from him leaves you feeling half-satisfied. Thank all the gods you bought a new pack of condoms on your last shopping trip; the last ones had expired. It had been over a year since you could reliably have a partner, you didn’t dare have anyone over when Simon might appear at any moment. Taking care of your own needs had never been a problem until the plethora of options before you.

Gary drops a kiss on your lips as you rest in your bed. He had already cleaned you using the pack of wet wipes you kept in your bedside table drawer. They were wonderful for when you forgot to wash your face until you were already settled into bed, and aftercare apparently.

Hold on, let me see if I can get you some more help.

“Who?” you glare up at him unsure if you would prefer John or Kyle.

Dressing in his gym-sweated clothes he ducks.

Guess we will see who is home.

Sitting up you hiss at him to stop before he unlocks the door.

“Leave Simon and Johnny alone,” you hesitate to explain your thoughts. They were too new to each other to dare poke at their dynamic.

Gary nods before ducking out the door.

To your surprise, Kyle appears next. He pampers you, leaving your body shuddering. Kyle is a gentle lover. He is the first man to put his mouth to your clit, sending star across your vision and chuckling as you scramble for purchase in his hair.

He sends in John as the day slips closer to night. John comes bearing dinner. After he pulls his shirt off to settle across your body he eats with you.

“Is this why you were so sparky earlier today?” John glances up at you from his plate.

“Sparky?” You ask, incredulous.

“You looked like you wanted to chop yourself in half rather than be touched,” he dipped one shoulder in a shrug. “Sparky.”

Your mouth opens as you run your tongue across your teeth, frustrated.

“Yes.”

The admission costs you. The Cheshire grin that tugs John’s cheeks to his eyes should have told you what you were in for. He edged you for nearly an hour before fucking you like he was trying to touch your brain. At one point you cried out when you had to use both hands to push back against your headboard and further into his thrusts to avoid slamming your head. John had shushed you and lifted you and rolled to his back, so you rode him.

John settles clothes on your body, deposits you in the bathroom, and retrieves you when you are done. He hands you an electrolyte drink and orders you to bed. When you protest about the sheets he takes great pride in informing you that Kyle and Gary changed your sheets while you were in the bathroom.

“But I want to spend time in the living room,” you protest.

“Are you still feeling nippy? I bet Gary would be ready to go again.” John, nonplussed by offering one of his men up for sex, looks at you with an unfathomable expression.

You squeeze your legs together and stick out your tongue at him.

Taking your act of impertinence as an invitation John kisses you, licking into your mouth.

“To bed bird or I might find the energy to fling you around again,” he growls against your lips.

This time you listen.

Someone let it slip while you were sleeping. Johnny lay nose to nose with you when you woke the next morning.

"Why not me bonnie?" The sadness in his voice hurts you.

"I don't want to cause problems with you and Simon. I love you both and watching you in love brings me so much joy," you rest a hand against his face. The appearence of an early morning beard scratches at your hand. The sadness in his eyes lingers. "There is alway next month?"

He pushes forward, teeth and tongue and pretty little moans marking his intentions to take you next month.

A/N: well that got a bit more steamy then I meant for a SFW version...

@the-loneyest 😘 @lilynotdilly

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[sentientfunfetti]

killer!wally/reader hcs

(killer wally and his au were made by @itskorrychang on tumblr and twitter! go support their work!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

CW// THEMES OF DEATH, POSSESSIVENESS, ABANDONMENT AND LONELINESS.

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when you two first meet, he’s wary of you and a lot more aggressive. that is until you show that you’re not a threat. it takes a while, but when he finally does fall for you he’s head over heels. to the point you can’t leave his sight. he follows you everywhere.

due to the fear of you abandoning him, and him being all alone again, it’s only natural that he takes steps to make sure that just won’t happen. let it be locking doors, hiding keys, not answering questions. he hates lying, but if it makes you stay the he’s all for it. some things are better kept secret, after all.

speaking of questions: he loves both asking and answering them…but everyone has their limits. unfortunately for you, you tend to reach that limit very easily. if you ask too many too much, he’ll just…stare at you. eyes wide. pupils dilated. lips pressed into a thin line. silent…then carry on as if nothing happened! try not to push his buttons too much. he’s not above putting his pallet knife to use…

can’t imagine a world without you. you’re the kindest neighbor ever, after all!

loves everything about you. especially your eyes. eye contact was a bit hard for him after he lost one of his own, but after you showed up and showed you were accepting of that fact, oh boy did he love that. he loves your eyes, the color, the way they widen when your surprised…the fact you have both of them…

paints you religiously. he doesn’t even need you to model anymore. it seems like every time you turn around theres a new piece, or doodle of you somewhere.

more than anything, he just loves having you around. you brighten his day, make him smile, ease the pain of loneliness. you’re just so sweet. you make him feel warm and fuzzy. he can’t get enough of you.

as soon as you break down his walls, he’d do anything for you. anything. draw blood, trash all of his paintings, take his other eye. anything. all he wants to do is make you smile. make you stay. make you want him. he still doesn’t fully understand romance, or love, but all he knows is that you make him feel something new. something good.

if you two fight, he immediately comes to you apologizing. he’d break into sobs if you didn’t forgive him, and immediately beg you to stay. don’t leave him. if you refuse…well…

in short, he would make you stay if he needed to. he can’t have his favorite neighbor leaving so soon! he’d tie you up to a chair, and feed you everyday. he’d take good care of you. he’d let you out one day if you promise not to try and leave again. if not, then, it’s back to the chair! womp womp!

also loves the fact you’re taller than him. loves when you pick him up and move him around, the fact you have to look down at him, the fact you can cradle him so easily in your arms, he loves sleeping with you, and watching you sleep. you look so peaceful…

speaking of sleep. he’s plagued by nightmares and night terrors (yes those two things are separate things and conditions). you wake up to him screaming and kicking frequently, begging for his late neighbors to stay, for them to stop. at first, you were to afraid to comfort him, or wake him up, but after a bit you began to hold him close, whispering that it was just a dream in his ear as you watch his body relax.

he loves watching you sleep. when he wakes up from nightmares in the middle of the night and you aren’t woken up by his tossing and turning, he just sits up and watches over you. he feels nice knowing that you and him are safe there, together. you’re safe with him. always.

sometimes, he enjoys taking care of you too. he’ll sing to you as you fall asleep, tell you stories, teach you how to draw, anything that puts a smile on your face and makes your day.

when you two aren’t painting or overall just hanging out together, one of his favorite things to do is cuddle you. he loves feeling your body against his (not like that calm down), and he loves looking into your eyes while you two cuddle. more than anything, he loves listening to your heartbeat. it’s something he lacks, and he’s fascinated by it.

he’s fascinated about everything biological with you. one thing he can’t seem to grasp is the fact you can eat…like actually eat. with your mouth. he gasped when he first saw you bite into one of the apples he gave you. he also loves how squishy you are. the feeling of your skin is different than his fuzzy skin. he lets you ask your questions about his anatomy too…as long as you don’t ask too much.

has frequent hallucinations, and episodes where he becomes frantic, irritated and paranoid. sometimes he accuses you of hurting his friends, and taking them away. as scary as it is, you take the time to calm him down, get the knife away from him, and remind him that you’re here for him. that you care. be appreciates this, and most times takes a nap afterwards having spent all his energy tearing the studio apart looking for his friends.

wants to introduce you to Barnaby one day…or at least what’s left of him. doesn’t allow you into the other neighbors houses AT ALL. “neighbor…it’s rude to go into other peoples houses without knocking…naughty naughty…!”

at the end of the day, he’s harmless. as long as you stick around and make sure he’s in high spirits, this can only end well!

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

just wanted to do some killer wally hcs. i absolutely love this little guy! such a silly little fellow! wahoo!

anyway, i have a few requests to do and some more of my own hcs i wanna do. if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to request them! until then :3

[persphonesorchid]

Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?” 

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station.  There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives. 

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.  

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.  

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.  

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”  

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.  

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.” 

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.  

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.  

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.  

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.  

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.  

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.  

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.  

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.  

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”  

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”  

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.  

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.  

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.  

July is always rainy. 

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all. 

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes. 

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.  

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else. 

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you. 

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through. 

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.  

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.  

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He’s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy. 

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him. 

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.  

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago. 

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all. 

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella. 

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill. 

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat. 

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.” 

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee. 

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him? 

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him. 

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting. 

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with. 

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come. 

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of. 

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats. 

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him. 

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope. 

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection. 

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys. 

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound.  His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.  

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.   

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”  

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.” 

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.” 

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.  

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”  

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.” 

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music. 

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.” 

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.” 

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.” 

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better. 

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing. 

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple. 

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes. 

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.” 

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.  

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers. 

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.  

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both. 

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.” 

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.  

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.  

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.  

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”  

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time.  As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him. 

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.   

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.  

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be. 

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”  

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.   

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?  

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.  

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again. 

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder. 

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.  

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.  

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.  

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.  

You kept it. 

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.” 

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.” 

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious. 

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”  

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.  

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.  

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”  

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.  

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.  

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.  

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.  

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?” 

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask,  but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going. 

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it. 

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.  

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels. 

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.  

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.  

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.  

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest. 

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger. 

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

He owed you much more than that.  

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.  

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.  

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.  

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.  

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.  

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.  

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio. 

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.  

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.  

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.  

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.  

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.  

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.  

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.  

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging. 

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him. 

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.” 

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.” 

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away. 

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?” 

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?” 

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?” 

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.” 

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.  

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.” 

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.  

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

[celestie0]

childhood friends to lovers with gojo.

warnings/tags. fluff & angst, sad ending

you two were five when he kisses ur cheek on the playground underneath the slide n you both thought that counted as a first kiss. u two were attached by the hip all throughout elementary school, i mean srs, your parents would even have joint parent teacher conferences bc there was just nothing the two of you wouldn't do together.

and then middle school came around, you joined the marching band n he joined the football team. he starts acting different around you, and it hurts. bc you two were best friends. you were always supposed to be best friends. he starts hanging out w the popular kids, and you find yourself walking home alone. summer before high school, he wants to hang out again, but you tell him you deserve better than that. and you two drift apart.

it's hard starting high school without him, watching him from afar during lunch in the cafeteria. he's with his table of phonies, acting like someone he's not, and you know because you've always known him. better than anyone else. you really wanna join the cheer team, since you've done gymnastics for a long time, but you've always been too afraid to tryout for the team. this time, you do, and you get in. now all of a sudden he wants to talk to you again, now that you're popular in high school and have earned a place on the field during his games. fuck that, you say to him, you threw away what we had just because i wasn't good enough for you to have by your side. you start dating his teammate, you two are nominated for prom queen & king, and he has to watch as you kiss someone else on stage when you win. someone that should've been him. he starts dating the cheer captain, just to show it off when he comes running to her after a winning game, kissing her right in front of you but he's not looking at her, he's looking at you. to make sure you're watching. and you do the same thing to him. and the whole time you two are wondering what are we doing to one another?

summer after high school, he shows up to your doorstep one day on his skateboard. with a box full of all the letters you used to send him as a kid. you still have yours too, somewhere tucked underneath your bed. you spend the whole afternoon laughing with him as you read through them all, laying on the carpet of your living room, and you both feel like kids again. he hovers over you when he kisses you, but you're still mad at him, and to show him how mad you are, you kiss him back. it's no use, you two are going to different colleges, you'll hardly see him, but he swears he'll call. he swears he'll fly to see you. he swears he'll never makes the same mistakes again, because he wants you. and only you. you kiss his cheek, and say okay.

and he does. he does everything he promises you. but the distance is too hard, and he was a little too late. you break up with him over a twenty-one character text sent while you're drunk at a house party your second semester at university, and he just doesn't understand. he'll never understand. and he never sees you again.

until you're both thirty-two, standing in line at the grocery store. he taps your shoulder, you turn around, you wonder if it's a stranger who wants a favor, and you realize he's so much more than that. he's the little boy that kissed your cheek underneath the slide when you were five. your first kiss. except it wasn't, was it? his face is long, and his cheeks have lost plush, but he looks so handsome it makes your heart skip a beat. you two are pleasant, exchanging it's been so long! and you look great! but when his eyes catch the twinkle of the wedding ring on your finger, his smile drops ever so slightly, and when he scratches his cheek to hide the sadness, you notice a band on his finger too. and he pays for your groceries, just to be kind. and you thank him for it, just to be kind. and you go your separate ways, never to speak again. but there's a box that still sits somewhere in your closet. and a similar one still sits in his too.

[worriedvision]

He ignores you after an argument - Dr Ratio

Gender neutral reader, angst with an ending that can be viewed as happy. Dr Ratio shows his immaturity, and he only realises how close he is to losing you when Argenti makes an appearance.

--

"What do you mean, 'can you try to be more considerate'? If you cannot comprehend a genius' words, you are not worthy of my time!" Your boyfriend huffs, turning around to place his mask on.

He always did that when you had arguments, but the words that were paired with his actions were what worried you. You had really stepped in it, trying to tell him that you weren't finished with your sentence. You were getting frustrated that he wouldn't stop interrupting you and, sometimes, filling in the statements incorrectly. You ignored your frustration in the past, but it boiled into this argument you just had with him. You were doubtful that he would think about your feelings even after he calmed down, so you mentally prepared yourself for the silent treatment.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months. He still wasn't talking to you, and you were heartbroken. You dive yourself into your work, the astral express themselves commissioning you because of Dr Ratio's words of praise of your intellect. Swallowing the temptation to explain he was likely exaggerating to help you with getting work, you go along with it. Your boyfriend, despite no longer talking to you after the argument, tags along. You both get separate rooms - something you are thankful for, considering how awkward you felt around your partner. You didn't even know if he was considering himself as your boyfriend or if he mentally checked out since the argument.

Now, Argenti decided to make an appearance. Turns out, he had an issue with his ship, so he had to request some resources from the astral express. You had tried to speak to your boyfriend, who was still playing chess by himself as he ignored your pleads for forgiveness - apologising for failing to communicate effectively. Struggling to keep yourself together, you walk to the other side of the room before taking a seat. Pulling out your folders, you get to work on other projects. Hearing someone walking towards you, you assume they'll just be taking a seat somewhere close, only for them to sit right next to you.

"A beauty as precious as one you possess shall not be under-appreciated by an unrequited love." He begins, Dr Ratio halfway through playing a knight, freezing up at this man hitting on you. "With brains to accompany your radiant and decadent beauty, I shall request that you consider flourishing under someone to cherish you."

Dr Ratio gets up from his seat, his mask literally starting to crack as he begins to storm over to you. He realised, through Argenti's speech, that he ought to treat you better since he truly loves you. He had to show you that he has been thinking of you, about how to apologise - he simply kept his mask on because he thought he didn't deserve to show his face until he thought about how to apologise to you for interrupting you. By the time he knows what to say, his mask breaks entirely, falling to the floor to Pom-Pom's distain.

In the middle of Argenti clearly scouting for you to join him on his ship, Dr Ratio walks behind the couch and wraps his arms around you, side glaring at Argenti.

"Apologies, but this is a prize I won." Dr Ratio growls, Argenti chuckling as he gives Dr Ratio a light warning that you were likely going to get snatched up by another man if he screwed up again.

Your boyfriend comes to take Argenti's place on the couch, pulling you in for a hug, he begins his apology.

--

"You didn't talk to me for months, you know?" You pout, your boyfriend scolding himself inwardly for being immature.

"You are the one who's more empathetic than myself. I need to put more effort into understanding your feelings, I'm lucky that you're still alright with me hugging you despite the argument." Dr Ratio sighs, squeezing you as he looks over your shoulder to read your work.

"...I almost forgot how amazing and intelligent my partner is." Dr Ratio smirks, you turning your head to look at him. "If I have to wait a year for compensation of my neglect to remain yours, I would gladly do so."