#another time i guess.. when I make some more
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彟â
: MY LOVE â WHEN THEY TASTE YOUR LIPS
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ă đđđđđđđ ă enhypen & fem!rea. headcanons 8OO . fluff one shot established relationship âá´â petnames skinship . . click ・
ë¤ë â ⌠thank you jiah for helping me making this prompt (> <) i love you, muah ! also why did i have too much fun writing riki's part TT
LEE HEESEUNG
"mmm⌠cherry?" heeseung hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to smirk before diving in again, hands resting snugly on your waist. "or is it strawberry this time, baby?" you barely get a chance to answer before he steals another kiss, his thumb brushing over your waist. "youâre just making excuses to kiss me," you accuse, breathless, and he grins. "guilty," he admits, tilting his head as if in thought. "but can you blame me? my babyâs lips is so kissable." another kiss, deeper this time, leaves you dizzy, fingers curling into his shirt. "besides," he whispers, lips ghosting over yours, "you keep changing the flavor. how else am i supposed to keep up?" with a laugh, he kisses you again, like heâs savoring every secondâbecause, honestly, he is.
PARK JAY
jay hums against your lips, his hands resting securely on your waist as he steals another soft kiss. his eyes flickering down to your lips, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. he presses another peck to your lips, then another, each one more lingering than the last. you barely get a chance to breathe before he whispers, "if you let me kiss you more, i'll buy you all the flavored lipsticks you want. promise." you giggle, pushing lightly at his chest, but he only pulls you closer."strawberry? vanilla? peach? name it, baby, it's yours," he murmurs, tracing his fingers along your jaw before tilting your chin up for another kiss. "just a few more, yeah? pretty please, my princess?" and with the way he's looking at youâeyes full of loveâyou know you've already lost.
SIM JAKE
âbaby, you know i go crazy when you wear this,â jake whines, eyes flickering between your lips and the faint marks youâve already left on his skin. his hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer as he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. âsmells so sweet⌠tastes just as good,â he mumbles, brushing his nose against yours before stealing another kiss, then another, his lips chasing yours. âcanât believe my pretty girlâs out here making me weak over some lipstick,â he chuckles, but the way his grip tightens on you says otherwise. he pulls back just enough to admire you, his thumb grazing over your kiss-swollen lips. âyou look so pretty in it⌠but i think i like it more when itâs all over me.â with a cheeky grin, he taps his cheek, his jaw, his nose. âleave more, angel. i wanna wear your love everywhere.â
PARK SUNGHOON
"really, sweetheart?" sunghoon pulls back slightly, lips still ghosting over yours. "you got me all distracted with your lips, and now i find out they taste like strawberries? were you planning to keep this from me?" his fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up as he leans in again, kissing you slow, savoring the sweetness lingering on your lips. you giggle against his mouth, hands resting against his chest. "it's just lipstick," you murmur, but he only hums, shaking his head. "no, it's a trap," he counters, smirking before stealing another kiss. "you knew i wouldnât be able to resist." he presses one more lingering peck, then pulls back just enough to admire you.
KIM SUNOO
"baby, what is on your lips?" sunoo mumbles against your mouth, eyes wide as he pulls back slightly, licking his lips like he's trying to figure out the exact flavor. you barely get a chance to answer before heâs kissing you again, this time slower, more deliberate, like heâs savoring it. âapple? noâwatermelon?â he guesses, tilting his head as his fingers brush your jaw, completely lovestruck. you giggle, watching his dazed expression, and before you can react, heâs leaning in again, stealing another kiss, then another. âokay, i need confirmation. what is this magic?â he demands, lips practically chasing yours. you smirk, tapping his nose. "it's just flavored lipstick, baby." he blinks, processing, then suddenly grins. "so if i steal all your kisses, will the flavor wear off?" he teases, already wrapping his arms around your hips. "guess weâll have to test that theory, huh?"
YANG JUNGWON
"mmhâwait," jungwon pulls back just an inch, lips still brushing against yours, eyes flickering with something between wonder and mischief. "baby⌠why does this taste so good?" he murmurs, licking his lips like heâs already addicted. before you can answer, heâs kissing you againâover and over like he physically canât stop. âoh no. oh no, iâm obsessed,â he mumbles between kisses, his hands cradling your face, completely lovestruck. âsweet lipstick for my sweet, pretty girlâŚâ you laugh, breathless, trying to push him away, but he just pulls you closer, lips finding yours again like a magnet. âwon, youâre gonna smudge itââ âwho cares?â he grins, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips.
NISHIMURA RIKI
"this has to be strawberry," riki smirks against your lips, pulling back just enough to see your reaction. you roll your eyes. "wrong again." he groans dramatically, flopping back onto the couch before sitting up with a determined glint in his eyes. "alright, try this one." he hands you another lipstick, watching intently as you apply it. the moment you finish, he's already tilting your chin up, lips pressing against yours in a slow, teasing kiss. "hmm⌠cherry?" he guesses, grinning when you shake your head. "baby, you're terrible at this," you giggle. "how much money will you bet i get the next one right?" he challenges, with a grin. "ki, iâm not bettingâ" he cuts you off with another kiss, making a thoughtful noise. "peach?" "wrong." you laugh, and he groans, pulling you into his lap. "guess iâll just have to keep trying till i win, huh?"
#Ę( á¸á¸ ´ `) đđ : đđđđ ď¸#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen#enhypen x reader#heeseung#enhypen au#heeseung fluff#sunghoon fluff#jay park fluff#jaeyun fluff#jungwon fluff#enhypen soft hour#enhypen soft hours#sunghoon soft hours#sunoo soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#heeseung soft thoughts#jungwon soft thoughts#sunghoon soft thoughts#park sunghoon angst#sunghoon angst#park jongseong angst#enhypen angst#niki x reader#jay park x reader#riki x reader#jaeyun x reader#sunghoon imagines
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Within this context I want to ask anyone who sees this reblog to ask themselves what some things are that they feel Very Strongly about.
What are some things that you think are unacceptable no matter what. Make a small list of them.
They could be kinks, the way people should act at movies, it could be about manners, even job etiquette, or more in line with the post: something you thing is immoral with no excuse for the behavior/act.
Now consider that you're wrong.
Because the things fascists make you think and the way they make you think them are tied to your own principles as OP outlined above. Im sure there are many things that you believe you are right about because to think otherwise would be immoral. Right?
Like sex scenes, certain kinks, and dark romance.
So now ask yourself how open you would be to hearing out the other side in good faith. Would you even be willing to listen?
Your ability to learn and hear new ideas is what ultimately will separate you from the fascists.
So how much would your own passion and desire to do the right thing stop you from considering the other side?
And if you can't see yourself being open to that sort of thing, then the fascist propaganda has worked.
Because guess who else isn't open to being wrong? Guess who else would rather shut down an argument, silence their opponents, and even harm people who don't believe the same things they do? Guess who else thinks that anyone who disagrees with them is a moral failure? Guess who else thinks they know better than everyone else and wouldn't entertain the idea that what they believe could be wrong?
Fascists, yes.
And then they use that logic to say "well if you don't believe x is wrong like me then you deserve y."
And there have been many, many people throughout history who saw their fascist governments hurting people and enabled it by saying things like, "well, if Those People didn't x then they wouldny be treated like y. They should just stop x behavior."
And you know what that does? Places all blame of fascism onto its victims while at the same time enforcing fascist norms onto society.
Fascists are masters of turning people against groups they see as unwanted for that very reason. They get the public to do most of the finger wagging then, once they manufactured enough supoort using propaganda, they start passing fascist law.
They tie Black people to crime, Trans people to perverts, Jewish ppl to greed, migrants to job theft, gays to godlessness, the disabled to bad dna, etc. All of these groups are blamed for the inequality of the True Countrymen.
So if you
Struggle to accept being wrong
Struggle to accept new ideas of right/wrong
Struggle to change your own idea of right/wrong
Struggle to accept when you're (part of) the problem
Have a tendency to blame cruelty on victims rather than it's perpetrators or enablers
Have a group of people you are disgusted by and would struggle to see in another light
Think people who are, in your opinion, living incorrectly or immorally deserve bad things to happen to them
You are traveling down a dangerous pipeline.
This is your sign to turn back.
Fascism rarely ever actually sneaks up on a government. As a few people above stated, they've been raising alarms for a while and were called every name in the book. I have too. So have a lot of people I know.
Think back to this last election, heated as it was. How often did you see people shut down criticisms of democrats? More specifically, how often did you see people justifying fascist acts and law in the name of their own security? How malicious did you see those people get? How often did they harass anyone who disagrees with them?
Do you know who else saw it? Do you know who else saw even the bluest of liberals justify genocide as long it kept them safe? Do you know who else saw them harass poc who wouldn't enthusiastically elect someone they saw as the Right choice?
Fascists.
it's true and you should say it.
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guess whoâs back ;)
puppy hybrid! rookie reader x lt ghost, where you're considered a failure by your instructors and of course when one of them falls sick, the responsibility of training you lands on him
aka this is my apology for making so many of you cry.
cw: hurt/comfort, fluff, tf141 at the end :)
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To be a hybrid handler was possibly one of the best qualifications a soldier could have, especially with the new rise in hybrid cross-breeds across the worldâs military. Ghost had one, took the course when no one wanted to go near it, and now he was only one of the few fits on base to have one. So naturally, when one of the hybridsâ usual instructors had to take a sick leave, he was pressured to step in. The other hybrids had set schedules for their sessions but since you were from the facilities, you needed extra support; well, actually all your extra academic classes meant you didn't have the regular timetable. Thatâs where he stepped in, taking over the ill instructorâs sessions and training you privately.
That wasn't the issue though, no, it was your file; it was awful. Angry comments about being stubborn, large red crosses next to exercises and well, your behaviour report wasnât exactly bright eitherâyou just never seemed to get anything right. There weren't any specific notes as to why you failed, usually just a quick scribble mentioning the many mistakes you made. So, it was safe to say he was dreading having to train you himself. He was used to pre-trained hybrids, or at least ones with their head on their shoulders. In fact, he was surprised youâre even still here, but maybe they just thought theyâd dump you on him to deal with for the few weeks.
âUmâŚ. Stay back?â You question, your head tilted to the side and ears perking as you try your best to remember what field signal he just did. He stifles a sighâanother one wrongâbut itâd only be worse to give up now, so instead he opts for a different approach. âWhat signals do you know?âÂ
You were terrified of him, that much was clear, but he felt a little reluctant to give you the same stern treatment as every other rookie. After all, you were bought from the facilities, and before that you wouldâve been taken from your family at a relatively young age. That doesn't mean heâll be lenient though, just a little more patient than most officers around here.
âWell.. Move forward, enemies ahead, don't move, and follow me. I know thereâs more but not the signals..â Your ears flatten on your head, expecting some kind of blow, but his eyes just narrow behind the mask, looking back at the training mats in the corner of the room.
The next forty minutes he displays each sign back to you, making you repeat them back to him before ending that exercise. Only then does he gesture you to the training mats, seeing what you know in terms of defence and attack, but even that is weak, your form sloppy and reckless. Thereâs only ten minutes left of the session, so he seats you again, standing before you as he tests a signal.
âUhâŚ. Stay close?â He nods, affirming youâre correct and you perk up instantly, watching his signs intently as you continue to give a few more correct answers, only your ears drooping when you get a few more wrong. He corrects you each time, making sure youâre aware before testing you with another. At the end, he passes you a sheet from his bag, the signals printed on it. âLearn these by tomorrow.â And then heâs gone, disappeared out of the room while youâre left alone staring at the paper before you.
The next day youâre in the room early, like you had been yesterday as well; weirdly enough, you were surprisingly punctual, but he didn't have the time to question that. âAlright, ready for your test?â
Heâs slightly sceptical when you actually get them all correct, save for a few, since itâs surprising progress with your track record. Plus, your form is improving too, especially when he corrects it as you go along; you manage to remember when he makes you do it again. He canât even deny he likes the way your tail wags every single time he nods in approval.
So why was your file so bad? If you really were a failure, you would barely be improving but here you are at a steady pace. He supposes that compared to the others youâre probably at least two weeks behind in the exercises. Ideally heâd just catch you up to speed and call it a day. However, his current concern lies on why you haven't improved if you were brought here a month ago. Sure, maybe the future exercises were a lot more difficult than the basic hand signals, but something seems a little⌠off.
His next session with you is three days from now, so he can't just straight up ask you, especially with your current skittish behaviour regarding him. For now, heâd have to investigate himself. The best source of information is your other class and the easiest way to get that is via some cameras. Itâs technically not a violation of privacy, considering there are plenty of cameras around base and the training rooms should have them anyway. The instructor can just consider it a surprise upgrade; if he even notices the change that is.Â
Ghost watches as you walk in first, settling in the front cornerâ- perhaps the instructor does give you the extra help you need then? The other hybrids come a few moments later and then the instructor arrives right on time. âAlright, warm-ups.â He orders, and you all get to work, with you trying to copy what the other hybrids do to the best of your ability. Theyâre a lot stronger than you, that much is obvious, and most are some form of a dog or wolf hybrid as wellâconsidering theyâve been proven to work well in military situations. They stretch their limbs out as you turn around and imitate the same, all of you strangely quiet, but Ghost supposes thatâs just maintaining focus. The officer cuts the warm up after a few minutes, beginning his first session in âtaking advantageâ of blind spots whilst also keeping an eye on your own. He gets one of the soldiers to come upfront and help demonstrate all while you watch, then he gestures towards the targets at the back of the room, offering you all to try it out before you go against each other.
Ghost is almost considering just turning off the cameras at this point, wondering if he should go grab lunch and then rewatch it in his spare timeâ or maybe he should just ditch this after all, you were just a hybrid anyway.Â
Youâve gone up now, and he watches, but somethingâs not right as you get into position. Since youâre not that skilled in fighting just yet, your offensive posture isnât the greatest and thatâs visible to any eye, especially the instructor. He motions to the opposing hybrid to fix his, before walking around and motioning to begin. Of course, you fail, getting toppled over almost instantly if not for Ghostâs work on defensive moves. Youâre pushed down against the mat, head turned forcefully against the floor, the hybridâs handâs on your throat almost a little too aggressively until a signal is given to stop.
The instructor only scoffs, pulling the other hybrid up and leaving you gasping for air. âI knew youâd fall over like that, your posture was awful.â
This becomes a pattern throughout the rest of the exercises, your wrong choices and how the instructor barely says a word until after the incident. But why? Ghost doesn't understandâif he knew it would happen, why wouldnât he just at least correct you beforehand?
âââ
Your eyes flicker toward the others pouncing on a target, watching with intrigue how they position their feet and their arms. âStop staring, creep!â One of the large hybrid taunts behind you, grabbing you by the neck of your shirt and shoving you back down to the floor.Â
Itâs becoming harder and harder to stay motivated at this point, especially with how much your back is hurting from being overpowered all week. At least the other hybrids didn't laugh this time, though you wonder if thatâs really a good thing since it was only due to the fact everyone expects your incompetence now. Like a reused joke, youâre becoming a boring topic. That can only mean youâre closer to being returned to the facility again which is never a good thing. No one wants a used item.
The thought scares you into motivation; you stand, smoothening the ruffled fur of your tail with one hand before stepping up to one of the targets. You have to try; itâs the best thing you can do even if your feet are starting to ache terribly. Swallowing down your anxiety, you try to remember how their stance was. It was going well until you ended up banging your shoulder against the wood rather than pushing it down. You tumble down with a groan, landing right in front of your instructor.Â
âDo you have two left feet or something? Your balance was completely off the entire timeâ anyone could see that.â He rolls his eyes up at you, watching as you rub your shoulder in clear pain. Your lips twist into a deep frown, confused to say the least, and you finally look up at him. âWhy didn't you correct me beforehand?â
âBecause I knew you wouldnât listen anyway; you never do.â He scoffs in response, annoyed that you even tried to talk back, before stepping away to fix another hybrid's posture. You don't know why you even bothered to ask; it would always be the same response. They all saw you fail, and yet they never made an effort to even try to help, like you werenât even worth spending energy on. From the first day you were marked as the runt, even if you really werenât in the slightest.
_________
âYouâre failing all the exercises.â Ghost drops the file before you, letting you see all the red crosses against each lesson. He reminds himself that this is for a good cause when your face instantly drops, used to his praise for good progress. It was the only thing you looked forward to anymore, having long given up on the dream that youâd prove your instructor wrong by doing an exercise perfectly. Itâd never happen. The thing is, he can help you, but you won't catch up anywhere near to the others on your current schedule; he just needs to push you to want more, to need more, and heâll fulfil that for you.Â
âI- I'm trying, I promise. I just- itâs not my faultââ You fumble with your words, convinced heâs giving up on you. He can see the bandages littering your hands, the wince when you try to move suddenly.
âItâs not enough.â His voice is stern, yet still he knows itâs the calmest youâd get in this new life youâve been forced into. You have no choice now but to move forward, and heâd be damned if his own student ended up a failure. âYou need to train harder andââ
âIâll do that! We can start now, actually whenever you want. Please, Ghostâ Iâll work as hard as I possibly can!âÂ
Oh.Â
He thought itâd be harder than that.
Youâve stepped so close heâs almost positive you were going to grab his shirt and beg him for a second. Your tail swishes from side to side too, ears perked high on your head and your hands clasped together. Is he going crazy or did you just give him puppy dog eyes? Â
âIâm supposed to be convincing you, idiot.â
 âHuh?â
â.. Nevermind.â He rolls his eyes up at you and shakes his head; well at least he didnât have to start pointing out the incentives of working harder to you. Though he doubts youâll be able to handle his intensive training program; at least youâre trying to start.
âSo will you train me then?âÂ
âYeah, yeah Pup. But I don't think you realise how tough itâs gonna be.â His arms cross firmly over his chest, looking down at you with narrowed eyes. âI want you up early at five am and do warm ups straight after breakfast. None of these bandages either, thatâll ruin your performance. You think you can do that?â He leans in, almost threatening but despite your initial stance towards him, you don't even flinch. âYes sir!âÂ
Youâre just excited that someoneâs finally taking a chance on you.
â-
So, for the next week, you get up early every day, wait for him in the gym before beginning your two-hour training session. He has his own priorities during that time so youâre left with âhomeworkâ, as he likes to describe it, which is usually a bunch of tactical knowledge you have to learn. Sometimes itâs what to do in certain situations, other times itâs medical knowledge, hell he even made you disassemble and reassemble a gun once. That last one didn't work out too well since you accidentally swept a few screws away with your tail. Oops
It wasnât for nothing though. You steadily began to improve; just his corrections had you catching up quickly and putting up a fair fight against the rookie he set up to spar with you. In fact, your sessions with the other instructor have been going well, even managing to beat a few hybrids there when you only had hoped to put up enough of a fight. If he was being really honest, you had actually shocked him at how strong you held up the entire week of intense training. You may be seen as a failure to your officer, but to him, you were nothing short of a real soldier.
Finally, itâs Friday, marking the end of all this training that heâs had you doing. Itâs almost dinner, though you ate plenty for lunch anyway, and you both stand in the empty room, a few props littering the room. He wanted to have a look at your pouncing technique, since those attacks worked best for a hybrid like you, and your strong teeth do have a good advantage. The methods are a little feral, but hey, you technically are part animal.
âAnd.. Go!â He signals, and you lunge forward, grabbing at the fake man and digging your teeth through the side of his neck. You rip through the first layer with ease, legs locked around the dummyâs middle and claws sharp into the arms. âThatâs it!â He calls it off after he watches, the time slowly ticking towards seven pm. You climb off, and he nods in approval, walking forward to offer you a hand which you take with another tail wag. âGood work. Thatâs all for this week.â He helps you shrug off the gear, tucking it under his arm as you take a seat at the nearby bench.
 There are only a few minutes till dinner, and youâre usually starving by this time so he decides to clear up the equipment today, placing it down into the small storage cupboard and packing it in its respective spots. 7pm. Only took him about seven minutes to clear the room up which has to be a new record by now.
Closing the closet door behind him, he pulls out his phone, ready to lay back for the day. Heâs about to open the door when he hears a quiet noise, then another, followed by a soft thud. Confused, he looks back, surprised to find you slumped on the bench as you snore quietly, your arms hanging off the side as your tail hangs limply off the edge. Youâre completely knocked out.
âPup?â His boots echo against the hardwood floor, but you still remain asleep, cheek smushed into the bench as he crouches before you. A small smile creases the edge of his mask, a fond sigh leaving his lips. âAlright, letâs get you to bed.â He scoops you up easily, carrying you through the quieter corridors to your room, and gently settling you to sleep comfortably for the remainder of the night. You deserved it.
ââ
Your other instructor returned that Monday, and Ghost was removed from his responsibility for you. Whilst he was glad you had improved, he was just relieved to have his old life back, ready to focus on the 141 as it should have always been. âGhost! I did it! I did it!!â You squeal, running up to him whilst heâs mid-workout, showing him the sheet that confirms your status as a proper soldier now. Youâre brimming with joy, and heâs happy for you, one hand ruffling your hair. âKnew you could do it.â
And that was that. You got your job, he completed his temporary work.Â
Thatâs what he assumed anyway..
âGhost? Can you check my form?â He allowed it the first time, leaving his weights to correct you before continuing his workout again.
âGhostâ can you teach me how to play this?â It was a simple game of cards and your first pub outing after a long mission. Besides, the others were busy puking their guts out.
âHi Ghost! Can I sit here?â Well, Soap and Gaz were on a mission anyway; itâs not like he would be having breakfast with anyone else. Maybe your friends were out of base too?
âGhost..â Sleepy eyes stare up at him as you lazily stretch beside him, Soap on his right and Gaz on your left. The movie has only just started, and youâre already giving him that expectant look. âFine, fine.â He clicks the recliner on the side of the couch, lifting his legs to lay flat and allow you to stretch yours too.Â
âGhost..â You mumble out again, and he chuckles, the movie not even halfway through, and heâs got you melting into the cushions just from his hands scratching the back of your fluffy ears. They twitch every now and then, reminding him that youâre still awake somehow.
âPup down.â Soap whispers, and he nods in turn, looking at the bundle of fur laying over him, your thick tail trapping his legs like some sort of weighted blanket. His hand runs through the soft strands, content as the credits roll and your chest rises and falls slowly. Somehow, you had managed to manoeuvre yourself with your face squashed against his legs and your fingers clutching the fabric of his sweatpants, the 141âs symbol engraved in the cold metal hanging around your neck. Of course, theyâd all tease you about it tomorrow during your outing down to the beach. Thatâs how it works, of course;Â wherever your handler goes, you follow.
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COD MASTERLIST
a/n: thank you all so much for 1000 followers! just a little psa that i probably wont be too active in the next two weeks. tumblr used to be my safe space and i used to be so excited to come on and scroll thru my dash for some good fics but i just feel so empty with it :(. i havent lost my passion for writing dont get me wrong, and i'm still very happy to chat with moots, just the whole aspect of tumblr is so exhausting for me along with other things in my life atm
anyway rant over thanks for reading bye bye
@mortem-writes @pythonmoth
buy me a ko-fi :)
#simon ghost riley x reader#cod hybrid au#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#simon ghost x you#cod x you#hybrid au#cod fluff
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SUGAR-COATED CHAINS â CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WARNINGS â controlling behaviors from rafe , he sorta dresses the reader up, rafe speaks for her.



Rafe had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasnât controlling the situationâjust guiding it.
Thatâs how he framed the shopping trip. A fun little outing. A treat for you.
âYou should have nicer things,â he murmured, fingers grazing your lower back as he led you into one of the most exclusive boutiques in the city.
âLet me take care of you.â
And you let him.
At first, you sifted through racks with quiet excitement, reaching for things that felt safeâsoft sweaters, floral sundresses, playful skirts. Things you wouldâve worn before.
But Rafe was never far behind, subtly steering you in another direction.
Sleek fabrics. Softer, more delicate tones. Dresses that fit like second skin. Clothes that werenât just pretty but polished.
He only hummed in approval when you held up something he liked. But when your fingers brushed over something too youthful, too familiar, his response was instant.
âThatâs not really you anymore, is it?â
You blinked, fingers tightening around the floral sundress in your hands.
âBut Iââ
Rafe plucked it from your grasp with a small, dismissive shake of his head.
âYouâre not some teenager anymore, angel, youâre my girl.â His tone was light, but his gaze was firm.
By the time you walked out of the boutique, your arms were weighed down with glossy bags, each one carrying pieces of a girl Rafe wanted you to be.
At the last minute, he took your wrist and slipped something delicate around itâa thin gold bracelet with a small charm.
Not an engagement ring. But a claim all the same.
You turned your wrist, the charm catching the light, and looked at him.
He only smirked.
â
You had told your best friend about the move weeks ago.
She had been skeptical. Maybe even a little concerned.
But you assured her it was fineâthat Rafe wanted you there. That he took care of everything.
Still, you hadnât seen her since. And when she texted to check in, you had been vague, avoiding details.
So when you opened the door and saw her standing there, expression tight with something between curiosity and worry, you werenât exactly surprised.
âHey.â Her voice was softer than you expected.
âFigured it was time I saw the new place.â
Guilt curled low in your stomach, but you stepped aside, letting her in.
She walked in slowly, eyes sweeping over the penthouse. The clean lines, the muted, masculine tones, the expensive furniture that looked more suited for a showroom than an actual home.
âThis place is insane,â she muttered, running a hand over the sleek marble countertop. Then, more pointedly, âDid you do any of the major decorations?â
You hesitated.
Because no, you hadnât, you only placed cute little trinkets on his shelves, vintage vogue magazines you collected beside his rustic books.
Her brow furrowed slightly. âItâs nice,â she said carefully, âbut⌠it doesnât feel like you.â
Before you could respond, the sound of a door opening made you stiffen.
Rafe stepped into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. His presence filled the space effortlesslyâbroad shoulders, sharp gaze, exuding quiet authority.
He didnât look surprised to see your friend. But you didnât miss the way his jaw ticked slightly, the way his eyes flicked over to you, assessing.
You barely had time to react before he was beside you, slipping an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. His touch was casual, possessive.
Your friendâs expression shiftedâsomething guarded flickering in her gaze.
âDidnât take you for the housewife type,â she joked lightly, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
Rafe chuckled, low and deep. He didnât correct her. Didnât deny it. Instead, his fingers stroked along your hip, his grip tightening ever so slightly.
âGuess sheâs just full of surprises.â
Your friendâs smile didnât quite reach her eyes.
Something passed between the two of you. A silent, unspoken question.
Are you sure about this?
You swallowed. And nodded.
Your friend hesitated, then exhaled softly, forcing a smile.
âWell, I should go,â she said, her tone too casual.
âBut we should catch up soon.â
Rafe was already moving, guiding her toward the door with polite ease.
It wasnât until she stepped out that you realized how heavy the air had become.
Your friend lingered for a second, looking at you one last time. Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say somethingâneeded to.
But then Rafe was there, his hand resting lightly on the door, waiting.
She hesitated. Then nodded.
And left.
The door closed with a quiet click.
Rafe locked it.
The sound felt louder than it should have.
When you turned, he was watching you. Amused.
âThat was cute,â he murmured, stepping closer, his fingertips brushing your wrist. He toyed with the bracelet he had given you, rubbing the charm between his fingers.
âLetâs not make it a habit, yeah?â
â
Later, after dinner, after the city lights had dimmed and the penthouse was wrapped in quiet, you curled into Rafeâs side. His body was warm against yours, his fingers idly tracing the hem of your slip.
The tension from earlier had faded into something softer, but it still lingered beneath the surfaceâunspoken, waiting.
Rafeâs voice was a low murmur against your hair.
âIâve got a trip coming up.â
You shifted slightly, tilting your head back to look at him. âWhere?â
âLondon. Just for a few days.â
Your brows lifted slightly. âIâve never been.â
Rafe hummed, fingers sliding higher, grazing over your ribs. âThen itâs about time, isnât it?â
You hesitated. It wasnât that you didnât want to go. It was justâLondon. A whole different country. A whole different world.
âI donât even have a passport,â you admitted.
Rafeâs lips curved in that slow, knowing way. âYou do now.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âI had it taken care of,â he said, so casually, like he had simply ordered you a coffee. âFigured youâd need one eventually.â
The words settled over you, an unsettling mix of flattery and something elseâsomething tighter.
âYou justâgot me one?â
His hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your chin so your eyes were locked on his. âI take care of my girl,â he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. âAnd I donât like being away from you.â
The implication was clear.
You wouldnât be staying behind.
âYou want me to come,â you said softly, though it wasnât really a question.
Rafeâs gaze darkened, his grip firm but gentle. âI want you with me.â
Your stomach flipped. Because there was no denying how he made you feelâhow safe, how wanted, how kept you were under his watch.
But there was something else, too.
A quiet understanding settling in your bones.
This was another step. Another thread tying you to him, weaving you deeper into his world.
Still, when his hand moved, fingers stroking along the gold bracelet on your wrist, you nodded.
Rafeâs lips brushed against your temple, his voice thick with satisfaction.
âGood girl.â
And just like that, London was decided.
#cameronsbabydoll â. đ Ë#sugar coated chains ૮ę°â Ë â ŕžŕ˝˛ęąá#sugar daddy rafe áŚâĄáŞ#sugar daddy rafe cameron#rafe cameron#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x yn#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron drabble#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x innocent reader
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saw this thread of people showing off their engagement rings and thought this is so s6-7!spencer x fiancĂŠe!reader coded.
âgood morning, everybody!â you chirped, rolling in with pastries and some fresh coffee for the team.
your unusual enthusiasm on a monday morning was met with looks of suspicion from the team. the unexpected coffee run that you were known to hate did nothing but further their suspicions.
âso iâm guessing valentines went really well for you, huh?â derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. the implication making your skin run hot.
âif i have to sit through another hr seminar on appropriate discussions in the workplace, itâs all your fault.â you swatted his shoulder playfully (purposefully), laughing as he jerked back and soothed his achy shoulder. âthis is your first strike morgan.â
âouch! did pretty boy get you brass knuckles for valentines or something?â he momentarily frowned rubbing his now sore arm. his eyes lit up as he realised the rock that was sitting on your finger.
âwell iâll be damned, that is a rock.â he whistled lowly, taking your hand as he moved it closer to the light, to inspect it even more closely. emily, jj and penelope walked over to you and derek, intrigued by the shiny new thing on your finger.
âwhat are you guys doingâooh!â penelope marvelled at the ring much to a disgruntled derek, who couldnât believe spencer was going to get married before he did.
âoh itâs even more gorgeous in person, damn those crappy pixels.â she grumbled, as she moved your hand so the diamonds would glitter under the desk lights. It was an intricate design that had your birthstone in
the girls shared the same level of enthusiasm and excitement as you did. with jj and emily asking for a play by play of how the proposal went down, from the restaurant to the date and finally to when spencer finally proposed.
âit looks like spencer is quite the romantic.â emily commented, seemingly surprised and happy for you both.
love wasnât something all agents could afford to haveâespecially in their line of work. so the fact the two of her favourite people were getting married in spite of the odds made her happy.
âokay proposal talk aside, who is gonna be the maid of honor? whoâs gonna be your bridesmaids? are you planning to hyphenate or are you gonna take the plunge and go all the way?â penelope asked, already thinking about the logistics of it all that made you chuckle.
the thought of it all was overwhelming, all of the eventual planning and budgeting you were going to have to do was threatening to crash the excitement of your wedding. it was jjâs calming voice that calmed the barrage of thoughts that were running through your head.
âpen, she just said yes to the man like four days ago.âjj giggled at her friends eagerness. âiâm sure theyâll iron out the details later.â she replied, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder which you were thankful for.
in the midst of the congratulations you were receiving from your fellow colleagues and associates alongside the pre wedding buzz, everyone failed to noticed to spencer walk in.
it wasnât until morgan caught the familiar mop of brown hair was when he called out to him. âhey, pretty boy! why didnât you say that you and bau barbie over here got engaged?â
you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you. it was born from your affinity to wear an assortment of stylishly impractical outfits that always made it past fbi standards because you always somehow made it functional for use. like the time you chased an unsub down in a park wearing designer jeans.
spencer sheepishly rubbed his neck that flushed a shade of light pink as the attention was now on him. âi thought the picture on her instagram story was already a dead giveaway.â he shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets.
the post couldnât have been more obvious if you had tried. the shot of you posed up on the couch with your hand resting on your head as if you were nursing a mean headache, with the ring almost demanding to be the centre of attention. you and spencer agreed it was a pretty funny take on the traditional engagement announcements.
âoh, so you were letting the ring do all the talking. smart.â morgan nudged you playfully, before he turned to join the others who were busy fawning over pictures of henry that jj was showing them all.
spencer thought this would be the right time to steal a quick kiss from you. he wasnât a fan of pda and preferred his quite intimate moments with you away from prying eyes.
he barely managed to press a swift kiss before morgan teased him, âhey loverboy! you better save that for the wedding night.â he said a bit too loudly as half of the office turned to the source of the noise. if there was anything spencer hated being the topic of bureau gossip, but that was less than his hatred for meaningless small talk.
he sighed knowing that heâd be subjected to hearing âcongratulationsâ or knowing glances all day or maybe weekâdepending if anything else more interesting happened like the one time there was a interdepartmental affair between the cybercrime and the counterterrorism unit.
morgan chuckled watching spencerâs face flush a light pink in response to getting caught. yeah it looked like the prank war treaty and truce that garcia made them both sign and agree to in her signature glittery pen, after she accidentally got flour-bombed in the midst of their prank war was about to be over with.
you just hoped that youâd be kept out of the crossfire this time and that theyâd manage to pack it in before your upcoming wedding.
#vina writes: cm#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x black!reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#this was sitting in the drafts for teww long#l
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i love you, always and forever ŕżâ§â this is me trying


chapter summary: You and Logan try IVF.
word count: 5.9k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: another short chapter!? who am i? (also this gif is đđ¤)
warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, angst, talks of fertility and pregnancy, smut, slight sub!logan unprotected piv, creampie, ghost hunting
series masterlist - chapter 7 â chapter 9
ââand we need to⌠Logan!â You exclaimed, breaking him out of whatever stupor he was in while staring at you.
You were explaining the new calendar you made that coincided with your IVF treatment, meaning no sex some days before retrieval and no sex some time after.
âYeah, âm listening,â Logan repeated, his eyes flickering back to you like a magnet drawn to steel. He leaned lazily against the counter in your lab, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusementâor distraction. Probably both.
You narrowed your eyes, tightening your grip on the whiteboard marker. "Then what did I just say?"
âYou need to⌠no sex before, no sex after," he recited slowly, as if carefully testing each word to make sure it wouldnât backfire.
âAnd?" You crossed your arms, one hand on your hip, the other holding the marker up like a teacher about to deliver a pop quiz. "Do you know why?"
Loganâs gaze swept over you, taking in the way youâd planted your feet and stuck a pen behind your ear in your 'professor mode.' âBecause youâre ovulatinâ or somethinâ? Or tryinâ not to? Hell, I donât know what half this stuff means.â
You sighed, turning back to the giant whiteboard on the wall. It was cluttered with colorful timelines, reminders, and arrows pointing every which way, all carefully laid out for the IVF schedule. In hindsight, your meticulousness might have been a tad over the top, but you werenât about to admit that now.
âItâs because we want to maximize the egg retrieval,â you explained, your tone firm but not unkind. âNo sex three days before stimulation so it doesnât mess with yourâugh, never mind. Just stick to the rules. I made this board so itâs clear.â
Behind you, Logan huffed, a warm, rumbling sound that made you turn sharply to find him grinning.
"What?" you asked, brow furrowing.
âYouâre real cute when youâre like this,â he said, gesturing vaguely at you. "Hands on your hips, pen behind your earâlooks like youâre about to lecture me âbout quantum somethinâ."
Your cheeks flushed instantly, but you steadied yourself, standing taller. âThatâs because youâre not listening,â you fired back. "And I have been over this calendar twice. Maybe I should give you a quiz.â
Loganâs grin widened, his teeth flashing. âYou gonna give me detention if I fail?"
Ignoring the heat rising to your face, you tilted your head in mock seriousness. âWouldnât you like that?â
âDunno.â He shrugged, clearly enjoying this far more than he should. âGuess weâll find out if I get somethinâ wrong.â
âFine.â You capped the marker and tapped it against your hand like a gavel. "Whatâs the first thing you have to remember?â
Logan straightened slightly, locking eyes with you. âNo sex three days before retrieval.â
You nodded, reluctantly impressed. âAnd after retrieval?â
âNo sex for a week.â
âWhy?â you pressed, though your voice lost some of its sternness.
ââCause itâs somethinâ about keepinâ the process steadyâdonât wanna screw up your hormones or somethinâ. You didnât get this doctorate for me to screw it all up.â
You stared at him, unable to mask your surprise.
âQuit lookinâ at me like that,â he muttered, although his smug grin didnât waver. âJust âcause Iâm lookinâ at you doesnât mean Iâm not payinâ attention.â
Taking a second to compose yourself, you finally nodded. ���Fine, you passed.â
âBut what about my detention?â His smirk turned wolfish, leaning just a fraction closer.
You stumbled over your words. âIs thisâugh, is this one of your⌠you know?â
Logan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I donât know, darlinâ. Whatâre you talkinâ about?â
âYou know!â you exclaimed, waving the pen for emphasis. âYour⌠fantasies or whatever it is you call them.â
His grin was practically sinful now. âWell, now it is.â
âLogan!â
âRelax, sweetheart.â His voice softened as he reached out to pluck the marker from your hand, setting it aside on the desk. His other hand slid to your hip, grounding you as he bent just low enough to kiss your forehead. "Youâre doinâ great. And weâre gonna get through thisâwhiteboard rules and all."
You sighed, your tension easing slightly under his touch. âYouâd better not fail me on this, Logan.â
âNever,â he said with an almost reverent sincerity, the teasing gleam in his eyes softened by something deeper. "Youâre the one thing Iâve always been real good at keepinâ up with."
And damn it if he didnât mean it.
---
Since today was the last day you could have sex before your retrieval in 4 days, you decided to surprise Logan. Though you werenât sure if this was going to backfire on you or not, you thought youâd give it a try.
You had put on something that was the most stereotypical âteacher likeâ outfit, a white button-up blouse, a black pencil skirt, and some small heels, and went through the regular motions of the school day.
Then, once classes were over, Logan came to your classroom instead of your office like you told him to earlier in the day.
Logan pushed the classroom door open, his shoulders broad and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His gaze swept over the rows of empty desks before it landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, legs crossed, glasses perched on your nose, and a teasing little smile playing at your lips. The whiteboard still had the dayâs lesson scrawled across it, but you werenât thinking about teaching anymore.
âThis where you wanted me?â Logan asked, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
You adjusted your glasses, standing up slowly. âYes, Mr. Howlett. Youâre late.â
His eyebrows lifted, the faintest smirk curling the corner of his mouth. âDidnât know this was official business.â
âSit down,â you instructed, gesturing toward your chair behind the desk. âYouâve got some rules to follow if youâre going to avoid detention.â
Logan chuckled under his breath but obeyed, sauntering over and lowering himself into the chair. He sprawled comfortably, his legs spread wide, making it look far too small for him. âAlright, darlinâ. Whatâs next?â
You stepped around the desk, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. âFirst,â you began, fingers going to the buttons of your blouse, âyouâre not allowed to touch me. At all.â
Loganâs eyes darkened, his smirk growing into a full grin. âThat so?â
âYes,â you said firmly, undoing the top button of your blouse. His gaze tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey. âYouâre here to listen and behave. Understand?â
âGuess Iâll behave,â he murmured, his voice low and rough.
You let the next few buttons fall open, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His sharp inhale didnât go unnoticed, but he kept his hands firmly on the arms of the chair, his knuckles tightening as you slipped the blouse off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
âGood,â you said softly, stepping closer. âStay just like that.â
You moved your hands to the zipper of your pencil skirt, tugging it down slowly. The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra, panties, and those heels. Loganâs jaw flexed, and you could see the restraint it was taking for him to stay still.
âYouâre tryinâ to kill me,â he muttered, his voice strained.
âI told you, no touching,â you reminded him, leaning down just enough to place your hands on the arms of the chair, your face inches from his. âThink you can handle that?â
Loganâs tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze locked on yours. âDonât make promises you canât keep, sweetheart.â
You straightened up, taking your time to slip onto his lap. His hands twitched against the armrests, but he didnât move them, his breathing ragged as you settled yourself over him, the heat between your thighs pressing against the denim of his jeans.
âSee? Youâre doing great,â you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. He let out a low growl, but his hands stayed put.
âYouâre evil,â he said, his voice thick with want.
âMaybe,â you replied, reaching between your bodies to undo his belt. His hips jerked slightly, but he stayed obedient, watching as you unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just enough to free him. He was already hard, and you couldnât help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
âNot so evil now, huh?â Logan quipped, but his breath hitched as you slid your panties to the side, positioning yourself over him.
âRemember,â you whispered, lowering yourself slowly. âNo touching.â
Logan let out a low curse, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in. His hands clenched the armrests tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the effort of keeping them there.
âDarlinâ, youâre killinâ me here,â he rasped, his voice rough and shaky.
You started to move, your hips rolling slowly against his. The friction sent shivers through your body, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. Loganâs eyes were locked on yours, dark and hungry, but his hands didnât budge.
âYouâre so good at this,â you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. He growled low in his throat, his self-control hanging by a thread.
âFuck, sweetheart,â he groaned, his hips bucking up into you. âHowâm I supposed to just sit here?â
âDiscipline,â you teased, your breath warm against his ear. âIsnât that what detentionâs all about?â
Logan let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained and desperate. âYouâre enjoyinâ this way too much.â
You didnât answer, your movements quickening as heat coiled low in your stomach. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room, mingling with your own gasps. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought the urge to touch you.
âYouâre amazing,â you whispered, your voice catching as your rhythm faltered. Loganâs eyes softened briefly, the teasing gleam replaced with something deeper.
âSo are you,â he managed, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly you thought they might snap. âBut Iâm about to lose it here.â
You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. âNot yet,â you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. He groaned into your mouth, his restraint finally breaking as his hands left the armrests and gripped your hips, holding you firmly against him.
âThatâs it,â he growled, guiding your movements now, his strength taking over. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.
The classroom faded away, the only thing that mattered was himâthe way he filled you, the way he moved, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. And when you finally tumbled over the edge together, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was worth every moment of waiting.
Breathless and trembling, you rested your forehead against his, your glasses askew. âSo much for following the rules,â you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips.
Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. âRules are overrated anyway.â
---
âHoney, if you canât do it, I can. Itâs just a little needle.â You said, holding your hand out for the needle, a simple hormone injection that has to be done before the embryo transfer.
Logan stood a few feet away, the needle in his hand looking laughably small against his thick fingers. His jaw was tight, and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look like he was contemplating defusing a bomb instead of giving you a hormone injection.
âI can do it,â he said gruffly, though his eyes darted between the syringe and your exposed stomach like he didnât quite believe himself.
You softened at his hesitation, lowering your hand. âItâs okay if youâre nervous. I can justââ
âIâm not nervous,â Logan interrupted quickly, his voice firm but not unkind. âI just donât want to hurt you.â
A small smile tugged at your lips despite the situation. âLogan, I get stabbed with needles all the time. This is nothing.â
He shot you a look. âNot the same.â
You tilted your head, watching him as his eyes lingered on the syringe. His hands didnât trembleâLogan was steady, alwaysâbut there was a vulnerability in his posture that made your heart ache. This was the same man who had faced armies, wars, and unimaginable pain, yet here he was, worried about causing you the smallest discomfort.
âLogan,â you said softly, reaching for his free hand. He let you take it, his rough palm engulfing yours. âYouâre not going to hurt me. I trust you.â
His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. âAlright, darlinâ. Letâs do this.â
You leaned back slightly on the edge of the couch, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Logan crouched down in front of you, the syringe still in his hand. He studied the instructions youâd written out earlierâmeticulous as alwaysâbefore glancing back at you.
âThis the spot?â he asked, his voice low and steady.
You nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder for support. âRight there.â
Loganâs hand hovered over your skin for a moment before he finally pressed the needle in with careful precision. It stung, but not enough to make you flinch. His gaze stayed fixed on the syringe, his focus unshakable as he slowly pushed the medication in.
âAll done,â he murmured after a moment, pulling the needle away. He pressed a cotton ball gently against your skin, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. âThat okay?â
âPerfect,â you assured him, your smile warm. âSee? Told you it was nothing.â
Logan scoffed lightly as he stood, disposing of the syringe. âDidnât feel like nothinâ to me.â
You reached for his hand again, pulling him back toward you. He let himself be guided, standing between your knees as you looked up at him. âYou did great.â
His lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes were still searching yours, as if looking for any sign that he might have done something wrong. When he found nothing but sincerity, he finally relaxed.
âYouâre a hell of a lot braver than me, you know that?â he said, his voice soft.
You laughed, the sound light and genuine. âI donât know about that. Youâve done way scarier things.â
âNot like this,â he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. âThis is new.â
You leaned into his touch, your hand covering his. âWeâre in it together, Logan. Every step.â
He nodded, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. âTogether,â he echoed. âAlways.â
For a moment, the weight of the last few years lifted, leaving just the two of you in the quiet. It wasnât perfect, and it wasnât easy, but it was enough. And that was all you needed.
---
âI think the mansion is haunted.â Rogue said. âThere is no way ya havenât heard the creakinâ in the night!â
Bobby rolled his eyes, âitâs probably just the AC or someone walking in the hallways.â
Kitty looked over at you as you graded things in your classroom. Though the three of them werenât technically students anymore and had âgraduated high schoolâ, they still lived at the mansion because they were X-Men.
âY/N, do you believe in ghosts?â Kitty asked.
You looked up from your papers, a red pen twirling idly in your fingers, as Kittyâs question hung in the air. The corners of your mouth twitched with curiosity at the way all three of them had their eyes fixed on youâKitty looking earnest, Rogue mildly skeptical, and Bobby wearing his usual mask of rationality.
âGhosts?â you echoed, tilting your head. âI donât know if Iâd call them ghosts, exactly.â
âThatâs not a no,â Kitty pointed out, leaning forward on her desk as if your opinion held the weight of undeniable truth.
You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully. âThereâs a theory,â you began, slipping into your natural cadence as a teacher, âabout residual energy in spaces where intense events have happened. That energy could, in theory, manifest in ways that we interpret as paranormal.â
Kitty nodded enthusiastically while Rogue crossed her arms, clearly unsure. âWhat about creakinâ floorboards? That doesnât sound like âresidual energy.ââ
âWell,â you conceded with a small smile, âthis mansion is over a century old, and wood expands and contracts with changes in temperature.â
Bobby smirked. âTold you.â
Kitty huffed. âYeah, but what about the piano playing by itself? Bobby doesnât even believe me about that!â
âProbably one of the students pulling a prank,â Bobby retorted with a shrug.
âOr an actual ghost,â Kitty shot back, lifting her chin defiantly.
The sound of Logan clearing his throat from the doorway drew everyoneâs attention. âWhatâre we talkinâ about?â he asked, stepping inside with his usual lazy saunter, his eyes cutting to you instinctively.
âGhosts,â Rogue said flatly. âKitty thinks the mansionâs haunted.â
Logan chuckled low in his chest, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. âHaunted, huh? Sounds like you kidsâve been watchinâ too many movies.â
âItâs not just movies!â Kitty protested, turning to him. âY/N agrees there could be something! Residual energy or whatever.â
Loganâs gaze flicked to you, one eyebrow raising in question. You shrugged lightly, âhow âbout this. We meet here at midnight and go âghost huntingâ. Iâll prove that itâs just residual energy so Rogue doesnât have to be afraid anymore.â
âGhost hunting, huh?â Logan drawled.
You shrugged lightly, capping your red pen. âWhy not? Might as well settle this once and for all so Rogue can sleep without thinking sheâll get haunted.â
âHey, I never said I was scared!â Rogue interjected quickly, her Southern drawl edging her words. âI just think thereâs somethinâ weird goinâ on.â
Kitty grinned, nudging her playfully. âSure, youâre not scared.â
Bobby leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. âThis is gonna be a waste of time. But fine, Iâll come. Someoneâs gotta keep you all from freaking out over creaky floorboards.â
You pushed your glasses up, a small smirk playing at your lips. âAlright, itâs settled. Midnight. Bring whatever you think youâll needâflashlights, cameras, whateverâand Iâll bring some equipment from the lab.â
Kittyâs eyes lit up. âLike an EMF detector? And maybe a thermometer?â
âExactly,â you confirmed. âWeâll keep it scientific, not superstitious.â
Logan snorted softly, pushing off the doorway. âYouâve got this whole thing planned, donât you?â
âI do,â you said simply, already mentally organizing the tools youâd need. âAnd youâre coming too.â
âDidnât say I wasnât,â Logan replied with a shrug. âJust think itâs funny how serious youâre takinâ this.â
Rogue shot him a look. âYouâre not gonna ruin it for us, are ya?â
âWouldnât dream of it,â Logan said with a smirk, but his eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening.
---
At exactly midnight, the group gathered in the classroom, flashlights in hand. Kitty and Rogue had brought a handheld camera and an audio recorder, while Bobby carried what looked like an oversized camping flashlight. You walked in with a small case of lab equipment, Logan trailing behind you like your ever-present shadow.
âAlright,â you said, setting the case on your desk and opening it. âWeâve got an EMF detector, a digital thermometer, and a few other tools to measure environmental changes. If thereâs anything abnormal, weâll catch it.â
Kitty practically bounced on her toes. âThis is so cool. I feel like weâre in a movie.â
Logan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk. âLetâs hope itâs not the kind where everyone dies.â
âLogan,â you warned, giving him a pointed look.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. âJust sayinâ.â
You divided the equipment among the group, handing the thermometer to Kitty and the EMF detector to Rogue. âWeâll start in the east wing,â you said, adjusting your glasses. âThatâs where Kitty said she heard the piano, right?â
Kitty nodded vigorously. âI swear, it was playing by itself.â
Loganâs lips twitched, but he said nothing, letting you take the lead as the group headed down the dimly lit hallway.
---
The east wing was quietâeerily so. The air felt heavier, the old wood creaking beneath your feet as you moved through the corridor. Kitty had her camera rolling, and Rogue was carefully monitoring the EMF detector, though so far, it hadnât picked up anything unusual.
âSo, whatâs this âresidual energyâ thing you mentioned earlier?â Bobby asked, his voice cutting through the silence.
You glanced at him over your shoulder. âItâs the idea that strong emotions or events can leave an imprint on a place. Itâs not a ghost in the traditional sense, but more like⌠a recording of something that happened before.â
âLike an echo,â Kitty added, her eyes wide.
âExactly,â you said with a nod. âItâs one explanation for paranormal activity.â
âOr itâs just people imagininâ things,â Logan muttered.
âNot helping,â you shot back, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.
The group reached the end of the hallway, where a grand piano sat in the corner of an old parlor. The room was bathed in shadows, the faint moonlight streaming through the large windows.
âThis is it,â Kitty whispered, her camera trained on the piano.
Rogue glanced at the EMF detector, which remained stubbornly still. âNothinâ so far.â
You stepped closer to the piano, pulling the thermometer from your pocket. The temperature was steady, no sudden drops or spikes that might indicate something unusual.
âWell?â Logan asked, his voice low.
âNo signs of residual energy,â you said, your tone thoughtful. âBut letâsââ
A sudden noise interrupted youâa faint, melodic note from the piano.
Everyone froze.
âWhat the hell?â Bobby muttered, his flashlight beam darting around the room.
Kitty clutched her camera tightly. âI told you! I told you it plays by itself!â
Logan straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of you instinctively. âAlright, whatâs goinâ on here?â
You moved closer to the piano, studying it carefully. âIt could be the strings,â you murmured, leaning down to inspect the inner workings. âIf theyâre loose, they might vibrate on their own.â
âOr itâs a ghost,â Kitty said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.
You glanced at her, adjusting your glasses. âLetâs not jump to conclusions just yet.â
Another note echoed through the room, this one softer, almost mournful.
Rogueâs grip on the EMF detector tightened. âItâs doinâ it again.â
Loganâs eyes darted around the room, his posture tense. âAlright, funâs over. Letâs wrap this up before someone gets spooked.â
Kitty frowned. âBut we justââ
âLoganâs right,â you said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. âWeâve got enough data to analyze. Letâs head back.â
Reluctantly, the group agreed, though Kitty and Rogue exchanged skeptical looks as you packed up the equipment. Logan stayed close to you, his protective instincts clearly on high alert.
As you walked back down the hallway, you couldnât help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to hear another note. But the mansion remained silent, the mystery of the piano lingering in the air like an unsolved equation.
âGhosts or not,â Logan murmured as the two of you trailed behind the others, âyouâre braver than me for stickinâ your nose in somethinâ like this.â
You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his. âItâs just science, Logan.â
âWhatever you say, darlinâ,â he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. âBut if that piano starts chasinâ us, Iâm not stickinâ around to fight it.â
---
Two weeks after the embryo transfer your pregnancy test came back negative.
You stared at the single line on the stick, your throat tight as the bathroom tile seemed to blur and shift under your feet. The tiny piece of plastic felt unbearably heavy in your hand. Youâd tried so hard not to get your hopes up this time, to remind yourself that IVF wasnât a guarantee. But after years of tryingâafter Clomid, after IUI, after the miscarriageâit had been nearly impossible not to hope.
Loganâs voice cut through your thoughts. âSweetheart?â His knock was soft but insistent against the bathroom door. âYou alright in there?â
You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. âYeah,â you managed, though your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears. âIâll be out in a sec.â
He didnât push, but you knew he wouldnât leave either. Logan never did when he thought you needed him.
You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to move. You wrapped the test in some tissue and tossed it into the trash, then splashed cold water on your face. When you opened the door, Logan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as steady as it always wasâbut there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache.
He didnât say anything, just stepped closer and waited. You shook your head slightly, and that was all he needed. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest. The tears came then, hot and fast, and he let you cry, his hand moving gently over your back.
âIâm sorry,â you choked out after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt.
âDonât,â he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. âDonât you dare apologize for this.â
You tried to say something else, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Logan didnât press, just pulled you back into his arms and held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the weight of the disappointment pressing down on you both.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Logan stayed close, finding small ways to comfort you without making it obvious. He brewed your favorite tea, even though he always grumbled about the smell of chamomile. He didnât say a word when you spent an hour re-organizing the bookshelf in the living room, one of your favorite ways to distract yourself when you didnât want to think too hard. And when the two of you finally went to bed that night, he wrapped himself around you like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces together.
---
The next morning, Jean found you in the kitchen, staring blankly into your coffee mug. She didnât need to ask how it wentâyour face told her everything she needed to know.
âOh, Y/N,â she said softly, pulling out the chair next to you. âIâm so sorry.â
You forced a small smile, though it didnât reach your eyes. âThanks, Jean.â
âDo you want to talk about it?â she asked, her tone gentle but never pitying. It was one of the things you appreciated most about herâshe never treated you like you were fragile, even when you felt like you might shatter.
You hesitated, then shrugged. âThereâs not much to say. It didnât work. Again.â
Jean reached across the table and squeezed your hand. âI know how hard this is,â she said. âBut youâre allowed to feel whatever youâre feeling right now. You donât have to hold it together all the time.â
Her words broke something loose in you, and before you knew it, you were spilling everythingâthe years of trying, the heartbreak of the miscarriage, the hope youâd tried so hard to suppress this time. Jean listened without interrupting, her hand a steady anchor in yours.
When you finally stopped, she gave your hand one last squeeze. âYouâre stronger than you give yourself credit for,â she said. âAnd youâre not alone in this. Logan, me, everyoneâweâre here for you.â
You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. âThanks, Jean.â
âAnytime,â she said with a small smile. âNow, how about I make us some breakfast? You look like you could use something other than coffee.â
You let her bustle around the kitchen, the simple, familiar act grounding you in a way you hadnât realized you needed.
---
That evening, Logan found you in your shared office, your glasses perched on your nose as you stared at a stack of papers you werenât really grading. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a moment before speaking.
âYou donât have to do this, yâknow,â he said.
You looked up, frowning slightly. âDo what?â
âAct like everythingâs fine,â he said, his voice low but steady. âItâs okay to feel like shit, darlinâ. Hell, I feel like shit too.â
His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didnât know what to say. Then, with a sigh, you took off your glasses and set them on the desk. âI just donât know what else to do, Logan,â you admitted. âIf I stop moving, I feel like Iâll fall apart.â
He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of your chair so he could look you in the eye. âThen let me catch you,â he said simply.
You blinked, the tears welling up again despite your best efforts. âLoganââ
âI mean it,â he said, his hands resting gently on your knees. âYou donât have to do this alone. Weâll figure it out, one way or another. But right now, you donât gotta be strong. Just let me be strong enough for the both of us, alright?â
You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to respond. Logan stood, pulling you into his arms, and for the first time that day, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, youâd get through this. Together.
---
You and Jean had gone to see your fertility doctor, mostly for the two week check up since the embryo transfer.
When Jean drove the two of you back to the mansion, Dr. Harperâs words rang in your head, over and over.
âWe can try again, but Iâm going to be honest. My medical opinion is that continuing down this path may yield diminishing returns. Thatâs not to say thereâs no hopeâwe absolutely could continue to tryâbut I want to make sure weâre balancing hope with your overall well-being. I know you are a person based on facts, and Iâm sure you know that once you hit your early 30âs, your fertility starts to slowly decline. Given that youâre already having a hard time⌠the choice is yours.â
The truth was, you were getting older. Everything Dr. Harper said was true, and you hated that you couldnât argue with her. If you hadnât been able to get pregnant at 28, why would anything be different now? You stared out the car window, watching the trees blur together as Jean drove back to the mansion. Her presence was steady, calm, just like always, but you could feel her glancing at you every so often, as though trying to gauge whether you were on the verge of breaking.
âYouâre quiet,â Jean said softly, breaking the silence.
You adjusted your glasses, swallowing the lump in your throat. âIâm just⌠processing.â
Jean nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. âTake your time.â
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine. Then you sighed, resting your forehead against the window. âItâs justâwhat if it doesnât happen, Jean? What if this is it? Weâve tried everything.â
Jean pulled into the driveway and put the car in park before turning to face you. âI canât pretend to know how youâre feeling, Y/N. But youâre not alone in this. Logan loves you, and no matter what happens, that wonât change.â
Her words should have been comforting, and maybe they were, but they didnât erase the ache in your chest. You gave her a small smile, though it didnât quite reach your eyes. âThanks, Jean.â
She reached over, squeezing your hand. âYouâre stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, Iâm here for you.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. The mansion loomed in front of you, its familiar silhouette both a comfort and a reminder of all the life happening inside its wallsâlife that felt so out of reach for you.
---
The evening was unusually quiet, with the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than comforting. You sat in your office, papers scattered in front of you, though your focus was anywhere but on them. You twirled your pen absently, watching the slow circles it traced on the desktop.
Logan leaned in the doorway, his usual casual stanceâarms crossed, shoulders slightly slouchedâbut his eyes were sharp, locked on you like he could see through the calm façade you were trying to maintain.
"Youâve been quiet all day, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Somethinâs eating at you."
You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip as you adjusted your glasses. "Logan, IâŚ" You set the pen down, unable to meet his gaze. "I need to talk to you about something. Itâs⌠itâs important."
That got him moving. He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of you like he often did when he wanted your full attention. His hands settled gently on your knees, his thumbs brushing idle circles.
"Whatever it is," he said, his voice low and reassuring, "just tell me. You donât have to go through it alone."
You took a deep breath, gathering the courage you didnât feel. "I went to see Dr. Harper today," you began, forcing your eyes to meet his. "She said⌠she said we could keep trying if we want to, but the odds are getting lower. IVF isnât working. She was honest with meâshe said my chances arenât great. And I know sheâs right, Logan. I feel it every time."
His expression didnât change, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyesâhurt, maybe, or frustration. Not at you, but at the situation. He stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.
"Iâm tired," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I donât know how much more I can takeâphysically or emotionally. But if you want to keep trying, we can. I⌠I just needed to tell you how I feel."
Logan was quiet for a moment, his hands still on your knees, grounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Darlinâ, youâve done more than anyone could ever expect. Youâve put yourself through hell tryinâ to make this workâfor us. And if youâre sayinâ youâre ready to stop⌠then we stop."
Tears welled in your eyes, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "Youâre sure?"
He smiled softly, the kind of smile that was rare from him but filled with nothing but love. "Iâm sure. What I want more than anything is for you to be okay. Youâre all that matters to meâyou always have been. Kids or no kids, that ainât ever gonna change."
You broke then, leaning forward as he wrapped his arms around you. The tears came fast, but they werenât all from sadness. There was relief, tooâa heavy weight lifted from your shoulders after years of carrying it alone.
"I love you," you whispered, your voice breaking.
"I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And no matter what, weâll get through this. Together."
The papers on your desk went forgotten as Logan pulled you closer, holding you in the kind of embrace that told you, without words, that you would always have himâand that was enough.
that is 2009!
i felt like after so many years of trying for a baby, it would get tiring with no progress. and even as a writer, i knew there was only so much i could write about them trying. but of course, we know they have gabby in the future, so don't worry about that!
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#i love you in every time#i love you always and forever
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on set

summary: you're a trainee make-up artist for Big Bang, but you're more than that to him
Working with Big Bang was easily the best part of your apprenticeship.
Unlike other artists who wanted layers of product, constant touch-ups, and precise contouring, the guys mostly required light work: a bit of foundation, some powder, a touch of eyeliner if the concept called for it.
It made your job more enjoyable, especially since they treated you like part of the team rather than just another staff member.
It made for a relaxed atmosphere in the makeup trailer, where laughter and teasing were as common as powder brushes and eyeliner pencils.
Seunghyun was the worst at sitting still, always shifting in his chair when you tried to fix his brows, even running away when you brought out the tweezers. While Daesung, ever the considerate one, sat perfectly still and thanked you each time you adjusted something. Youngbae, being the perfectionist he was, always asked to check his reflection halfway through, nodding in approval before letting you continue.
But Jiyong?
Jiyong made your job interesting.
The others mostly kept things professional, but he had a habit of getting under your skin - both figuratively and literally. He was always touching, always leaning, always there.
If he wasnât stealing your makeup brushes to twirl between his fingers or teasingly drag over your nose while you were moisturising his skin, then he was casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you worked on someone else, peering at your technique like an inquisitive cat.
The worst part?
You didnât even mind.
You kind of liked it.
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âIs that my sandwich?â you asked, watching as he took another bite of the meal you had left on the table - having stepped away only for a moment to grab your compact mirror.
Jiyong glanced up from his phone, completely unbothered. âYou left it unattended. Thatâs a free-for-all.â
You narrowed your eyes. âThat was my lunch.â
He had the audacity to smirk, chewing slowly before holding up the other half. âYou can still have the rest.â
"Keep it." You rolled your eyes, being extra forceful as you dabbed his face with powder. But the damn smirk never dropped from his face.
The next day was the same.
You had left your breakfast bar on the make up table and when you returned, it was half-eaten, carefully wrapped back up again like he hadn't taken several bites.
You snatched it from the table with a huff, but before you could start eating, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small container.
âI got you something,â he said, placing it in front of you.
You frowned, eyeing the packaging. âWhat is it?â
âKimchi fried rice,â he replied, shrugging. âFigured youâd want something better than a cereal bar anyway. And we can share this.â
Your heart did a dumb little flip at the casual way he said it.
Daesung, who had been watching the exchange, snickered. âYou guys act more like a couple than some actual couples I know.â
Jiyong didnât even blink. âSheâs madly in love with me,â he said, shooting you a playful grin.
You rolled your eyes. âOh yeah, totally.â
Totally.
Because you couldnât ignore the warmth spreading through your chest as you dug into the food he had brought you.
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After that, you two frequently shared lunches together, eating quietly to one side. Sometimes he was keen to speak, other times, you two ate in comfortable silence.
But these interactions had clearly been noticed by others.
One afternoon, while you were fixing the lipstick of one of the lead models for the music video, she brought it up.
âHey make up girl,â she said smoothly, her tone edged with something sharp. âYou and GDragon seem⌠close.â
You blinked, caught off guard. âOh, uh⌠I guess? We work together a lot.â
She hummed, lips pursed as if she wasnât convinced. Then, without hesitation, she asked, âCan you ask him out for me?â
You nearly choked. âWhat?â
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving you a look like it was obvious. âIâve been wanting to get drinks with him, but he hasn't spoken to me yet. Since youâre close, I need you to set it up.â
You hesitated.
On one hand, you didnât want to.
You liked Jiyong - more than you probably should.
But on the other hand, she was a well-known model in the industry, and refusing her could put your job at risk. She was demanding. You'd spent most of the week fetching her sparkling water or finding her phone as if you were her personal assistant.
So, against your better judgment, you agreed.
Later, when Jiyong was sitting in a makeup chair waiting for a quick touch-up, you carefully approached him. You took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. âHey, um, are you busy later?â
He turned his head toward you, intrigued. âWhy?â
âThereâs this downtown bar,â you said carefully, watching his expression. âAnd I know someone that would like to go with you.â
Jiyong blinked, then smirked. âYou mean you?â
You froze. âWhat?â
He chuckled, shaking his head like he found your shyness cute. âWhy not just say it? Of course Iâll go with you. I had wanted to ask you first, but I guess you beat me to it.â
Your mouth opened, then shut. You were completely stunned. This was not how this was supposed to go.
But before you could correct him, he was already grinning, standing up and lightly pinching your cheek. âCute. You shouldâve just told me earlier, Jagi.â
Jagi?!
From that moment on, everything shifted.
Jiyong treated you like his girlfriend.
He started calling you pet names, saving a seat for you beside him in the van, throwing an arm around you in between takes. At one point, he even pulled you onto his lap when there were no seats left, completely unbothered by the way staff and models alike stared.
And the model? Oh, she was fuming.
She spent the rest of the day on set making your life miserable.
The final straw had been when she 'accidentally' knocked your makeup brushes onto the floor, forcing you to scramble and clean them up before someone slipped on one.
Your mentor had scolded you, sending you away to go clean them with an annoyed tut. By the time the day was winding down, you were exhausted.
You couldnât take it anymore. You were standing at the sink as you washed the brushes with a scowl.
Thatâs where Jiyong found you.
âHey,â he called, voice softer than usual. âI was looking for you.â
You didnât answer right away, focusing on the brushes. He stepped closer, leaning against the counter. âSo, about our date tonight - â
âI might not be able to go,â you interrupted quietly, not meeting his eyes.
Jiyong frowned. âWhy not?â
You swallowed, watching the muted colours stain the porcelain sink. âBecause I might be fired before I leave today.â
His entire demeanour shifted. âWhat?â
You exhaled shakily. âShe - â You didnât need to say her name. You both knew. âSheâs been making my life hell all day. I think sheâs trying to sabotage me. I wouldnât be surprised if sheâs already complained to my boss. And if she doesâŚâ
Jiyongâs jaw tightened. Then he said, voice firm, âIf anyoneâs going to be fired, itâs her.â
Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his seriousness. âJiyong - â
âDonât worry about it,â he interrupted. âJust focus on our date later.â
You put the brushes down and wiped your hands on your jeans. âThatâs still happening?â
He gave you a look like you were crazy. âOf course.â Then, softer, âYou still want to, right?â
You hesitated. Not because you didnât want to, but because you hadnât really thought about what this all meant.
But the idea of going on a real date with Jiyong - of being his, even if just for a night - excited you.
He studied you carefully, waiting for your answer.
Finally, you nodded. âYeah. I do.â
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his lips. He took a step forward, trapping you against the counter, his hands bracing on either side of you.
âGood,â he murmured. Then, before you could react, he leaned in and kissed you - soft, slow, but with enough confidence to make your knees weak.
When he pulled back, his voice was a whisper against your lips.
âI wouldnât have taken no for an answer.â
Your mood significantly improved after that.
Nothing could ruin your high.
Especially when, the next morning, you arrived on set to find that the model had been replaced.
And Jiyong?
Well, letâs just say he was more than happy to continue calling you Jagi.
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this will probably be a part of a mini collection đ
taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford
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⼠My Hero âĽ

٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
ă/ă⌠Two posts, back to back?? Somebody better come put me out cuz I am on fireee đĽđĽ This is just a cute little fluff piece for our main man cause I thought he needed some attention đ ăă⌠Main!Mark Grayson x Reader ăă⌠None ăă⌠âHere I Amâ by Rick Ross
٨Ů٨ŮâĄďŽŠŮ¨Ů٨Ů
Mark hovered outside your apartment, the familiar sense of comfort tugging at him as he flew the last few feet to your balcony. After a long day of fighting battles and putting out firesâboth literal and metaphoricalâhe was looking forward to some semblance of peace. And there was no place that felt more like peace than with you.
He landed softly, his boots making a quiet thud on the floor of the balcony. As he stepped inside, the warm scent of something delicious hit him. It smelled like home, and for once, he felt like he could truly relax.
You were in the kitchen, humming happily to yourself as you stirred something in a pot on the stove. When you turned around and saw him, your face lit up like the sun had just broken through the clouds.
"Mark!" you cheered, setting the spoon down and rushing over to him. "You're here!"
He smiled, his exhaustion melting away just a little bit at the sight of you. "Hey. I made it."
You laughed, a joyful sound that made his heart skip a beat. "Iâm so glad! Iâm making dinnerâwell, trying to, anyway. Youâre just in time to see how badly I struggle with cooking."
Mark leaned against the doorway, watching you with a grin. âIâm sure youâre doing fine.â
You gave him a playful look, grabbing a jar of garlic from the counter. "Iâm not doing fine. This jar is impossible. Iâve tried everything, but I canât get it open."
With a dramatic sigh, you held it out toward him, your brows raised in mock defeat. "I know I could probably do it if I had the right muscles, but⌠unfortunately, I donât. So, hero, think you can help?"
Markâs grin widened, amused by how you called on him for help so effortlessly. Even though he was absolutely drained from the day's chaos, there was something about your bubbly energy that made him feel lighter. He stepped forward, reaching for the jar, and with an almost embarrassing lack of effort twisted the lid off.
You gasped, eyes wide with exaggerated awe. "Oh my gosh! Youâre my hero!"
Mark chuckled, holding the jar out to you like he was showing off a trophy. âGuess Iâve still got it.â
You looked at him with such admiration that it made his chest tight. âYouâre so strong,â you said, practically glowing with excitement. âLike, seriously! You just make it look so easy!â
He couldnât help but tease. With a sly grin, Mark stood up straighter, flexing his arm and giving you a playful eyebrow raise. âWhat? You think Iâve been skipping arm day?â
You looked at his flexed muscles, then back at him, your face lighting up with a mixture of admiration and sheer delight. âI think youâve been skipping nothing,â you gushed, eyes sparkling. âI mean, look at you! Youâre literally, like⌠a superhero.â
Markâs grin widened, loving the way you fawned over him so freely. It was hard not to get a little caught up in the energy you were giving him. It was so pure, so genuine. In that moment, everything elseâthe fights, the battles, the stressâseemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was you.
He shifted slightly, still holding the jar in one hand. "Guess itâs not so bad being a hero when you get to come home to this," he said, his voice softening just a bit.
You beamed, leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips, lingering for a moment. âIâm just lucky youâre here.â
Markâs heart skipped a beat, and for a second, the weight of the world didnât seem so heavy. He put the jar down on the counter and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for another, deeper kiss. When he pulled away all he could see was you, still looking up at him like he could do no wrong. The warmth of your smile, the way you were so genuinely excited to see himâit overwhelmed all of his sense and all he could think of was you.
âAlright, letâs see whatâs cooking,â he said, shifting the conversation, but still holding onto that feeling of lightness that you brought him. He peered into the pot and saw a mix of vegetables and meat, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma. "Smells amazing. Whatâs in the pot?"
You grinned. "Itâs a surprise. But Iâll tell you this: itâs going to be the best thing youâve ever tasted. Promise."
Mark laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead before turning back to the counter. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the last of his exhaustion drift away as he started to help you prepare the rest of the meal.
Despite the brutal day, despite the fights and the villains, here in your kitchen, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be. Your energy was infectious, your admiration for him so genuine that it made him feel invincible again, if only for a moment.
As he pulled a pot from the cabinet and set it on the stove, you wandered over to him again, still buzzing with excitement.
"You know," you said with a grin as you snaked your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. "I think youâre more of a hero in real life than you even know."
Mark gave a small, playful shrug as he stirred the meal. âWell, I donât know about that... but Iâve got to say, Iâm glad Iâm your hero."
You giggled. âThatâs all that matters.â
#invincible#mark grayson#invincible fanfic#invincible x reader#mark grayson x reader#invincible show#mark graryson fanfic
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đŠđđ˘đŤđ˘đ§đ : đđ¨đŚđŽđŤđ đŹđĄđ˘đ đđŤđđ¤đ˘ đą đŻđ˘đĽđĽđđ˘đ§! đ đ§! đŤđđđđđŤ
MEETING TOMURA SHIGARAKI:
first meeting? he barely acknowledges you. he's got bigger things to worry about than some new recruit. you're just another pawn to him.
he watches you carefully during your first mission together. not because he cares, but because he needs to know if you're competent enough to be useful. if you screw up, expect a harsh comment.
your quirk fascinates him, but not in a good way at first. he sees it as a variable he needs to understand and control. he might ask you a million questions.
if your quirk is touch-based, he's extremely wary. he'll keep his distance and probably wear gloves even when he's not using his own quirk.Â
he forgets your name for weeks. you're just "the [quirk name] user" to him.
he tests you, pushing your buttons, and trying to figure out what makes you tick. he needs to know everything about his teammates, obviously.
you're probably the only one who doesn't flinch when he gets angry. he notices.
TOMURA CRUSHING ON YOU:
the first time he actually listens to you â really listens, not juststrategizing â he's caught off guard.Â
he starts finding excuses to be around you. "i need to observe your quirk usage" turns into "i'm sitting in the same room as you while you do absolutely nothing."
he gets unreasonably irritated when other league members talk to you for too long. he would never admit he's jealous.
he starts mimicking your mannerisms, subconsciously.Â
he starts cleaning up his hands some more. not because he wants to touch you, no, no, no. it's because he wants to seem presentable for all for one.
small acts of "kindness," like making sure you're included in mission briefings or "allowing" you to choose your assignments. he's still the boss, after all.
he notices the little things about you: the way you furrow your brow when you're concentrating, the way you fidget when you're nervous, your favorite snack.
he'll deny it to his grave, but he starts taking your opinions into consideration.
he starts scratching his neck a LOT more when you are around for some reason.
if someone hurts you, he is more enraged than he is normaly.
he is more likely to listen to you.
he can't help but stare at you.
he accidentally calls you by a pet name when he's frustrated, and he gets even MORE frustrated after he realizes what he did.
he starts losing sleep, which is never a good sign for his mental state. he doesn't know why, it must be because you are bothering him or something.
DATING TOMURA SHIGARAKI:
the "confession" is less of a romantic declaration and more of a mumbled agreement. "i guess you're... not entirely useless."
physical touch is a HUGE hurdle. it starts with accidental brushes, then maybe a hesitant shoulder bump. he doesn't trust himself (or his quirk) to get any closer.Â
lots of late-night talks about villains, society, and their shared hatred. it's his way of connecting.
he still doesn't say your name often. pet names become his go-to.
he is very protective and possessive of you.
dates? forget fancy restaurants or romantic walks. you're more likely to find yourselves planning world domination over cheap ramen.
he actually listens and remembers things you say and like; if it's useful for a mission, of course.
he can get jealous and possessive, and he isn't afraid to show it.
he occasionally wants to hold your hand but doesn't know how to approach it without disintegrating you.
he gets genuinely upset if you get hurt.
he hates seeing you sad or stressed.
he's still a mess, but your mess. And secretly, he wouldn't have it any other way.
sleepovers are uncommon since his skin can be harmful, but there are nights when he is okay with it.
he's not a cuddler, but he secretly likes it when you snuggle him.
he always wants to be around you.
he would go with you everywhere.
he's willing to do anything for you once he's in love.
when he actually calls you his partner, you know its serious.
sometimes when he's asleep, he has nightmares of you leaving him/ dying, so he hugs you closer in his sleep.
he would take you out on a picnic if you asked, even though he would hate it.
he will often ask you if you are doing alright or if you needed anything.
he would kill for you.
you are, without a doubt, his player 2.
he would never admit it, but you are his weakness.
it makes him very happy when you hug him.
he likes hearing you call him by his name.
he will do anything for you; wether itâs killing dealing with someone, or if itâs getting you anything you desire
he loves tolerates you a lot
Š đđđđđđđđđ đđđđ â
#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha#mha#mha x reader#x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki#tomura shiragaki#tomura shigiraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x reader fluff#shigaraki tomura#mha shigaraki#bnha shigaraki#bnha tomura#mha tomura#shimura tenko#tenko shimura#tenko x reader#tenko shimura x reader#fluff
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A summary of the rest of the story:
This is late, but better late than never I suppose. I've been asked a couple of times over the years to post the rest of the story, but I never knew how to go about writing it up, so here we go Chapter 3
This was the last one I had a proper script for. I guess partially 4? There was a snippet with Twilight and Spike figuring out how to find element bearers but I dunno if it made much sense. The script here is a bit rough and probably needed some refinement, but it gets the point across. The following are the last pages I worked on, two of which were never posted.
[START SCRIPT] He gives a short laugh. âSorry about that! Nice to meetâcha. Nameâs Nox. I hope those restraints arenât too tight. You might be a prisoner, but thereâs no need for you to be uncomfortable here.â
ââŚâ Fluttershy glares at him.
Wow thatâs actually a really great impression of my boss⌠Youâre not related to Brass are you?
I guess youâre not the talkative type huh? That's alright, I can do it for you. Howâs about we start with a name?
"Says here youâre Fluttershy. Only child of Cloud Cover and Posey who were prominent figures of the Velvet Carnation Movement until their untimely deaths ten years ago during the Ponyville fire, leading to you dropping out of Cloudsdale flight school. Currently you live in a cottage on the outskirts of New Ponyville and run an animal caretaking service.â Fluttershy is shocked, and heâs grinning âPretty spooky, huh? The crownâs got eyes and ears everywhere⌠But it looks like few places are escaping us⌠saaay⌠the hiding places of your Red Sun friends?â
Fluttershy raises an eyebrow.
âLook, I get it. You donât trust me or anypony in the castle for that matter, but youâre here on charges of attempted regicide and that means youâre on a fast track to a short rope. But I know youâre just another pony thatâs been twisted by the Red Sun. If you work with us-
âIâll never work for Nightmare Moon!â She blurts out angrily.
âBut youâll follow the Red Sun? Do you even know what kind of things they do? Because they certainly arenât the heroes some ponies make them out to be.
âAll they want is an Equestria where ponies can live in peace-â âPeace?âHe places several photos on the table. âBlood rituals, bombings of public gathering places, foalnapping and ransoming ponies to fund their activities.â Fluttershy's face is concerned. âRemember the wild weather that destroyed the harvest in Tall Tale last fall? Well the Red Sunâs goons stole the relief supplies our Queen sent. They were alright with leaving thousands to starve.
âEven if that were the case, I didnât want to do what I did, but someone had to stand up to her. Sheâs nothing more than a big bully and I couldnât sit around anymore and watch her hurt more innocent ponies. I had to try, and If that means this is my last day on Gaia, then so be it. New Fluttershy isnât a coward!â âThatâs quite noble of you. Ponies that selfless are hard to come by⌠which is why I donât want to see you go down for this. Tell me who helped plan the attack and the Crown wonât press charges. Iâll make it so you never stepped hoof in Canterlot. You could go on with your life⌠Go back to your cottage⌠back to your pet.â Slides forward picture of angel. [PAGE BREAK] Fluttershy is thinking of Angel and other animals from back home. "I canât do that. They helped put my life back together. I wonât let you hurt them. âWould they do the same for you though? I mean⌠they didnât come for you when you got captured. They donât care about YOU, they cared about what you could do FOR them.â âWhat and you care?â âFluttershy, I just want to give you your life back. The way I see it, a cult took advantage of a young troubled mare and made you do things you'd never think to do otherwise. If the Red Sun was willing to sacrifice someone as kind as you, who else would they be willing to throw away for their selfish goals?â âTheyâre not like thatâŚâ She looks a bit more unsure this time. [PAGE BREAK] All I ask in return for your freedom is a name. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the ones that care for you and would like to see you again. Take some time to think about it. He gets up and leaves. Fluttershy looks down pensively. [PAGE BREAK]
Nox exits. âThat went well! Wanna grab a bite, Sabre? Iâm thinking sandwiches-- Something with peanut butter. Crunchy, obviously. Crystal Sabre is there, looking at Nox, exasperated. She points at him accusingly. âI told you that wasnât going to go anywhere. You should have let me interrogate her. âLook, until Brass gets back, I have to fill in for her, and that means Iâm stuck with a mountain of paperwork. I even had to get up for that emergency meeting this morning! Let me have a little fun! Besides, I have a feeling it wasnât all for nothing. âThe Red Sunâs never been this bold beforeâŚWhat do you think changed?â Fluttershy says through the intercom window thingy âI want to talk to Rainbow Dash!â ââŚWho?â
[END SCRIPT]
In the end, I got too scared of the idea of backlash from one of my OCs being mean to Fluttershy ^^;; I recognize that it may not have been the case, but after how much hate I got for killing off a random guard, younger me got too scared to stick to this script and I flip flopped between redoing it or leaving it. I came to love the characters I had originally made for the sole purpose of filling cabinet roles. I struggled bring myself to make one of them the antagonist in an interaction with someone as beloved as Fluttershy. I ended up putting off the decision long enough that I lost interest in continuing the story though. This script was not the main reason I lost interest in the story, but it was a factor. My original points stand, and I don't regret deciding to let this comic go so I could branch out.
A chunk I wrote with Twilight: Sunset shimmer was a failed magician that was previously in Night's employ Twilight actually would have talked about here in this chunk: [START SCRIPT] âWe know the elements are all part of a system. If theyâre inactive, the bond is still there, itâs just faint, like how on a map you might not see a road between a town and Canterlot, but there has to be one because duh, all roads lead to Canterlot. We have pieces of the system and if we can isolate that link between the pieces, we could follow the link from one element back to the others. All we need to do is fine tune Rarityâs gem finding spell so instead of the beacon being any old gem, itâs whatever is on the other side of the link. Spike: âWouldnât the mages before you already have tried something like that? Twi: âWell the last one, Sunset or something, (Frowny scrunchy face), destroyed all of the notes from previous experiments so weâre pretty much starting from scratch, but even if they did, we have something they didnât! A working element!â [END SCRIPT]
Night burned through so many young and eager mages trying to get what she wanted. Once they weren't useful, they got dumped.
Rest of it:
The big bad evil was going to be the guard Fenix who is actually a body hopping spirit of an alicorn from the ancient alicorn empire before it got decimated in the Alicorn-Draconequus wars. The alicorns had purged themselves of their "darkness" and went on a crusade to bring greatness and order to the rest of Gaia. The last of the Draconequus sacrificed themselves to break the alicorns into the three/four pony tribes--essentially exterminating both races. One of the newly minted unicorns had been in the Empress's inner council and refused to die quietly like the others. Since then, he's been taking over other unicorns' bodies as a way of living forever because he's scared of death (Unicorns because he wasn't sure if non-unicorns could do the necessary magic to prolong his life). That's why Fenix's personality changed when his buddy died in the flashback told by his cousin (The hopping usually kills original person. The original Fenix is gone, there's just the rogue soul now. The previous body was going to die, so he jumped ship before it did). The changeling comment by his cousin was meant to be a diversion.
The entity in Fenix's body had been around for thousands of years, just living a regular life. Ever since the rise of the two sisters, he attached himself to their leadership, usually hanging around as a soldier/guard of some kind, because he still believes in the Alicorns' right to rule and wants to help with bringing glory to Equestria and serve the greater good--the Alicorns and the ideals they choose to rule by.
Fenix had been fine living as just a guard, even under Nightmare Moon. Witnessing her uncertainty and paranoia--how the country was being divided by Night's poor leadership in recent years (especially after the whole assassin and Quake dying)--he became disillusioned by Night's rule and would go on to lead a rebellion against her by plotting to take the Elements of Harmony for himself, hopping into the body of the Red Sun Rebellion's Leader- Sunset Shimmer, then eventually hopping into Celestia to become Solar Flare/Daybreaker or Evil Celestia or whatever. The Elements of Harmony were actually ancient alicorn weapons of mass destruction. The enchantment that made them had mutated over the millennia, becoming something completely new, but contact with the soul of an alicorn of old would have ignited something. Not exactly a reset, but they would have recognized one of their original users and their original purpose.
Night is actually the darkness (a shade) that had been purged from the Alicorn Empress in the old days. It gained a will of it's own over years and forged a pact with Luna to help her take over the kingdom. She didn't remember who she was, only fragments because she was all the parts of the Empress that were deemed impure/bad. They were fine being partner rulers for a while, but then an offhanded comment led to Ponyville being burned to the ground by zealots in the Queen's name 15 or so years ago --this had been to destroy the Velvet Carnation Movement which had been a peaceful group advocating for democracy instead of monarchies--and they'd been feuding ever since and only recently made up in the comic.
Night would have freed Celestia from the Sun of her own volition to try to appease the population and show that she is a good ruler and stop all the talk of rebellion. She wanted to use her as a political puppet. Celestia would have been on a short leash.
Night would have died at the end of the comic, sacrificing herself to put an end to the old empire once and for all by holding down evil Celestia as they both get blasted by the Friendship Elements beam. The old ways were wrong, it was time to stop clinging onto the past--Celestia and Luna are left to make up and rebuild Equestria.
There was definitely a lot of middle stuff that I never figured out, but I did like the story. It just grew increasingly clear that it wasn't something I could ever finish.
Here are some of the alicorn designs I never got around to showing:
I feels quite nice to finally have it all out there.
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[ I absolutely adore Caleb and recently I've entered my Zayne era so today I want to talk about their relationship. (not based on canon just the voices in my head) ]
Yes they might have their issues but I wouldn't say they outright hate each other's guts. I believe they would actually be really good friends if their feelings for you wasn't part of the equation. Their dynamic works out sooooo good for one another if it wasn't for the conflict of interest it actually pains me that we won't see them getting along GRAAAH Infold I beg of you give me content of them together
Like I've mentioned before I like to think that their beef is mostly one-sided which, to me, means Zayne would be the more "mature" of the pair. He has a naturally caring nature so despite being aware Caleb doesn't like him (and they're technically competing for your heart) he can't help but worry about him, especially because you care about him.
Each time boy wonder showed up with bruises and scratches from practice or some other endeavor Zayne would force him to sit down and let him take a look by using the argument of "Do you want them to worry? Then sit. I'll make it quick."
Another sweet thought is Zayne coming over after his classes and finding you and Caleb dozing off while studying together. He would cover both with a blanket and remove anything that could interfere with your or his sleep (music playing, turning off the TV, glasses ECT)
Meanwhile Caleb reads him better than anyone. He may complain about how Zayne is so "stone faced" the whole time, but he KNOWS exactly what he's thinking and feeling for most of the time without even really trying. It's a skill he picked up while growing up â He always paid so much attention to the details for your sake that at some point he ended up getting very good at reading people in general.
What this means you may ask? Well my lovelies, Caleb is much more confident in expressing himself and he knows how to refuse requests he feels uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do (safe it for when they're about/from you) but Zayne not always can do that. In fact, during his early years, he was absolutely terrible at it and guess who came to rescue? That's right, our boy wonder.
"Please Zayne, just cover for me one more time?"
'...Oh, alrigâ"
"Whoa whoa hold your horses! Sub-Zero has plans with me so no can't do, man."
"We don'tâ"
"Shush. Grab your things, let's go!"
He tells himself it's only because if Zayne worked himself to death then you would be worried about him and Caleb doesn't want to share any more attention than what he already has to. It's true of course, but not the full truth.
Caleb will pick up where he can't fully express himself by understanding what he wants without words while Zayne will be the rock he could lean on even if he is too stubborn to admit he needs the support because he doesn't feel the need to be the "perfect gege" like when with you.
[ I will continue to push the Zayne and Caleb agenda so come along for the ride pookies đ¤ ]
#they're besties your honor#believe me#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#caleb love and deepspace#lads caleb#caleb x reader#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#zayne x reader#lnds zayne#zayne fluff#lads zayne#caleb lnds#caleb fluff
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Hi! I was wondering if you knew any fanfics where Cas's grace reacts to his feelings for Dean? (Eg blowing lightbulbs when they kiss etc) Thank you so much! đđŤ
Hello! Here are a few we could think of:
Angel's Wild by riseofthefallenone (Explicit, 389k words)
But thatâs the whole reason heâs here, isnât it? Heâs not out here hunting Humans. Heâs not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. Heâs out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because heâs hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how theyâre described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how theyâre really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that theyâre supposed to love Humans, right? Thatâs a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.
Come Fly With Me by EllenOfOz, followyourenergy (Explicit, 37k words)
Castiel is back from the Empty, and Dean wastes no time in diving in and planting his lipsâŚwell, all over the angel. Cas responds enthusiastically and all is well (or as well as Dean ever gets to have)âŚuntil sex with Cas turns out to have a surprising finish. Weird side effects or not, Dean will take Cas any way he can get him, and he makes the best out of every time. With each time, though, the repercussions of those side effects on Cas are more and more serious. Is Dean destined to lose Cas, one way or another? Or can he change the course of the future by confronting their past?
Don't by tricia_16 (Explicit, 97k words)
After nine days of radio silence from both Jack and Cas, Cas returns to the bunker without Jack but with black fur, four paws, a tail, and an obvious preference for Dean's company. With no idea how to turn Cas back or how he got turned into a cat in the first place, Dean has to learn to live with Cas quite literally underfoot all the damn time. Nobody could have guessed that having his best friend in cat form would end up being the catalyst for a huge shift in their relationship, but looking back, he's pretty sure it all started with an annoyingly stubborn ball of fur...
My Soul Whispers Your Name by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 15k words)
When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul â and heart â really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. Itâs no shock that Deanâs soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Casâ grace all the time, heâs constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that heâs stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.
Occursus by PallasPerilous (Teen and up, 4k words)
âThe natural environment of the human soul is a human body,â Cas says. âHumans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they donât immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.â Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. âOr the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?â Dean finishes. âIt was a poor analogy. I apologize.â âSo whatâs a better one?â Castiel drums his fingers for a second. âItâs more likeâŚthe way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.â âHoly shit are you ever bad at this,â Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.
Strawberry Moon by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 115k words) -- not exactly Cas' grace but his aura.
As a child, Castiel used to fall asleep with his mother telling him bedtime stories of the prophecy she had foreseen for him â how the Strawberry Moon would one day reveal the familiar he was destined to be with. However, itâs been twelve years since the heart-wrenching day Castiel last saw the one he hoped was meant for him, and at twenty-eight, with his magic quickly dwindling, he knows better than to keep believing in such foolish dreams. Castiel's resolve falters with the return of his long-ago teenage crush, Dean. The familiarâs evergreen eyes and rainbow aura are still as captivating, but his past is shrouded in mystery, one that could hold the answer to what drove them apart all those years ago. Maybe the peculiar tabby cat who seems to have taken a liking to Castiel is what it takes to make Castiel believe in the moon with shades of pink again.
The Greatest of These by DoctorProfessorSong (Teen and up, 9k words)
When Jack pulls Cas from the Empty, his vessel is damaged. Jack is working on it. In the meantime, Cas is stuck hanging around the bunker in his Trueform. In other words, the fic where Dean takes Trueform!Cas on little dates and the author has way too much fun with angel lore
you're holy to me by serenityfails (Explicit, 5k words)
"My wings inspired you," Cas says, smug at the thought. "Yeah, I'm feelin' pretty fuckin' inspired right now, man."
There's also this collection on ao3 cas vs lightbulbs that might interest you.
You might also want to check our grace fic tag.
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lightning strikes twice đ¤âĄđ˛





Synopsis: it all began with meeting Nanami Kento at a ruined MCR concert one night in Vegas that was as fleeting as it was passionate. But, sometimes fate has a funny way of repeating itself when he shows up as your blind date years later.
words: 11.8k
CW: x FEM! READER, READER IS SHORTER THAN KENTO WHO IS 6'0 AND HAS CURVES. College age emo!Kento, Post Shibuya scarred!Kento, SMUT(69, virginity loss(kento), protected p in v, elevator makeout), READER HAS SOCIAL ANXIETY, DRUNKENESS, ALCOHOL, SMOKING, ANGST, FLUFF.
a/n: written for @thesoftuglywrites for @unintentionalseductress blind date valentine's event. I profusely apologize for being late again.đđ I hope this is worth it!! đŤśđ˝ I have two versions, this is the more general reader version and then there's the oc reader version based on your description.
No need to read both if you don't want to but I thought I'd include them both just in case. đââď¸Thank you so much for having me & reading in advance. đ dividers by @/saradika-graphics pics from Pinterest. My emo!Nanami inspiration as always: @actuallysaiyan.
@ambiguouslady42

Can lightning strike twice? Can the same piece of Earth be hit in such perfect succession as no coincidence of nature? Is such a formidable force destined to repeat itself despite the miracle of happening in the first place?
It is a rare occurrence, you would guess, and that is what many scientists would tell you. So, how can it be, as you stare, dumbfounded at the man across from you on a night like tonight, so similar to one you encountered him years earlier?
A face you knew once, intimately, similar, but the full weight of the time that had passed between you slowly became realized the longer you stare at one another, almost like heâs brand new.
A moment back then that was just like this one. A second strike of lighting landing directly in the same spot.
Maybe it can after all.
â---
Years earlier
It was spring break. When the temperature warmed up and the sun stayed in the sky a little bit longer. That trademark feeling of youth crept in the breeze that blew in your hair that felt like freedom with the weight of academics temporarily forgotten. You slowly worked up the bravery to take advantage of it while it lasted after a long, lonely winter of being frozen and cooped up in the same place.
That's how you found yourself on a plane to Las Vegas with a bunch of friends with unwise decisions brewing and holes burning in your pockets.
Every cell in your body was telling you that this was a bad idea. Normally the idea of going out would make your skin crawl and fill you with the exhaustion of running a marathon before you even stepped out of the house.
But FOMO would be an even more difficult force to contend with. Add the fact that My Chemical Romance was playing in Vegas, and that feeling tripled until you had no choice but to cave in and get through the vacation to the best of your ability.
As you got ready with your friends in your hotel room and jumped into the Uber, you prayed for the best and plastered on your best fake-it-til-you make-it-mask that you prayed would last the entire evening.
â-
Kento feels massively out of place in this endless sea of people. Doing his best to not let his attention linger on the strong stench of body odor, cheap liquor, and perfume, he absentmindedly bounced his knee as he surveyed the area around him, wondering how much longer he'd have to put up with the crowd before the show would finally begin.
This had all been Satoruâs idea, spending spring break in Sin City. He and Suguru were attached at the hip, of course, while Shoko and Utahime were in some kind of their own secret club, leaving him the odd man out. The fact that MCR was one of his favorite artists of all time was about the only factor keeping him here, aside from the unfortunate fact that he was effectively trapped since they were his ride.
âNanamiii-PSSTT!â
Kento's eyes widened as he watched Satoru and Suguru roll like secret agents underneath the red ropes to the VIP section while Utahime giggled and looked around, holding them up as Shoko slid through, before following after.
âYou've got to be fucking kidding meâŚâ Kento grumbled and felt his stomach turn, looking quickly both ways to make sure the coast was clear before darting in as well before he could be seen.
â
It feels like an eternity that you've been standing in this same spot. You're excited for the show, but you were slowly being put to the test the longer you stood packed in like a sardine in an overheated and very loud tin can. Your friends are chatty with excitement due to the anticipation as well as the alcohol they snuck in, too preoccupied with taking selfies to notice your building distress.
As your social battery rapidly depleted, you feel yourself start to go nonverbal as you began envisioning how much better the air conditioned hotel room with some greasy food and a good nap sounds, and a sense of dread settles in your body because you don't want to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity to see MCR in all of their glory live.
âGive me one of those.â
You order one of your friends to hand you a mini bottle of Crown Whiskey, and they cheer you on as they watch you throw it back. The alcohol leaves a trail of fire down your throat and your body feels tingly, warm, and numb as it begins to work its impairing magic.
âGirl! This way!â Your friends call for you as they begin disappearing in a mischievous chain inside a random opening in the crowd.
Eyes watery, you grab the clammy hand of your friend who's bringing up the caboose right before she's lost in the crowd, letting them drag you to who knows where without a word of protest.
â--
ShitâŚoh, shit.
Coming to the realization that you and your friends illegally infiltrated the VIP mosh pit is not one you want to make while you're becoming more and more intoxicated. Judgement blurry, mind in a boozy haze where you couldn't think straight, you toss back one more mini bottle and that's when you clap eyes on each other.
âSorry.â Kento mumbles as he feels himself stumble backwards into someone, and turns his head momentarily in half-hearted acknowledgement. He does a double take, and his pupils almost comically enlarge as the fact that the person he stumbled into isn't just some forgettable stranger, but a rather beautiful one, smacks him in the face.
The way that surprise was worn on your face as a sweeping dash of warmth spread across it that only complimented the sheen of the glow on your skin that was brought out by the stage lights, the way your hair fell around your face like petals framing the exquisite flower in the middle.
But, most of all, your eyes, the roaring depth of your irises echoed the other ethereal qualities about you that vacated his brain of all trains of thought like a vacuum of space.
An unexplainable force of nature that can only be likened to that first strike of lighting that smites him where he stands and his lips part a little.
The force does not go unexperienced by you, either. He's tall, and slightly lanky with skinny jeans and a black concert t-shirt to match. He has silky blonde locks with bangs that fall in his face that slightly cover one of his eyes that are subtly traced in eyeliner just around the edges that makes them pop. His gaze is gentle, contrasted with eyes an intense shade of amber brown like pools of darkened honey. He emitted an aura that was shy, reserved, and awkward even.
In a nutshell, he was absolutely perfect.
âSorry,â he murmured again, the tips of his ears turning pink.
âItâs okay.â You reassure him. The alcohol has gone to your head, making you uncharacteristically chatty. âWhat's your name?â
The pink spreads to his cheeks as he leans in again for you to repeat your question over the noise in the venue. âHmm?â
âWhat's your name?â You repeat closer to his ear.
âKento.â He answers you, a little louder.
You beam, and that first glint of your smile sends a shudder through him. You were trouble.
âYours?â He asks, since it was only the polite thing to do.
You give him your name and then more questions slip out from your loosened barrier. âWhere are you from?â
âJapan.â He answers. âJapan.â He repeats when you lean in to hear him better.
âNo way?â You answer, an incredulous look on your face as you gave him another disarming smile. âSpring break as well?â
âYeah.â He nods in the opposite direction. âI'm here with some friends.â
âYou seem like you don't belong here either.â You tell him.
He can't contain his blush yet again and shrugs as though you saw right through him. âBig crowds aren't really my scene.â He pauses, slightly at ease by your statement. âNot yours either?â
You shake your head profusely, grinning as you fan yourself a bit with your hand. âFuck no. I'm trying to fight the urge to get out of here.â
The corner of Kento's mouth twitches a little in sympathy. âI hear you on that.â
The silence lingers between you for a moment, but neither of you want the conversation to die just yet.
âIâd stay if I were you, since you probably spent a lot on a VIP ticket. I would imagine.â He adds quickly, not trying to appear as though he was prying in his statement.
You throw your head back and laugh. âUhm, I didn't, actually.â You lean in to divulge your secret. âTechnically, I'm not really supposed to be in here, soooâŚâ You nod in the direction of security.
âHa, me neither.â Kento confesses with a chuckle.
âHey, I won't say anything if you don't.â
Kento looks down as you offer him your hand, blush appearing yet again on his face as he accepts in a clammy handshake. âDeal.â
The lights go out and deafening screams echo throughout the venue as fog fills the stage. The crowd surges forward and you and Kento cling onto each other as it sweeps you up like a treacherous wave. The drums pound in your ears as Helena starts to play.
You can't help the butterflies that erupt all over your body as you're thrust into Kento's space and he can't either. But, right now as the music plays, you figure you'll just blame the lack of distance between you on the crowd.
You both bob your heads as you sing every word. You sneak glances of one another every so often, looking over at him, carefree and the most bubbly state you've seen him in all night as the lyrics you both know and love tumble out like muscle memory, broadcasting that gorgeous elusive smile of his that he tried so hard to hide in the beginning.
He also looks over at you, lost in the music with your eyes closed, hands in the air as you move to the beat. You both might still be considered strangers, but he can't help but feel like whatever connection that was drawing you to him ran much deeper than just passing acquaintances at a concert. Even though you were shy, your disposition was sunny and kind, almost like someone he used to know.
You trade small talk where you can between songs. Slowly, you piece together that he's also in college, loves the same music as you do, although you both would much rather stay in the comfort of your rooms and not leave the house.
It's almost uncanny, you think to yourself when he reveals that he also adores reading, though he'd rather opt for historical fiction or classic literature as opposed to your preference for fantasy. Though, he hates to admit, some of the romance isn't all that bad.
About halfway through, your view gets a bit obstructed by some taller attendees that stand in front of you. Kento clears his throat, wondering if he should say something, his fists growing sweaty again as he wrestles with how to breach the silence.
âOop, my bad.â You giggle and he goes breathless for a moment as you use him as a wall to lean against as you try to stand on tiptoe in vain.
âNeed a boost?â He asks shyly, nodding in the direction of the stage.
Warmth spreads through your body when you realize what he's asking. âOh no, no I couldnât.â
âI insist.â He nods.
âI don't wanna crush you!â You mouth to him over another roar of the crowd.
âYou won't.â He answers assuredly, scooping you closer without a second thought. He stands you in front of him, slotting you between his legs, letting you balance your heels on his feet as a built-in chair, enabling you to see much better from where he's standing.
For someone who was a bit lanky, he's actually quite solid, and he smells intoxicating, a new brand of electricity ebbing and flowing between you as you adjust to this closeness to each other in which your personal space has all but disappeared.
Kento's face burns with a fever, but it dissolves into relief when you're finally in his proximity. A feeling of protectiveness fills him from the warmth you emitted from standing so close, the very faint waft of your floral shampoo that still lingered in your hair.
âHey!â
Dread seeps in both your expressions as you realize you're right next to security and not wearing VIP wristbands.
âRun.â You mutter to him and before you know it, you're darting through the crowd propelled by nothing but pure adrenaline and the impaired judgement of alcohol coursing through your veins.
âOh shit!â Kento curses but has no option but to follow after you, his own adrenaline banishing all rational thoughts for the time being as you both bobbed, ducked, and weaved through the crowd like a sweaty obstacle course of chaos until you make it to the finish line.
âAnd don't come back!!â The head of security shouts as you make your great escape into the night.
You both stumble onto the street, panting and breathing heavily as your heartbeats slowly return to normal.
He looks at you and you can't help but burst into raucous laughter, holding your sides as you felt like they were being split open.
âWhat's so funny?â He huffs but he can't help his own fit of giggles that slowly overtake him. The sound of your laughter was funnier than the non-existent punchline, and soon you both have tears leaking out of your eyes and sore ab muscles as you laugh together in disbelief.
âI'm sorry.â You sigh, throwing your head back as you dab your eyes with the back of your hand. âI just, that shit was unbelievable⌠You should've seen the look on their face.â
âI didn't.â Kento scoffs ruffling his hair. âBecause you practically yanked my fucking arm off.â
You seize in a fit of laughter again and he shakes his head.
âOkay, okay, I'm sorry.â You take a deep breath. âReally I am, cause I fucked up our night.â
âYou think?â Kento asks you in mock disbelief.
âOkay, okay, now I really do feel bad.â You kick a pebble, trying to wrack your brain for ideas.
Kento shrugs. âIt's alright, I guess.â He thinks for a moment then shrugs again. âWouldn't be the worst night I've ever had.â
âYeah, what was that?â You ask, curiosity piqued.
Kento pauses as he recalls his past night-outs gone wrong, but then lingers on the haunting memory of his true answer, cold walls of the morgue and a stale smell under his nose, a wet towel splayed across his forehead.
âNever mind, don't answer that.â You raise a hand as you sense his mind traveling somewhere far off, and he nods quickly in agreement, shaking himself out of that dark place.
âHmmmmmâŚâ you tap your chin as Kento retrieves a cigarette from his pocket, cursing when he can't find his lighter Suguru must have taken for the umpteenth time.
âGot a light?â He asks.
âYeah I got you.â You take out a purple one from your bra cup, and Kento does his very best to ignore how warm it still was as you hand it to him.
âThanks.â
âNo problem.â You reply with a thoughtful hum. âWell, there's always Fremont Street.â
Kento exhales a plume of smoke, and you do your best to hold his gaze, knees growing a little weak at how handsome he looked with the clouds of smoke around his honey eyes, cigarette balanced between two long, dexterous fingers.
âFremont Street?â
âYeah, I hear there's usually lots going on. We could wander, get some drinks. On me, of course, because I fucked up our concert.â
Kento shakes his head. âI can't ask you to spend money on me.â
âI insist! It's no big deal, really.â You state firmly, hoping heâd cave in. âLet me make this up to you so your trip to Vegas doesn't suck entirely.â
âHm.â He pauses, looking around. Part of him was simply still in shock that someone as pretty as you took such an interest in someone as awkward and shy as him. Were you still tipsy from earlier?
âWhat about your friends?â
You sigh and shrug. âThey'll be fine. To tell you the truth, they probably didn't even notice I was gone.â
Kento extinguished his cigarette against the side of the building, nodding in solemn solidarity before tossing it into a nearby receptacle. âMe neither, if I'm being honest.â
A part of your heart pangs a little with sadness at this revelation from him. How could anyone not find someone like him as a person they'd want to be around all the time? Besides, this whole situation was crazy and a little reckless, spending an evening in Vegas with some guy you barely know. But somehow, in its own odd, messed up, and chaotic way, it makes more sense to you than anything you've done on this entire trip.
âSo, Fremont?â
That glimmer in your eye was so enticing, the spring breeze blowing wisps of your hair under the flashing neons. Was he really about to spend his last night in Vegas with some gorgeous stranger?
Well you know what they say: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
âFremont it is.â He agrees with a hopeful smile.
â-
Fremont Street, like the rest of the city, is alive as ever.
Flashy animated graphics illuminate the ceiling of the street experience, with cartoon bunnies and brightly colored flowers dancing across it in a hypnotizing light show in the spirit of the incoming Easter holiday in America. People mosey past, many of them intoxicated, with boisterous laughter and drunken yells. Street performers line the open space: contortionists, musicians, magicians, and scantily clad show girls with almost nothing left to the imagination.
There are several stages playing live music, small audiences built up around them while some patrons hollered and raised their glasses from their patio tables of the numerous outdoor restaurants and bars, a mixture of tobacco,marijuana smoke, and opulent lights pouring out of the open casino doors on every corner.
You and Kento stand there, mouths agape, fascinated by the display as you observe and take it all in for a few moments. You spy a vendor who sells frozen fruity alcohol slushies that come in the outrageously tall plastic cups and your mouth waters.
âWant a drink?â You nudge Kento and he looks where you're focused, his eyes lighting up at the fruity concoctions.
âY-Yeah, let's do it.â
â
Kento feels like a kid in a candy store as he walks the street with you, peering into the numerous gift shops as he sipped his piĂąa colada and mango tequila slush with a curly straw as he watched you sip yours(paid for him despite your protestations), unknowingly endearing yourself to him by the minute as the slush turned your lips and tongue red.
It was a feeling of being carefree that he hadn't felt in so long, something he only got to experience in fleeting doses ever since he started school at Jujutsu High and he had to take on more responsibility than the average person at his age.
And that happiness became all but foreign to him ever since tragedy struck a few years ago and he had to eventually start college, barely moving forward while his mind still lingered in that dark space. But here, in the flashing city lights of Vegas, somehow you make it all vanish.
He's ripped out of his thoughts as you hold up matching I love Vegas hoodies.
âCan we get 'em, Ken, please?â
And who is he to say anything but yes to any silly, wild demand you make of him tonight?
Maybe except to going on the zipline.
â
âNo way.â He shakes his head as you stand in front of the large marquee that read: âSlotzillaâ in green letters. âThere's no way that we're doing this.â
âYou scared?â You ask him, voice playfully laced in a teasing taunt. The alcohol was working both of you into a pleasant buzz, but such a proposal was crazy enough to make even Kento think rationally for a moment.
âI'm not scared. I just think you're bluffing.â Kento folds his arms defensively.
âBut it's Spring Break.â You answer, and you can't deny there's just a tiny shiver of fear that pulls at you as you look up at the riders flying by above your heads on the ceiling, taking in how high up you'd really be.
There's no denying the booze was turning you into a whole different main character tonight, but by God if you'll let anything else ruin this vacation for you after you fucked up the MCR concert for both you and Kento.
âI'm sure. C'mon, let's do it once, just so we can say that we did it and we'll never do it again.â
Kento swallows, keeping his eyes on the towering zipline.
âTogether?â You ask, offering him your outstretched hand. His expression is reluctant at first but a grin of mischief spreads across his lips as he accepts his fate with a solemn sigh.
âTogether.â
â-
âAllllright, you'll wanna stand right here where my foot is, yep, right there in front of the sign so we can take a picture of you and your girlfriend.â
The attraction worker moves Kento right next to you. Butterflies fill your stomach first as he wraps an arm around your waist, and his second when you lean into him with your hands on his chest, even more so when you don't correct the worker at all when she refers to you as Kento's girlfriend.
âCuteeee!â The worker beams and snaps a photo of you, and you can't resist pulling one another even closer so your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hold around you is even tighter, with his chin leaning against your forehead as you posed for a few more shots.
Soon, you and him are bobbing in midair, lightly suspended over the platform in your respective harnesses, hands still intertwined as your hearts raced in mutual anticipation for the go ahead.
âLast chance to back out.â You grin, giving his hand a squeeze.
âNo way. You wish.â Kento huffs returning with a squeeze of his own. âI'm all in.â
âOkayyy lovebirds, you're gonna have to let go of each other's hand for just a moment. I know, ugh.â The worker announces over the loudspeaker.
You both give each other bashful looks as you let go, and speed off down the ziplines.
The flashing lights blur past your vision as you become weightless, gliding and flying across the dome of Fremont Street, wind in your hair as the air of the nighttime floods your senses, a wave of adrenaline that bleeds into a fleeting glimpse of eternity as you watch Kento, beaming wildly with freedom as you two zip across the buzzing street below.
âI'm flying!!! Whooooo!!â You cheer with elation and Kento giggles beside you, going breathless for a moment, the cause he can't trace exactly to the adrenaline, or to how stunning you look in this moment, just like the one at the concert, where every answer to every question he's ever had somehow lies in those bewitching eyes, sealed permanently in your lips that bore solutions to his every problem.
As you both come to a halt and catch your breaths as you walk down the stairs and back onto the street, you can't help but feel closer than ever as you walk hand in hand, as though you've been doing this for ages long before tonight.
âI'm hungry.â You state as you both come to a stop in the middle of the street.
âHmmâŚâ Kento can't deny the rumble in his stomach either, his eyes perusing the choices available until they land on a neon orange sign. âHow about some White Castle?â
âYes pleaseee.â And he beams as you both follow the trail of the distant smell of fresh french fries.
â-
Soon you're sitting across from each other in the burger joint, splitting a sleeve of mini cheeseburger sliders and some freshly salted crinkle cut fries, feet touching under the table, sharing some more meaningful conversation about the latest anime you're both into, sipping sodas until you've eaten so much you can barely move.
â--
The night feels like it's winding down a bit, but the tension has only amped up to undeniable levels. It almost hangs in a cloud around your heads, as you walk to a less busy corner and stop to stand in front of one another, too afraid to confront the obvious question about how it would end.
âWell then.â You sigh and Kento puts his hands in his pockets, nervously fiddling with the pack of cigarettes. âI umâŚI should probably be getting back.â
Kento can't deny the wave of disappointment he feels, but he clears his throat in a weak effort to keep it from showing on his face.
âYeah, of course.â It was foolish of him and kind of a douchebag move after all to assume you would want to go back to his hotel room, despite this accumulation of events tonight that makes him feel like he's known you for much longer.
âBut, I could make a detourâŚâ You give him a shy smile and he can't stop the disappointment from turning into obvious excitement on his face.
âReally?â
God, he was adorable without even trying.
âOf course.â You smile as the spaces between his fingers find their way between yours. âI'm okay with it if you are.â
Kento swallows. It's probably a horrible time to drop the very teensy but extremely important tidbit about him that he's actually a virgin. But, he doesn't want to let this opportunity to spend more time with you slip him by. The reality that you'd have to go back to your separate lives tomorrow was one that he'd just have to contend with in the morning.
âDefinitely, let's go.â
â--
The Uber ride feels like an eternity as you sit in the backseat, thigh to thigh. The intoxication from the alcohol earlier has now been replaced with intoxication of the late hour, and the tensions that were at a boiling point and threatening to spill over with the implications of what would happen when you got to his hotel room.
His lips part softly, pretending to stare ahead as he realizes the circles you're drawing on his thigh are brushing dangerously closer to a spot he really wants them to go.
You lean in, pressing your lips to the vein in his neck as your pinky meets the inside of his thigh, and he has to clench his fists and bite back a sigh when you run the expanse of your palm over the outline where his cock throbs under the fabric.
He pulls you out of the Uber with an urgency you hadn't seen all night, a smirk on his lips as he leads you to the elevator, almost as though he was stirring up a plan for revenge for all the teasing you did in the backseat.
But, it seems you're both on the same page. As soon as the doors close, you pounce on one another immediately, a passionate meeting of lips and soft groans, and hands sneaking under clothes as you grabbed and stroked one another as though the closeness alone wasnât enough to sustain you, and you had to consume one another to get some semblance of completeness.
The taste of his lips surpassed anything you could have expected. They were soft and messy, with just a bite of chill lingering on them from the cold of outside you just emerged from. His mouth is so addictingly sweet, a mixture of the tobacco he smoked, and the lingering pineapple and tequila as you kiss one another deeply in the ascending elevator.
You taste just as perfect, he thinks. Your lips are still laden with the subtle gleam from your chapstick, the sweetness from your drink intermingled with the promise of so many possibilities, like stepping into the sun after years of living in a world where it hid behind unmoving clouds of grey, the smoothness of your skin and how it seemed to melt into silk underneath his touch, his mind slowly going delirious until nothing but you occupied it, doing his best to use what little function he had left to take a mental picture he could retrieve at a later time before it slipped away from his grasp.
âKento, put your hands on meâŚâ you pant, bringing his hands higher up under your shirt until they reached your breasts.
âOh GodâŚâ
He groans at this permission as he feels your nipples harden and pebble. He watches your back arch responsively to his own doing, almost going faint from the heat of it all whose intensity that he had never encountered before, before he goes back to concentrating on kissing you while carefully kneading your breasts.
You notice the walls of the elevator are mirrors, and you feel your descent into lustful arousal needlessly deepen as you open your eyes intermittently during this heated makeout session, observing how far gone he was to the throes passion with his eyes closed and a look of pleasure spreading quickly across his face, this normally shy and quiet guy you met hours earlier as he allowed you to peel back all his layers, revealing how pent up and aching for you he really was.
The doors open with a ding and you almost topple over on each other when a stunned older couple is standing there, shell-shocked. The shade of red he turns is deeper than a tomato, and you both sweat profusely, doing your best to revert to normal, though both of your disheveled appearances aren't fooling anyone.
The woman is clutching her pearls, averting her eyes with a disapproving tsk of her teeth and grumbling under her breath. The man gives Kento a sneaky pat on the back and a thumbs up as they shuffle into the elevator and close the doors behind them.
âWhat just happened?â You ask, out of breath as you make the walk of shame hand in hand down the hall to Kento's hotel room.
Kento dismisses the humiliation of the incident that was still fresh in his mind, and he wraps an arm around your waist, turning a bright shade of cherry yet again. âUmm, let's just forget about it.â
âGood idea.â You chuckle.
â
You splash a bit of water on your face, staring at yourself in the fluorescents of the hotel bathroom while he waits outside.
You tapped your fingers on the granite countertop, shaking your head as you stressed over your hair, a bit mortified that you were in this less than ideal state for the majority of the evening, trying your best to fix it.
Somehow, you could deal with your fears of being in public, talking to this handsome stranger, yeeting yourself across a zipline over a hundred feet in the air, and making out with him in an elevator. But ironically, this was by far the scariest thing you were up against all night long.
Finally, you gain some semblance of a grip, and take a deep breath.
âDon't be a coward.â You mutter to yourself as you slowly consolidate whatever scrape of bravery remains.
â-
Kento bounces his knee, staring at his faint reflection in the black TV screen, almost jumping when you open the door.
You ditched your jacket, he notices, as you slowly make your way towards him, the shadows of your curves being hugged in all the right places in the dim light of the lamp on his nightstand. He swallows as he lets his eyes roam, mouth watering as his lips long to be on yours again.
âHi.â You smile timidly, coming to a stop in front of him, standing between his thighs where he's sitting on the edge of the bed.
âHello.â
His Adam's apple bobs as he cranes his head slightly to gaze up at you, tingles of warmth erupting on both your cheeks as you cup his face, those liquid pools of hazy amber with the power to submerge you from a simple glance. His hands tremble, a little uncertain as he brings them to your waist, already going a little numb at the feel of your softness he got just a glimpse of earlier.
âYou can touch me, Kento.â You reassure him and his eyelids droop, his breath shuddering as you run your hands along his chest. âCan I touch you?â You check in with him, emotion welling inside his heart when you give him the sweetest kiss on the forehead.
âCourse you can.â He answers softly, giving you a smile. You gaze down at him as you run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging the back of his neck, a hint of hesitation you can't help but notice still hangs between you.
âAre you sure?â You ask, leaning your forehead against his, as if to soak up any worries that were brewing in his mind. âYou seem hesitant.â
Kento sighs, a bit of shame filling him. It's almost spooky, how well you can see through him. He silently dreads the truth that he knows he needs to come clean about, knowing there's a possibility he might lose you tonight before he even had a chance, not that he'd blame you one bit for backing out.
âUm, it's just thatâŚI'm a virgin.â He says quietly.
You sit there for a moment in disbelief, taking a moment to process his words. âReally?â
Kento nods, the silence a bit unbearable as he holds his breath, unable to discern what you were thinking.
âHey, that's okay it's justâŚâ
He braces himself for the worst, averting his gaze to a spot on the carpet.
âHey, it's perfectly fine.â You answer, turning his chin to look at you, your heartstrings tugging in response to his weary expression. You can sense the weight of the effort it took him to be vulnerable with you in this moment, something you won't take for granted. The implication of grave responsibility on your part in response to this new information is a lot to take in, but for him, you'll do your very best to rise to the occasion.
âThat doesn't bother me at all, Kento. I just want to make sure that you're sure about all this. We don't need to have sex. But if we do, then I want to make sure that you're a hundred percent comfortable, and we can stop at any time.â
Relief floods inside of him like heavy rain, his heart immediately growing much lighter in his chest.
âI'm positive.â He gives you a reassuring grin. âI have protection too, just in case.â He blushes a little, all the anxiety quickly giving way to arousal at what was to come next.
âThat sounds perfect...â You lean in and kiss him, the soft smack of your lips echoing in the empty space. You hold your face close to his, hearing him inhale softly as your lips linger closely together, not wanting to part just yet.
He makes the next move, leaning back in and capturing them again, his hand finding residence on the back of your neck. All bets are off now as you take that as permission to deepen the kiss, albeit slowly as you don't want to rush perfection, letting him soak in and experience his first time the way it was meant to be: tender and meaningful.
âHelp me?â You gesture to your clothes. Your doe eyed expression sends him reeling, your lovely pout with wetted lips, the built up warmth between you only made the natural glow of your skin stand out even more like it was matter from displaced stars in the scarce light. The number of times you've rendered him speechless is practically innumerable by this point, but he nods earnestly again, not allowing himself to be derailed from his mission.
âOf course.â
The act of undressing you is slow, and a little shaky on Kento's part, but still every bit as sweet. You shudder a little as he gently peels your shirt from your body, entranced as your hair spills out of the opening, your bare breasts bouncing free from the cups of cloth in a hypnotic sway.
You can't remember the last time someone took their time with you like this. Hands that were usually impatient were replaced by his: tentative and nervous, but sweet in a way that was uniquely his own. Eyes that would devour you like a piece of meat with little regard to the soul underneath your exterior were replaced with the caring chestnut of his. His gaze was chaste, but only sensual when you allowed him to be. He looks at you like you were a piece of art to be appreciated first and foremost, and explored only second. From the invisible halo over your head, to your shoulders, to your breasts, to every curve and dimple that flowed to your voluptuous hips, now presented completely bare before him.
It's all you can do before your lips are immediately on his again with a newfound hunger, more strained under the building weight of passion you longed to burn inside this room together.
âKentoâŚâ You whisper his name as your lips work their way away from his, leaving kisses in a heated path starting on the corner of his lips, to the juncture underneath his sharp jaw, and his throat that thrummed as your name left his lips in heady abandon.
He practically whimpers, his cheeks painted in that dusty pink youâve come to adore so much on him. He was slightly embarrassed at how pathetic the sound was, but a low groan rumbles from the center of his chest, and his thumb grazes tenderly over the point of your chin when you don't seem to give a damn. If anything, you're even more aroused from his pleasure which is just as good as your own as you begin to slink lower down his body.
âCan I?â You purr as your hands pause at the studded belt buckle.
âGo right ahead.â His mind temporarily factory resets as he feels it unravel through the loops, the sound alone adding fuel to his fire as he scoots back a little more on the bed to allow you to straddle him, sliding his jeans down his long legs.
He's so hard in his boxers, and this preview of his size in just his underwear sends immediate warmth to your core. He blushes and can't help the feeling of self consciousness creep up on him as your eyes rake over him, wondering how on Earth all of him will fit if your eyes really weren't playing tricks on you.
Once he helps you strip away the confines of boxers, your suspicions are reaffirmed as his large erection bounces free, uncut and heavy, the tip a darker shade of pink than the one that so often showed up on his cheeks.
Despite his obvious well-endowment, the sight of him naked, laying there like a god, hairy in all the right places, a divine masterpiece of lean muscle with an even more dazzling soul underneath, didn't even begin to scrape the surface of wonderful things about him.
âYou can touch, i-if you wantâŚâ Kento prays that he doesn't come off as perverted from this statement. Intimate touches like yours were a foreign concept to him. But, still he couldn't evade his desires and would often daydream about what such an experience would be like. It's all so surreal in this moment that might be coming true tonight.
âI'd love to.â You whisper, pulling another melody of moans out of him as you stroke. He's incredibly warm and responsive as he pulses and twitches in your hand, the evidence barely concealed in a blooming trail of precum flowing from the slit, coating your palm.
âBut let me take care of you too.â He whispers sheepishly. âTo be honestâŚI, I dunno if I'm gonna last so, s-so I wanna do what I can to make sure you get taken care of tooâŚâ
His honesty is endearing, and you can't deny that the pornographic image that his words conjured up in your mind is a deeply arousing one.
âYou want me on top?â Your tone is sultry and the effect your mere words have on him are very apparent as his cock throbs again, leaking another bead of pearlescent precum from the bulky tip of his cock and drooling all over your fingers.
âYeahâŚI mean, yes please.â Kentoâs heart rate begins to accelerate, breath becoming irregular before it departs his lungs when a literal goddess is now on top of him, your juicy ass and glistening pussy spread to his hungry gaze.
He is equal parts enthralled and impossibly turned on as he gazes at the lewd sight in front of his face, followed by a low stirring of pride to his ego, knowing from the presence of your shiny slick that he could have that kind of effect on you.
It's an experience that almost borders on religion for him as he marvels in silent worship what you're so willingly offering to him in this precious moment.
âYou're perfectâŚâ He mumbles, as all other words seem to fail him at this time. Despite your numerous assurances, he still hesitates.
âAndâŚI can touch, too?â He asks gently, swallowing a lump that he didn't realize had built in his throat, hands hovering over the globes of your ass.
âYes, baby. I want you to.â You coo as you situate your mouth over his cock, pressing a dainty kiss to his tip that ripples in chills all over his body. Your first use of a pet name for him almost wrecked him on the spot. Getting used to the idea of being desired by someone was a concept he still had a long way to grasp. You can sense it, and right now, you want to do everything you can to make him utterly drown in it.
âStill okay?â You check in with him and he nods. You lean down, pressing little kisses in a circle around his tip, sticking out your tongue to caress and lick near his slit before you take him in your mouth.
The next moan that Kento makes is downright sexy, low and breathy as the plush, silky inside of your mouth swallows him whole.
âFuckâŚmeâŚâ
Somehow, heaven for him appears just around the corner, his resolve crumbling exponentially every second that passes, his long fingers bruising into the soft flesh of your ass. It exceeded anything he could have expected, and he can only imagine how warm and perfect your pussy must feel if this delectable sensation was only from your mouth.
You lick and massage all along the forest of veins that run vertically along his cock before wrapping your entire mouth around his tip and bobbing your head in a rhythmic pattern, making sure you're not neglecting his heavy balls and the underside of his shaft you goad with your free hand, using the slick mess of drool and precum to keep him nice and wet.
He begins with slow, careful kitten licks to your syrupy folds, eager to deliver on his promise he made to you, before he lengthens his strokes and makes them more relaxed as he delves deeper into your drooling cunt, exploring the folds and crevices of your velvety warmth, wincing and groaning as he feels his balls tighten as his release creeps up on him even faster, his low husky sounds causing you to drip and leak more creamy nectar onto his tongue.
You feed off one anotherâs energy in lewd exchange, the more he savors your dripping cunt in prolonged fervid strokes of his tongue, the deeper you try and take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suckle and swirl your soft tongue over every inch of him you can reach, relishing the tang from the wafts of his natural scent from his pubes.
âShit..shit, I'm gonnaâŚâ His stomach muscles tighten, unable to hold back his release for much longer.
He decides to do something he saw in porn, using his fingers to rub and circle over your warm clit, alternating using his other fingers and tongue to fuck you. You stop dead in your tracks and moan like a siren, your rousing gasps intoxicatingly angelic.
âKenâŚâ
There was no way a guy as inexperienced as him could be so damn good at this on the first try. But then again, he was full of surprises as you came to discover tonight, this one being no different.
He's patient and a speedy learner, something you pick up on as he focuses on just you for the time being, curling his tongue in just the right squishy spot inside you, inhaling deep breaths of your slick as your honey coats his jaw and chin, your cunt clenching tightly and leaking more juices with every careful flick of his tongue and massage of his fingers on your clit.
âCum for me.â He mutters and only seconds pass until you do, and your beautiful climax is the straw that breaks him, hot cum dribbling in warm trickles down his thighs.
He seizes up when he feels your smooth mouth envelop him again, practically dissolving into a fit of twitches as you lick him up, cleaning up the milky gloss and swallowing him down your throat.
He leans in and does his best to clean you up too, his tongue tracing in warm trails between your inner thighs, collecting and slurping your juices into his mouth.
You roll off one another in a shaky mess and he stumbles to the bathroom, returning with a few fluffy towels as you help one another wipe up.
â-
You're underneath the covers now tucked against his chest. You can measure the slow, calming thrums of his heartbeat where your head is resting, a cozy feeling settling inside both of your bellies as this eventful evening draws closer to a close.
âStay the night?â He asks, fingers dancing featherlight across the smooth skin of your shoulder.
âAbsolutely.â You respond, turning to him and pouting your lips.
He smiles as he leans in to fulfill your request, giving you an adorable peck that lingers, once again begging to be more. He was tired, but now he figures he's got another good half hour or so in him if you're not opposed.
You take the lead, opening your lips and depositing the softest of moans into his open mouth that drip with sinful implications. He gets the message immediately as he rolls on top of you. The weight of his body, careful not to crush you and feeling of his cock lengthening and pressing against your belly makes you widen your thighs to welcome him, his tip oozing again already as you softly run the bottoms of your feet up and down his calves.
âDo you still want to try?â You gaze up at him from where he's positioned, long bangs falling in his face as he leans over you, caramel eyes somehow even softer in this moment if such a thing was even possible.
âIâŚI do. But only if you do.â He answers.
âI do.â You nod before puckering for one more kiss. He can't help his smile as he leans in again, the simple gesture feels awfully domestic, a simple demonstration of how comfortable you became with one another.
You bite your lip as he carefully slides the condom over his swollen length, taking the liberty of helping him out by playing with your pussy while you watch him in a trance, taking note of the smallest things about him: the tendons flexing in his arms, the spotting of freckles across his shoulder, the meat of his thighs, his strength that was ever present that made him look so majestic, so beautiful in this intimate setting despite his lean frame and dark clothes he had on earlier that concealed it. All of him, every inch of his beauty was plain as day as you inhaled him like the purest oxygen.
â
âKentoâŚâ
He begins to push the tip of his cock into you, cradling your head in his hands.
âYou okay?â He murmurs, the fog of lust was intoxicating, but not strong enough to not check on you, particularly after he knew it was a struggle for you to take all of him.
âI'mâŚperfectâŚâ You whisper before your breaths bleed onto his lips in another stolen kiss.
âFuck, you're good, so good⌠I'm gonnaâŚgonna start movingâŚâ
He mumbles haphazard words of praise as his body ripples slowly against you in a gentle dance. Both of you are long gone as you settle on a tempo together, hands intertwining against the mattress, cementing the memory of your hair and the way it looked against his pillow, that inimitable glint in your eyes like no other he's seen at the very moment you became one.
Time is a concept, a pest, a nuisance that has its place in the dreaded morning that you both pray never arrives. The things that currently matter inside this cocoon of warmth between you is pure carnality, absolution in the tender pace of his thrusts, euphoric release that fans the flames at the base of your spines as you stretch and clench warmly around him, his thumb thrumming in infinite circles on your clit to open you up even more when you struggle to take him, amorous moans and endless spilling of the others name, this piece of himself willingly, permanently, and hopefully entrusted to you.
âGonna cum...â
His salty ropes eventually dribble into a final act of undressing his soul, filling the barrier between you, your cries swallowed into the hollow of his neck.
â--
The sun springs itself onto you without warning.
You sit straight up in a frenzy, heart sinking to your chest when you notice that the hour said you only had 30 minutes until you needed to leave for the airport, and had over 10 missed calls from your friends.
You dart around the room, cursing and seething the time that pulled the rug out from under you. Robbing you of the slow moments you were supposed to share with him this morning until there was nothing left, and you had no option but to leave him stranded.
You look at him when you're fully dressed, peacefully still asleep, trying to stifle the overwhelming sadness when the harsh pain of the cruel reality of living on opposite ends of the world becomes too much to bear.
As a final act of desperation, you jot your phone number on a stray piece of paper, folding it and leaving it on the desk.
You can't bear to look at him one more time, not noticing the wind from the closing door behind you sweeps the paper under the desk and out of view.
â----
He had never been in love, but somehow within the span of one night you brought him the closest to feeling it that he's ever been, while simultaneously depriving him of it in the same breath.
Sadness stings in Kento's chest as he sits on that long flight home, doing his best to hold back any tears as he replays the memory of you, which for now you'll remain, before it gives way to bittersweet gratitude. Whispering a silent âthank youâ which he only hopes can reach you some way, wherever you are now.
He was grateful he was lucky enough to experience it, even if it was never meant to stay.
What happens in Vegas, stays there after all.
â-----
Years later-Japan
This bar that Shoko recommended is far too loud, but the drinks are fairly decent.
You tap your foot impatiently, staring at the clock on the wall that seemed to stay in place, taking out your phone to check the time as though that would make any difference.
Agreeing to a blind date felt soâŚjuvenile. Almost desperate, even. Love was something you put on the back burner when negative experience after another slowly turned you off to the idea of it entirely.
But, there were good ones that were few and far between that had you holding out hope. Enough remained that led you to agree to this silly date, after all.
But you didn't like to linger on those memories, one in particular that was approaching the 10 year mark during one spring vacation in Vegas. Every now and then, you'll allow your self-restraint to slip and you'll daydream about that blonde man. The kind of lover you meet that's too perfect, that's almost doomed for failure because everything about him was too good to be true and too idealistic to fit into the ugly reality of a long term commitment.
You recall the tears you cried over him and the haunting of the phone call that never arrived. But, you made peace with the ending a long time ago, chalking it up to an isolated experience that was never meant to be long lasting. He didnât owe you anything after that night, that, looking back, was honestly blurred with bad decisions.
It wouldn't have been practical in either case. Between you both starting college in opposite corners of the globe, you were only barely sticking your toes into the real world that you soon would learn was cruel, cold, and could spit you out as quickly as it swallowed you up.
You should be grateful you even had the opportunity to meet someone like him. Some happiness was better than none, no matter how much you wished at the time that things were different.
And, without even trying, you subconsciously looked for him in every person you saw, but it never came close to that first strike of lighting.
Sure, there were other storms, other wonderful people you met along the way that ignited feelings and taught you lessons, but none quite like him.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts, recognizing you're being led by the alcohol in this moment, setting yourself in the opposite direction before you're too far gone, knowing it would be unfair to your incoming mystery date to dwell on loves of your past that need to remain that way.
â---
Kento does his best to stifle his thoughts as he preoccupies himself with his tie, over and through, secured in his usual knot. Routine and order as always, a mere shadow of the young man he once was a long time ago.
He checks the time on the Heuer watch adorning his left wrist, marred in pink scars that peek from underneath his navy dress shirt layered under his tan suit coat. He still has plenty of time, just as he planned. He sighs and looks at himself in the mirror, thoughts somewhere far away as he ponders the true meaning of what exactly he agreed to tonight that was so unlike him.
Was he facing the onset of an early mid-life crisis? Was he in denial about how lonely he really was, causing himself to make decisions uncharacteristic of him in the name of finding some semblance of humanity after going down fruitless paths, chasing aloof ideals like money and honor that left him more hollow than before?
Maybe he was reverting to old patterns, like when he ran away from the world of jujutsu and tried to force himself into a societal standard that was never meant for him?
He can't play mind games with himself like this.
Whether the task at hand was a mission, or something as frivolous as a blind date like tonight, his way of reframing his perspective and focusing on the present moment came into full play.
He nods and studies himself one more time, gaze shifting to where an eye patch now covers where his left eye used to reside, before he turns and walks down the hallway, the quiet click of the door closing behind him.
â---
You had arrived a half hour early, because you knew the only other option for you was arriving a half hour late.
The gentleman you were supposed to meet, according to Shoko, had a preference for punctuality and order. In all honesty, you were probably his worst nightmare in that regard.
Your anxiety about the situation continued to nag you the longer you stayed seated amidst the chatter and bustle of the bar. You bounced your knee, once again daydreaming about curling up in bed and forgoing this ridiculous date altogether.
Just as you're about to bail, he walks in.
The same piece of Earth hit in perfect succession as no coincidence of nature. That formidable force statistically at odds to repeat itself, unfolding before your very eyes as he approaches.
You would not recognize him under normal circumstances. The left side of him has undergone some changes that rattle you to your core as you realize their extent.
His left eye is missing, now concealed behind a black eyepatch. The skin underneath is mangled and pink, but faded in such a way that would suggest that some time had passed since he received them. He walks proudly with a slight limp, an air of propriety and confidence he exudes that's both attractive and extremely jarring in contrast to the shy and insecure version of him you once knew.
It's clear as he takes your hand in his that the old Kento is long gone, but that space in your heart that he latently occupied ever since that night came bubbling, unscathed to the surface.
A night just like tonight, so similar to one you encountered him years earlier. He undergoes the same reel of emotions that zip through him like lightning. The unmistakable hue of your eyes that gripped him the moment he saw them and knew he needed to walk away that night with more than just your name. The promise of your kiss, the way that freedom ran in your hair that decorated his sheets. That happiness he thought was permanently out of his reach that you managed to restore in him that night, leaving him with hope if not anything else.
A face you knew once, intimately, similar, but the full weight of the time that had passed between you slowly became realized the longer you stare at one another, almost like heâs brand new.
A moment back then that was just like this one. A second strike of lighting landing directly in the same spot.
âHello, my name is Kento Nanami.â He greets you nonetheless in ritual decorum that was instilled in his foundation. His voice is slightly deeper than before, a sign of the mature man he grew into from his twenties.
âDo you remember me?â You ask, trying not to make your tone sound emotional as you feel like you're speaking to the ghost of not quite someone you used to know.
âI do.â He answers honestly, possibly the faint glimmer of a fond look he gives you in the subtle crinkle of the crows feet by his eyes.
Both of you sit in silence while the bar around you carries on, him emerging from it momentarily to order his drink: whiskey on the rocks. You note that his preferences have also changed, hardly believing they belonged to this man who once sipped a fruity cocktail slush with you on the Las Vegas strip.
You ride a bitter tide of emotions, bearing a mixture of sadness, resentment, bitterness, and nostalgia.
Why did he never call?
Instead, you ask him, âHow have you been?â
He almost scoffs, as such a simple question requires such a complex answer from him. He keeps it casual for now.
âI've been well. What brings you to Japan?â
âYou know Shoko?â
He pauses, slightly confused at how this is relevant, but answers your question nonetheless. âYes, I do know Shoko.â
âAnd sheâŚshe set me-us, up on this date.â
âThatâs how it would appear.â He sips his drink.
You stare, confounded at him, a bit miffed at howâŚnonchalant he was about the entire situation. But a part of you also was slightly relieved that he didn't make it as awkward as it needed to be.
You narrow your eyes. âAreâŚyou using sarcasm?â
âI'm not, I'm merely agreeing with your observation.â He raises a brow as he looks at you. He seems genuine and you blink, a little embarrassed now at your question that you hoped didn't come across as an attack.
âSorry, I- it's just. There's just so many memories, and I'm still in disbelief if I'm honest with you.â You shake your head as you take another generous sip of your cocktail.
He sits in silence as he observes you out of the corner of his good eye, slightly bemused as it seems some things about you haven't quite changed.
âIt's alright.â He answers. âIt's quite a lot for me to take in as well.â
âIs it?â
âWell, yes. You're not exactly who I imagined running into here tonight.â
âMm, then who did you imagine?â
He side-eyes you and you roll your eyes in response, much to his quiet amusement.
âActually, please don't answer that.â
âI figured as much.â He hums and he leans back a little, and cocks his head while you're not looking. Your charm was certainly one of the things about you he missed. And this bite you possessed was something rather new.
âYou know, I enjoy this bar quite a bit, but there's a quieter spot I know of that we could go to, if you're up for it.â
You pause, getting used to this initiative from him that you're experiencing for the very first time. His suggestion is a very welcome one, you can't deny and you nod.
âVery well.â
âSplendid.â He stands, allowing you to pass in front of him first, leaving the cost of both your tabs on the bar as he follows you onto the street.
------
The vinyl shop is nearly deserted as you enter, much to both yours and his relief. It's a pleasant surprise as you take in your new location, the premise of a record store telling you that there were things about him that stayed the same after all, taking you back to that night as one of the things you bonded over.
âThis is nice.â You muse, eyes coasting over the abundance of albums available to peruse.
He nods in agreement, also satisfied that you're pleased with his suggestion. âIt is. This one has a better selection than most I've been to.â
You browse, occasionally aware of his hand nearly brushing as you pass him in opposite aisles, enjoying the mutual silence as he gives you a moment to recharge and explore the selection of artists since it's your first visit.
There's two elephants in the room, and neither will be easy to address. You still feel burned by him. But, if this was going to be a meaningful attempt at a new start of your relationship, then beginning it from a place of honesty seemed like a reasonable thing to ask of him.
âWhat happened to you?â You ask gently.
He looks at you. Questions about his looks used to bother him in the very beginning when they were still fresh. After years of healing, both physically and emotionally(which he would argue was the most difficult to recover from out of the two), he's taken emotion out of the equation. And in your case, given the intimate history between you two, despite it occurring almost a decade ago, he recognizes it's a reasonable thing for you to ask.
âAsking the hard hitting questions already?â
You turn your head quickly, a little horrified in case you offended him already, but the look on his face makes you sigh in relief when you realize he was being playful.
âNo, I'm-â
âIt's alright.â He reassures, resuming your walk along the aisles, putting his hands in his pockets. âFor another time, though.â He promises you, and you nod in complete understanding.
âOf course.â
There is more, so much more to him now that he must have experienced that you can conclude from just his appearance alone. But, you understand that such an in-depth unraveling of him will need to take place in steps. You're at a loss of where to even begin. But, another issue begs both your attention.
âDo you have another one for me?â He prods.
âYes, actually.â You state cautiously, doing your best to make your tone even, before you rip off the bandaid.
âWhy didn't you call?â
He exhales softly through his nose as you continue your slow walk. âI wanted to.â
âBut?â
âBut you left me.â
You stopped, confused as you try to suppress your long buried anger that was attempting to resurface.
âNoâŚâ You correct him. âYou left me.â
He experiences a bit of frustration as well. It was an old forgotten fling, after all, but delving with you headfirst into the source of your connection going cold overnight digs up all of those old, forgotten feelings of hurt, particularly over something that happened in his early twenties, it feels so childish, a fact he really doesn't appreciate.
âI recall the opposite.â He rebuffs, keeping himself calm.
âWell, I do too. So it seems we're at an impasse.â
âIt would seem very much so.â
You pause together in stalemate, lost in the tangled mess of all things you long to say with no idea of how to say them. He recognizes you're emotional, and you sense the same from him. But despite the emotional charge behind your conversation, neither of you pick up on hostility from the other. Taking a moment to recognize that a passionate and short lived affair from your twenties ended badly for both of you, leaving a scar with no resolution, and now both of you simply want to use this rare opportunity to gain some closure if nothing else transpires from your meeting tonight.
âPlease.â He gestures patiently. âYou first.â
âI left you my number, and you never called.â
Kento raises his eyebrows. âI don't recall that.â
âWell, I did.â
âWhen?â
You scoff, a little frustrated by something that seemed so obvious. âOn your desk! At the hotel right before I left! You were still asleep.â
Kento nods slowly, beginning to understand, âThisâŚchanges things.â
âWhat do you mean?â You respond, puzzled.
âWhy didn't you wake me up?â He counters with a question of his own, leaning against a shelf.
âI didn't want to disturb you.â You look down meekly, the memory coming back to you all at once, including the rather intimate happenings that unfolded that night.
Kento remembers it too, similar feelings of warmth cascading throughout his body at the sensual recollection that would have made his younger self blush profusely.
âWell, I can assure you wholeheartedly, I did not get your message after you left. I was actually under the impression that you abandoned me, for some reason or another.â He shakes his head.
âI'm sorry.â You apologize softly, eyes full of regret.
âNo need.â He replies firmly. âWe were young, it was a misunderstanding. There's no harm done.â
âNo harm done.â You echo with a hum.
âPrecisely.â
Silence.
âWell.â
âWell?â
âCan we start over?â
He smiles, the first genuine one he's given you all night. âI'd like that.â
You both grin in mutual elation, slightly lost at first at how to transition into this fresh beginning.
âSo.â You wrack your brain for ideas, meandering over to the section alphabetized, âM.â
âDo you still listen to MCR?â
He nods, offering you another closed lipped smile. âEvery so often.â
âReally?â You finger through the vinyls, landing on Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. âDo you have this one?â
âI do, actually.â He muses, an idea popping into his head. âWhy don't we get you started on your own collection?â
You shake your head quickly, stowing the vinyl back like it was on fire. âOh, no. Kento, no, I really shouldn'tâŚâ
âI insist.â He glides next to you, retrieving it with a hum as he examines it before stowing it under his arm, moving on in search of the latest album from Modest Mouse.
And you can't help but accept defeat with an affectionate shake of your head. Definitely one of the things you remember about him that hadn't changed.
There was no winning when it came to debates over him doing you favors. So, in the spirit of starting fresh, you'd let him have this one for now.
â--
You stand outside of the vinyl shop, a new connection born between you, lots of old feelings mixed in with apprehension, yet hope for the future.
He studies you under the light from the city streets, noticing you're every bit as beautiful as the night he found you and lost you all at once.
He longs to close the space between you, reunite with what he had missed out on for so long that he was certain he'd never taste again, brought back to him by sheer coincidence, a gift of fate.
But, unlike last time, he knows he can't repeat his mistakes. And though you long to just as badly, you know you can't, either.
Instead, he sweeps you into a warm embrace. He smells different than you remember, but this new scent is every bit as intoxicating as the old one.
You stay like that, wrapped up in each other for the longest time, buying back some of it that had been robbed between you. This hug was the physical apology you owed to one another for everything that happened in the old chapter, and the cornerstone you needed to pass over into the new.
When you part ways, he doesn't allow his gaze to drift from you until he ensures you're safely aboard your bus, watching until it rounds the corner before he ventures in the opposite direction, mind full of you he has no plans to clear anytime soon.
And, just like that, lightning does strike twice. The clouds of the storm have receded to sunny skies, a rainbow of hope glimmering on the horizon.
He smiles as he walks away, your number tucked neatly in his breast pocket.
This time, he'll make sure he doesn't lose it.
---
#from my trees . Ë đ§ˇ ÂˇđĽ ° . âĄ#ncs valentines day#blind date matchmaking#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#nanami kento x fem!reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami smut#nanami angst#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento angst#nanami kento smut#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#x female reader#x fem!reader#dividers by saradika
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How do you think Les would act toward Floyd older? After the third movie, I mean.
Calmer, and stable Floyd, who I'm guessing actually got some help in the village. Maybe Floyd got help by talking things out there with someone, like therapy-ish. Or, just his brothers helping him through it all, because that's probably what he needed.
Seeing him happier than when he last saw him.
And, his new hair! I mean, him learning of everything that happened.
Would they get together again, or rekindle whatever reasonship (staying just friends?)
Ohh my story has gone through so many changes and updates that I haven't really talked about on here so it's hard to answer this ask straightforwardly now. đ
I have caved and decided Les and Floyd still end up together so... đ

"I thought you were dead..." | "'M sorry."
Here's an updated version of this old post:
The timeline right now is more or less the same with them having a nasty breakup when Floyd is 22. The cause for it is that until that point Floyd only has hypomanic episodes which raise some eyebrows but they aren't that concerning to anyone, not with the kind of lifestyle they are having anyway. But at the time of the breakup he suffers from full-blown mania with psychosis for the first time which hurts both him as well as Les and the other bandmates.
Then there's the 2 year period where they are apart and Floyd falls hard into substance abuse and bad habits. Then Les bumps into him at a party and gets them to talk outside. It's clear to both that they feel incredibly sorry about what happened when they broke up. Floyd quickly after coming down from his mania realized that what he believed was going was all a delusion his brain convinced him of. And Les feels responsible for the addicted and mentally unwell state Floyd has ended up in.
There's still love there but so much hurt and the trust they had is damaged to the point they're unsure if it's fixable. Neither of them knows how to even address what went down in those days leading up to the breakup.
Les decides to help Floyd get back on his feet but he doesn't want him near the band anymore. He's convinced that the band isn't good for him anyway. He finds him a place to stay and a job in a remote town where not much goes on so he has a chance to sober up. The band at this point is still trying to make it work by doing gigs, so Les visits him little by little in between to check on him during this time period.
They go back to being friends gradually and Floyd shows interest in getting back together romantically from early on while Les has trust issues he can't get past. Les is very reserved and non-confrontational when it comes to addressing his hurt so he doesn't bring it up. Floyd is usually the one who would make those conversations happen, but Floyd at this point isn't aware that he has bipolar and doesn't understand what happened (is happening) to him, and he is very uncomfortable addressing it too.
But eventually they can no longer tiptoe around the topic of their breakup. Les wants to know what happened and why Floyd accused him of the things he did - which to Les it felt like Floyd took everything Les had confided in him regarding his childhood abuse and throwing it back in his face. Floyd feels awful because the only explanation he has is that at the time he really thought they were true. He tells him that he knows they aren't true but that something was really really wrong with him. He tries to explain what he was going through the best he can and he also tells him that whenever he tried to address it back then he was accused of constantly getting high on worms behind their backs which is what caused his paranoia to spiral.
The conversation doesn't answer everything but it makes it clear to both that neither of them wanted to hurt the other person, especially not intentionally. Which is what allows them to make the step into getting back together.
But not long after this Floyd suffers another strong manic episode and messes up at his job and books it out of that town. Once Les finds him and sees him in that hyper and erratic state again but now with more understanding, he tries his hardest to bring it down and help, and he finally firmly tells him that he needs to get professional help. Floyd doesn't like the idea of going to therapy so he says he'll go only if Les goes too to work out his own trauma. Around this point it's also when the band officially breaks up (they just couldn't ever recover after losing Floyd and Liv) so Les has no excuses to give why he can't go and he eventually agrees.
Floyd finally gets his bipolar diagnosis (yay!) and gets "meds" for it, and this revelation also helps both of them to really put the breakup incident behind them.
After this point they're more or less together. I say "more or less" because they're not in a conventional relationship and they're not following the classic rules of being a couple. They know each other inside out and are both deeply and unconditionally in love with each other but whatever they have looks more like casual dating that's been going on for more than a decade. Sometimes they live together like an old married couple and sometimes they don't and they keep in touch through letters and scheduled calls in phone booths.
One day during their "apart time" Floyd stops answering those scheduled calls and Les gets worried and sets out to look for him, which turns into a desperate months-long search while tensions in the country are high, non Rock Trolls are getting arrested and disappearing left and right, and the Rock Kingdom is secretly planning their invasion of the other kingdoms.
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#I'm stopping here because this got long!#but uhm les is a mess by the time floyd finally shows up. guy was already going through the first stages of grief... :(#answered#trolls#dreamwork trolls#ex bandmates#trolls floyd#trolls oc#les#floylie#my art#btw sorry for the late reply!
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AU where mc the night before her first day of 5th year (or age them up), she is at the three broomsticks nervous for her first day at Hogwarts. She ends up having to what she assumes is a one night stand with just another guy in Hogsmeade (he wasnât wearing a robe so he HAD to be someone just passing through, right?). Only to find the next day, before the sorting ceremony, that the very same man is sitting at the slytherin table. And he will refuse to let her live it down, especially where they had shared intimate moments beyond sex (something he never did).
Unforeseen Attachments | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Words: ~6,900
Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance
The Three Broomsticks was warm, loud, and filled with the scent of butterbeer and spice. You had chosen it for a reason: to calm your nerves. Tomorrow, youâd finally be setting foot inside Hogwarts for the first time, starting your seventh year at a school that, until this past year, you never even knew existed. You were a newly minted witch, arriving at the very end of your academic career.
You had told yourself you werenât nervous, but then you had downed two drinks too many, and when a smooth voice asked if the seat beside you was taken, you didnât hesitate before saying no.
He wasnât in robes. That was the first thing you noticed. Just dark jeans and a snug sweater. His hair was a tousled mess, his sharp features and freckles accentuated by the dim candlelight, and when he smirked at you, it was the kind of smile that promised trouble.
"New to town?"
"That obvious?" you had replied, eyeing him cautiously.
He chuckled, leaning his elbow on the bar as he studied you. âJust a little.â His voice was smooth, confidentâtoo confident. âYouâre drinking like someone trying to forget something. Or maybe trying to work up the courage for something.â His gaze flicked to your mostly empty glass, then back to you. âWhich is it?â
You huffed a laugh, swirling the last bit of liquid in your glass. âBoth, maybe.â
His smirk widened. âTell me more.â
You hesitated, but something about himâthe way he leaned in like he actually cared about the answerâmade you let your guard down, just a little.
âI start at Hogwarts tomorrow,â you admitted, exhaling sharply. âSeventh year. Transfer student.â
For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker across his expression. But then he grinned, and it was gone, replaced by something playful. âBit late to be jumping in, isnât it?â
âTell me about it.â
âWell, youâre in luck,â he said, gesturing between you. âI happen to be an expert on Hogwarts.â
You snorted. âOh? Let me guessâalumni?â
He tilted his head, considering. âSomething like that.â
He bought you another drink.
Then another.
By the time you reached your third, the nerves that had kept you rigid all night had melted away, replaced by the comfortable haze of alcohol and the easy pull of conversation with the stranger beside you. He was annoyingly charming, quick-witted in a way that made it impossible not to banter with him, and when he laughedâreally laughedâit was warm and rich, something that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the firewhiskey.
At some point, his arm had draped over the back of your chair, the tips of his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, each touch a ghost of something deliberate. It made your skin tingle, made your breath catch just slightly, but you never pulled away.
And then neither of you were talking.
You were just looking at each other, the din of the Three Broomsticks fading into the background, the flickering candlelight making the gold in his eyes gleam, his pupils blown wide beneath thick lashes.
He smirked. A lazy, confident thing. And then, he kissed you.
He kissed you like he had already decided you were his the moment he sat down beside you, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire night.
He tasted like firewhiskey and cinnamon, sharp and warm, laced with something decadent and dangerous.
A low sound rumbled in his throat when you kissed him back, fingers curling around the front of his sweater as he dragged you closer, his hands slipping down your waist like he had no intention of letting go.
He nipped at your lower lip and sighed when you let him in, and when his tongue brushed against yours, slow, teasing, entirely in control, your resolve crumbled.
âWhere?â you murmured against his lips.
His lips curved against yours into something satisfied. Something certain.
"Upstairs.â
The room smelled of sweat and heat and something unmistakably him. The sheets were tangled around your legs, sticking to your skin, still damp from the mess the two of you had made of each other. Your body was wrecked; thoroughly, deliciously spent in a way that left your limbs feeling like lead, the faintest tremor still lingering in your thighs.
You stared at the ceiling, pulse still hammering in your ears.
You never knew sex could feel like this. It was as if he had known you forever, as if the moment his hands met your skin, he was simply retracing familiar paths. Like in some past life, he had already learned every sound you make, already mastered the art of unraveling you.
Your breath hitched as a phantom sensation rippled through youâthe memory of his mouth on your skin, the way he had taken his time, the way he had watched you, dragging it out until you were begging for him. He had been so unbearably confident in the way he touched you, in the way he held you, like he already knew how you were going to fall apart before you did.
You turned your head slightly, eyes trailing to the half-open bathroom door. The sound of running water filled the space, soft splashes as he washed up, and you stared up at the ceiling, the memory of him under the soft candlelight flashing through your mind.
You had known he was handsome. That had been obvious from the first moment he sat down beside you at the bar, but seeing himâtruly seeing himâwithout the barriers of clothing in the way?
Holy. Fuck.
He wasnât sculpted like some vain, preened gym rat, nor was he delicate and lean like a pureblood aristocrat bred for appearances.
No.
He was broad-shouldered and powerful, all tanned skin and freckles, his strength was earned, not ornamentalâthe kind built from use rather than mindless training. Muscle softened just enough to feel real, warm, solid.
And then his hands.
Calloused, experienced, fingers that had gripped your waist so tightly you were sure there would be bruises. Hands that had held you down, teased you, ruined you, and then softened just enough when you gasped for breath, like he had needed you to be okay before he kept going.
The memory made heat pool in your stomach again, and you clenched your thighs together, mortified at yourself. You had never reacted like this to someone before. You had never wanted someone again so soon after already being ruined by them.
Your breath caught as you heard the water shut off. A second later, the door creaked open.
And then he was there.
Standing in the doorway, looking like sin incarnate, toweling off his damp curls, still gloriously bare. He wasnât even looking at you yet, just running the towel over his hair, muscles flexing with the movement, slow and unhurried.
Then he glanced up, and smirked.
"Still here, hm? And here I was, thinking youâd just sneak out while I was in the loo.â
You should have. You really should have. Butâ
"I can't walk yet," you muttered.
âOh?â He tossed the towel onto a nearby chair, taking a slow step forward, utterly unbothered by the fact he was still completely bloody naked.
He padded over to the bed, moving with that same effortless grace he had when heâd pinned you down andâ
You shut down that thought immediately, heart lurching as he sank onto the mattress beside you.
Because this... this wasnât how a one-night stand was supposed to go.
He should have been getting dressed, flashing you that lazy, self-satisfied smirk before making some teasing remark about how fun it had been. You should have been making an excuse to leave, pretending like your legs werenât still trembling, like your skin wasnât still buzzing with the memory of his hands.
You werenât supposed to feel attached.
But fuck. How could you not? How could you go back to anything else after this? How could you let someone else touch you, kiss you, have you when he had already set a standard that no one else could ever reach?
You swallowed hard, shifting slightly under the sheets, only to feel the telltale ache between your legsâa reminder of exactly what he had done to you.
He must have caught something in your expression because he smirked again. âRegretting it already?â
Your mouth opened, a retort on your tongue, but the words never came.
Because you werenât.
You werenât regretting a single thing. And maybe that was the most terrifying part.
So you turned your face toward the ceiling, exhaling sharply. âYou do this often?â
He let out a soft huff of laughter, leaning back into the pillows beside you. "Sort of."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He folded his arms behind his head, ignoring your question. "What about you? You do this often?"
You wet your lips, gaze flicking between him and the ceiling. "I wouldn't say 'often', but... sometimes, I guess."
There was a beat of silence. The kind that stretched just long enough to feel heavy, not quite comfortable, not quite awkward.
He let out a slow breath. âSo,â he said, voice low, casual, but too casual. Like he was about to pry.
You turned your head slightly to glance at him. âSo?â
His brown eyes flicked to you. âWhy now?â
Your brows furrowed. âWhat do you mean?â
âYou said youâre a transfer,â he mused. âSeventh year. That doesnât happen often. So, why now?â
You exhaled sharply, fingers tightening slightly in the sheets. It was an innocent questionâmaybe. But it still felt like he had reached into your chest and prodded at something raw.
âItâs⌠complicated,â you said eventually.
He hummed, unconvinced. âIâve got time.â
You sighed. âOkay, well... long story short, I only just got my magic.â
âWhat?â
âI wasnât raised in the magical world,â you explained. âDidnât even know it existed until this year. Thought I was just some ordinary Muggle with an ordinary life. Thenââ You hesitated. âThen things changed.â
He didnât say anything for a moment. His gaze burned against the side of your face, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer.
âBloody hell.â
That made you snort. âThatâs one way to put it.â
âNo, I mean⌠Thatâs insane. That almost never happens.â
âYeah, well, here I am."
He let out a soft laugh. âSo, let me guess. The Ministry found you, whisked you off, and now youâre here, trying to cram seven years of magical education into one?â
âSomething like that."
He shook his head, whistling low. âNo wonder you were drinking like a condemned woman.â
âI wasnât that bad.â
âYou were two sips away from talking to the fireplace.â
âLiar.â
He chuckled, stretching slightly. âSo, what do you think of it so far?â
âWhat?â
âThe wizarding world.â He propped himself up on one elbow, his freckled face half-illuminated by the candlelight. âNow that youâre part of it.â
You hesitated. âItâs⌠a lot.â
He huffed. âSounds like an understatement.â
You turned your head to meet his gaze. âItâs like stepping into a completely different reality. I spent years thinking I knew how the world worked, and now... Now, I have to relearn everything.â
His smirk faded slightly. âThatâs got to be terrifying.â
You hummed in contemplation. Because yes, it was. It was terrifying in a way you could barely put into words. But it was also exhilarating.
You shifted slightly beneath the sheets. "It's scary," you told him honestly. "But it's exciting too⌠like what if this is where I was always meant to be?"
He studied you for a moment, his expression softening into something thoughtful.
âI think it is,â he said, and somehow it didnât feel like a simple reassurance. It felt like certainty. And for some reason, that made your chest ache.
You turned onto your side, facing him, searching his expression. He was still propped up on one elbow, his messy curls falling over his forehead, freckles scattered over his nose and cheekbones. He looked so⌠casual. At ease. As if lying naked in a rented bed, talking about your deepest secrets, was just something he did all the time.
âWhat about you?â you asked, tilting your head.
He arched a brow. âWhat about me?â
âHowâd you end up at Hogwarts?â
He huffed a laugh. âOh, you know,â he said airily, âthe usual. Grew up in the magical world. Got my letter at 11. Sorted into Slytherin. Got into loads of trouble. Almost expelledâtwice. That sort of thing.â
You smirked. âTrouble, huh?â
âOh, loads.â
âWhat kind of trouble?â
He grinned, but it didnât quite reach his eyes. âAll kinds. Letâs just say I have a knack for bending the rules.â
You snorted. "Not very specific."
He turned onto his side to face you again. His smirk lingered, but there was something unreadable beneath it, something just slightly off.
"Mostly I'd get in shit for sneaking off places I shouldn't."
You arched a brow. âLike where?â
He smirked, but it was a little too sharp. âOh, you know⌠the Restricted Section. Cursed catacombs. The occasional abandoned ruin.â
You let out a huff of laughter. âSounds like you were more of a treasure hunter than a student.â
He stretched, rolling onto his back again. âSomething like that.â
His voice was light, but for all the teasing, all the flirting, there was something about him that felt heavy. Like there were things he wasnât saying.
You turned onto your stomach, resting your chin on your arms. âYou still do that?â
He glanced at you. âDo what?â
âGo looking for things you shouldnât?â
He didnât answer immediately. His fingers traced absent patterns into the sheets, expression thoughtful. Thenâ
âNot as much anymore.â
You frowned. âWhy not?â
âLost my motivation, I suppose.â
"And your motivation was...?"
His dark eyes flicked to you, something unreadable lurking behind them, stormy and distant in a way that made your stomach tighten.
"My sister was sick."
The room instantly felt smaller.
You hadn't expected that.
His voice was calm, almost too even, like he was reciting a fact instead of something that had unraveled his life. His fingers still traced idle shapes into the sheets, though you suspected now it was more about keeping his hands busy than anything else.
"Was?" You asked.
His fingers stilled.
"She still is. But we... don't talk anymore."
He didnât look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere on the ceiling, jaw set just tight enough to reveal the tension there.
Your throat tightened. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Me too."
The silence between you stretched, heavy with things left unsaid.
His gaze remained locked on the ceiling, jaw set, fingers curled slightly in the sheets, and you shouldnât have cared that he looked so broken. You had no reason to care. This was supposed to be nothing. A one-night distraction. A mistake that would be left behind in the morning.
So why... Why were you scooting closer? Why was your hand reaching out before you could even stop yourself?
Before you knew it, you had pressed yourself into his side, curling against him without thinking, your fingers brushing along his arm, your lips pressing the softest, faintest kiss to his temple.
He tensed, and for a brief, terrible second, you thought he might pull away. That he might make some biting remark, twist this moment into something easy so he wouldnât have to feel it. But then, he exhaled and his shoulders slumped, the tension in his body easing just slightly.
You didnât say anything. You just stayed there, forehead brushing against the side of his face, fingers resting lightly over his stomach.
His hand came up slowly, hesitating just for a moment before he curled his fingers over yours.
You werenât sure how long you lay there like that, holding him. And you didnât know what had come over you. Where had this protectiveness come from? This strange, overwhelming fondness for a man you had known for mere hours?
This was supposed to be nothing.
But it didnât feel like nothing.
Not when he let you stay close. Not when his fingers held onto yours just a little bit tighter, as if he needed it.
The realization made something in your chest ache.
And maybe that was why, after everything, after you had given him your body, after you had laid yourselves bare in ways that werenât just physicalâ
You finally gave him your name. Softly. Just above a whisper.
He blinked, turning his head slightly to face you, brow raising just a fraction. Then he smiled, soft and genuine. He squeezed your fingers lightly, and for the first time since you had met him, he said, âSebastian.â
The name settled over you like a spell.
Sebastian.
The bed was empty when you woke.
Sebastian was gone.
Your stomach twisted with hurt, an irrational, stupid sort of hurt that you immediately tried to shake off.
He had no obligation to stay. No promise had been made, no expectation set.
Still, as you ran a hand over the empty space beside you, the sheets cold to the touch, something in your chest tightened.
You let out a sharp exhale, trying to will it away. You knew better than this.
But then you saw it. A slip of parchment, folded neatly and left on the pillow beside you.
You swallowed hard, pulse picking up as you reached for it, unfolding the note with slightly unsteady hands.
The writing was neat, precise, slanted just slightly to the right. You read the words once. Then twice. Then three times.
I had places to be. Didnât want to wake youâfigured you needed the sleep after last night. Try not to miss me too much. See you soon. âSebastian
See you soon? How? How could he possibly see you soon? It wasnât like he had left a way to contact himâno address, no floo network connection, not even a vague mention of when heâd be passing through Hogsmeade again.
Just see you soon.
Your chest ached, but you ignored it. It was probably just his way of letting you down easily, a casual farewell to smooth over the edges of what was supposed to be a one-night stand.
Maybe this experience would just⌠live in your mind. One reckless, beautiful, unforgettable night with a stranger. One that would never happen again.
You exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over your face. You needed to move. You had things to do.
The day passed in a blur of quiet errands.
You spent the morning collecting your school suppliesârobes, books, parchment, quills. You took your time browsing through Tomes & Scrolls, running your fingers along the spines of textbooks that still felt foreign to you.
You didnât know why, but you felt restless. Like something was unfinished. Like there was something you were waiting for.
You pushed the thought away and kept moving.
By the time evening rolled around, you were exhausted, and yet, the nerves had settled in your stomach once more.
The Sorting Ceremony.
Tonight, you would officially become a student of Hogwarts. You didnât know what house youâd end up in, but you werenât even sure if you cared. You just wanted to belong.
The moment you stepped into Hogwarts castle, you felt small.
The corridors stretched impossibly high, the ancient stone whispering with centuries of history. The flickering torchlight cast moving shadows along the walls, the very air humming with magic.
By the time you reached the entrance to the Great Hall, following closely behind Professor Weasley, your heart was hammering.
Then the doors opened, and you were not prepared for what lay beyond them.
The Great Hall was breathtakingâa vast, candlelit chamber, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the darkening sky above. Hundreds of students were seated at four long tables, their faces curious as they turned to watch you and the other new arrivals.
Your stomach twisted, but nothingânothingâcould have prepared you for what happened next. Because as your eyes swept over the sea of unfamiliar facesâ
You found him.
Sebastian.
Sitting comfortably at the Slytherin table, elbow resting on the back of the bench, tie loose around his collar. His brown eyes locked onto yours immediately, and the moment they didâ
That smirk.
Your stomach dropped.
He winked.
Realization crashed over you like a tidal wave.
"See you soon."
He knew. He had always known.
You had spent the last twenty-four hours wondering if youâd ever see him again, replaying last night in your head like a memory youâd have to cherish and lock away forever, and he had known the whole time.
You were going to kill him.
Right after you figured out how to survive this moment without combusting from sheer mortification, that is.
You walked on autopilot toward the front of the hall, and all the while, Sebastian watched you. His eyes were fixed on you with unabashed amusement, his elbow propped lazily on the table, his fingers drumming against the wood.
You tore your gaze away. Tried to focus. Tried to ignore the heat creeping up the back of your neck, the way your entire body burned at the realization that the man who had ruined you last night was a student at Hogwarts. Another seventh-year.
Your luck was atrocious.
You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your expression neutral as Professor Weasley led you to your seat. The Sorting Hat sat on its stool nearby, looking far too unassuming for something that was about to dictate your entire future.
Then, one by one, the first years were sorted.
You barely heard the names being called, the cheers erupting from the different tables, the applause that followed each new addition. Your heart was hammering too loudly in your chest.
And then your name.
A hush fell over the Great Hall.
You swallowed thickly, stepping forward.
The Sorting Hat was placed on your head, and before you could even prepare yourself, a voice murmured in your ear.
"Ah⌠interesting. Very interesting indeed."
Your breath caught.
"Curious mind⌠sharp, determined⌠a fire in you, yes, I see it⌠and yet⌠You long to prove yourself. To carve your own place in the world. Oh, yes⌠yes, I know where to put youâŚ"
Your stomach twisted.
"Better be... Slytherin!"
The word rang out across the hall. Your entire body locked up. The Slytherin table erupted into cheers. You barely heard them. The only thing you could hear, the only thing you could process, was the sound of one single clap.
Slow. Mocking. Infuriating.
Sebastian was lounging in his seat, his smug, insufferable grin stretching ear to ear, hands coming together in deliberately slow applause.
Your stomach sank. Because of course. Of course this was happening. Of course you were going to be stuck in the same house as him.
For a brief, fleeting moment, you actually considered turning around and walking straight back out of the castle.
But instead you inhaled sharply. Steeled yourself. And with as much dignity as you could possibly muster, you marched toward the Slytherin table, taking a seat as far away from Sebastian as humanly possible.
You had survived the first week.
Barely.
It had been a long, painful, excruciatingly humiliating five days at Hogwarts, thanks to one person and one person alone.
Sebastian Sallow.
The smug, insufferable, walking nightmare who had made it his personal mission to ensure you would never forget what had happened that night in Hogsmeade. And worse, he was having fun doing it.
It was already bad enough that you had unknowingly shagged a classmate before you had even set foot inside the castle, but Sebastian had known. He had known the entire time that you were going to be classmates and he had deliberately chosen not to tell you.
And now he was using it against you.
Every day. Every bloody day, he found new and creative ways to remind you of that night in the Three Broomsticks
You tried to ignore him. You really did. Because Merlin knew you had bigger problems.
Adjusting to Hogwarts was hard enough as it was. The magic, the culture, the sheer weight of it allâit was suffocating.
You were trying to catch up on seven years of magical education in just one.
Every subject felt impossibly advanced, the lessons moving faster than you could process, the spells and theory and history so overwhelmingly foreign to you that it left you exhausted by the end of each day.
You had spent your entire life thinking you were just an ordinary person, and now you were expected to master magic in a world you barely understood.
You didn't have time for distractions. You didnât have time for him.
And yet Sebastian was everywhere, taking every opportunity to hold this not-so-little secret over your head.
In Potions, when Professor Sharp had assigned you partners for the term, youâd silently prayed to any higher power that youâd be paired with literally anyone else.
You were not that lucky.
Sebastian had grinned when his name was called next to yours, sliding onto the bench beside you, his voice too low, too smooth as he leaned in and murmured, âGuess weâre stuck together for a while, sweetheart. Good thing youâre good with your hands.â
You had nearly dropped your cauldron.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts, when you had been paired for dueling exercises, Sebastian had grinned and leaned in close, murmuring, âNot the first time youâve let me pin you down, is it?â
You had nearly hexed him on the spot.
But Sebastian found your anger amusing, your embarrassment endearing. So when you stomped into the Slytherin common room after dinner Friday night, you were determined to avoid him, determined to find a quiet corner and pretend he didnât exist.
Except of course he was there. Leaning back on the couch by the fire, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his gaze already fixed on you the moment you entered.
You froze. His smirk widened. You turned on your heel.
âOh, donât be like that, love.â His voice was too smooth, too damn smug.
You ignored him, marching toward the dormitory stairs.
âRunning away?â he called after you. "And here I thought you found me irresistible."
You exhaled slowly, whirled around, and stalked toward him, stopping just short of where he lounged on the couch.
âYou,â you hissed.
âMe,â he agreed, completely unbothered.
âYou have been insufferable all week.â
âIâve been charming all week,â he corrected. âYou, however, have been avoiding me.â
âBecause youâre impossible.â
âI prefer relentless.â
You scowled. âYouâre an ass.â
âIâve been called worse.â He stretched, muscles flexing beneath his sweater. âBesides, youâre acting like I did something terrible, but as I recall, you werenât exactly shy about how much you enjoyed yourself."
Heat flared across your cheeks, and Sebastian barely had a second to react before your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, yanking him up from the couch with far more strength than he had expected. His smirk faltered for a second before he recovered, letting you drag him toward the exit of the common room.
The moment you stepped into the dimly lit corridor beyond the common room entrance, you shoved him back against the stone wall, your grip still tight on his sweater.
âYou let me humiliate myself.â
Sebastian actually had the audacity to look offended. "Humiliate?"
"You knew we were going to be classmates, and you didn't tell me!" you spat, your fingers still curled into the front of his sweater. "You let me walk into Hogwarts completely blind, thinking I'd never see you again. And then you spent the entire week taunting me about it!"
Sebastianâs smirk faltered, if only for a fraction of a second. It wasnât much, just the tiniest flicker of something uncertain in his brown eyes, but for the first time since this nightmare began, you saw something other than amusement behind his teasing.
Guilt.
His lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but then he hesitated. His fingers twitched at his sides like he was debating whether or not to lift them, to touch you, to do something other than stand there pinned against the wall.
And then, finally, he sighed.
âI didnât mean for it to be cruel,â he admitted. âI swear, I didnât.â Sebastian ran a hand through his curls, looking surprisingly sheepish. âIââ He hesitated again, exhaling sharply before he finally said, âI didnât know how to tell you.â
Your fingers loosened slightly in his sweater. ââŚWhat?â
âI didnât know how to tell you,â he repeated, a small, rueful chuckle slipping from him. âHow was I supposed to bring that up? Oh, by the way, Iâm actually a student too. See you in class.â
Your scowl deepened. "Sounds to me like you just wanted a shag and didnât care what happened after."
Sebastian winced, his mouth pressing into a tight line, and for a moment, he actually looked hurt.
"Thatâs notâ" He ran a hand over his face. "Merlinâthatâs not what it was."
"Could have fooled me."
His jaw tensed. "Do you really think Iâm that much of a bastard?"
You hesitated. Becauseâyes? No? You didnât even know anymore. The Sebastian you had met at the Three Broomsticksâthe charming, charismatic, thoughtful man who had listened to you so intently, who had kissed you like he had already decided you were hisâfelt like an entirely different person from the one who had spent the past week tormenting you. And yet⌠was it really so surprising that they were one and the same?
For all his teasing, for all his insufferable smugness, there had been moments where you had caught glimpses of that same man beneath it all. The one who had made you laugh, who had leaned in close like he couldnât help himself, who had unraveled you with a single look.
And for all your frustration, all your exasperation, you couldnât get that night out of your head.
The way he had touched you. The way he had looked at you. The way he had made you feel, like you were something to be devoured.
Now, standing here, chest to chest, his voice lower, his smirk absent, the way he was looking at you wasnât taunting, certainly wasnât cruel. It was something else entirely.
"I donât know," you admitted finally.
Sebastian inhaled sharply. He tilted his head back against the stone wall, staring at the ceiling like he was trying to collect his thoughts, like he was trying to find the right words, something he clearly never struggled with. But then he exhaled, his hands finally moving, coming up slowly to curl loosely around your wrists, the weight of them warm and solid.
"I should have told you," he said. "I should have. But it wasnât because I didnât care."
You swallowed hard. "Then why?"
Sebastian sighed, a rueful smile tugging on his lips. "Because I liked you. I liked you the second I sat down next to you, and I didnât want to tell you."
You stared at him, but Sebastian wasnât looking at you anymore. His gaze had drifted somewhere over your shoulder, jaw tight, lips pressed together in frustration.
"I knew the second I told you, it would ruin everything," he continued. "I knew youâd look at me differently. That it wouldnât be real anymore. That you'd... pull away from me."
Sebastianâs eyes flicked back to yours. "But that night, before you knew⌠you looked at me like I was..." His voice softened, almost distant. "Like I was worth your time."
You swallowed thickly, pulse hammering in your ears.
Sebastianâs grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, his thumbs brushing against your skin before he sighed and let go, running a hand through his hair.
"Iâm sorry," he muttered. "Truly. I know I... I should have told you, I was an ass, you're right," His mouth quirked slightly, but there was no arrogance behind it now, only something almost self-deprecating. "But, for what itâs worth⌠this week has been fun."
You huffed, crossing your arms. "Fun for you."
He grinned, but the sharpness had dulled. "And for you, if youâd just admit it."
You rolled your eyes, but the irritation wasnât quite as strong anymore. He wasnât... wrong.
The tension between you shifted. It didnât dissolve, not entirely, but it wasnât as jagged now. It lingered, softer at the edges, something else creeping in.
Sebastian Sallow, with all his arrogance and relentless teasing, wasnât just a menace. He was charming. He was dangerous. Not because he was cruel, not because he was some heartless rake who played with peopleâs emotions for sport, but because he actually meant it.
Because beneath all the games and the insufferable smirks, there was someone real. Someone who had wanted you, who still did. And worseâMerlin help youâyou wanted him too.
You inhaled sharply, pushing past the thoughts threatening to sink their claws into your already-weakened defenses. âIâm not saying I forgive you completely,â you muttered. âBut⌠I guess I understand why you did it.â
Sebastian grinned. âProgress.â
âDonât push it.â
âWouldnât dream of it.â
Liar.
But he was watching you carefully now, his expression something almost hesitant, and he shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. âSo, does this mean we can start over?â
You frowned slightly. âStart over?â
He straightened, suddenly standing tall, clearing his throat before extending his hand between you.
âSebastian Sallow,â he said, voice deliberately formal. But his brown eyes were warm, playful, and somehow earnest. âSeventh-year. Slytherin. Excellent duelist. Top of our class in Dark Arts. And, apparently, your Potions partner for the foreseeable future.â
You stared at him. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âCan't be that bad," he mused, still holding out his hand, "you havenât walked away.â
Your lips pressed together, but you couldnât stop the smallest tug at the corner of your mouth. You sighed, then reached out, slipping your fingers into his.
You met his gaze. âBut for the record, I was trying to walk away from you all week.â
Sebastian smirked. âAnd yet.â
You groaned, trying to tug your hand back, but he held on, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a way that made something dangerous flutter in your chest.
âAlright, alright,â you huffed, finally giving in. âTruce.â
Sebastianâs grin widened. âTruce.â
He finally let your hand go, and you ignored the way your skin still tingled from the contact.
But before you could even process what this meant, what he meant, Sebastian tilted his head, considering you for a long moment.
âStill,â he murmured, his voice quieter now, smoother. âI canât help but wonderâŚâ
You arched a brow. âWonder what?â
His gaze flickered, dropping just slightly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.
âIf youâd still look at me the same way," he murmured, "now.â
You stiffened.
You knew exactly what he meant. Exactly what he was asking.
That night in the Three Broomsticks, you had looked at him like he was something worth wanting. Like he was someone worth keeping. And nowânow that you knew who he was, now that youâd spent the past week despising him, pushing him away, trying and failing to ignore the way he made you feelâdid you still want him?
Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his voice lower now, softer. âWell?â
Your breath came a little quicker. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way he was so close but not quite touching, waiting. The way his breath was just the faintest bit uneven, like he wasnât as unaffected as he wanted you to believe.
You opened your mouthâwhether to deny your feelings, to tell him to shut up, or to say something else entirely, you werenât sureâbut you never got the chance. Because in the next breath, Sebastianâs hands were on your cheeks, and thenâthen he was kissing you.
It wasnât like in the Three Broomsticks. That had been confident, assured, dripping with the kind of arrogance that came with knowing exactly what he wanted and knowing he could have it.
This was different. This was hesitation wrapped in want. Caution tangled with need.
His lips pressed against yours, firm but searching, waitingâwaiting for you to push him away, waiting for you to tell him this was a mistake.
But you didnât. You couldnât.
The moment his mouth met yours, the world tilted, and suddenly, you were back in that dimly lit inn room, back to firewhiskey-slicked lips and burning fingertips, back to the way his body had felt beneath yours, against yours.
Back to the way he had unraveled you.
A quiet sound escaped your throatâsomething between a sigh and a surrenderâand in response, Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers slid into your hair, pulling you closer, kissing you like he had just won something, like he had been waiting all week for you to cave, to crack, to give in.
And maybe he had. Maybe you had too.
Your hands found their way to his sweater, curling into the fabric, holding onto him as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, tasting, savoring.
His fingers curled tighter at the nape of your neck, and you let him tilt your head, let him deepen the kiss, let him tease his tongue along the seam of your lips until you parted for him with a soft, breathless gasp.
His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and Merlin help you, you let him.
The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, the way he kissed youâfirm and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to learn the shape of your mouthâit sent a slow, delicious heat curling through your stomach, pooling low in your core.
You werenât sure how long you stood there, tangled in him, lost in the quiet hum of pleasure simmering just beneath your skin.
Long enough that your lungs burned for air. Long enough that your fingers had found their way into his curls, threading through them, tugging just enough to earn another deep sound from his throat.
And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, Sebastian pulled back.
Barely.
His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing uneven, his hands still gripping your waist like he wasnât ready to let go.
His lips were red. Swollen.
So were yours.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
The silence was thick, charged, the only sound between you the soft, rapid inhale of your breaths.
Then finally Sebastian let out a quiet chuckle, low and breathless, his lips still close to yours.
âWell,â he murmured, voice rough with something sinful. âGuess I got my answer.â
You swallowed thickly, still trying to catch your breath, still trying to process what had just happened, what this meant, what this was.
ââŚShut up,â you muttered.
Sebastian grinned. âMake me.â
You almost did. Almost kissed him again, almost let yourself fall right back into the warmth of his mouth, his touch, the way he felt against you.
But you didnât.
Instead, you shoved lightly at his chest, your breath still uneven, your mind still spinning, and turned on your heel.
"You're carrying all my books to class next week," you shot over your shoulder, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control, to pretend like your heart wasnât still hammering in your chest, like your lips werenât still tingling from the way he had kissed you.
Sebastian let out a low chuckle behind you. âOh? Is that my punishment, then?â
âYes,â you said firmly, still walking away, because if you turned around, you might actually go back to him.
You heard him shift, could practically feel the smirk in his voice when he said, âHardly seems fair. You enjoyed that just as much as I did.â
You stopped dead in your tracks, fists clenching at your sides. You inhaled sharply through your nose, then exhaled, willing yourself to ignore him, willing yourself not to let him see just how right he was.
Behind you, Sebastian hummed. âAlright, sweetheart. Iâll carry your books.â
You blinked. ââŚWhat?â
âIâll carry your books,â he repeated, and when you finally turned to look at him, he was grinning, mischievous and infuriating and undeniably pleased with himself. âHappy to do it, actually. Gives me an excuse to walk you to class.â
Your stomach did something embarrassing.
âThatâs not what Iââ
âOh, I know,â he cut in smoothly, rocking back on his heels. âBut thatâs what youâre getting.â
You groaned, turning around again, determined to put as much space between you and his smugness as possible. âYou are impossible.â
"You still kissed me. Again."
You didnât respond. You didnât have to. Because even as you left him standing there, even as you stormed away, your lips still burned with the memory of him.
And something told you this was only the beginning.

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So we have the killerâs s/o being dead, but how would the killers act if you suddenly came back from the dead? (Maybe the specter revived s/o as a reward for good killing who knows)
I donât write anymore, but, for the sake of this request, whichâll be a part 2 I guess of the deceased s/o request, Iâll do this one for now. But only this one, as Iâm more into posing characters now. đŞđââď¸
The deceased s/o post is here if anyone is wondering what Iâm talking about;
(Again, I donât know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)
That being said, the 2nd part is under the cut! ;
(1x1x1x1)
⢠Letâs say that for the sake of this, 1x will be in a round, when the Spectre decided to revive you.
⢠When heâs back in the killer lobby, he of course, will still be the same being of hatred. Maybe even more so, as there was a survivor that acted, and looked similar to you.
⢠Imagine his shock when he sees you, the LIVING youâŚ
⢠As much as Iâd love to imagine he would tackle you, and hug you tightly, he most likely wouldnât.
⢠He just, stares in shock, wondering what is happening. Didnât he make you a minionâŚ? How are you alive, and not⌠A minionâŚ?
⢠As much as he is glad and actually happy with you being alive⌠Heâs got LOTS of questions, and is overall confused.
⢠Well, at least he can distinguish whoâs who, from the survivors and you. (Heâs still pissed off about the other survivor that acts and looks remotely close like you though⌠So expect him to kill that survivor at least, before staying around with you.)
⢠Expect some form of bonding with him, as he absolutely missed you. A lot.
(John Doe)
⢠John Doeâs overall confused. Which, isnât much of a surprise, considering what the corruption has done to him.
⢠At least the Corruption has slowed down and calmed down a bit.
⢠Heâs got lots of questions, but, he normally forgets them time to time.
⢠At least he can tell the difference between you and another survivor, that acts and looks similar to youâŚ
⢠(He also ends up killing the said survivor, just like 1x.)
⢠He does stay close to you, not too close of course, as to not make you get hurt by the corruption though. But heâs close by. (He does send spikes to survivors that get too close for comfort to you.. Some of them even get flung in the process, startling both you, and the survivors.)
⢠Heâs glad youâre back⌠But, now, heâs more protective at least.
(Jason)
⢠Jasonâs confused, and a bit convinced, by both his mother, and the Spectre, that youâve become immortal like him. Or, at least a bit immortal.
⢠Heâs convinced that you just need to take a break, a long nap, before you awaken again. (At least thatâs what his mother tells him, as to not make him too confused, more insane and all thatâŚ)
⢠He canât really tell you and the survivor that, acts and looks similar to you, unless his mother, or you tell him.
⢠(He ends up killing the said survivor afterwards⌠He doesnât want to be confused againâŚ)
⢠He does stay close to you also, as heâs scared, well, maybe not scared⌠More like worried, that youâll end up killed again, by another survivor.
⢠(Just give him some attention and affection back in the lobby, so heâll be somewhat ok⌠Otherwise his mother will have to calm him downâŚ)
(Mafioso)
⢠Mafiosoâs confused, concerned and wondering if heâs going insane or not⌠(Eunoia had to reassure him multiple times that youâre alive and well againâŚ)
⢠He still doesnât trust his men around you after what happened last time. The only times heâll trust them to be near you, is when heâs near, or Eunoia is near and watching over you.
⢠He always asks Eunoia to watch over you for him, while heâs either; in the dream land, chasing people in debt there, or heâs in a round, that you arenât in.
⢠Whenever youâre in a round against him, heâll always be near you, no matter what.
⢠Unless thereâs a survivor that acts and looks similar to you that is⌠Then heâll leave you be with Guest 1337 at least, before he goes and chases the said survivor that looks and acts similar to youâŚ
⢠Expect a lot of attention and affection from this man, heâs way more careful, gentle and loving to you now, ever since youâve been resurrected⌠He almost treats you like youâre fragile glassâŚ
⢠Heâs also far more protective of you, than he was before. He doesnât want to get spooked again by you dying⌠It scares him to deathâŚ
(AS YOU CAN TELL. I DONT HAVE BRAIN JUICE ANYMORE⌠THIS IS MY LAST POST ON TEXTS. GOODBYE. đśââď¸)
#roblox forsaken x reader#forsaken roblox x reader#forsaken x reader#1x1x1x1 x reader#john doe x reader#jason x reader#dreamgame x reader#mafioso x reader#brain4stew/l i nâs workâźď¸
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